Sometimes it seems to me that we all are pieces on a chessboard who believe they choose their own move. What touching self-deception! Even in this theater of fate there are rules, and who ignores them—becomes a pawn in another's game.
Now we can only don the mask of obedience and fight for show. Between humility and rebellion lies a thin edge of hypocrisy—we cross it like tightrope walkers over an abyss. One mistake—and everything collapses like a house of cards from child's breath.
We have a plan.
We can negotiate with the kingdom of Kazaria. Residents with their ancient stubbornness understand the price of alliances—in their veins flows warriors' blood, and word is firm like native rocks. Need to act swiftly, before they're destroyed. Though, we are historical enemies.
Negotiate with six conquered countries—task of another scale. Years of painstaking work. Conquered peoples like traumatized beasts: remember pain and don't hurry to trust. Need not coerce them, but seduce with hope.
Kriver army... Even the sound of this name causes shudder. Creatures born of darkness and hatred, knowing neither pity nor fatigue. Living embodiment of fear.
Main thing—need to find Loyn.
This youth—son of my brother Leyont de Mortvel. What irony! Leyont, always despising conventions, fell in love with cook Ulya. Love doesn't ask about titles—bursts in like spring rain, washing away borders between "should" and "want."
Ulya cooked not only food—she cooked happiness, serving it on simple clay plates, seasoned with laughter and tenderness.
Their son possesses all four elements. Imagine: in one person converged forces that usually tear the world apart. Fire of passion and air of freedom, earth of stubbornness and water of changeability. Child of paradox—alloy of noble blood and common strength.
Loyn has our largest reserve of mana—that energy pulsing at the base of all existence. Mana—not just magical power, it's breath of life, concentrated possibility to change reality.