[Twenty-five years ago]
Before the name "Voltair Serdin" carried the weight of a Duke's seal, Frostpeak was nothing more than a frozen fortress standing between the kingdom and the endless northern wastelands.
At that time, Voltair wasn't yet a lord--he was a battlefield mage serving directly under royal command of an empire located west of Falconridge, the mighty Zephirion Empire. At the time, they controlled Frostpeak and other large areas and focused more on eastern and northern territories. Voltair was stationed at the northern battlefield and they were at war against some northern tribes for a long time, the war had entered its third year and morale across the army was crumbling. That was when he appeared.
A man, draped in a deep gray cloak, arrived at the front lines one night, carrying nothing but a simple staff. His name was Kael Ardyn, though few dared to speak it aloud. Rumor spread faster than fire: he was the man who'd burned an entire battlefield to ashes with a single spell.
Voltair still remembered the first time he saw him. The campfire crackled under the open snow sky as Kael calmly inspected the northern defense lines. His eyes were sharp, precise, and utterly still--like someone who had seen too much to be impressed anymore.
Voltair never approached Kael because he was terrified of the man's strong aura.
However, In the weeks that followed, the two men fought side by side through siege after siege. Kael's control over magic was unlike anything Voltair had ever seen. He didn't shout spells or wave his hands wildly--he simply spoke, and the world obeyed.
But his power came with a shadow. Kael never spoke about where he came from, or why he refused a royal title when he was offered one. Even when the Royal Council of Zephirion demanded reports, his replies were brief, almost mocking.
When Voltair once asked him directly, Kael replied in a serious manner, "The Council wants obedience. I don't plan on giving them that."
As the war dragged on, Kael and Voltair developed an unspoken bond--a trust forged through shared blood and sleepless nights. Kael would often scold Voltair's impatience, calling him reckless, while Voltair accused Kael of lacking heart. In truth, they balanced each other.
Then came the Battle of Coldveil Ridge. A place that shared borders with Frostpeak.
It was supposed to be a simple defensive stand. But the royal commanders had severely underestimated the enemy's numbers. When the war began, it looked absolutely one-sided, too unrealistic. The commanders became extremely arrogant and lowered their guards--that was the moment the tribal chieftains were waiting for. Suddenly, the battle was turned upside down, strange creatures started appearing from all sides, completely surrounding the battlefield--they weren't ordinary monsters, they were corrupted ones, influenced by "Black magic": A forbidden magic element.
Kael had seen it coming. He told the generals to retreat instead, but they ignored him--They already had tasted the sense of victory earlier and were blinded by it.
In the following hour, the royal army lost nearly one-third of it's men. Voltair, then a newly promoted archmage, tried to hold the center with Kael, but the line was already broken.
In that chaos, Kael made a choice that would brand him as a traitor.
He had unleashed an illegal spell which was formerly banned by the Royal Council of Zephirion--one that drained his mana reserves and completely destroyed everything in his surroundings. The explosion stopped the beasts, but it also consumed hundreds of soldiers caught too close to the blast. The royal banners burned with them.
Voltair, however, was able to survive and saw Kael's sacrifice as a heroic deed.
When the smoke cleared, Kael was already gone.
Later, the Council called it treason. The Emperor ordered his capture. But Voltair refused to believe the accusations.
Even though Kael had vanished into the northern wilds, he had left behind a single message written in a mana script--a message only Voltair could read.
The message was: "The world needs balance, not rulers. When your time comes, call me--as a man who still believes."
Along with the message came a small spherical crystal--a Mana Transmitter: an object that could connect two mages, no matter the distance, place or time. However, it could only be used once so Voltair kept it hidden ever since....it was a secret even his closest advisors didn't know.
Years passed and Voltair was awarded the territory of Frostpeak and the title of Duke for his "heroic" actions in the war. He rebuilt Frostpeak and rose to power, carrying the weight of duty, family, and an unspoken debt to the actual hero, the man who willingly gave up fame and power. He often wondered what became of Kael-- whether he lived as a hermit, a mercenary, or simply faded into legend.
But deep down, he knew Kael was alive.
Now, as Voltair sat in the dim light of his study, holding that same crystal after two decades of silence, he realized the meaning of Kael's final words.
"When your time comes, call me."
It wasn't a prophecy. It was a promise.
The crystal's surface shimmered faintly as Voltair channeled mana into it.
A moment later, a tired but familiar voice spoke, as calm as ever.
"Voltair. You wouldn't be calling unless something's gone wrong."
The Duke exhaled slowly, the years between them fading in an instant.
"It's about my first son, Richard" he said. "He's alive, but not unharmed…and he needs a mentor who can guide him well."
Kael went silent for a long moment. Only the faint hum of the mana crystal filled the air between them.
"…Your son?" he finally said, his voice calm but laced with quiet disbelief. "You used the transmitter for that?"
Voltair's tone didn't waver. "It wasn't a choice I made lightly."
Kael chuckled softly, though it held no humor. "That crystal was meant for something greater, Voltair. We both knew that."
"Maybe," Voltair replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But you also said I'd know when the time came."
Kael sighed. "I see you haven't changed at all."
Voltair leaned back in his chair. The candle beside him flickered, its light reflecting in the orb's trembling glow. "You always spoke of balance, Kael. That everything in this world has its weight. My son carries too much of it."
Kael's voice sharpened. "Explain."
"He survived an incident that should have killed him," Voltair said quietly. "A Gorefang attack in the northern woods. He pushed himself beyond human limits and used Fifth-Circle magic in a body that can barely hold the Fourth. He lived, but his mana… it's changing."
Kael didn't interrupt.
"It's dense. Coiled." Voltair continued. "When he's awake, the very air shifts around him. I've never seen anything like it."
Kael was silent for a while. Then he said, "And what do you think it means?"
Voltair's jaw tightened. "It means he's either blessed--or cursed."
Kael gave a quiet hum. "You always saw things in absolutes. You still do."
Voltair's lips curved faintly. "And you always enjoyed speaking in riddles."
That earned a small laugh from Kael. "Old habits."
The brief warmth between them didn't last. Kael's tone turned serious again. "So you want me to guide him. To take the boy under my care."
Voltair didn't deny it. "He's brilliant, but reckless. He has the same stubbornness I once had. I fear that without proper direction, his power will destroy him--or worse, everything around him."
There was another long silence. The orb's glow began to flicker faintly, signaling the mana link weakening.
Kael finally spoke, quieter than before. "You know this connection can't be reformed. Once I end it, the orb will shatter. You won't be able to call me again."
Voltair nodded slowly. "I know."
"Then why use it now?" Kael asked. "Why not wait until the boy's truly beyond your reach?"
Voltair's gaze turned distant. "Because if I wait until then, it'll already be too late."
Kael was pleased, and Voltair could almost picture the faint smirk that always appeared before Kael made a decision.
"…You always were a terrible gambler," Kael muttered. "But fine. I'll come."
Voltair's brows lifted slightly. "So easily?"
"You gave me your trust when no one else would," Kael replied. "And besides…" A faint chuckle escaped him. "I'm curious. You said he's your son. Let's see what kind of boy a man like Voltair Serdin raised."
The blue crystal flared once--bright enough to paint the room in white light.
Then it cracked.
A thin line of fracture ran through the crystal's heart before it shattered completely, scattering faint sparks of mana into the air. The glow faded instantly, leaving behind only silence and the faint scent of burnt ozone.
Voltair stared at the remains for a long time. There would be no calling again.
He placed the fragments gently into a velvet-lined box, shutting it with a quiet click.
"…Then come, old friend," he murmured. "Let's see if you still keep your promises."
Outside, a blizzard had started to rise over Frostpeak. The wind howled softly, carrying with it the echo of a long-forgotten power awakening once again.
And far away, a solitary figure stood at the edge of an unknown cliff. His cloak fluttered against the biting wind, his eyes fixed southward.
The man smiled faintly. "So, Voltair finally played his hand."
He turned, walking down into the snow-covered valley below. "Then it's time I met this Richard of Frostpeak."
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