Year 312 after the Ascension of the Celestial Monarch.
Tess felt a chill in her flesh as she observed the training courtyard of Viddar Castle. It was night; her husband, when not in his chambers or his private library, was usually in the training courtyard.
The chill of the forest flooded the place. Even though Ducanor Kal Arreus was not the lord of this castle, he was its protector. He was a man of honor, she knew that well; he had sworn to protect her son and herself years ago, when he rejected the title of Lord. Sometimes she wondered if he regretted it in any way.
The path before her passed by the remains of a massive building that had been replaced by a huge storehouse. Ashes and burnt wood covered the place where the ancient Dharmic Abbey had once stood.
The day the Celestial Monarch dominated the Mortal Realm, he ordered the Dharmic Persecution, also called the Era of Dharmic Decadence, in a quest to erase the influence of the Mantra, replacing it with the continuous worship of the Dead Gods and the Ancestors.
The persecution had lasted for years, although it did not have the same effect throughout the Hegemony. Only Pandamar, in the eastern continent, had chosen to follow the Monarch's orders to the letter by destroying the abbeys, imprisoning mantrists, and forcing them to abdicate their dharmic vows, compelling them with Geiss to surrender their beliefs.
In the southern continent, however, the sacrifices of various great Kalidharmas had turned them into venerable martyrs for their cause. Examples like the Kalidharmas Gironio and Barsel, the Mayalama Meridia, or even the Rahulas like the twins Cala and Horrus. Or more numerous tragedies like the 18 mantrist envoys executed together, the children of a Kalidharma Alcalio and Henari, the Abbot of Vicentia himself, Valencio, or the Abbot of Asciclea, Cordo, or the Princeps of the same city, Breda, or the acolytes Sevia and Illya who died like the rest for their faith.
Tragic stories like those reached her from the distant southern continent through her adoptive sister, who had once been a fervent follower of the Mantra, but who now could only weep bitterly for the victims of those injustices.
And she herself could only feel sorrow in her heart, without showing sadness to her husband or her son, and the only thing she could do was keep those names in her mind.
As she advanced through the cold landscape, she found a solitary figure cleaving the air before him with his axe, with such ease and beauty that it seemed like a mirage brought on by the moonlight.
He stayed like this for a few minutes before stopping, turning his head toward her with a kind but cold smile.
Ducanor's lips and eyes were purple and ice-blue, as if he had hypothermia, but that was not environmental; it was innate. She had asked alchemists and healers, and they had even considered seeking an Augur from the center of the Celestial Hegemony, but he had refused, saying it was simply an innate condition that caused him no problems.
Although over time she had grown accustomed to it and even loved that part of him, she was glad when their children were born without ice-blue eyes and purple lips.
Ducanor drove the tip of the battleaxe into the ground, leaning on its pommel. Its name was Night Thunder; she had heard Pandamar say it was forged from the crystallization of a lightning bolt on a moonless night, and that it was as ancient as Viddar Castle itself. From ancient and more violent times, the times of Ducanor's and her son's ancestors.
And hers too, though she didn't feel the same closeness to them as Ducanor did.
There were legends of all kinds in these wastelands. Having been raised as a hostage in the court of the Celestial Monarch, she had heard things, even though her life had later unfolded far from the palace intrigues of the southern continent. But she had heard so many legends about the eastern continent, legends that were even older than her own race.
Tess's knowledge of the world came from the wisdom and writings of the Golden and Silver Races, but both races, which had existed longer than the Hegemony itself and had survived the Consulate and multiple eras, were slowly dwindling.
The last pure ruler of the Golden Race (though the line had not been uninterrupted, many say it was Colonia Adela) was a falsehood; she was a half-breed of the Iron and Silver races. Her own son and subsequent heir was more iron than silver.
Perhaps that was the reason for their fall.
In the southern continent, the ancestors were not the same as those of the east. The so-called Iron Race covered the southern continent, whose ancestors were the Silver and Gold races, a race of mixed origin even though they called themselves the Ferrous, or the Steel Race.
Iron was weak, steel invincible; that duality was inevitable.
The poets she used to admire in the south were, in the east, drunken bards singing mockeries to their lords, while their advisors, instead of being sages and scholars, were warriors and generals.
Everything was so different.
"Tess," Ducanor's voice murmured, hard as stone yet warm as fire, as he watched her with those cold, icy eyes.
"My lord husband," she said in a neutral tone, perhaps too neutral, but Ducanor didn't seem to mind.
"It's cold. Are the children sleeping?" he asked.
"Illantyr is already asleep, but your son is still awake; he wants to wait for his father before going to sleep," she said with a warm smile, feeling a tug at her heart as she realized how fast time was passing.
"Apocaline. He's already sixteen, soon he'll be twenty. He likes axes and maces, he will be a good warrior," Ducanor said with a proud smile, while her own fear and pride surged in her chest, leaving her not knowing what to say.
"They are so small..."
"Yes," he murmured as he took her hands. Despite his cold and taciturn face, his hands were warm. He always knew what to say. She had heard rumors that Ducanor was a womanizer before her, before returning.
She had known him a long time ago, but they had been separated for years; time had changed them both to the point that it was even hard for her to recognize him. Sometimes she was curious about the man her husband had been, the man she didn't know. But at this point, that no longer mattered.
Her gaze suddenly fell on his black hands. They weren't gloves or paint of any kind; Ducanor's hands were made almost entirely of metal. She had heard him say that his hands had been refined under a mysterious art known as the Art of the Divine Forge, the appearance of his hands being a side effect of it, along with, of course, the ability to harden them as if they were steel.
"You should go back inside, you aren't as young as you used to be. Leading the troops should be Pandamar's duty, you still spoil him too much," she said with a smile as she remembered her eldest son.
"I should be the one saying that," Ducanor muttered with a tired sigh. "You are the one who insisted that Pandamar spend more time with his children and his wives. You really do spoil him too much."
She tried to show a trace of envy or jealousy on her face, but there was nothing, only affection and a bit of fatigue.
"Mmm, I suppose I really am getting old," Ducanor murmured as he sighed.
Suddenly, a distant bark pulled him from his thoughts. An enormous dog, about two meters tall, emerged from the kennel running toward Ducanor, stopping a few meters from him while its furry face timidly looked at Tess.
"Haha, it seems Yangyi is also excited," Ducanor said with a smile as he petted the Blood Mastiff, which despite its tame appearance was actually a demonic Sidhe.
"I don't understand your fondness for dogs," she murmured in a tired tone as she sighed. But despite everything, she gave the puppy a warm look; she had watched this hound grow since it was practically a pup, it was impossible not to be sentimental.
"Well, all men have different hobbies. For example, your son and your lord is fond of women," Ducanor teased with a smile.
Laughing lightly, despite being a woman and a mother, she couldn't help but feel proud of her son's innate charisma, although she worried that it would cause him problems.
And as if reading her thoughts, Ducanor said: "The Pure Yin girl is about to reach coming of age," he said with a sigh. "I would have liked it if Pandamar chose her as a daughter-in-law rather than as a wife."
"She is too important to be left to Serach or anyone else," she tried to defend him, even though she knew he was right. Pandamar already had three wives; a fourth would be too problematic.
The only reason her son's three wives hadn't killed each other was because they were, in addition to being the women of the same man, sisters. But another woman, young and beautiful, could not avoid generating jealousy in the relationship.
Ducanor decided not to argue further. Despite being his stepfather, he saw him more as his lord than as a son, and he had no intention of taking the place of a father beyond being his son's mentor and advisor. He had said that educating and guiding him in those matters would be his responsibility.
She couldn't help but feel some resentment about it.
"Do you think I'm a bad mother?" she murmured, almost devastated, though most of that sorrow was feigned.
"I didn't mean that. You are the best he could have had, because he is your son and no one else's, just as my children are yours, but..."
"He is not your son," she said with a somewhat bitter tone. Certain memories were not pleasant, especially before Pandamar, before...
Ducanor remained silent. If he was hurt by her words, he didn't show it for a second; he stayed silent for a moment before sighing again.
Finally, it was she who broke the silence: "My lord, the Great Celestial Monarch has sent a letter to all the lords of the four continents."
Ducanor's expression changed with those words. If he had been melancholic before, he had now returned to his lordly bearing. "Have you already told Pandamar?"
She shook her head. She expected to see anger in Ducanor, to be told that she should have informed his lord before his advisor, but to her surprise and relief, he seemed to have understood the importance of the letter.
"What does it say?"
Recalling what she had read with ease, she quoted in a solemn tone: "To all the lords of the four continents and the four palaces: the Great Celestial Monarch, Absolute Lord and Ruler of the Celestial Hegemony of the vast Mortal Realm, has decided to abdicate. Such vast domains cannot be worthy of a single ruler, not even one as wise as the Monarch himself. Because of this, four Tetrarchs will be appointed, four lords who will each rule over the continents of the realm and their contiguous seas and domains.
"Renar Flandes as Lord of the Southern Continent. Kazan as Tetrarch of the Western Continent. Astracan as Tetrarch of the Northern Continent. And the one chosen as ruler of the East is Lagnesh, the Lady of Tara."
And with those final words, Ducanor's expression clouded over, knowing that there would soon be plenty of trouble.
And as his wife, she had to lighten the burden on her husband's back.