Chapter 1: Prologue
The classroom in Doras Dagda's mage school, nestled in the heart of the New Highlands Empire, smelled of old wood and dry-erase marker. The runic glow of magic pulsed from the walls while rows of desks gleamed under old aether lights, flickering glowing orbs that drifted above, casting soft light.
Scattered around the room, dynamic books lay about in the disarray only an active class could exhibit. Intro to System Class Archetypes, The Magical Periodic Table of Elements, Elemental Interactions, Beginner's Alchemy: Healing. Their covers flickered with animated runes, half-open from rushed note-taking. Chalk dust and the faint outline of protective glyphs floated in the air, clinging to scratched desks and worn floorboards.
Saul slouched in the back, fifteen, boots propped on his desk, chains on his belt clinking as he tossed a pencil between his fingers. His mates, Jamie, Rory, and Finn, sprawled nearby, hitting each other with paper wads, and muttering dares.
Saul didn't care about mage history. Not like his dad, Toby, a warrior mage who wanted him to carry the family name with pride. He craved more than just laughs with his friends. He wanted danger, freedom, something that mattered. Not another recycled story from the past. Not another hour chained to a desk pretending any of this was meant for him.
Even though she's the Founder's wife, I've heard all these stories before, he thought, eyeing Mistress Lillia. My dad never shuts up about them.
Lillia stood at the front, her hair dark with only a few grays, face smooth, eyes deep with wisdom from years of battle and study. She never spoke; her true voice had never existed. But her thoughts echoed clearly in every student's mind, a telepathic voice that cut through chatter. She wasn't only their teacher however, she was also the Duchess of Doras Dagda, a title she carried as both an honor and burden in the Empire's seat of power. She taught students of Imperial Heroes, like Saul and Finn, as an honor to their family's service.
"Today's lesson is about the Warlock's victory over Clan Lamont. As most of you already know, my husband, Robert, is one of the only surviving descendants of Albion's most powerful clan," her voice rang in their heads.
Her hands wove light magic, ready to spin holograms, but she paused as her gaze swept the class.
Her eyes settled on Saul's restless slouch. "Is there a problem, Saul? You look disengaged," she said telepathically, her voice sharp in everyone's mind, public and piercing.
Saul shrugged dismissively, keeping his eyes on his pencil rather than meeting Mistress Lillia's gaze. However, he spun it faster with agitation.
She's callin' me out in front of everyone, he thought. His cheeks warmed, but he played it cool. Jamie smirked and nudged Rory, who elbowed Finn. All three stifled their laughter, trying not to draw more attention.
"Please share your thoughts, Saul," Lillia's musical mental voice pressed, gentle but insistent.
Saul sighed, dropped his boots to the floor, leaned forward with a sour look.
"I'm stuck in this classroom when there's sanctums to battle in, sports to play, life to live," he said, voice low but bitter. "I wanna learn by doin', by experiencin' stuff, not readin' books or watchin' your memories."
Lillia's movements grew still, her gaze fixed on him, eyes searching. She turned to the class, her expression spoke volumes though her lips stayed still.
"Is this how you all feel?" her voice asked, clear in every mind as she scanned each face.
Many nodded slowly, heads dipped, eyes flicked to desks. Rory shrugged. Finn shifted uncomfortably. A few overachiever girls, Mairi and Elspeth, smiled brightly, eager to impress the Founder's wife.
They don't get it, Mairi thought, her grin wide. Robert and Lillia's marriage was legendary—battling myths together, two sides of one spell.
Elspeth nodded, eyes soft. Her mind wasn't on the lesson either. It was on the kind of love worth following into battle.
Lillia briefly waved her hands, dismissing the hologram into fading fragments of light.
"Very well," her voice penetrated, soft and decisive. "We'll learn by seeing. Tomorrow, we visit the Museum of Magical History. The New Highland Army has a special display with a memory crystal bearing the Warlock's own memories. You'll face the Warlock's artifacts, and get a sense of what we fight against. Though, you won't be allowed to experience that particular memory directly. It's far too strong for children."
Exhaling quietly, "Take the rest of the day off. Think about what matters to you most in life, and how it can benefit you, and the people who love you." She communicated this last part, maintaining eye contact with Saul. She dismissed the class with a wave toward the door. Her eyes lingered on Saul, heavy with concern.
He's restless, just like his father, she thought to herself.
Saul grabbed his bag and slung it over one shoulder, avoiding his mates' eyes. They were already joking again. He wasn't in the mood. At least the museum sounded more exciting than this old room, even if he wasn't sure why it mattered so much to him now.
***
The next morning, Saul dragged his feet to the school courtyard, boots scuffed from kicking stones on the way. Jamie and Finn loitered near a rune-carved bench, one of them had stolen the light off a lamp post and had begun tossing the yellow magical sphere between them. Their laughs were muffled by the misty air. Mairi and Elspeth stood nearby, giggling over a dynamic book's flashing love spell page, while other classmates milled about, bags slung over shoulders. Lillia waited at the courtyard's edge, her cloak a rich crimson, was pulled around her shoulders. Her eyes scanned her students.
"Stay together, follow me," her telepathic voice echoed in their minds, clear over the chatter. "The museum is close, but don't wander."
Saul rolled his eyes. Like we're toddlers, he thought, but fell in step with his mates anyway.
The walk was short, through Doras Dagda's educational district, where schools, elemental colleges, and research labs clustered close together, all built around the Civic Square, the symbolic heart of Doras Dagda. It was a broad stone plaza lined with banners of the Empire, where students of all ages gathered between lessons, and statues of legendary figures looked down from raised platforms.
Stone buildings lined the streets, their walls etched with runes that glowed colorfully in the morning mist. Older students were at practice in the courtyard of a fire magic college, hurling great gouts of flame against shimmering shields designed to repel the heat. Next door, an air research lab hummed with great whirling tornados and students that could float through the air on clouds wrapped about their feet.
Saul nudged Jamie, pointed at a water specialization school's fountain, its streams dancing in gravity-defying loops and whorls around a perfectly sculpted nude mermaid.
"There's ya girlfriend," Saul murmured, grinning, talking about the statue.
Jamie snorted. "I know, she wants me." he said, shoving him back lightly.
Finn laughed out loud at Jamie's reaction and crudely added, "Yep, just look, Fish-lady is totally wet for him."
Lillia's gaze flicked to them, anger flashing in her eyes. Power radiated against the boys. They could feel her life aura flare aggressively, hostile intention of a magnitude that made them all weak in the knees. She summoned their life energies out of them. The outward effects were invisible without specialized training to see mana flow, but the boys felt it quite powerfully. The sudden shift in energy quieted the entire courtyard. Conversations dropped. A group of younger students stopped mid-giggle, eyes wide. Even Mairi and Elspeth, who had been gossiping moments before, stood frozen, their expressions sobering. No one dared to move or speak. The weight of Lillia's aura had frozen the social world of the teenagers like a snapped wand freezing water mid-pour.
The boys skin grew pale and her mental voice pushed against their very souls.
"I will not tolerate such language under my care. Is. That. UNDERSTOOD?"
Everyone knew she was a powerful healer, and a second tier grand master of life and light magic. However, the boys were still in absolute shock over her command of it. It was as if she had locked their souls and feet to the ground.
"Answer me," Lillia withdrew her aura fractionally and commanded them, her green eyes still full of vivid aqua light. They each nodded in submission, murmuring apologies. Their eyes, still wide in shock, stared down at the cobblestones of the street. Abruptly her aura lifted and she began walking again. From that point on, the class followed in tense, respectful silence, the earlier mischief smothered beneath the pressure of her magic.
The Museum of Magical History loomed ahead, its stone facade carved with Clan Lamont's hawks and ancient sigils, steps worn from years of visitors. Inside, the air carried the scent of polished wood and old parchment, lit by aether lights that cast shadows on glass cases. Here and there Museum staff busied themselves dusting and polishing everything for a new day.
Memory crystals lined the main hall, in varied shining colors... blue, green, purple, gold, every shade the human eye could discern. Each individual crystal glowed softly with a color-coded hue. It was a system developed by trained Crystal Smiths to signify the nature of its contents at a glance. Most citizens recognized the basics: red for violent or cursed histories, white for great unity or mastery, blue for heroic deeds, and other shades for more specialized classifications. However the system of colorization they've developed is very nuanced and requires a great deal of effort to master. Mostly because of the need to utilize magical sight for specific classifications. They were essentially living archives trapped in stone.
They held moments out of time. Battles, betrayals, triumphs... usually donated by witnesses of historic events, though not always freely. History mages wielded a rare and powerful magic capable of overwriting a viewer's thoughts, allowing them to witness events exactly as they were lived. Every sensation, emotion, and sound replayed, exactly like they were there in person all along.
A large crystal was placed at the end of the main display arena. A powerful guard kept a diligent watch nearby, stoically observing visitors. This man wasn't an employee of the museum, but a War Mage, on guard for the city over the highly restricted memory crystal owned exclusively by the New Highlands Army. He stood like a statue, bedecked in magically-enhanced power armor. If a youth ever dreamed of fighting for his country, it was always while wearing one of those babies.
The armor was a masterpiece of battlefield engineering. Arcane alloys reinforced with mana-channeling conduits, pressure-sealed joints that could survive a dragon's roar, and a built-in environmental field that shimmered faintly under the museum lights. Polished, flexible plating overlapped along the limbs similar to the scales of a dragon, granting more efficient mobility.
The chest bore the sigil of the Empire: two worlds, one blue and one green, offset like twin atoms circling each other in orbit. Between them, a twisting stream of aether flowed in green and gold, symbolizing the energy that bound the realms together. The emblem glowed faintly, nestled among layered wards of resistance and regeneration. Mana regulators pulsed softly along the spine, syncing with the mage's life energy to power movement, shielding, and amplification spells in real time.
Thinking on his obsession with them, a detail came to mind, "Imperial Engineer Langston Perry was said to have helped the Founder create those suits," he said aloud to Finn. "The first Technomancer."
Finn widened his eyes slightly at Saul's words, "How do you know that? Dr. Langston's a psycho, but he's a bad-ass psycho."
Saul gazed at the truly iconic head-to-toe suit of pure intimidation. He wanted one. Badly. "... My father was there when they finished fabricating the prototype."
Finn eyeballed Saul dubiously, "You've never told me that before."
"You don't know everything about me. Just because we are friends doesn't mean I have to tell you everything I know." Saul was feeling a bit touchy, after having to credit his father for something he knew.
Finn backed up, showing his palms in surrender, "Fine, fine. Sorry. Jeeze."
New arrivals to the museum were moving to different exhibits. People that passed by the War Mage always bowed their heads to him with profound respect. Saul wanted that kind of respect too. He was tired of being treated like a kid. And even more tired of being known only as Lord Toby Carpenter's son.
The warlock's memory crystal was lit with a deep internal red fire, illuminating the War Mage and the walls with malevolent shadows. It was carved with jagged warding runes that marked it as needing glyphic containment due to the nature of the power contained inside it. When Saul turned his eyes to it, his stomach knotted in unease, as the violent light seemed to pull at him, heavy with... wrongness.
"That thing's givin' me the creeps," he told Jamie, shifting his weight uneasily.
Jamie whispered to him, "Yeah. Feels like it's looking back at us..." As they stared, entranced, both boys jumped as Lillia's voice cut through her class's mind.
"These crystals hold truths. Touch them lightly, if you dare," her eyes then fixed on the Warlock's crystal. "But stay away from that one. You aren't old enough to experience the horrors inside... Obey the signs. 'Children are not permitted to view the Warlock's memories.'"
Lillia looked over her students, then nodded subtly to them, giving them permission to explore. "Best behavior everyone," she mentally reminded them. "Especially you, boys."
The kids split off in small groups, excitedly examining the memory crystals. There were dozens they could experience, as if they were there. As Jamie, Finn, and Saul slowly gravitated to the Warlock's display, the guard held up one hand. A voice magically endowed with command boomed at them.
"Do not attempt to view this crystal. Stay with the others."
This gave Finn an idea...
Meanwhile, Lillia wandered over to a well-used crystal. One that nearly every resident in Doras Dagda has viewed, often multiple times. It was the story of Robert. Her husband's memories, that he willingly donated. He also provided commentary recordings to supplement the viewer's experiences. She hadn't seen her husband in many years...
An older crystal, she brushed her fingers along the display. It contained dozens of small crystals. Each ordered chronologically as his life progressed. This large display of many crystals was titled, "The Rise of Doras Dagda."
With a lonely heart, she glanced at her class. They were behaving, and that guard would protect them if something happened. Perhaps she'd allow herself to indulge for just a few moments. Just…for a moment. As the Duchess of Doras Dagda, no one would dare judge her. At least, not openly. She gently laid her fingers on the crystal labelled "Day 1 of Robert's rise to power".
Her eyes glazed over and turned white, as she sank into Robert's first memories, and heard his voice, once more…
"The Scottish Highlands sprawled around me, jagged and brutal, offering zero comforts," the commentary began in the voice she missed so very much.