After Vaeryn the Flameborn destroyed the portal that connected the mortal realm to Nhal'Tharra—the realm of the mordrens—two centuries ago, scattered remnants of the mordrens who fled from the war and had found ways to manipulate and establish strongholds across the land. One such stronghold stood fifty kilometers northeast of Nebo, deep within the Great Mountains of Muchu Chhish, which served as the natural border between the Empire and the Kingdom of Velanthir.
For twenty years that stronghold had long terrorized the town of Nebo and its neighboring settlements. Raiding, pillaging and kidnapping young women and children at night. The Duke of Valebrant - a province where the barony town of Nebo was located; Lord George of House de Capet, had once sent a force of one hundred adventurers—ranked Titanium, Diamond, and Platinum—alongside his personal levies, led by his son and Marshal George II, a swordsman of Diamond rank. With him the banners of House de Capet, its background was blue with seven golden fleurs - de - lis, arranged four above and three below
Only five adventurers returned. Of the Duke's son, nothing remained but his shattered sword.
Desperate and forsaken by the capital of Velanthir, the Duke sent an envoy to plead with the head of House Veyrdrassil—once counted among the Three Great Houses of the Empire at the time before its downfall—offering three chests filled with Libo's. In response, they dispatched a single Dragon Knight who, alongside the duke's remaining levies, obliterated the stronghold and reignited hope throughout the region.
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1.5 kilometers away from the town of Nebo, Tania rode with the evacuated citizens, while Kael lay unconscious across her lap, still and silent on the wagon. Above them, the sky remained blood-red, streaked with ominous threads of orange. Up ahead, the rotund Lord Oliver's voice boomed through the mist, delivering what he claimed were words of encouragement—though his tone only frayed the nerves of those forced to listen.
"My beloved people!" Lord Oliver bellowed from his lavish coach, his voice wobbling almost as much as his jowls. "In merely twenty kilometers, we shall arrive at the quaint town of Lantapan, where my dear brother; bless his generous heart, will receive us. There, we shall rest, recover, and once the dust has settled we shall return to reclaim what was lost and rebuild my castle... er, our homes, of course!"
He sat proudly in his personal coach, shamelessly munching on a feast laid out before him. With greasy fingers, he tossed scraps out the window, heedless of the hungry eyes around him. The coach itself was crafted from the finest oak—a wood abundant in the forests surrounding Nebo. Its wheels were reinforced with steel, and at their centers, nine golden spokes lent both strength and grandeur to its design. Adorning both sides of the coach, the crimson banner of House de Rais fluttered proudly—a red field bearing the image of a solitary stone tower.
(A/N: The entire coach is reminiscent of the Ceremonial Gold State Coach used by the monarchs of the United Kingdoms of Great Britain during coronations.)
Rumors spread among the people about how cowardly their liege lord truly was—concerned only with his own safety. Many believed he had sounded the town's alarm bell and summoned the levies not to protect the citizens, but to secure his own escape. Had it not been for their marshal, Sir Charles Barghest, countless more lives would have been lost in the chaos between Father Howard and the mordren.
Man 1: "I didn't know Father Howard could fight the mordrens on his own... I think that one was ranked way above Titanium."
Man 2: "I agree. But those runes on Howard's arms—and that blazing sword—it looked familiar. I just can't place it... like I've heard of it somewhere."
An old, retired soldier, an Iron-ranked veteran turned toward them and spoke.
An old Veteran said: "Father Howard is, or rather was, a Dragon Knight."
Man 2: "Dragon Knight?" He paused, eyes widening in realization. "You mean... one of the extinct Dragon Knights from House Veyrdrassil? The one who wiped out that mordren stronghold at great mountain Muchu Chhish with Duke George's men?"
"Yes," said the old veteran, and continued, "He was the one sent by those Vaeyrdrassils, and probably decided to stay with us here in Nebo. I'd never seen his face before, he always wears that iron-black mask, the one shaped like a man weeping. It's terrifying when you stare at it. Seeing him now in action... It's just like what he did during the raid at Mt. Apo. That's when I realized he's the Dragon Knight who saved us all twenty years ago."
Everyone in the crowd turned to look at the old man. The name mordren alone stirred memories—horrifying ones—of the raid at Mt. Muchu Chhish. Many fathers, brothers, and sons were lost. Yet when news reached the towns that the stronghold had been destroyed and the enemy defeated, the grief gave way to celebration. That victory became an annual tradition, commemorating the battle that turned the tide. After the raid, the Dragon Knight vanished—nowhere to be seen. It wasn't until much later that a man from Valeria - once the capital of the Valerian Empire, where the main temple of the Valerian Faith stood, sent a priest to take over the local church, the previous one having passed away of old age.
After hearing the old veteran's words, hope flickered in the eyes of the people. Some clutched their amulets and whispered prayers to the Seven Gods for Father Howard's safety. But that moment of quiet faith was shattered by a spine-chilling laugh that echoed through the air, making the horses of the guards and Lord Oliver's coach grow restless.
Fear rippled through the crowd. The guards tensed, weapons drawn, eyes scanning. Marshal Charles quickly ordered his men to form a defensive perimeter around the civilians.
Then, the blood-red sky deepened into darkness—only to shift moments later into a fiery hue of red-orange. Suddenly, a voice cried out from the crowd:
"Look at the sky! Is that a huge stone falling?!"
Everyone froze, eyes turning upward, including Lord Oliver. High above, a huge blazing object – like the size of the pyramid of Gaza – streaked through the sky like a falling star. But then they saw someone, with a radiant light, who then launched into the sky like a missile, trailing brilliant streaks of light. A thunderous shockwave followed, knocking people off their feet and sending horses with their raiders fleeing in panic.
Then, like lightning across glass, glowing cracks formed around the falling asteroid. In an instant, it split in two—then shattering into countless fragments that rained down like celestial fireworks across the sky.
Everyone cheered, some hugged each other – the disaster was over. Tania fixed her eyes on the light figure she knew was Howard. Later that light figure flickered and descended. Falling from the sky, Tania rose and carefully laid Kael's head on the floor of the wagon alongside with the wounded. Conjured "wind" which helped her fly back to the town. She ignored the people's warning as she flew past them above, she managed to get past the gate and her spell flickered due to her injuries she couldn't manage to hold it long. She crashed to the cobbled floor and managed to lessen the impact.
"Where's Howard?" she thought to herself while scanning the burning town around her.
She followed the cobbled stone road until a deafening, crumbling roar echoed through the street—a building collapsed just fifty meters ahead of her. Reacting swiftly, she conjured a barrier, shielding herself from the debris.
Tania took a detour to her right and quickly recognized the area. "This leads to the town square," she thought, maneuvering through the burning ruins of Nebo while scanning for any survivors.
Along the way, she managed to rescue fifty people who were crying for her help. She healed their wounds and used wind magic to transport them safely back to the evacuated crowd waiting beyond Nebo's gates.
As she squeezed through the remnants of a collapsed stone building blocking the path to the square, she spotted Richard—his breathing heavy and labored—as if struggling to hold on, lying on a shallow impact crater.
Tania rushed to his side, her eyes widening as she assessed the fatal wounds covering his body. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked upon him—his arms burned all the way up to his clavicles, his eyes bloodshot, with crimson tears trailing down his wrinkled face. Blood poured from his nose, and deep slash wounds marred his chest. A stab wound in his epigastric region of his abdomen had been hastily wrapped in bandages, which barely managed to slow the bleeding.
"No, no, no..." she whispered, panic rising as she desperately tried to conjure a healing spell.
To her right, Richard's once-blazing sword had begun to crumble, fading into dust.
"Tania..." Richard's voice was faint, his breath shallow. "It's okay."
"NO! You're not okay! Save your energy—don't utter another fucking word!" Tania cried, forcing her focus back into the fading spell. At last, a small healing circle appeared in her hand. She pressed it gently to his abdomen, trying to keep it stable.
"It's okay, anak," he said softly. (Filipino: Anak means "my child")
Tania looked at him in tears and couldn't believe what she heard. He smiled—a weak, tearful smile.
But then, the magic circle flickered... and shattered.
She cursed and regretted saving those people along the way.
Richard exhaled slowly, his voice calm despite the pain.
"We Dragon Knights... we are trained to use contract magic and forge a contract with the dragons."
He looked into her eyes and steadied his breathing
"There's a ninety percent fatality rate, because I am not pure-blood Veyrdrassil. Our bodies weren't made to hold the power of dragons. This... this is the price we pay, when we protect the ones, we truly love"
"But..." she whispered, her voice breaking as sobs wracked her body.
"All these years... you were always there. You said I was abandoned at the church — You made me believe I was unwanted and Roger and Emily took me in." Her tears fell onto his chest as she clutched her fists tighter, her voice rising in anguish.
"Why!? Why would you always lie to me!? Why did you carry this burden of never telling me you were my father!? All these years... When Roger and Emily introduced me to you, every weekend you'd visit me at Roger's home. You'd take me—sometimes drag me—under that cherry blossom tree... just to stand there, in silence, in front of an empty tombstone.
You were always there. Every birthday, without fail— with gifts, with a smile. You taught me healing magic... and everything else I know about magic. And all that time, I never saw Roger as my father. It felt different—wrong, somehow. It was always you. It felt like you were my real dad. I saw it. In your chestnut hair, in the shape of your face—there were pieces of me in you. I'd stare at the mirror sometimes, wondering... hoping. And still, when I asked you—begged you—if you were my real father... you lied to me."
"WHY!? Howard..., why!?"
Tears spilled down Tania's face. She tried to wipe them away, but they kept falling—uncontrollably, endlessly. All those years... all that time spent longing to know her real father.
"To protect you, Tania," Richard said weakly.
"From who?!" Tania snapped. "Like that demon who tried to kill Kael? Or some assassin from the Church?!"
"No. From your grandfather—Archmage Arthur of House Mozart"
House Mozart is one of the three great Houses of the Empire... the same House that took part in the Great Chaos.
"Your grandfather was a powerful man… A political figure alongside with the Veyrdrassils when House Karnorath took over the Valerians after a brutal war. Your mother Tania Amour Mozart—the Gentle Hand. She was a renowned healer who aided in the Raid at Caen similar to what we did at Mt. Muchu Chhish but it was a huge fortress many lives were lost. I was only eighteen then, just an iron-ranked Dragon Knight... and she, only seventeen—a Diamond-ranked mage and healer given by her lineage of course. Your mother was the first born daughter and was soon to be the bride of a Karnorathian Prince. But when your grandfather knew she was pregnant, he was furious and demanded to know who the father was."
cough
"At that time I was being sent to Nebo to aid in defeating the stronghold at Mt. Muchu Chhish and became a priest with a different name to blend in with the locals at Nebo. She ran away from home with Roger who was her trusted butler and Emily a maid... and locals in Nebo…they met me here."
Richard steadied his breath once again resting for a while to conserve energy. His gaze lingering on Tania's tear-streaked face.
"As a priest, I was bound by oath to remain childless. So Roger and Emily took you in and raised you into the person you are today."
He smiled faintly, his voice trembling. "She looked just like you. But her hair was blonde, freckles across the bridge of her nose, those same green eyes... and her smile."
He chuckled softly, then coughed. "The only thing you got from me was my chest-nut hair and my stubbornness, haha..."
He winced, then continued more softly, "I named you after her. She... she died the moment she heard your cry."
Richard reached into his robe with slow, deliberate motion and pulled out the rose he'd been given earlier. His right hand, burned and trembling with the effort, stretched. Gently, almost reverently, he tucked the rose behind Tania's left ear. With the same fragile touch, he brushed a tear from her cheek, his fingers warm—wounded, yet full of quiet strength.
"May I ask a favor, my child?" he said, his voice barely more than a breath.
"Do you remember... Cherry blossom in the heart of the garden? The one with the tombstone at its base?"
"Yes, some weekends you forced me to go with you despite I don't want to" Tania replied
He smiled faintly through the pain. "Haha, those were the days,"
His voice softened. "Your mother and I planted that tree together, long ago. It was her favorite. She loved how it bloomed, even in the cold. Said it reminded her of life—fleeting, fragile, but beautiful. And that's where we buried her, with a tombstone engraved with a cherry blossom."
Tania's eyes widened from realization as it answered her long-time question of the importance of why Richard dragged her most of the weekend to pay respects to the tombstone. And every morning and late afternoon he would visit that tombstone and spend an hour talking to himself or conversing with nobody.
He looked into Tania's eyes, pleading.
"Please... lay my body beside her, my child."
Tania nodded.
"You really have your mother's eyes," he whispered with a faint smile.
"Green... and calm."
His hand slipped away, falling limply to his side. He exhaled a final breath, peaceful—fulfilled.
"Dad, no... no, please don't leave me..." Tania sobbed, her cries echoing through the town square. She wept over Richard's lifeless body, her voice raw and broken.
Moments later, townspeople emerged from the debris, drawn by the sound, silently gathering as they watched Tania in her agony.
She collapsed onto his still chest, her fingers trembling as they clutched the fabric of his burned clergy robe. The silence around her wrapped like a cruel answer—cold, final, and empty.
Richard Lionheart, Diamond rank bannerman Dragon Knight, protector and a father, died with honor at fifty two years old in his daughter's arms.
At the top of a cliff overlooking the ruins of Nebo, a raven landed, fluttered its wings and cawed onto the shoulders of a black cloaked feminine figure.
"Tsk.. Tsk.. what a failure."
She placed a small letter onto the feet of the raven. Then the raven flew behind her back and carried the letter.
She turned and vanished into the woods.