The southern nation of Fleecia was known for its mastery of the cruel sea. Its people--the Onda, were a stocky and often rather short race of horned humanoids, whose resistance to the cold and physical strength had given them a reputation as survivalists. Blessed with rich pockets of gold beneath its surface, the country had spearheaded the introduction of gold coins as the accepted currency of the Holy Alliance. Profitable trade routes between its many naval trading outposts and Tor had been active for many centuries, solidifying a lasting peace between the two. That said, Onda most commonly found the more temperate climates of the mainland to be inhospitable, and so rarely left their homeland.
The steady advancement of Demonkind had not only affected Tor. The emergence of Leviathan--second of the Four Heavenly Kings, had become Fleecia's top concern. The serpentine menace was said to encircle the world with its tremendous size, and lay waste to any prospective sailor or explorer who dared to cross its watery domain. The kraken which had previously been terrorising Onaffor-Hen--the shortest channel between Fleecia and Tor, paled in comparison to the threat of Leviathan. Lashing out at even humble fishing vessels, the Onda had been deprived of their livelihoods and were understandably incensed by the creature's presence. News had already travelled of Tiamat's defeat at the hands of both humans and Elves, leading many to become inspired and determined to bring Leviathan low in a similar fashion. Political pressure had been applied to God-King Emir, rightful ruler of all Onda, to assemble a fleet capable of defeating Leviathan, but the creature's home advantage on the open ocean made him reluctant to send sailors pointlessly to their deaths.
"There is only one fit to make this decision." He declared, "I will seek the assistance of the Great Hermit, and return with either a powerful ally or the wisdom to carry out this battle myself."
When coming of age, the Onda typically undertook dangerous pilgrimages into the country's frozen highlands, seeking the ancient ruins of their ancestors in a bid to attain wisdom from what little remained, or was legible, of their past. As God-King, Emir was liable to carry out such journeys several times a year, and had become accustomed to braving the freezing inland wilderness. But there was one even more dedicated than he--an Onda who had made it their mission to reside within the unforgiving ruins of Fleecia's past.
Among their people, asceticism was once practised in an age of antiquity. One would shut themselves away from the world and subsist only on their thoughts, going weeks at a time without food or water. The experience brought one closer to the spiritual 'oneness' still present within Fleecian faith, and those who held a full understanding of that faraway enlightenment were dubbed Hermits--normally spiritual leaders or exceptional rulers. That single Onda, who was said to have lived for many centuries, had welcomed countless kings prior to Emir, and had been granted the title of Great Hermit as a testament to their wisdom.
Out of respect for those archaic traditions, Emir prepared lightly for his pilgrimage. He would take from the land only what he needed in the moment, rather than relying on packaged rations or tools for climbing. His destination would be the abandoned city of Anama, once called Matislavgita by his ancestors--believed to be the ancient capital of Fleecia in a long-forgotten age. The path was not unknown to him, but fraught with terrible danger. Even so, to name himself God-King, Emir could not refuse even the most insurmountable challenge.
Onda were no strangers to the cold, but the blizzards of Fleecia's highlands had transformed them into perilous stretches of pure-white, devoid of any life whatsoever. Even the thick-furred Berndtali, who normally revelled in the cold, dared not wander so far inland. Having not even allowed himself a map or compass, Emir was forced to tread the path by memory, with the slightest miscalculation liable to throw him completely off-course.
But rarely was one so talented as to claim the title of God-King, and true to his responsibilities, Emir pushed through to the valleyed, snowcapped expanse of Anama, sprawling like a labyrinth of stone between two gargantuan mountain peaks. The Great Hermit would be found in the covered ruins of the city's stronghold, exposed to the elements but who had remained impossibly alive even after so many centuries. Descending into the forgotten capital, Emir wandered slowly through the streets, admiring the craftsmanship of his ancestors, before continuing into the lofty palace from where the God-Kings of old would have ruled. A light snow fell through the breached ceiling of its inner sanctum, rays of light pouring down from the thick cloud cover illuminating a meditating figure in the room's centre. As still as a corpse, one would have thought they'd happened upon the mummified remains of some noble long past their time.
The Hermit didn't stir in response to Emir's presence, as if caught in a deep meditative trance. However, he could feel that the piercing gaze upon him was still full of life. Normally, it would be considered a grave embarrassment for a God-King to kneel to any single individual, but in the presence of one who had attained divine enlightenment, he felt it necessary to show proper deference.
"It's been some time." He greeted with his head lowered, "-Great Hermit Shilahi."
The girl had surely been meditating in that spot for months, but even as she stirred, her features remained unblemished by hunger or cold. The suspicious look in her eyes seemed to peer straight into Emir's soul.
"So the boy king has come to see me again." Shilahi's voice was clear, "I can tell you're here to ask for something more meaningful than simple advice, Emir."
"Yes." He answered quickly, "Truthfully, I must ask for your assistance."
"Hm." She paused, "To defeat Leviathan?"
"...You already knew, then. Of course."
"Is this precisely not the kind of challenge a God-King should be eager to embrace?"
"This is not about my own pride." He answered truthfully, "Leviathan attacks even the smallest vessels that venture out to sea. Our people long to embark yet again, but… their zeal for battle is too great. I fear that they will lay down their lives in this pointless pursuit."
"You do not believe Fleecia is powerful enough to emerge victorious?"
"No." It wasn't something he liked to admit, but Emir understood that running from the truth would only bring disaster, "Tor is preoccupied with holding back Demonkind, and Khazmani sailors are not suited for battle. This is a battle we must fight alone, but our fleets are not enough to slay the very embodiment of the ocean's wrath."
"So, with all options exhausted, you approach me."
"It is not my place to request your aid. But it is for Fleecia's sake that I must."
"Do you believe I hold the power to defeat such a foe?"
"Yes."
"Hm." Shilahi considered his words, "How troublesome."
"I will not demand that you emerge from your meditation to assist us." He clarified, "If the legends are to be believed, you were once a sailor of great repute. If even a single thread of truth exists within that web of fantasy, then it would be both foolish and unwise of me to relent in requesting your unconditional support."
"The world is moving towards an uncertain future. One even I cannot hope to predict." She replied, "A reunification of bonds… that might not be such an unpleasant thing…"
"Great Hermit?"
"I will lend you my aid." She declared all of a sudden, "But my fate lies elsewhere, beyond the reaches of Fleecia. I will slay Leviathan, but afterwards, I will leave you. Expect no such assistance in the future."
"To have been granted the aid of one so wise as you…" Emir began, "I would not dare ask for more than I deserve. But if I may ask--if your destiny does not lie with Fleecia, then where might you go?"
"That is unimportant."
Shilahi couldn't quite recall the last time she had consciously moved her own body. Nonetheless, beneath her heavy cloak--the sole luxury of her isolation, she was as healthy as ever. Not even the potions of longevity which had assured her incredible lifespan could prevent one from dying of hunger or thirst, but the life of a practised Hermit channelled more than simple concentration. As she rose to her feet, the period of her intense meditation came to a close, and unrestricted by discipline, a surge of emotions coursed through her body. Happiness, despair, fear, anger… in such a short period of time so long ago, her world had been a turbulent mix of so many things. But more than anything else, desire welled up in her chest--a desire to meet with the lifelong comrades she hadn't seen in over 500 years.
"Leviathan is a terrible enemy. Make no mistake--many Fleecians will die to ensure its destruction." She warned, "But the beast will be slain. That much, I can assure you."