Nird-Autgild, the fortress city of the Golden Ridge.
Once a rural hunting village, the discovery of a large gold vein beneath the Autgild Mountain transformed the city into a regional superpower.
But that was many generations ago.
The family that once ruled a mere Nird-Autgild is now a major power broker within the Three Mountain Plain.
Now the Duchy of Nird-Autgild, their influence extends from the peninsula's southernmost tip to the eastern bay.
Yet a peasant born got an audience with the current patriarch, Duke Giline.
A convention made since the founding of the current dynasty broken today.
Or at least that's what his narrative wants the story told as.
Not long after Agapis drew his sword inside the manor, they sent him to the dungeon.
Yet now he sat face to face with the Duke.
Duke Giline Autgild, who commands the lives of the hundreds of thousands within the east basin alone second to the king.
His presence alone befit his title as the Duke of Gold.
The psychological coercion pressed the room's air, yet it was noticeable nonetheless.
"What is it you want?" Agapis said, legs crossed on the table in front of him, easing his nerve.
"You insolent—"
"No, you're right," Giline said with a curt smile, cutting off his subordinate with their dismissal.
"But, your lordship," his subordinate rose in protest, but Giline was having none of it.
"I should be more courteous of my daughter's hero, or do you believe my daughter is a bad judge of character?"
"We'll guard the outside, your lordship."
With a bow, the guards leave.
"Now, with no prying ear we can talk more comfortably now, yes."
Giline rose from his seat and poured himself a glass of wine.
The reddish-purple splashed and flowed, fogging up the glass.
He swirled the glass, the liquid crawling up the curve of the crystal, to be pulled back by the masses.
Agapis stiffened, observing Giline's every action, the refined action of nobility filled with hidden intent.
"This is wine from the Angiliogos Argipilego. Uniquely, the wine is known for its rich and crisp taste with a light body, as opposed to the rougher wines grown on the continent."
Walking over to the Agapis, Giline handed him the glass.
"Perfect for guests."
"Thanks?" Agapis took the glass and sipped the wine, mimicking some nobles he'd seen.
"It is the least I can do for someone who saved my daughter."
"Not intentionally."
"Ultimately, it is the result that people praised and condemned you for, and in that regard, the chamberlain made a blunder."
"All's is well that ends well."
"I'm glad you understand. Now, let's move on to a more serious matter."
The air in the room stiffened. If before, it felt like walking through a thin layer of fog, now it felt like a sea of ice.
Agapis felt the pricking sensation in his scalp, chains and cuffs locking on his heart.
"Who are you?"
"... You." Agapis has always disliked dealing with aristocrats. They are needlessly suffocating.
But in front of the Duke, even his haughtiness could not hide how he felt like a mouse to a predator.
"You've appeared out of nowhere in this world and moved to greater heights of fame," Giline said, taking a seat back from where he rose, the interrogation in full swing.
"With the prowess to show now, people should've praised you as a genius before and
"You even coincidentally 'saved' my daughter from an ambush on one of the countless vestigial roads that lead to the primary roads."
"I know of no sort, sir."
"But, it's fine," Giline said. The rigid air broke loose and shattered through like an illusion.
"What?" Hit with whiplash. The pricking sensation washed away with nothing but the itch that was a reminder of the grip of stress.
"You don't seem like a bad character. I've seen my fair share of people to know that."
"Then what was all that for?" Agapis rose from his seat, annoyed that he was toyed with.
"It's part of the process. Weak-willed people faint, assassins tense, and people with hidden identities become on guard."
Giline brought his own glass to his nose, smelling the aroma of sweetness and intoxication.
"How about I make it up to you three requests you can make of me: two for saving my daughter and one for all your trouble. How does that sound?"
On the table was an emblem of the Duke, made of gold engraved amethyst to the sight of the tallest peak, a symbol that represents the promise honored by the duchy.
"No takes back!"
Grabbing the emblem and downing the wine, Agapis left the room before Giline finished his sentences.
Slam.
Having the door closed on him, Giline stared blankly for a second before bursting out laughing.
"Ahh, how it is to be young."
Going over to the window, Giline looked outside as Agapis left the palace, his journey just beginning.
'Just as the predictions, he's a great one.'
But his questioning wasn't unfounded.
A prophecy came from all the major churches, along with a disturbing rumor.
"'Beware the deal struck between tyrain and silver,' after the saint announced the prophecy, he fell unconscious. Currently, the clergy are taking this as an Oracle of the Apocalypse."
'Oracle of the Apocalypse.'
The last Oracle of the Apocalypse was nine centuries ago.
The record told of the tragedy that befell after the collapse of the old empire: rain of fire, sickly crops, and a reign of unrest and chaos.
It was only after the Hero King Dubnir reconquered the fallen state that the chaos was put to rest.
'If so, then someone like him should be a hero of some sort.'
A rogue lighting appeared in the sky, like an omen of chaos brewing ahead.
'But why do I feel something is very wrong about this?'
***
'Thunder and lighting consume a lot of the string's power.'
A tree of lighting grew downward from the clear day sky. The roots spread out like threads into invisibility.
On the outskirts of town, the tree standing in front of Ifrid a moment ago is now a searing wooden bonfire.
Purple lighting descends from the sky, splitting the trees in to the origins of its power, nature, second to the command of the book.
Strings that were even fainter now that lighting was used, only a tenth as full as when he first appeared.
'It seems the more the lives affected and the greater the immediate impact correlate to the price paid.'
And the lighting strike was not the only cost.
Next to him was a pile of radiant gems he had created from the book, but compared to the lighting, the gems are but drops in the bucket.
The strings seem to care not what is being manifested, and the cost seems proportional to the size and how refined it was.
"Speaking of, I should really give that string power a name."
'But what should I call it?'
Looking back at the trees, Ifrid felt like the flame was dancing to the tug and pull of the invisible string.
As he commands the strings from the book into his body, a word comes into his mind.
"Hype."
From everywhere where everything originates to where everything everywhere goes.
Reaching broad, exaggerated action taken at face value.
Its tunes danced to by everything.
Like a melody to his ear, he heard the sound of information flowing into the book.
The meeting between the duke and Agapis just finished.
"Oh, looks like they're done."
Looking through the book, he saw from the moment Agapis entered to the moment he was leaving the palace to find rest somewhere in town.
The duke was a very interesting man, knowledgeable in worldly affairs.
But what interested Ifrid most was not the pedantic syntax of the flowery threat or the prodding and poodle of the detective play.
Not even the Deluge Delux from Angiliogos piqued his interest, though a thorough investigation for purely academic purposes must be conducted on its taste.
No, what interested him most was the mention of the hero.
And that the duke considers Agapis as one.
'A hero, huh? What an interesting premise.'
Heroes, by their definition, are the embodiment of a collective will, someone with whom everyone puts their faith.
They may seem like fate's chosen, made a vessel of all the wishes of the world to defy the course of history itself.
But it wouldn't surprise him if most heroes of legends past are related to the gods.
'Who knows, they might be even playing them in a greater game.'
But for now, it doesn't matter.