Glisterholm Fortress, the Northern Borders of the luminous empire
A large caravan composed of diverse races was traveling along the northern highway toward Glisterholm Fortress. This caravan was made up of wandering merchants who had purchased a variety of goods from northern cities and distant lands. Now, they were heading to this city to trade glowing and glittering gemstones.
Until about five centuries ago, Glisterholm was known only for its strategic location. Positioned at the heart of the northern highway, the fortress served as the main artery for transporting goods into the Holy Empire.
Although sea routes were an alternative for transporting goods, many merchants opted for them only in emergencies. Land routes allowed for bartering, side sales, and smaller transactions, which were often more profitable. Wandering merchants, with their sharp instincts for lucrative opportunities, were not ones to miss out on such advantages.
However, trade was not their only activity. These traveling merchants were also known as brokers of information. Wherever they went, they carried not just goods but also rumors and news, making them highly valuable to local commanders and rulers.
When word of the disappearance of Harold Golden Shrine, one of the Holy Empire's most renowned knights, spread among the locals, the commander of Glisterholm Fortress summoned the leader of the caravan. Aware of the significance of this news, the commander demanded that he reveal all he knew.
The caravan leader, who had deliberately spread the rumor to increase the value of his information, began to speak only after receiving a heavy pouch of gold. He provided detailed accounts of what he knew, including scattered rumors and accounts from local witnesses.
After the caravan leader departed, the fortress commander decided to relay the critical news to higher authorities immediately. The matter was too sensitive to entrust to messenger pigeons. Instead, he selected a swift rider, gave him detailed verbal instructions, and sent him to the capital.
The disappearance of Harold Golden Shrine—a knight whose fame had reached the farthest corners of the Empire of Light—would soon draw the attention of the central authorities. The commander of the fortress knew that such news could easily spark significant changes, not just in the northern borders but across the entire empire...
A Few Days Later, at the Northern Gate of Eryndal, Capital of the Holy Empire
The messenger urged his horse forward and gazed at the magnificent sight of Eryndal's gleaming walls from atop the mountain. He had endured the grueling journey over several days with minimal rest, changing horses at every fortress and station along the way.
From a distance, Eryndal's walls appeared like a white specter standing tall on the horizon—thick, high, and flawless. These walls were constructed from finely carved stones, their color resembling bleached bone, and countless tales spoke of their unmatched strength. Towering above the walls were tall battlements equipped with catapults and massive bows, ready to defend the heart of the Luminous empire from any threat.
This city was the pulsating heart of the empire and the main seat of the Temple of Light—a place where people gathered for education, trade, and worship.
Exhausted yet determined, the messenger bypassed the long queue of merchants and travelers waiting at the city gates. The guards, recognizing the insignia of Glisterholm Fortress on his seal, allowed him entry without hesitation.
Despite its location in a region with sparse vegetation, Eryndal was brimming with fountains and flowing streams. Some buildings even had intricate water systems that channeled water from the highlands to mills for grinding grain. Life in the city was vibrant. Commoners busied themselves trading and conversing in bustling markets and neighborhoods, while philosophical and ethical debates thrived in the cafes and academies.
The messenger passed through the crowded districts of the commoners and entered the military quarter. After his documents were verified and his identity confirmed, he was granted an audience with the city's security chief and, subsequently, the High Priest.
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Accompanied by several senior security officers, the messenger made his way to the Temple of Light, situated in the northeastern part of the city. The temple was a magnificent structure. Its marble steps reflected the golden rays of the sun, and twenty colossal columns supported its lofty roof.
This sacred site was usually closed to the public except on special days. The group ascended the marble steps and arrived at the grand gate of the temple—a gate crafted from fir wood, adorned with gold inlay and intricate carvings that beautifully symbolized the spirituality of the place.
Inside the temple, students in long white robes were leaving the High Priest's weekly session. These students, who had chosen a pure and ascetic life, walked barefoot and engaged in discussions about the philosophies and teachings they had just heard.
The High Priest, an elderly bald man with sharp yet calming eyes, wearing a white silk robe, came forward to greet the messenger. Leaning on his staff, he descended from his platform and approached with a serene smile. The messenger bowed briefly and relayed the entire report given by the commander of Glisterholm Fortress without omission.
Upon hearing the report, the High Priest's expression grew serious, though his innate composure remained unshaken. Placing a hand on the messenger's head, he offered a prayer for his peace and well-being. He then ordered the messenger to be shown to the temple's guest quarters to rest and prepare for his return journey to Glisterholm.
After the messenger departed, the High Priest turned to one of his closest disciples and said quietly, "Inform the council. Perhaps the time has come for us to step out of the shadows and reveal the truth..."
In the Rear Courtyard of the Temple,
The High Priest sat calmly on a wooden bench, surrounded by rare trees and enchanting flowers that had been nurtured through a unique magic. Crystal-clear streams flowed alongside paved paths, with ornamental fish gliding peacefully within. Exotic birds flitted between branches, making the courtyard feel like a fragment of paradise.
A seventy-year-old man, clad in light armor that bore the marks of years on the battlefield, emerged from the hedges and approached the High Priest.
The High Priest gestured for him to come closer and said,
"Come, Edmond. We need to discuss something important."
Edmond bowed briefly and respectfully sat beside the priest.
"Your Grace, what urgent matter calls for my presence?"
The High Priest gazed into the distance, as if burdened by a heavy thought.
"Harold, our holy knight, is missing. Rumors suggest he might be dead."
Edmond, stunned by the news, replied in disbelief,
"What? Harold Golden Shrine? Dead? That's impossible! In the empire, the number of people who could fight him and survive is fewer than the fingers on one hand."
The priest nodded solemnly.
"That's what I thought too. But the evidence points to him being last seen near the ruins of Asryndor. Perhaps the elves are involved."
Edmond frowned in thought.
"The elves? Perhaps... but I can't see why they would do such a thing. They know the consequences of killing a holy knight."
The High Priest stood slowly and began walking toward a garden filled with magical flowers. The gardeners, noticing him, bowed respectfully and returned to their work.
"The elves know well that killing a sacred knight could spark a holy war. Contrary to what many believe, I truly didn't want Harold dead. He was invaluable to us. We nurtured him and the others to protect us against the Originals."
At the mention of the Originals, Edmond's expression shifted. Fear and unease were evident in his eyes. The High Priest, noticing his reaction, offered a calming smile and spoke softly,
"Trust me, Edmond. To face great threats, we need power beyond imagination."
The priest then gestured to one of the gardeners.
"Come here, my child…"
A young, humble gardener quickly approached and knelt before the priest.
"You have been chosen, my child. Today, you will shed this mortal form and join the Light."
The gardener, tears of joy streaming down his face, respectfully took his pruning knife and, with a swift motion, slit his own throat. His body collapsed, and his blood stained the stone path.
Temple attendants approached the body with reverence. One of them sipped a bit of the blood and murmured,
"He has been chosen. He is..."
Edmond, witnessing the scene, felt a mix of horror and revulsion. Despite being a seasoned warrior accustomed to death, this kind of ritual sacrifice always left him deeply unsettled.
The High Priest, as if nothing unusual had occurred, continued walking serenely and said,
"To fight the Originals, we need such strength. People who are ready to sacrifice themselves without question. People who see the Temple as above all else, even family and life itself."
Edmond remained silent, his face still clouded with unease. The priest added quietly,
"If Harold is truly dead, we must find a way to maintain our supremacy. Perhaps it is time to construct a great temple beside the Tree of Life. Such a structure would symbolize our power and commitment. Take all necessary steps to make it happen."
Edmond bowed respectfully and made his way toward the order of Light. Yet, his mind was in turmoil. When he glanced back and saw the attendants consuming the gardener's body, a wave of nausea and weakness overtook him.
Meanwhile, the sound of the High Priest's staff tapping against the marble floors echoed throughout the temple. He moved forward with calm determination, toward a future dark and uncertain.