Kingdom of Byarn

Introduction: Elienera

"Ventures!" A chilling cry rent the air. Birds rose from the trees surrounding the clearing, complaining in their own language about the interruption of their peace.

"Ventures!" the woman's voice repeated again. This time, however, there was a hint of despair in it.

Elienera stood in the middle of the clearing. Enormous trees surrounded her, their branches lost in the darkness of the night. The silence was broken by the distant howl of a wolf. The girl, lost and impatient, moved forward.

"Hynjalan." The girl's spell instantly illuminated the surrounding trees. Without stopping, she crossed the first line of trees, heading towards the tower where she had last seen her friend.

"Ventures, you damned mage!" Desperation grew in the girl's voice. She was alone, in the middle of an unfamiliar forest, which grew denser with every step. Furthermore, the path she had taken from the tower had vanished, which only increased her irritation and fear. However, no one answered her call, and the only sound she could hear were the cracking of twigs beneath her feet. Continuing forward, despite the first scratches appearing on her face, she came upon a large rock ledge. The girl's irritation and fear turned to terror. She was certain of the direction she had chosen. She was also certain that this rock wall had not been there before. However, the girl couldn't remain immersed in her thoughts for long. Somewhere, perhaps in the clearing where she had stood just a few hourglasses ago, a horn sounded. Wild calls also followed. And they were definitely not human. The only escape route was a rocky ledge, unfortunately too smooth for any human to climb. Another horn sounded. More voices, this time closer. One quick glance around the area was enough to make a decision. In less than an hour, the girl found herself 3-4 meters up on one of the branches of a tree growing near the ledge. The voices were getting closer with every passing moment. She could hear the distinctly spoken sentences. Now she recognized the language. It was the language of the orcs. The first of them appeared within her sight, followed closely by a dozen others. However, they were unable to see Elienery hidden in the branches of the trees. The orcs reached the ledge. They stopped, looking around with dazed eyes. The girl, gaining confidence, was already planning an attack on this small group. Suddenly, a hooded figure emerged from the undergrowth. A wave of contempt and hatred washed over the girl. Despite her hooded head, she was perfectly aware of what she was dealing with. The only clearly visible thing were the whites of her eyes, reflecting the glow of the torches carried by the orcs. The whites turned toward Elienery. From beneath the hood emerged a short, mocking laugh, saturated with evil and cruelty. A moment later, the same mouth that had been laughing a moment before uttered a spell. A spell in a dark language.

-Arke'gre.

Blue light reached the girl sitting in the tree, paralyzed with fear. Her vision blurred and slowly began to fade to black. She began to fall. It seemed to her that she was falling for eternity. Finally, she touched the ground. Something crunched in her body. Her vision became increasingly blurry, but she felt no pain. The only thing she saw before she fell into darkness was the face of a man leaning over her.

The man she hated so much.

A man who led an army of orcs against the kingdom of Byarn, intending to bring about its final downfall.

A man named Gernorner.

Chapter 1: Murder.

One of the worn-out benches in a crumbling inn, of which there were many throughout the kingdom, near the city of Randilian was occupied by a dwarf. A dwarf named Bunar. He was finishing his second ale, which he had been sipping for the last few hourglasses, lost in thought about the meeting that awaited him here. When he finished it, he glared at the innkeeper and shouted,

"Innkeeper!!! Beer! Quickly, unless you want to taste my axe on your head." The innkeeper immediately began refilling his tankard, not wanting to force the dwarf to fulfill his threat. Bunar was in a bad mood, which was obvious at first glance. He had come a long way to meet these mages, and now, after three sunrises and sunsets, when he finally reached this dilapidated ruin, he found neither Elienery nor Ventures there.

"This is what happens when you make deals with people," he thought, looking around the room. The room consisted of seven benches, of which only three were occupied. On the left sat two elves. Bunar distrusted elves, just as he distrusted other races, including even dwarves. In fact, one could say he trusted only himself and his axe. On the right, with his head resting on the bench, sat a man unconscious from drunkenness. He saw no one else, except the innkeeper, who was quickly approaching his capital. After receiving another mug of vodka, the dwarf settled the bill, then, grabbing the mug, he lost himself in thought again. He was thinking about the rumors that orcs were approaching Randilian. Apparently, three royal armies could not stand against this savage horde. Perhaps that was why the inn was so empty and supplies so hard to come by.

From his thoughts The empty tankard snapped him out of it. He looked around again. The elves had left, while the drunkard sprawled on the floor. The innkeeper was drying tankards behind his counter. Bunar sighed, stood up, and moved toward the counter. The innkeeper didn't like the sight of the dwarf approaching him, a giant axe strapped to his side, capable of killing with a single swift blow. The situation was even more displeasing to the innkeeper, as the dwarf was clearly displeased. "You shouldn't have mixed beer with water after all," a panicked thought flashed through the innkeeper's mind. However, Bunar's words brought him relief:

"You have some rooms here, as long as they're good!

" "You'll get the best room we have... if you can afford it." The innkeeper, his courage restored, leveled Bunar with a cold gaze. But his courage was about to disappear again.

"You lousy filth." How dare you tell me that I, one of the bravest dwarves in the entire area, am penniless!?

This time the innkeeper realized that engaging in a discussion could cost him his head, regardless of the laws prevailing in the area. He rushed to the stairs leading upstairs, saying almost in a whisper, "Follow me." The warrior, however, heard this and followed the innkeeper briskly. The first floor was built of the same rotting logs. The dwarf was led to the end of the corridor. They stood before a rather unsound-looking door marked with the number 12.

"Two silver shillings for the night," the innkeeper replied again in a whisper.

Bunar eyed him with a natural-born killer, but took the money from his bag and handed it to the innkeeper's thin, outstretched hand.

"And now, get out." In less than a fifth of the hourglass, only the dwarf remained on the first floor. He entered his room. He was sure it wasn't the best of all the rooms. The room was dark, considering it was almost 5 o'clock after sunset. The only thing in the room was a bed covered with some moth-eaten cloth. A sheet, and a table, which, incidentally, had been destroyed by the weight of the axe the dwarf had placed on it. Cursing at the top of his voice, Bunar lay down on the bed. As he slowly fell asleep, he thought he heard screams. But who cared about the screams of those pompous people? When shots rang out right next to the inn's entrance door, the dwarf was lost in sleep.

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The sound of breaking branches. And the sound of feet. Many feet. The panic of the prey that Ventures had become. He knew he was getting closer to his goal, but he also saw they were catching up. "They won't get the message," the prey's thought flashed as he crossed the last line of trees. He saw a light, probably the long-awaited inn. "Only a few dozen meters more" – but he could hear the hunters getting closer, catching up. A leap over the wooden fence and another murderous run. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep up this pace for long, but he also knew the message had to reach its destination. He remembered Eleniera's face. It strengthened him, gave him new strength. He reached the inn door, but the sound of a gunshot pierced the air. Piercing pain. He fell to the ground. A red glow filled his eyes. He still held the message. But someone was tearing it away from him. And that clatter of feet

...

Randilian was silent. The inhabitants were engrossed in lethargy. The only people on the streets were the guards, who had increased their vigilance following recent reports of orc hordes near the city. However, they failed to notice the gray figure creeping through the alleyways toward the gate. Nor did anyone hear the short, broken cry of fear emitted by the guard of this beautiful, quiet city. A moment later, the guard lay dead on the ground, his slashed throat forming a large puddle. The gray figure moved tirelessly in his chosen direction, reducing the population by one again. Finally, he reached his destination. A guard stood at the lever. A quick movement of his hand, a whoosh of air, and he slumped dead, a knife protruding from his skull. The clang of the gate sounded, alerting the guards... but it was too late. Dozens of hourglasses later, the ghost town burst into flames.

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Bunar was woken by a pounding on the door. He jumped up, grabbing his axe.

"What?" he said angrily, not opening the door. He didn't like being woken. He would have gladly thrown the axe straight at the door and split the skull open.

"By order of the king, everyone is to leave this area," the person behind the door said, followed by footsteps, suggesting a guard had descended.

The dwarf stretched and sighed heavily. He knew that displacement meant only one thing: the orcs had advanced and most likely occupied Randilian. He looked out the window. Some villagers were loading all their belongings onto a wagon, guards were milling around... and Ventures's body lay on one of the wagons. The door to the room had been blown off its hinges by the dwarf's kick. He didn't care—after all, the orcs would burn this ruin down anyway. His mission was more important to him. He ran through the empty corridor, running down the stairs. On the ground floor, right at the counter, the innkeeper sat weeping over his belongings, which he had to abandon. This didn't interest Bunar either, and a moment later he was standing right next to Ventures's corpse.

"A letter..." He turned to the guard standing next to the body.

The guard looked at him in surprise. He had every right to be surprised at the sight of a panting dwarf, a large axe in hand, asking about letters.

"Excuse me?" asked Renhun, for that was the name of the guard standing before the dwarf.

"A letter... did this corpse have a LETTER!" Bunar was growing increasingly irritated. He realized his mission was becoming increasingly difficult to complete. Besides, he had never been able to control his nerves—now he was practically shouting at the guard.

"The letter...yes...has been placed in storage at our camp.

" "Great, so I can have it." The dwarf's tone calmed. He began to feel hopeful that the whole mission might succeed.

"That depends," the guard replied. "If you're Sentures, then yes.

" "Does it matter??!" Anger, tempered by hope, erupted again, but this time with greater force. "I am Bunar of the Bloodaxe Clan. I am tasked with delivering this letter to Santures."

The dwarf could no longer control his outburst of anger. He began to wave his axe nervously at the guard.

"Because of this idiot, my entire mission will be in vain," the dwarf thought, unaware that guards with drawn swords were creeping up behind him.

"Get a grip," this time the guard's voice was filled with terror. It wasn't every day that he found himself facing a mad dwarf who was wildly swinging his enormous axe before his eyes. "We'll send a courier to this Sentures," he added, hoping to appease the madman's anger.

"The courier is already dead..." Bunar couldn't finish the sentence. Under the baton of one of the guards who had been sneaking up until then, Bunar fell to the ground unconscious. He was immediately tied up and thrown onto a carriage, which left for the capital that same day.

That same day, the inn caught fire from the orcs.

That same day, the courier set off on a mission. He was to deliver a message. The message he was supposed to receive "Santures - one of the 5 Grandmasters of Ancient Magic