Lost

Glorious Are The Lands We Walk Upon

The Kingdom of Sylese has always been great, an epitome of learning and tradition, with rulers fair and wise for the greater part of a millennia. The land was rich and pure and good, and it is said that not one harvest failed while the benevolent dynasty of Ashworth ruled over the land, sprouting peace and prosperity for all their people.

But even the greatest kingdoms can fall prey to betrayal.

The reign of Sygon was a great one. Sygon was born a warrior, with the heart of an artist, lethal with the sword and gentle with the pen. He bought upon Sylese a great era of artistry and glory unrivalled across all time and places, and it was whispered that he would be the Paragon to achieve Eternal Lustre, the bright flame of the Setting Sun. Across all nations his name was whispered with wonder and awe, his admirers many and widespread. And Sylese grew heavy with the weight of its own success.

No one remembers his name, the one who finally did the deed. For Sygon had a brother, a rival in all ways and accounts that hated him with the vengeance of a fallen angel. He resented his brother for the glory he wrought, jealous of his influence and grace. The brother wanted it all to himself. So he killed Sygon, the one person whom the King thought he could wholly rely on. For it is often the ones we trust the most who stand to hurt us the deepest. Fate had in store for Sygon a merciless slaughter, not worthy of a King so great and noble as he, but nobility often fails to sway the will of death.

And with Sygon's death, so many things died. The love in a kingdom, the light in the eyes of its people as the Brother was declared king, and betrothed to Sygon's eldest daughter, who was little more than an infant. So great was the despair of the Kingdom at this great loss, that the flowers ceased to bloom east of the Illem River, and the land was barren from the walls of the King's City to the foothills of the Antler mountains. And the wolves, who had long been the Ashworth Crest, were torn from the battlements of every keep and burned. The wolves, fearing for their safety, fled to the western bank of the Illem river, the one place that the Brother's power could not reach. And so they waited, for the Heir to rise and take her throne.

But Sygon's eldest daughter was selfish, and grew up believing her uncle was a mighty and noble man, despite having her sisters and mother imprisoned in the highest North tower, where they stayed until one cold Winter's eve. And so, the Princess Aluin married became Queen Aluin, as she wed her own uncle, and sealed the miserable fate a kingdom and doomed it to wate away in memory.