Caldor's Story

Chapter 1

We, the Dawnseers, were the longest living line of pureblood knights.

It was our duty to uphold Castellian traditions. And we did so longer than any ancient, noble family.

How are we no more? As the last, living Dawnseer. That shame belongs to me.

Chapter 2

If you wanted to find my mothers and sisters, and the weather was fair, you'd find them at the Hearthgrove, which towered in the courtyard of Dawnseer Keep. My sisters sat on its giant roots, reading books, playing cards and chatting merrily.

But if you wanted to find me, the sole male heir, I was on the training grounds. Practicing battle on foot or by steed.

Our blademasters mocked my lack of experience and shared their own stories of glory. Filling me with envy! They said, "One day, Caldor! You shall have your a ballad of fantastic deeds!"

We laughed. And pretended that my father didn't have a different idea for me, entirely.

Chapter 3

Naivety is my greatest flaw. I didn't know it then. But I know it now. It took losing everything, to realize that.

I was good with the sword. Better than most soldiers.

And that fueled my ignorance. My righteousness. And eventually, my... recklessness.

Chapter 4

Each year I grew older, the more hours I was forced to spend in the library, with a scholar over my shoulder, pointing out my mistakes and correcting my book keeping.

These things bored me! I wanted glory! Some days, I defied my lessons and returned to the training ground.

Until the day the soldiers refused me. Ser Janix wouldn't look me in the eyes. He simply said, "Sorry Caldor. Your father says you're not to train anymore."

Chapter 5

At the age of twenty I was knighted beneath the Hearthgrove. As is our tradition for all Dawnseer men.

I felt the intensity of the grove's power, long protected by my ancestors.

Traditionally, we are then sent on a quest. To seek out a good and just cause!

But after my ceremony, father held out his hand, demanding the Dawnseer sword. In exchange, he handed me a robe, the same kind he wore when studying and book keeping. "You're first task as a man, Caldor. Is to protect our home from within."

I felt my blood warm. I losing my temper. I accused him of being a coward. For denying me our rite of passage. Father didn't react. So I stormed down the hall - away from his empty expression. Not knowing that would be the last time I saw him, alive.

Chapter 6

In the night, I stole back my sword and armor. I found my steed, Jasmine. She bowed her head, as if she knew. We escaped the keep, racing past our borders. I was in search of a grand quest, a cause to prove my worth.

But I was not used to being in the world on my own. I found the villages strange and not quite as I imagined from the stories of heroes. The streets were filled with garbage, where the people ploughed fields all day and drank ale through the night.

I was not quite welcomed, the way I had imagined. In fact, people shied away, as if fearful.

Disappointed by reality, I indulged, drunk on tavern wine and teased by a local wench.

The next morning my brain felt thick. I stumbled down the stairs and heard the news.

At first, it didn't register... That Dawnseer Keep had fallen. Burned to the ground. And there were no survivors.

I didn't believe them. Couldn't believe them. I had to see for myself.

Chapter 7

I rode home, pushing Jasmine harder than I liked. It took us half a day. But soon we saw the black smoke, billowing in the air.

The walls of Dawnseer keep were demolished. Blasted outwards and scorched, as if by some great, firey source.

I found their bodies in the courtyard. It was... Difficult to look. But I had to know. I forced myself to step closer until there was no mistaking, they were Father, Mother and my sisters.

The Hearthgrove, which had stood for millennia, was obliterated. Somehow it had become no more than a blackened stump, surrounded by the ruins of our keep. Supposedly the trees were impervious. To all except a spellbinder, a magical being that until then, I had thought were myth. I should have believed my training. They were my duty. And I had failed.

I had failed everyone.

I wept. The terrible smell of destruction, strong in my nostrils. The wind howled. And I swore I heard something on the wind, like a weeping. I could have died with them, defending my loved ones against whatever enemy came here.

My sadness, quickly turned to rage. I wasn't dead. So my thoughts turned to revenge.

Chapter 8

Devastated, I rode to the nearest Castle, demanding an audience with the King.

I told him who I was and what had happened. I begged for his help, to find answers. I needed his alchemists, soldiers and scholars! I needed justice!

But the King seemed sickly... Pale skinned, quiet and feeble. He mumbled and with a wave of his hand, sent me away.

I was not even granted a second audience. The King was too ill to care. This only fueled my anger. I felt desperate. Seeing enemies, everywhere.

A portly hand rested on my shoulder. I nearly knocked the stranger, over! But I could tell by his clothes he was an aristocraft. The round man introduced himself as Viscount Eisendorf. He'd heard my pleas. And he had news that our was not the first Hearthgrove to fall. In fact, spellbinders were rumored to have been destroying them. And so few of the ancient trees remained, now.

It turned out that he needed a sword arm. And I needed an ally.

Chapter 9

Eisendorf was not what I expected.

Instead of quests and good deeds I... I was knocking on the doors of shops. And reminding them, as kindly as I could, they owed the Viscount his due.

This, the portly man said, was how I could help him. And in turn, he would help me.

After a few days, I saw enough to understand the kind of man he is. He's a shady dealer, involved with the worst kind of scum. He's exactly the kind of man I hate and saw myself striking down in the name of righteousness! But I have no other leads. So, I have borne this disgrace.

I keep thinking of home. How things might have been different, if I'd never left. Maybe I'd be dead too. The thoughts darken my mind and give me no solace.

I knew Eisendorf could sense my agitation. Finally, he told me of another Hearthgrove. And that it was under threat from a spellbinder, named Luna.

There were only two Hearthgroves left in the world. And so I set of out to fulfill my legacy.

Chapter 10

Eisendorf partnered me with a peculiar old man, named Bancroft. He brought with him an assortment of tools for catching a mage, including tranquilizing darts and sleeping powder.

My stomach roils. Something doesn't feel right. But there is no turning back.

Together, the old man and I followed the lead to a small town called the Two Brooks.

Bancroft bought the information we needed, a young woman matching Luna Zenitha's description was staying in a room at the tavern. So we rented a room across the street, trading watches at window. It was near dawn when she exited the tavern. I'm not sure what I expected - but she didn't seem intimidating. Luna seemed average height, fair skinned and pretty, with purple hair that I imagine was dyed.

I woke Bancroft and we and followed her out of town, into the forest. Keeping a tracker's distance. It was hard to imagine she was a threat to a Hearthgrove... Bancroft readied his crossbow - closing for a strike. But then the forest shimmered... And seemed to swallow her..

The hair raised on the back of my neck. We knew it must be an enchantment of some kind. We pushed forward, crossing the strange the barrier. The scent on the air changed, like a hundred flowers blooming. It made my nose twitch and my senses overwhelmed. Before us was Luna. And a great tree. The Hearthgrove. At least three times grander than the one that had stood at Dawnseer Keep. And then there was a great, blinding light.

Something flowed from Luna into the trunk of the great tree. It filled my vision, blinding me. And there was a loud sound, like a crash of a thousand falling trees. Shards of wood splintered into my flesh. I was in shock... I'd only just found this Hearthgrove. And now it was destroyed.

What came next is a sight beyond explanation. A whirlwind of magic. A masked woman.

A whispering inside my mind, "The Dungeon Lords will rise. And the sun will fall."