The streets of Soliris lay bare, its cobblestone streets covered by a maelstrom of shoes and feet but scant hours ago, now lay untouched by nothing except the dim moonlight. If one were to step foot outside now, they could very nearly feel the pandemonium that ensued on these very stones. It’s scratched and worn tiles shiver in the fading light as the magic in the air works to repair it before day. Many who resided in the houses mere blocks sometimes still marvel at the clean, uncracked street they awake to.
The magic itself though, you would find that not one person you encounter could wield or even explain it. If you were to pry further, the people would soon skirt away and leave swiftly. Whimsical as they may be, they knew not to risk King Engar’s wrath, or any of his enforcers at that.
Every once in a while, a traveller stumbles into Soliris, unknowingly they question what the magic is, how it works, who wields it. Just like the blemishes on the street, they vanish before the sun rises. Exactly what became of them, none but the king and his closest confidants knew.
The kingdom itself, was something of a legend in the continent of Fortus. Rumoured to be the last place where natural magic was untouched by the machinations of the tech barons from Castrux, they ruled all.
If, at all, the only thing natural in the black magic that was wielded by the king’s hand, was the pure evil of which it was used. Perchance, the odd stranger came prepared, they would be found lodging at Aife’s mansion. The rooms were sparse, nothing to fill the empty room save a single bed, its pillows giving off a rank smell.
Aife knew this, he also knew that any traveller would be hard pressed to live elsewhere. So he charged a fortune per night, and those that came, paid.
The people of Soliris were roughly divided into two groups, the rich and the poor. At a glance, it seemed obvious that here, status was wealth. Of course, exceptions remain, but few townspeople had wealth, the majority disgraced nobles. Aife, was one of, if not the only exception, his vast wealth unknown to most. Should he desire, most of the common men would rally behind him to overthrow the throne. Aife knew this, and he kept quiet, but he never forgot to watch his back.
And so the scales of power always leaned towards the king, for the people were an assortment of unrefined weapons, but none could ever hope to use it.
That night, the same as every, a man entered Soliris. To most in Fortus, he was known as the continent wanderer. But legends often exaggerate their characters, as stories will do. Those in Soliris however, would come to recognize him as a simple warrior. For whom he wielded his blade, only time would tell.