CHAPTER 12: DAWNHAVEN

Baelius witnessed the caravan venture beyond the lands of Ignarion and past the boundaries of what qualified as House Ferrondel’s remaining sovereign soil

Beyond the grassy hills and between snow-capped mountains, a city emerged on the horizon... ancient beyond words

It was among humanity’s oldest surviving cities.

Following the Exodus of the Eidolons, it was built by the hands of the Architect’s remaining descendants, a bastion of mankind’s potential in a world that was left devoid of civilization.

Its name was Dawnhaven. And even as the Architect’s legacy dimmed in brilliance, the city remained untouched by time itself.

The large rust-colored barrier prevented entry, or assault, by any who were not granted the mark of the Architect.

A spell of protection, granted or removed by the head of House Ferrondel at will.

Any being who was within the boundaries of the city, and was stripped of this blessing was immediately rejected from the city itself, and teleported to parts unknown.

Some say it was random; that one might find themselves spawned in the magma chamber of an active volcano, or at the most crushing depths of the world’s oceans.

Perhaps if one was particularly lucky, they would appear on a random street of a random city.

But the very threat of such a violent rejection kept all within the city from violating the law. Or behaving discourteously.

It was how the city had survived wars, floods, plagues, wildfires, and the chaotic nature of mankind itself.

Where the other first founding cities now lie in ruins, far less grand than those left behind by the Eidolons themselves, Dawnhaven stood proudly, and when Baelius witnessed its eternal glory with his own eyes, his grief was temporarily paused.

The spiraling towers, impossibly high kept together by the magic of the Architect, the polished and lustrous white stone walls, glowing with magical energy, unfading, unyielding to time and space itself.

The multiple rings of defense, and the bastions they formed, garrisoned by armorfed Nulls, who despite their lacking inherent power were more than capable of defending them with their enchanted steel armor and weapons.

Beyond the towering gate houses, were multiple draw bridges, that led to a bridge over a vast moat of crystal-clear water.

Only to be connected with another gatehouse on the other side, to be withdrawn, or granted entry based upon the whims and wishes of those who ruled it.

All his life Baelius had been told that Emberhold was the greatest city in the world, and that House Ignarion’s might was unchallenged.

But here, lay a city that made that of his birth seem meager and insignificant.

The caravan passed through fertile fields, kept green by the same rust-colored magic House Ferrondel was known for.

How he did not know. As the House did not have the blood of the Gardener within them.

And yet the fields flourished, the irrigation flowed, and the nulls harvested that which had been sown.

As someone who had grown up in the height of power, yet in a largely infertile land built upon volcanic ash and magma, he could not help but admire the beauty of life around him.

Eventually, the caravan and the carriages within it stopped at the outer guardhouse, whose gates opened just where the barrier ended.

A thorough inspection was made ,as the Elven traders who drove the stagecoach that Baelius rested in urged in another language for him to exit the vehicle.

There was no smuggling into the city. Everything was thoroughly inspected, and if someone or something did not receive the mark, it would vanish.

While Baelius may not have understood the Elvish tongue, he understood the body language and the urgency within it, stepping out, as a translator within one of the other carriages that traveled within the caravan explained their situation, and that of Baelius’ plight.

When the guards heard of what Baelius had been through, they immediately approached the man and sequestered him, hands on the hilt of their magically enhanced swords. Almost as if they were prepared for a struggle.

"Come with us... The Lord and Lady Ferrondel will want to speak with you...."

Baelius cast a gaze towards the Elves who gave him a sorrowful expression, before stepping aside and allowing the guards to drag him off.

Quite frankly, he did not know what to expect, but he knew one thing. Being a prisoner of House Ferrondel gave him a better chance to explain himself than to House Ignarion which had betrayed.

And knowing this, he was compliant as he walked off with guards in bindings whose runes restricted his ability to use magic.

---

Caedrion was in the library of the family’s house. Doing research on magical theory and craft.

He had an idea of how he would forge his own kingdom in this world. But as of now, he was not overly urgent about it.

Valerius had failed to kill him, and while he was on his guard, creating an immediate insurrection against the rule of House Ignarion was neither plausible nor expedient towards his overall aims.

Instead, he was more focused on creating a fusion of magic and basic engineering principles to further enhance the overall productivity of agriculture within his family’s lands.

Fertile as they were, many hours were wasted on hand labor by the Null class.

A term he had come to find referred to ordinary humans and members of other races without the bloodline of the Eidolons.

And thus were subjected to being a caste of serfs and merchants.

Undignified in its own right, but far from as cruel as those who served as cannon fodder during wars between Magi.

The least he could do at the moment was improve living conditions through various means like food production, sanitation, employment in industry, and educational standards while he had yet to claim his father’s seat of power as his own.

However, as he was researching how best to blend magic with scientific principles like Engineering, and chemistry, Aelindria rushed into the library and startled him with urgency.

"Caedrion... come quickly! A witness has arrived!"

Caedrion, confused about exactly what Aelindria was referring to, closed his book, and looked up at the woman with a skewed gaze.

"A witness? To what precisely are they a witness to?"

Aelindria immediately crossed her arms and pouted, becoming passive-aggressive as she walked off.

"Seriously? Do you care so little about your life that you don’t even remember someone tried to kill you? Fine... Leave it to me, and father, we’ll handle this matter ourselves!"

Immediately realizing what the young woman was referring to, Caedrion rose from his seat and chased after her. Causing the woman to smirk with victory, an expression unwitnessed by her pursuer as he had yet to catch up to her.