Chapter 1

The sea was calm with gentle waves that gently licked upon the chipped, marred and war fought hull of the single-masted, oar-bound, ramship bearing a rugged inscription engraved upon the bow that read, 'Dregsen.' It carefully sifted through the waters, a team of oars lining the length of the ship working to pull the ship along at a tentative pace not daring to press far beyond the bow for a thick fog obscured their view. A fog so thick, one couldn't see from stern to bow where a woman stood peering out as far as the mists would allow.

"My Carthol," she quietly called home, to the land she thought she knew. It was eerily calm, not a disturbance to be had. An aspect rather unusual to the Xanthian waters near Carthol. "Where are your shores? Your grand ports of the Lord?"

"Aye, I'm beginning to doubt my prestige, Annesha." Turning, she found the captain standing at her side straining his eyes in the same vain hopes of penetrating the veil of fog.

"My doubt lies with these waters," she insisted. "You've navigated worse yet never led us astray, Rolland. What do you say?"

For a moment he mused before finding his answer.

"Either this fog spirited us away-"

"An untimely adventure I'd rather fancy," she passively interjected.

"-or Carthol is missing."

She couldn't help but grin at such a ridiculous hypothesis. "Absurd," she laughed briefly. "But I can't help but feel the land is indeed… misplaced"

As the team of oars pulled the Dregsen along, there was a sudden and prominent knock upon the haul of the ship drawing Annesha's attention only to find a rotten wooden debris floating in the waters. One shaped and undoubtedly having once belonged to the hull of a ship. Before it could properly seed within Annesha's mind, more things revealed themselves from beyond the veil of fog carried upon the gentle ripples of the water. Rope, cloth, grain and more shattered and broken segments of numerous ships, the density seeming to increase the further the braved.

Annesha was transfixed all the same before Rolland suddenly let out a roar, shouting, "Brace!" The ship came to a lurching halt as it collided with something Annesha had neglected to notice with her focus fixed to the immediate waters beneath the deck. Thrown against railing, Rolland called to the hold below, "damages?"

Soon as Annesha righted herself looking to what the ship had struck, a voice from below called back, "no breach captain!"

Annesha was stunned to see a round and stone construct with a steeple reaching high into the air, far beyond the mast and disappearing high beyond the fog. As the oarsmen below slowly reverted course before steering right of the obstacle, Annesah couldn't help but make one observation as the Dregsen rowed past the obstacle.

"Was that the spire of the Polgratheaan Cathedral?"

With a steady shake of his head, Rolland answered, "aye… seemed to be."

"Steady on, then," she muttered with a gentle pat upon his shoulder, her words laced with unease, body clearly shook and unnerved.

"Aye," he answered. It was unusual seeing Annesha so unnerved, uncharacteristic, but given the nature of reality that slowly became bare Rolland couldn't hold it against her. "Steady On!"

For many minutes more the Dregsen slowly waded on. Garld was posted upon the bowsprit looking out through the fog tasked to warn of any further hazards to steer clear of. None ever came, only more debris that filled the waters. It was haunting to say the least as nothing but the gentle sway of the waters and the hollow thuds of debris upon the hull were all that could be heard.

That was until Garld shouted, "the fog is clearing!" Only then did the crew seem to stir with anticipation where soon after Garld then announced, "I see land, Carthol Abound!"

It was then the crew looked out across the sea straining their eyes, but as the fog lifted from view one aspect became strikingly clear.

"My Carthol," Annesha called faint of breath in both awe and disbelief. "Where are your shores? The grand ports, the great city or Lorn and forelands of the capital of the Lord?"

Their suspicions were proven true, they were not off course, they certainly had sailed to Carthol. They should've first landed at the grand ports upon the eastern beaches where they'd disembark into the city of Lorn. They then would have traveled for many miles through farmland before reaching the outskirts of the capital, flanked by north and south by the slopes of the twin mountains, each topped by an orb of brass upon the peak.

There was no such port, the city of Lorn, nor miles of land and farm. Only the twin peaks that reached into the sky, high above the lightest clouds. However, where the capital was expected to be seen resting deep within the valley of those twin peaks, those same mountains were bridged by what the crew could have only surmised to be a monolithic and expansive jagged rift of land. The terrestrial construct stretched three quarters of the height of the twin mountains, standing as a wall of pure stone torn up from the earth below. It was featureless and barren as it contended for the heavens blocking any cloud that could have once entered into the valley of the capital.

It was so surreal. The crew even openly questioned the reality of their arrival asking, "are we off course? Is this really the capital of Carthol?"

In the distance, at the very base of the terrestrial monlyth, a speck could be seen that met with the waters. Directing the ship to this spec, it soon became clear that it was a makeshift harbor formed from stone dredged up from the sunken depths to shield each of the piers and docks from the waves of Xanthian. There weren't more ships than could be counted on one hand, not a single one worthy of war with any deserving advistary, just those of commerce and trade.

As the Dregsen sailed ever closer the terrestrial monlyth grew ever taller and mightier until the ship pulled into the makeshift harbor soon finding a vacant dock to tie off at. Now at the very base of the wall, Annesha had to crain her head high above to even glimpse where the edge gave way to the sky. So far above it stretched it gave Annesha a strange sense of insignificance, as though she were but an ant facing up to the works of a dragon, perhaps even Xanthian himself.

It was only when the captain confronted Annesha did she snap out of her stupor. He addressed her, saying, "Annesha…"

But she was quick to wave a hand stating, "good work captain, this will do."

"Aye," he answered as Annesha vaulted over the railing and to the sandy waters below. "Secure the Vessel!"

She jumped down, landing heavily upon the stone peer with grace. Before her approached a soldier, a commander, it seemed judging by his crested helm.

"Hello," she greated with a polite and minimal wave.

Upon seeing her, the commander seemed stunned. Annesha was dressed in the usual garb suspected of a sailor, albeit with steel plates secured to her shoulder and a pair of bracers sported on each arm. Her hair was long, as expected of a Carthinnian woman, braided and dreaded from the many days spent at sea, it was kept to a manageable length reaching below her waist. She was rather unsuspecting as far as Carthinnian sailors went, even for a woman, yet the commander couldn't have been less mistaken as his eyes became fixated upon the pointed aspects of Myndre the woman sported upon her head.

"A… Annesha…" he stammered. "My…"

Annesha simply raised her hand, cutting his words short. "Commander," she asked, turning her back and looking out to the Xanthian sea. "Care to explain where the rest of Carthol is?"

"Annesha Mortemy," he muttered in disbelief.

"Sir?" Annesha asked once more.

"Aye!" he straightened. Clearing his throat he answered, "it's gone. It was dragged into the sea."

"Oh?" The matter of fact of his statement with no added extravagance left her rather dumbstruck. "Certainly seems to be the case here," was all she could think to say.

"Yes. Well to start, our campaign in the second Xanthian war was progressing. We'd breached Narrovinnia's beaches and tore down their seaside defenses. We tried pushing further inland but that effort proved fruitless on all fronts."

"Per usual," Annesha casually and disinterestedly quipped. "Narrovinnia had always proven to be a tough shell to shatter. Why the Lord continues to invest in such petty prospects as always eludes me. After all this time, perhaps it was naive of me to think he'd do better."

The commander continued. "We, once we had a sure foothold, we fortified the beaches as Carthol amassed the largest navy ever seen. Yet, upon their departure from the grand ports, the wind seemed to swell and the seas grew restless. That was when it emerged. A titan of the sea!"

"A titan from the sea?" she asked in disbelief. "There's only one titan of the sea, one titan that roams our world."

"Aye," he nodded. "The titan Aygwymon. I and many others saw it! Aygwymon foundered every vessel and not a single soul upon the waters that day has been found since."

Hearing this for the first time was rather strange. She didn't know how to take it, how to feel or properly process it. An attack of such magnitude on her homeland, Aygwymon turning its ire on Carthol. A titan, the only walking titan never once committed such acts, and Carthol's navy, the mightiest among all the seas, simply gone and lost to the waters.

The commander continued. "Aygwymon then turned to Carthol and began dragging whole swaths of land beneath the waves. The citizens retreated, the royal guard were fielded, fending it off for two days saving many lives. However their efforts proved fruitless as it eventually advanced on the capital. That was when Lord Mortemy, our King, raised this wall defending our nation."

"And that was enough to repel the titan?" she questioned.

"Aye, seemed to be."

Pensively she nodded her head. "And… and what of our forces in Narrovinnia?"

"If we are to presume, destroyed."

With each question came an answer that painted an ever worsening picture for Carthol as she turned to face the sea, as though the waters might hold an answer. "And how do we know this?"

"Hours after the departure of the titan, Narrovinnia arrived on ships of Carthinnian make and design. They were prepared for invasion, and they perhaps could have, even in the midst of the Lord's wall, but a deal was struck and the Archipelago of Reathean was surrendered."

It was only then she froze when hearing such news. "And... who made the decision to surrender the islands of Reathean?"

"The Lord."

"Where is he now?"

The commander answered, "in the castle. Ever since the day he raised this wall he lay sickly and dying."

"Commander," she turned facing him. "What is your name?"

"Erwin Jough."

"A fine name Erwin," she complimented as she turned from the sea and walked past Erwin offering only a single pat upon his shoulder. "Keep doing a fine job Commander. Oh, and do keep my arrival a secret for the time being?" Giving her a perplexed look, she explained, "wouldn't want the surprise to be spoiled too soon, aye?"

It was then Rolland descended the gangplank along with some fellow crew carrying supplies and equipment upon their backs. "So what's the plan Annesha?"

"Nothing's changed," she answered as Rolland walked at her side followed by the crew. "Establish yourselves, be merry, mourn perhaps if it suits you."

Tossing his head over his shoulder Rolland spoke to another member of the crew and said, "Hey! Echon!"

"Aye Sir!" he called back, parting his way through the crew to stand before Rolland with gear slung over his shoulder.

"Your Mother's hall, we'd never catch you muttering a breathing without mentioning it. You said it was in the upper capital behind this wall? Or are we at a loss?"

"Lower," he sternly corrected. "And aye, I knew it to be within the valley of the twin peaks, fortunately given these circumstances."

As Annesha parted from the crew, continuing on to the city, Rolland asked Echon, "ya think she's got enough drink for the lot of us?"

He snickered, laughing, "enough beds and woman if need be!"

Raising his fist, Rolland loudly announced with a pump of his fist, "Yea hear that men!"

"Aye!" They all loudly replied raising their fists to the air in triumph.

While they were busy establishing themselves per Annesha's command, Annesha had passed through the tunnel dug within the base of the wall. It took the shape of a tall triangular arch nearly as tall as the roof of any grand Cathedral. Scaffolding was erected within as workers carved away at the rock smoothing it over, etching in numerous designs as well as engravings, no doubt depicting the recent history of Carthol, as well as reinforcing key areas to ensure its integrity beneath the titanic weight above.

It was a rather long tunnel in fact, fitting considering the sheer height the wall reached. It was like a dark cavern, a void of emptiness with nothing but a single light at the end to guide. Truth be told, what lay beyond the veil of brightness scared her. Carthol had already suffered such loss, the lands west of the capital foundered beneath the sea by the titan Aygwymon. What if the capital itself was indeed ruined? It's people broken? The empire shattered?

The news so far ate at her spirit and she wondered if she could endure much more. Such thoughts however were best pushed aside for soon she stepped through that blinding veil of light and was beholden to what Carthol had become.

To her relief, much of the capital seemed well and truly untouched. Only where the wall had uplifted did roads and buildings lay in any sort of discernible ruin. Already efforts were made to mend what could be saved and clear what was very well condemned. Many streets ran into the face of the wall where their path's abruptly ended at the foot of the monolith that would long stand to remain unmoved ultimately leaving a mild scar at the foot of the vastness of the capital of Carthol.

Having just stepped into the city, Annesha was quick to find herself upon the rooftop of the nearest building with a single leap. A habit of hers that subconsciously manifests even after so many years abroad, a brief channeling of refined light magic doing well to aid her in effortlessly accomplishing such a feat. From her new found vantage point above most commoner's sightline, Annesha gazed about briefly.

Firstly she noticed a gathering of masons and architects distinguished by their attire. They pointed to the wall making grand gestures as they discussed amongst themselves beyond Annesha's hearing. If she could infer the nature of their discussion they likely were debating what to make of the wall, as in how to sculpt the entirety of the surface itself. Not just the at the ground level which would no doubt be illustrated with a myriad of battles, history and artistry, but also the entire eastern face that overlooked the capital. Even in the midst of a great catastrophe, the desire of Carthinnians to sculpt and mend stone was deeply rooted within the people.

In fact, all around the citizens wandered the streets with places to go and things to see as though nothing was the matter. There may have been an understanding that Carthol wasn't at it's best, and had suffered immense loss of life, no doubt every family unit sustained a loss. but not a single Carthinnian seemed to let it sully their mind. There was an air of community and a strong one at too that refused to break even under such burgeoning circumstances, each keeping one another strong. They mourned the dead in grand commemories and memorials yet even in the face of such loss Annesha simply felt Carthol seemed more strongly united than ever. It was as if each and every citizen earnestly served the same unit and knew soon Carthol would again need its finest.

In the meantime however, Annesha turned her gaze east to the furthest region of the valley where the Castle of the Capital of Carthol overlooked the city where Lord Mortemy no doubt resided. The rooftops of the city would be her primary means of advance as she deftly and swiftly lept from one roof to another. Ultimately her destination was the balcony of the High Lord's chambers where he rested sickly and weak. His face wrinkled, hair grayed, body long weakened as Annesha took her place at the side of his bed. It was almost sad, rather heartbreaking. She'd grown up raised by this man who used to be so energetic and full of heart. He was once Annesha's light, the vigor of Carthol standing strong like a pillar willing to even bear the glass of the heavens if necessary. Yet, how times have greatly changed. Here, in this sickly man that was lying within his bed, she saw no such thing. Just an old withered shell of a man, a lord, who was once great.

A sure, devine and heralding sign of one who must hastily be released from life.

"Hello, father," she spoke kindly. The room smelled of pleasant incense, with flowers lining the walls, candles emitting pleasant aromas and fruit laid within baskets. With glazed eyes and a subtle moan, he glanced to Annesha. Though she hadn't the perception or blessing to see such a godly being, no doubt Vrueth's gaze looked closely upon Lord Mortmey marking the little time Lord Mortemy had left.. "Look at you. Look at Carthol. We were a great nation, a strong, powerful and benevolent empire. The gods favored us, our close neighbors, nations and territories loved us. Yet, again you plunge into another senseless war with the Narrovinnians. A war founded on pride and falsities and look where we are now, look at what's left of Carthol. We made no better progress from when we last landed on that very first invasion of your father's war and your father's father's war. Now, after so many years, with your war, we've nearly lost Carthol entirely. We are a feeble nation now, we are weak and we are vulnerable. Allies may betray us, enemies may come out of the shadows to reveal their true faces. Perhaps many believe the golden age of Carthol has passed but I believe that age has yet to make history."

Withdrawing a knife from her person, she looked to Mortemy and boldly assured, "I will usher in that era. I will be the pillar that keeps Carthol standing tall and pressing on. Now..." She placed the handle within his maw, his teeth clenching firmly upon the fine leather grip. "I will give you an honorable death and immortalize you among the Lords and Lordesses of Carthol." Resting a palm over his chest raising a fist over her head. With one last look to Mortemy's eyes that whispered of a soul slipping from life, she gave her final word. "I love you Father."

With a sudden flash of her arm, the ceremony was done as Lord Mortemy laid there breathless and unmoving. He died an honorable Carthinnian death, but before Annesha respectfully covered his face, she placed three fingers over his left eye. Slowly, ribbons of light began to emerge at the tips of her fingers as her soul became personified. It grasped at something within Mortemy's socket as she pulled her hand back, withdrawing a mystic eye of the gods, the eye of the god of the world itself. The Eye of Repulsion, the Left Eye of Polgratheaan.

There she held it between her fingers aided with the assistance of light magic that projected her spirit. The mystic eye was a glistening white orb of beauty. What it truly looked like couldn't be comprehended by mortal eyes for it was simply beyond Annesha's perception. To her it looked like a spherical crystal with a hardness greater than that of armor but the power it was capable of granting beyond the realm of the world's native magic.

"Just like the Eye of Repulsion," Annesha spoke as she drew it nearer to her own mortal eye. "You drove whatever peace, protection, security and safety we had away. I shall do differently. I shall be Lordess of Carthol and unify Xanthian and strengthen our great nation once more. I won't abandon our people. I will not fall to pride, greed or ignorance. This is my promise," she whispered as she pressed the godly eye to her own. "This is my duty to Carthol."

She inserted the godly eye into her own, letting it bind with her spirit and her being. It pained her physically but she endured as she held her face until finally the sensation of spiritual pain tearing at her soul passed. Her vision was no different but she knew herself to possess the power of the god of the world. The power to repulse space and time with nothing more than a mere glance.

It was then a voice suddenly spoke, "You always did have beautiful eyes." A voice that was all too familiar.

"Aren't you always present when it's convenient? Aye?" she asked, glancing behind to the very corner of the room. "Demion Lokrazz..."

"Convenient?" he murmured as he stepped forward to reveal himself. "I'm where I'm needed. Moment's prior, it was at the aid of the Old Lord. Right now, I'd say a certain princess is in need of my service."

Demion was an aged man, but not one Annesha would consider ancient. He was a hexer, a man with quite the magical prowess and intrigue, one that fostered only with constant study, testing, researching, documenting and practice. Though, as unconventional as his methods might have been, he was a man of results, but that was just the man Demion was; unconventional.

"Is that so?" she inquired. "One would know me to be quite the capable fellow."

"Well, one would also know that if a certain princess had been gone for many years, she'd lose touch with the current state of affairs with regards to Carthol and its nobility."

"Speaking of," she began. "What have you been doing, oh Grand Hexer of Carthol?"

"Many things," he assured. He then gestured to the door leading from the former Lord's Quarters. "First, leave him in peace and I can tell you all about it."

Following, she glanced back to see her father resting easily. "I'm sure knowing Carthol is safe, he passed away peacefully. Thank you Demion," she then said. "Thanks for keeping his health until I could send him off."

Closing the door behind them he answered, "it's merely my duty, no thanks should be deserving. Come tomorrow, he'll be immortalized upon the mountains of Lords and Lordesses."

"Yes, but today there is still much to be done. The day is so young, and the sun has yet to touch the city," she remarked as she glanced out a window as they crossed down a hall.

She was brought to a pause as her eyes fell upon and realized just how much the wall truly obscured even from the highest district of the capital. No doubt in the early evening much of the capital would be in shadows long before the sun would set over the horizon of the Xanthian sea. It would be an unusual a phenomenon to witness, though ultimately no major issue. However having gained a look at the wall from affair, Annesha couldn't help but admire its true glory and outstanding presence. An idea took hold of her mind, an idea that would immortalize Old Lord Mortmey beyond the usual ceremony often expected. It was the least she could do. After all, despite his flaws, itt was because of him Carthol still exists, that the capital remains and its people protected.

"Is that an idea I sense brewing in your mind?" Demion inquired.

"Indeed," she muttered. "What if… we carve this wall, and design it in Mortemy's memory? After all, that thing doesn't have to be a chunk of stone raised out from the earth. It can become something legendary, it can be Carthol's mark upon the world, a monolith that'll stand for generations and millennia to come." It was then Demion let out a small chuckle prompting Annesha to turn to him, a minor air of irritation in her voice as she asked, "what?"

"I just never thought you and the High Council would come to agree."

"Ah," she muttered, a small grin creeping across her face. "I suppose there's been a change of heads since I was last here. Hopefully for the better."

"Well, the prior voice of Roe was slain by Greyan for his waning lack of interest in the people he was meant to represent. The prior treasure of Agrenal was outed and executed for corruption leading to Tyrn's appointment to the position. Vimmian now speaks for the gods in place of the prior prophet, and Yurria was elected as head of the Falconering and communications Guild. Of course, this all happened years apart in your absence, mediated by the old lord when necessary."

"I remember as a child, the prior council men always spoke so highly of my father only when he was around. When they left, a new face would be revealed. They were always scheming, always looking for another opportunity to obtain even so much as a rivit of leverage in Carthol's grand glory. When I was a kid, they'd always speak snakish and vermin words to my face, but among my father they'd dote on Dalvion and me both."

"Dalvion," he repeated. "I wonder how many days until your brother's return. No doubt word has reached him at this point."

"It'd be nice to see him after so long," she murmured in admiration. She then looked down to the garden of the castle as old memories began to fill her mind. "Heh, I remember the old annual harvest celebrations we always held and the hay castle that would be built down there. We were such prewed children then, always playing king and queen acting like overlords. We'd never let anyone else in until father said otherwise."

Demion nodded his head and added, "I even remember him storming the gates of your little hay kingdom just to liberate it from beneath your iron thumbs."

"In return for making him our prisoner," she added with a wide grin on her face. "Old memories," she muttered. "Such good ones too."

"I hope you've learned a thing or two since then."

"And seen the worst of men, lords, rulers and tyrants. I have no intention of subjecting my own kingdom, such a thing shares no sense in me, not if prosperity and longevity are at the forefront of my concerns."

"And if you were Lordess, what would be your first decree?"

There was hardly a moment she spared before answering, "perhaps to encourage a mass exodus from this city. Establish the capital elsewhere deep within Carthol's borders. To Marrin Perhaps. If the Narrovinnians had a capital as vulnerable as ours, there never would have been a second Xanthian war. In fact, the first would've hardly been considered a war. Now look at us, one attack and we're crippled, nearly conquered at once. Maybe one day these streets will be swallowed in flames, until then, we'll have to make due."

"A wise decree, rather ambitious, if a bit arrogant," he stated. "It's best you keep that in mind if you really do become Lordess of Carthol."

"If?" she repeated.

Demion cocked an eyebrow at her bold assuredness. "You seem so sure of yourself."

"I know I'll become Lordess," she confidently stated. "Dalvion promised he'd leave the kingdom to me. He said he never was interested in sitting on a throne with a crown all old and boring like. He wanted to adventure, see the world and sail the seas beyond the Reatheannian archipelago, beyond the mouth of Xanthion. When he returns there's no doubt in my mind the throne will remain uncontested."

She seemed confident in her statement and the belief that Dalvion would keep to his word. Demion knew the boy to be honest and true to his promises, he wasn't one to often lie, at least to Annesha during their mischievous troublemaking days as kids.

"I hope your words ring true," he said. "With time comes the changing of minds, beliefs and ideals and it has certainly been a long time since the two of you left Carthol. For now however, I think it's best Carthol finally knows of its princess's return. They could use an uplift in spirits."

"Not just yet," she muttered. "Send a summons to the High Councilmen, they'll certainly find me waiting in the grand hall."

"Heh, spry and eager as ever, my Princess," Demion chuckled. "However, I hate to disappoint you, but only the Lord or Regient can attend the High Council."

Pausing for a moment, Annesha allowed herself to consider before inferring, "I am to assume Old Lord Mortmey left you as Regient in his sickly stead."

"Aye," he answered with a nod. "As astute as ever."

"And because of that I must resign myself to some lower court for the time being?"

Another kindly chuckle, "aye, per the law of the land."

"Tsk, well," she murmured, letting a deep frustrated breath steadily escape. "I suppose I figured you to have more sense than most. Keep the High Council straight."

"Don't fret my Princess. Lower courts still hold great power over the day-to-day lives of most. You'd do well to attend them, could even propose your idea to immortalize the old lord within the great wall."

"I suppose you're right. Still, I hope Dalvion arrives soon. Until then, there is much to do."