Lore Chapter : The Book of the Minstrel

Bard's Ballad

5th Era, Year 1694, 6th month, 23th 

If one wants to understand history then one must know the different eras. Each era ends if something affecting the whole multiverse occurs, or if the balance is either broken or changing. I was fortunate enough to witness three eras, one of them being a time of war and destruction.

History as a whole began with the first era, also known as the Era of Beginning. Not much known is about this era, however, throughout my travels, I've discovered a few interesting things.

To explain it properly, you must know who I am. My name is Aneirin (No last name), born from an aristocratic family but I forsake my origin when I reached 15 years of age due to reasons I'll omit. To put it simply and bluntly, I'm a wandering Bard and I like adventuring and writing stories about rising heroes or legendary individuals.

Honestly, my journey began with a coincidental encounter with a person. Eccentric as he had been, he still encouraged me to explore the world and fulfill my dream. He was also the topic of my first ever poem, shabby as it may have been, I still value it to this day.

This man, whose name I shall not write due to confidential reasons, wasn't someone from my world. The first time I saw him was when he fell from the sky like a meteor. He was heavily wounded and inches away from death's door.

I will refrain from recounting everything but what he told me not only fascinated me but also ignited my desire to explore. He told me about the Era of Beginning and how Magic was disdained and even humiliated. 

The people of that Era focused on something called Science, valuing it more than anything and yearning for infinite evolution. However, fate wasn't kind to them as calamities started striking these people, slowly but surely erasing their traces from history.

'From the shimmering sky, did he fall

Seeking answers for the future foretold

Counting days, forever bold

Learning ways, spending Gold

However sane had he been,

Lacking direction, feeling no pain,

Sowing again, reaping no gain

However silent he had been,

His heart clouded, his soul unseen

Memories forgotten, the same routine.

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