Ersia: Raven Dawn

Fifteen winters have passed since the last great war. In this new age, the world is slowly mending its wounds. Splinters turn trees, puddles turn rivers, and pebbles turn towers once more.

Only one thing did not return to where they belonged; The forces of the Alliance of Ersia. It's widely accepted as a general truth that no man alive has any clue about what happened during the final march of the army and their mysterious disappearance.

None can figure out the devastating event that took place in the Sacred Valley of Tivaria. Not a single hint was left for the seekers of truth, despite the overpowering smell of blood and magic residue that lingered still in every nook and corner of the blades of grass. All that can be found from whatever remains is the burial mound of Asmar, the one whom they would hail as The Great Hero, the central figure of the alliance.

Unbeknownst to all, the secrets to that which is void in the history of Ersia were kept alone by one man. His name is Randia, half-brother of Asmar. A man overwhelmed by impairing forlorn ever since the day he buried his only kin.

On a night when the wind is freezing and not a single moon can be seen above, Randia decided to stop by a tavern. His build is tall, broad, and burly, which totally contradicts the air of secrecy and mysteriousness he exudes as he keeps his face unseen under his hood.

Just a glimpse could tell how tired he was, as the hem of his cloak would agree, especially with all the remnants of the mist that had enveloped his night journey.

"Pst. Look at that one."

"Doesn't look like your everyday customer, eh? Elma?" a regular giving a heads up to the keeper.

The whole tavern grows a little quiet as all eyes are watching the stranger. The creaking floor pressed by his big boots makes the atmosphere even heavier than it already is.

"Mead," said Randia.

The tension eased after a while, and everyone is back to minding their own business. However, when Randia was chugging down his drink, suddenly a commotion rises from the table behind him.

A noisy argument arises between a customer and one of the barmaids—the usual thing of a man owned by his liquor. Back in the day, the old Randia would have rushed to aid. However, this time, the man decided to remain silent and indifferent to the commotion. He acted like nothing happened, just like everyone else.

"Let me go! Help me! Please! Anyone!"

"Aye, Elma. He's dragging her to the back alley. Ye ain't really gonna do nothin'?"

"The gal knew what she signed up for. The sooner the better for her to learn how to claw for herself. Else the same shit will be her every day."

Screams for help filled the room, but no one bats an eye. They were all busy with themselves. To them, such is merely an everyday antic of this backwater, insignificant town, that is not worth paying attention to. Pitifully, Randia did the same as the common folks.

As sudden as thunder itself, Randia coughed and choked like he was being strangled strongly, resembling a convict sentenced to hanging execution. He sprawls on the floor and groans in pain. But then again, no one cares. It is nothing more but a spectacle.

"Hoek! Uhak! Urk . . .!"

The drink he had just gulped, was spat out again as a black tar mixed with pus. The smell is so rotten and disgusting that the people in the tavern can ignore it no more. The first one to walk up and have a say is the thug of a man who was about to have fun with the barmaid. He threw the girl out of his arms and walked towards Randia.

"Hey, buddy! Feeling sick? Got a tank of rat piss on ye' throat?" He berates Randia with a kick to his temple.

"Let's beat this freak up and throw him out to the street before he turns this place into a shithole!"

The thug invited others to beat up Randia. The feeling is mutual to several of them, and they are starting to surround him. However, everything changed when someone pulled back the hood of his cloak.

In an instant, everyone in the room widened in shock and awe. The person they had beaten had white hair that glowed brightly like the moonlight during her periapsis phase.

"That hair . . .!" the ruffian fell backward. His body trembled and his hand pointed at the long scar on Randia's right cheek.

"R-Randia! Randia!"

The cloaked man they used to hail as a hero suddenly began to act like a madman. He screamed while covering his face. His legs thrashed the tables, chairs, barrels, and whatever was around him.

"No . . . ! No! Stay away from me . . .! Leave me be!"

He curled up with his face kissing the floor before finally storming out of the tavern, covering his face with his hood. He trudged on, staggering like a deer being chased by a pack of wolves.

Everyone fell silent as if they had forgotten how to speak. It was clear to all, even to the blind ones, that the undisputed hallmark of the great hero Asmar is his hair of prominent gold resembling the brightest phase of the sun, while Randia, the younger brother, possesses silver hair which is as solemn as the snow refracting the sun's rays.

Like the calm that heralds the coming of a violent storm, the silence is finally broken and a flurry of news leaps from mouth to mouth and eventually spreads throughout the land. Truly this is a piece of news greater than the death of even one or two emperors.

In the royal court of each realm, meetings were held. The news of the return of Randia and his changes in demeanour is not something to be taken lightly. Too absurd of a flipping of words that even some people are considering the possibility of it being nothing more than a high tale.

The fastest to respond is the emperor of Aramia, one of the most venerated of the sovereigns of the Seraina Continent. The tyrant summoned his aide and scripted his orders as if he were forging others' fate at will.

"Bring me the spymaster. This takes priority above all else."

"Pardon my ignorance and nescience, Your Majesty. Perhaps it would be wiser to have this ... 'hearsay' confirmed before taking significant action."

"Are you perhaps questioning me?"

"F-Forgive my impudence, Your Majesty! Your words shall be delivered faster than the wind!"

The secret of the mysterious day of Silent Twilight in the Sacred Valley of Tivaria is yet to be known. Many believe that those who get their hands on the truth will be a million steps ahead of the others. Thus, begin the whole continent-wide search for the missing hero.