Born of ashes and war.

House von Dirstein

Alric von Dirstein is the heir to an ancient family, the son of the powerful and stern Margrave Wolfgang von Dirstein and the cold but noble Iseria von Dirstein. His younger sister, Lucina, was the soul of the family - refined, sophisticated, possessing a rare magical aura. Once their home was filled with warmth, light and respect. But nothing lasts forever, especially in the year 450 of the Generation of Magic and Sword - in the midst of the 45th Age of Magic.

War

A war broke out between the mighty Vartan Empire and the proud Kingdom of Altheim. The Empire, possessing a rapidly industrialized magical army, began a rapid offensive. Altheim, although famous for its academies and ancient strategic school, was not ready for the onslaught of a modern enemy.

For most of the kingdom's inhabitants, the war was a terrible nightmare. For Alric, it was the beginning of the end of his childhood.

"Mother," said eleven-year-old Alric in a trembling voice, "our kingdom... will it survive?"

Iseria, looking out the window, quietly answered:

"If only everything could be decided with words... But now everything is decided, my son. We can only fight. But remember: your father is strong."

She smiled weakly, as if trying to maintain a balance between fear and dignity.

A Genius Among Steel

In 451, the Empire had already captured a quarter of Altheim. It seemed that the fall of the kingdom was only a matter of time. But it was then that the name of Alric von Dirstein first sounded on the battlefield. He was only twelve, but he was already recognized as the best swordsman among dozens of experienced knights. Moreover, it was he who, having arbitrarily analyzed the tactics of one of the Vartan commanders, figured out his weakness, led a detachment to the rear and personally beheaded the enemy. His trophy - the head of the enemy commander - lay at the feet of King Arterius Elgard Waldenrein.

The King, Keeper of the Covenant of Mana and Judge of the Four Academies, was amazed.

- This boy... no, this strategist - he thinks like the ancient masters of war. And if not in rank, then in intelligence - he surpasses many of my generals.

The King offered him the rank of captain of the 12th division. But Alrik refused. He did not want power - he wanted to be heard.

- I do not ask for a title. I ask that you trust my plans.

At first, the council smirked. "Boy", "imposter", "lucky one" - that's what they called him. But the king ordered:

— Follow Alric's instructions. Without objection.

A brilliant game

Alric presented a defense plan. Unusual. Risky. Many considered it madness.

— This is not a strategy, but suicide! — one of the knights shouted.

But Alric remained calm:

— If they attack the seventh corps, you must simply wait.

— Wait?! People are dying!

— More will die if you break formation.

When the enemy struck from the north, the troops of Altheim were exhausted. But suddenly — a trap: defensive runes hidden under a layer of earth activated and surrounded the enemy unit, isolating it from support. The arcana contracted, and a magical barrage destroyed almost the entire enemy unit.

— How?! — the knight asked in amazement. — You predicted that they would strike exactly there?

Alric only answered quietly:

“I merely read the logic of their fear. The enemy fears chaos. I gave them order, and they believed in it.”

A Truce and a Stab in the Back

After a crushing defeat, the Vartan Empire requested negotiations. High-ranking officials from both sides arrived: King Arterius, General Wolfgant, Advisor Lucretius, and Alric himself. From Vartan’s side, Emperor Kaelis, Strategist Cyric Vale Morvant, Advisor Morian, and General Valar.

Everyone was stunned to see such a young strategist. The negotiations were successful. An alliance was made. The war was over.

But not for Alric.

A Tragedy

A few months passed. And one night, the von Dirsteins’ house was attacked.

These were no ordinary robbers. It was a trap.

Their target was Lucina. Her rare mana was the object of greed and envy of many scientists. That night they came for her. Alric, following the weak impulse of her aura, found his sister too late. Her body was lifeless, and her mana was torn out to the last drop.

- Whyuuu...

His scream tore the veil of silence. He was angry, broken, pain boiled inside him. But he did not rush. He did not roar. He fell into the cold.

- Who said that you will leave here alive? - he hissed, squeezing the hilt.

The bandits laughed. One used sleep magic, and Alric collapsed. They fled, taking his sister's power.

Ashes

No one spoke at the funeral. Only Iseria, with frozen tears, stood silently by the coffin. Wolfgant wanted to kill everyone who came to hand. Alrik didn't say a word.

He disappeared.

And since then he swore: to find those who were behind this. And destroy everything they love.

4 years. Without a trace. Without a name. Only an internal oath, engraved in his soul.

> "The world believes in justice. But justice is the tool of those who write history.

And I am its new author.<

Now he stands among the best in the academy. And this is only the beginning.