the first chapter
In the story of the distant past,
Under the karma of nature,
It was always the son who inherited the blood of the hero.
The bewitched heir,
He who has lost his heroic spirit,
I return to the throne and seize the treasure,
To win the princess's heart.
Suddenly, out of the shadows,
A son without any heroism,
But grow strong and strong,
Before the story begins,
He closed his heart.
Through the dark night,
Facing the glory of treasure without any pretense,
The heartbeat in that instant,
The moment that was filled with ice and illusions,
The world is full of mirrors and brothers,
Harmony also vanished in the long days.
The song sings of such brotherhood
They held the future in their hands.
Not swords, swords, spears, and halberds,
The pale light
It was hidden in their minds.
To those who overcome difficulties,
Through the thorns, defeating dragons and wizards,
In the language of brothers,
Everything turned into laughter.
All buried in swords and gold,
In the palindromic of the soul.
Poets praise brothers like this,
In their incomparable courage,
Brotherly love like a stream,
To those who are trapped in thorns,
For those who cannot inherit,
The ink dried for them,
Angels descended for them.
the first chapter
Caramon stood in a huge hall carved out of obsidian. The border and the ceiling of the cave were hidden in the shadows. There were no pillars to support the hall, and no flames to illuminate the place. Everyone was illuminated by the light that could not be pointed out. It was pure white light. It was cold, lifeless, and devoid of any warmth.
Although Caramon could not see anyone in the hall and could not hear any voice that broke the silence of the centuries, he knew that he was not alone. He could feel many eyes silently sizing him up just like decades ago, observing him standing stiffly, waiting for the other party to continue all the rituals.
He could guess what these people were doing and could not help but laugh in his heart. To those eyes, the burly man was still expressionless. They would not see any weakness in him, any expression of sadness or regret. Although he was surrounded by memories, they were warm and gentle. He was as calm as he was 25 years ago.
These people seemed to have read Caramon's mind and suddenly appeared in front of him. Their forms did not appear because the light grew stronger, the darkness disappeared, or the fog dispersed. Caramon felt as if he had suddenly stepped into another space, and the ten minutes he had been waiting for had been spent in the original world. Two figures in long robes appeared before him silently like white light. He did not belong here. He would always be an outsider.
"Welcome to our tower again, Caramon Magus," said a voice. Caramon bowed without a word. He couldn't remember the man's name at all. "My name is Jestaris," the man said with a friendly smile. The last time we met was a long time ago, and it was under very urgent circumstances. Forgetting my name is no big deal. Please sit down. A heavy, hand-carved oak chair suddenly appeared beside Caramon. Your journey was so long, you should be very tired.
Caramon was ready to show that he was actually fine. This little distance was nothing to a man who had once roamed the Anselon Continent. But as soon as he saw the chair and the soft cushion, Caramon suddenly realized that the journey was longer than he had imagined. His back ached, his armor seemed to have become very heavy, and his legs seemed to be no longer as strong as before.
Well, Caramon asked himself, what else could he expect? I'm an innkeeper now. I have a responsibility to take. Someone has to be responsible for tasting the food cooked by the chef... He sighed in frustration and sat down. He moved his butt for a while before finding a comfortable position.
I think I'm getting old, he said, smiling. " We will all grow old," Jestaris nodded and replied. Well, it should be said that most people would. He glanced at the figure sitting beside him. Caramon followed his gaze and saw a familiar face under the hood embroidered with charms. It was the face of an elf.
Hello, Caramon Malzeri. Dalama and Caramon nodded as if nothing had happened, but the black-robed mage's figure suddenly made him sink into a deep sea of memories. Dalama didn't look much different from twenty years ago. Perhaps he had become calmer and wiser. At the age of 90, he was just a mage's apprentice. In the eyes of the elves, he was just a hot-blooded little brat. Twenty-five years was just a blink of an eye for the long-lived elves. Now that he was over a hundred years old, he looked like a young man in his thirties.
Time has been kind to you, Caramon, continued Jestaris. Your Last Home Inn has become the best inn in the entire continent. You and your wife are famous heroes. Tika Mazurie should still be beautiful, right? More beautiful, replied Caramon hoarsely. Jestaris smiled. You have five children, two daughters and three sons-and the contented Caramon felt a silver flash of terror. No, he told himself, they can't control me now. He subconsciously straightened his shoulders, as if he was facing a soldier on the battlefield.
" Both of my eldest sons, Tenny and Shidon, are quite powerful warriors," Jestaris said in a flat tone, as if he was chatting with his neighbor. However, Caramon was not so easily fooled. He still focused on the mages. It seemed that their reputation on the battlefield would one day surpass that of his father and mother. But the third one, your third brother, his name is--Jestaris hesitated. Palin and Caramon frowned. He glared at Dalama and noticed that the Dark Elf was looking at him with her unfathomable almond-shaped eyes.
Yes, Palin. said Jestaris, pausing for a moment, looking as if he would follow in his uncle's footsteps. See. It was this matter. Yes, it was because of this that they ordered him to come here. He had been waiting for something like this to happen for a long time. These bastards! Why couldn't they just let him live his own life?! If Palin had not insisted, he would not have come at all. Caramon looked at Jestarris, breathing heavily, trying to read the man's face. However, his face was as incomprehensible as his son's spellbook.
Jestaris was the current chairman of the Mage Council, and he was also the most powerful mage in Klein. The red-robed mage sat on a huge stone chair in the middle of a semicircle formed by twenty-one chairs. Although he was no longer young, his gray hair and the lines on his face were the only signs of his age. Compared to when Caramon first saw him twenty-five years ago, his eyes were still sharp and his body was still strong. Only his slightly lame left foot was a flaw.
Caramon's eyes turned to the mage's left foot. The man's wounds were hidden under his red robe, and only those who were paying attention to his footsteps could see them. Jestaris noticed Caramon's gaze and subconsciously reached out to rub his left leg, but finally stopped with a disgusted smile. Caramon felt a chill and couldn't help but think, Perhaps Jestaris was physically disabled, but that was all. His mind and ambition were not restricted. Twenty-five years ago, Jestaris was only the chief spokesperson for the red-robed mages. The red-robed mages abandoned the dispute between good and evil and walked on their own neutral path. Now, he ruled over all the mages in the world. The white-robed, red-robed, and black-robed mages were all under his jurisdiction. Since magic was the most important power in a mage's life, regardless of their desires or ambitions, they had to pledge their loyalty to the Congress.
It should be said that most of the mages. There was once a mage named Raistlin…25 years ago. At that time, the white-robed mage Pasarian was the chairman of the Mage Council. Caramon felt the flood of memories almost suffocating him.
I don't see what my son has to do with any of this, he said in a steady, calm voice. If you want to see my sons, they are in the room that you sent them to. I think that as long as you have this thought, you can teleport over at any time. Now that we've finished the polite exchange of courtesies-hmm? Where's Pasarian? Caramon asked suddenly, staring at the empty chair next to Jestaris.
He retired as Speaker twenty-five years ago, Jestaris said heavily, right after the incident you were involved in.
Caramon blushed, but he didn't say anything. He thought he found a smile on Dalmar's delicate elven face. I became the Chairman, and Dalama was chosen to replace Radona as the chief spokesperson of the black-robed mages. This is our reward for his risky efforts to prevent…that incident. Caramon growled. Congratulations, he said. Dalama's lips curved upwards in mockery. Jestaris nodded, but it was obvious that he wasn't distracted by the current topic.
" I feel honored to meet your sons," Jestaris said coldly, especially Palin. I heard that this child wants to become a mage. He was studying magic, Caramon mumbled. But I don't know how serious he is, or if he wants to make this his lifelong career, as you have hinted. He and I have never discussed it before-
Dalama could not help but sniffle loudly when he heard this. Jestaris pressed down on the Dark Elf's arm, signaling him to calm down.
Perhaps we misunderstood your son's thoughts? "Maybe you've misunderstood," Caramon replied coldly. Palin and I are quite close, he said softly. I'm pretty sure he'll tell me first.
It was refreshing to see a man willing to be honest about his love for his son these days, Caramon Malzheli, said Jastaris nonchalantly. What? Dalama interrupted. Why don't you say that it's refreshing to see someone's eyes dug out? He took back control of his arm from the old mage and pointed at Caramon. For so many years, you turned a blind eye to your brother's evil ambitions, and only realized it at the last moment. And now you're treating your own son the same way-
Palin was a good boy, and the difference between him and Raistlin was like the difference between the silver moon and the black moon! He did not have any ambitions! How can you understand him, you…you homeless guy! Caramon stood up angrily. Although he was already in his fifties, he had been through a lot of work and training with his son. His hand subconsciously touched his waist, and in his anger, he forgot that even if he did so, he would still have no chance of winning in the Great Wizard Tower, just like the valley dwarves challenging the dragon. Speaking of evil ambitions, Dalama, you are a very competent student, aren't you? Raistlin taught you a lot, maybe more than we know-
Yes, and I still have the wounds he gave me! Dalama also roared and stood up. He tore his black robe from the collar, revealing five bloody holes on his chest. On the Dark Elf's smooth skin, there were deep holes that seemed to have been drilled out by five fingers. Every wound had a trickle of blood, glistening in the dim light of the hall. For twenty-five years, this pain followed him like a shadow…
What about my pain? whispered Caramon, feeling the hands of memory grip his soul. Why did you bring me here? It only made my wound open again like yours! Gentlemen, please, Jestaris said softly. Dalama, control yourself. Caramon, please sit down. Please remember that you owe each other a life-saving grace. The fate between you and him was not easy to come by.
The old man's voice pierced through the noise that was still echoing in the hall. The calm authority in his tone made Caramon shut his mouth and made Dalama calm down. The Dark Elf grabbed the torn robe with one hand and sat down beside Jestaris.
Caramon also sat down in shame. He swore that he would never let such a situation happen. These people no longer had the ability to affect him. However, he couldn't restrain himself for long. He tried to lean back in his chair with feigned ease. However, his hand was still holding the hilt of his sword. Please forgive Dalama. Jestaris said, placing his hand on the dark elf's arm again. He was too impatient and his temper was a little too big. Caramon, you're right. Your son Palin is a good man. I think we should treat him as a man, not a boy. After all, he was already twenty years old.
Just twenty years old, Caramon stared wearily at Jestaris and muttered. The red-robed Great Wizard waved his hand, as if to drive away this topic. Like you said, he's different from Raistlin. Of course! After all, he was him. He was raised by different parents and faced a different and happier environment than your brother. From what we've heard, Palin is handsome, strong, likable, and very capable. He was not like Raistlin, who was burdened by his weak body. He loved his family very much, especially his two elder brothers. They also loved him deeply. This was all true, right?
Caramon nodded, suddenly choking up and unable to speak. Jestaris looked at him. His gentle gaze suddenly became sharp enough to see through everything. He shook his head. But in a way, you did, Caramon. Oh, it's not what Dharama said-Caramon's face was red with rage and he turned a blind eye to your brother's wickedness. This was the blind spot of all parents. I know. Jestaris smiled and shrugged. I have a daughter…
The archmage glanced at Dalama from the corner of his eye and sighed. The handsome elf revealed a faint smile. However, he did not say anything. He just sat there and looked at his own shadow.
" Yes, we parents are sometimes blind," Jestaris murmured." But it shouldn't be here." The Great Mage leaned forward and clapped his hands. I know you're impatient, Caramon. Just as you think, we invited you here for a purpose. I'm afraid it has something to do with your son Palin.
That's it, Caramon told himself, frowning, his sweaty hands nervously rubbing the hilt of his sword. What I'm about to say is hard to embellish, so I'll be blunt. Jestaris took a deep breath. His expression became solemn, sorrowful, and even a little afraid. We have reason to believe that this young man's uncle, your twin brother, Raistlin, is not dead.
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