In the Magnus State, stands a small, ancient city called Astorn. It lies in the far north, surrounded by cold, snow-capped mountains and seemingly endless pine forests. At first glance, Astorn appears to be an ordinary town, a sleepy place far from the hustle and bustle of the capital. However, beneath its unassuming exterior, Astorn harbors an extraordinary pulse of life. It is known as a vast trading center, a melting pot of nations, languages, and cultures. For merchants, Astorn is a golden gateway to glory, as it serves as a key hub for the exchange of goods with other states.
Trade caravans from the south bring fragrant spices, merchants from the west bring fabrics and gems, and from the east, hardwoods and iron tools fill the market warehouses.
Behind Astorn's progress lies a figure widely considered the creator of its glory. He is Davis Magnus, the noble who now rules and is nicknamed Magnus IX. As the ninth generation of the Magnus family, Davis carried on the great legacy of his ancestors, particularly Aaron Magnus, the founder of the nobility who first established their family's power in this land. The name Magnus had been ingrained in the hearts of the people for hundreds of years, but over time, the inherited image had increasingly diverged from the reality they lived.
Davis was indeed known as a meritorious leader—no one could deny that. During his time, Astorn's trade flourished more rapidly than ever before. Roads were widened, warehouses were built with solid stone, and trade agreements with other states strengthened. However, beneath these impressive achievements, Davis harbored a character far from noble.
Arrogant, conceited, and filled with a sense of superiority. That was how his subjects described him, whether only in private or behind closed doors. Davis often looked down on his subjects, viewing himself as a godlike figure. He sat on a throne of greatness, convinced that without him, the city of Astorn would crumble and disappear from the world map. He felt he was the creator and ruler of a small world called Astorn, and the people were nothing more than pawns who must obey him silently.
Nevertheless, the people dared not oppose him. Fear had become a chain that bound their hearts. They believed, or were forced to believe, that Davis was a figure of vital importance to their lives. In the eyes of some, he was a savior, a leader who provided them with jobs, food, and protection. But to others, he was more like an oppressor who cloaked his tyranny in the garb of progress.
To solidify his grip, Davis built a vast academy called the Astornoleus Academy. Strategically located in the city center, it stood majestically with high, pale walls and iron doors engraved with the Magnus family crest. The academy served to train the people in commerce, accounting, foreign languages, and various skills that facilitated interaction with other states. The countries of Vincent, Napoleon, Vandermeer, Louis, and even several foreign lands from across the sea all established close agreements with Astorn thanks to this academy.
However, the academy's purpose was not as pure as it appeared. Beneath the glitz, Davis used the academy as a tool to cultivate loyal subjects. Those who studied there were trained not only to become accomplished merchants but also to always remember that all their glory came from Magnus IX. This way, there was no room for the people to forget who their supreme ruler was.
In the center of the city, Davis also ordered the construction of a towering black tower, piercing the Astorn skyline. The tower stood in stark contrast to the other buildings, its dark and cold color, like a symbol of a never-sleeping watch. The tower served to monitor all the people's movements. From its summit, scouts could see almost every corner of the city. For Davis, the tower was like an ever-open eye, guarding against the threat of intruders from other nations while ensuring the people never dared to resist.
The people called the tower by various nicknames: some called it the Eye of Magnus, others whispered it was the Shadow of the Watcher. At night, when the full moon hung overhead, the shadow of the black tower stretched long across the cobblestone streets, as if reminding everyone that they were under constant surveillance.
Astorn itself has two faces. In the noble district, parties and banquets never stop. Halls glitter with crystal chandeliers, music plays softly, and wine glasses are held aloft with resounding laughter. Meanwhile, in the commoner district, life is a struggle. Narrow streets are filled with fairs, hard bread is sold at exorbitant prices, and children run barefoot, seeking solace in whatever little remains.
Despite the complaints of many, the majority of the people endure. They live under Magnus's rule with a sense of frozen resignation. After all, the city of Astorn is their home, and this home has long stood in the shadow of the Magnus family. No one knows whether these golden days will last forever, or whether they will crumble with the arrogance of their ruler.
But one thing is certain: Astorn is no ordinary trading city. It is a grand stage, where ambition, hope, and despair blend together. On the rain-drenched cobblestone streets, amidst the clanging of black towers and the whispers of the marketplace, history is being written. And beneath it all, something slowly began to pulse—a sign that the world of Astorn would not forever be in the shadow of Magnus IX.