"Aurelia," Elvira whispered, her finger tracing the eastern lands. "The Holy Kingdom of Light. Its city gleams with white spires and towering cathedrals. A theocracy ruled as much by faith as politics."
Vergil leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. White spires… cathedrals… "Who holds the reins?" he asked, picturing a city ruled by devotion rather than might.
Her silence lingered.
Elvira lowered her voice. "The High Pontiff… the Goddess's name is spoken in reverence, but in truth, he wields the law, commands the armies, and even influences the nobility."
"And the royal family? Surely they wouldn't just stand by," Vergil pressed.
"They hold power, on paper at least. Once they stood proud. The Princess of Light, successor to the Goddess herself… vanished ten years ago, during the First Demon War."
Vergil leaned back, a creak from the chair under him. "That's… convenient."
Elvira let out a humorless laugh. "Many believe the same. But belief without proof is nothing."
She tapped the map delicately. "Aurelia's forces divide into three arms. The Radiant Templars—frontline holy knights. The Inquisition—hunters of demons, heretics, dissenters. And the Seraphic Guard, protectors of the royal family. They alone aren't fully under the church's thumb, but influence fades with the princess gone."
Vergil's voice dropped. "A kingdom suffocating on its own faith."
"Faith binds," Elvira murmured. "But blinds them from seeing the truth."
He gave a quiet hum. "So strength lies… in their armies, or their devotion?"
Her gaze held his. "A question only the Goddess could answer."
Vergil grimaced, thinking, 'I rather not meet another god again.'
---
Elvira shifted, pointing east to a secluded land. "Verithar. The Kingdom of the Void." Her tone softened, reverent almost. "Sealed after the Demon War. No one enters. No one leaves."
Vergil frowned. "Why isolate themselves? Don't they need trade? Alliances?"
"They once did. But eight years ago, every tie to other kingdoms vanished overnight. No announcement. No reason. Silence hides the darkest truths."
---
With a slow exhale, Elvira's hand moved west, over jagged mountains and sweeping plains. "Soldara. The mightiest kingdom in the west. A land where strength rules above all. Unlike others caught in political squabbles, Soldara obeys one saying: the strongest triumphs."
Her finger landed on a bold name. "Raelgard Vaelstryx. The Unbroken Blade."
The fire crackled, echoing the legend.
"He cut down every rival to seize the throne. A sovereign not through fear, but sheer mastery of the blade. Yet…" she paused, letting the weight sink in.
"And yet?" Vergil leaned forward, curiosity piqued.
"The Ten Thousand Sword Grave." Her hand hovered over a desolate valley. "A monument to every master swordsman, their styles, their essence. Soldara's greatest legacy."
"And Raelgard conquered it?" Vergil asked.
"He did, claimed its secrets. But the final technique, it's crown jewel—rejected him. Not from lack of skill, but because it demands… something else." A faint smile touched her lips. "That is why he took a disciple."
"A disciple?" Vergil's gaze sharpened.
"Sixteen years old. Gifted. Arrogant. Raelgard believes he may inherit it all—the throne, the grave, the ultimate technique. If he succeeds…" Her voice darkened. "The world will tremble beneath Soldara's blades."
Vergil's tone was steady. "His name?"
"Kieran Drayven. Youngest to reach four-star aura. Most don't reach that until their mid-twenties. He shattered the record."
Elvira's finger drifted across the western edge. "But Soldara stirs. Outposts destroyed. Patrols vanished. Raelgard mobilizes."
Vergil folded his arms. "Preparing for war."
"Indeed. We call it the Blademarch."
"And the Drakoryan clans?" Vergil asked.
"The Drakoryan clans," Elvira repeated, her finger hovering over the northern islands, "were once fractured, savage warlords. Recently… they've united. Their raids have grown bolder, entire outposts wiped out. Raelgard hasn't answered yet, but I suspect he will soon."
The fire flickered as Elvira shifted her hand north to a remote island. "The Primordial Flame. A forge-fire said to rival the Goddess's power. Smiths dream of it."
Vergil leaned closer. "And no one has controlled it?"
"None. Anyone who reaches for it… vanishes. Reduced to ash."
"So it just sits there?" Vergil murmured.
Elvira's gaze lingered on the island. "The Primordial Flame… no one can simply claim it. From what I've heard, it chooses its wielder."
Vergil smirked. "Maybe it's waiting for someone like me."
Elvira chuckled dryly. "Ambition is admirable. But fire is no comfort. The Primordial Flame gives no second chances."
---
Her hand swept east, pointing to a neutral land. "Vaeloria. A kingdom without sovereign. Not bound by royalty or faith, it exists as sanctuary for those who seek freedom."
Vergil's gaze sharpened. "A nation without a ruler… impressive."
"Vaeloria doesn't follow kings or emperors," Elvira said, tapping the capital. "A Council governs the land, and only the most capable members rise to lead. Here, leadership is earned, not inherited."
She tapped near the capital. "The Academy of Hunters. Unlike other schools, students pursue diverse paths. Young prodigies from across Eternia train here. In two months, they'll begin a two-year program."
---
Finally, she pointed north to a dark, shadowed continent. "The Demonic Continent. Once the heart of an empire, ruled without opposition. After the Demon War ten years ago, they retreated. Now… silence."
Vergil crossed his arms. "So they're… gone?"
"The Demonic Continent… silence reigns there now. Some say the demons are hiding, recovering. Others claim they were forced into retreat. And there are whispers that some never left… that they walk among us, unseen."
She looked up, voice low. "We may have won the war, but can darkness ever truly be destroyed?"
Vergil considered her words. "Light and darkness exist in every heart. Angels and demons. How can one destroy what lives within?"
Elvira nodded. "Hold that thought. Wisdom like yours may save you when nothing else can."
"I'll remember that," he said, rising from his seat. "I should get going now."
"There is one more thing I need to explain before you leave," she said, leaning back, eyes narrowing.
"Tears," she added.
Vergil's brows furrowed. "Tears?"
"Some are temporary, releasing monsters. Others are permanent, gateways to other worlds. If left unchecked, they can release entire armies. Guilds only handle the Tier 0 tears—the weakest ones."
Elvira glanced at the small wooden clock. "That's enough for today. Let's continue this another time."
Vergil inclined his head, smiling faintly.
"Take care, Elvira. If I need more help, I'll come back."
As Vergil stepped outside, a system panel appeared once more.
[Relationship with the Retired Mage Elvira has increased to ★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ (2 Stars)]
"Two stars for that?" he muttered, squinting his eyes.
[Your response at the end pushed it to two, and the relationship is now mutual.] the system responded.
He blinked, considering. 'The Retired mage huh.' 'Then she must know magic. But for now...'
He turned toward the forest path ahead. "Should we make our way to the forest?"