---[ POV: Flynn ]---

The world stopped to make sense. Distances between places that should have been close together stretched in an impossible manner while others miles apart got so close one step could cover the distance between them. Shapes, colors, odors, and sounds; everything melded together in an unfathomable kaleidoscope too convoluted for the human mind to decipher.

Flynn closed his eyes, hoping to escape the nauseating feeling he felt building up.

Dammit, those people can jump at will just like that?! Space manipulation require a lot of energy, how the hell does he produce it?! It took the first human spacefarers centuries to develop a reliable way to do it, and the Unified Stellar Empire centuries more to make it safe enough for widespread use. And we still need nuclear reactor and huge ass dimension folder engines to do it. Now you’re telling me that this guy can jump with just a dance and a silly song?!

After what felt like hours but lasted for a mere moment, everything got back to normal. Unfortunately for Flynn, he had gotten used to fighting against the unpleasant and disorienting sensation to stay in place without losing his balance, so when the phenomenon stopped, he found himself struggling against nothing and fell forward.

A jocular laugh echoed behind him.

“Yeah, I ended up on the floor too, the first time,” said Herman with a smile. “Kinda hard to keep your mind clear and your back straight in there, right? That’s why most people only use gates and portals. Well, that and the other dangers of spell-casted teleportation I suppose… Get up your butt, Lord Flynn, we now enter the abode of my dear mentor.”

For the first time, Flynn felt a somewhat serious tone in the voice of the old man. He looked around him and realized he was now standing on a giant stone terrace carved directly in the flank of a snowy mountain. This particular mountain was by far the tallest one around, dominating all the other ones by a fair margin. A warning appeared on Flynn's HUD to advise him the atmospheric pressure had drastically dropped and there would be less air to breathe. His first reflex was to activate the helmet of his armor, but he realized that neither he nor Herman seemed affected by the sudden change of conditions. Now, that's curious.

As he got up, Herman gestured toward the impressive landscape outlined by the light of the three moons.

“Impressive, eh? We are standing on one of the highest peaks of the Frostpeak Mountains, far to the west. I doubt many people from the Inheritor Realms are even aware this place exists. Look there, the Wastes of Kaldor,” Herman was pointing toward the north. Far away, beyond lower and smaller mountains that stretched their cold and icy rock fingers toward the sky, was a vast, dried, and desolate plains that covered the horizon from east to west, and as far north as the eyes could see. “You’re now one of the few people alive that will be able to say they saw the Wastes with their own eyes. Not that there is something particularly impressive about it, mind you, especially by a moonless night, but it's always a good story to impress a tavern girl or one up a drunk adventurer boasting about his latest expedition.”

Flynn's armor was protecting him from the biting cold but Herman reminded him of the harsh temperature by rubbing his hands together and blowing hot air on them to keep them warm.

“Kinda chilly out here, though,” the old man said. “Here, let’s get inside. We don’t have all night anyway.”

Herman turned from the view and walked toward the mountain. A section of its abrupt slope had been carved and smoothed in an imposing rock wall. In the center of the wall was a tall and large arch that gave access to a tunnel plunging in the depth of the mountain. Flynn could spot ornate bronze braziers lined along the tunnel that provided more than enough light to appreciate the intricate and colorful ceramics murals that covered the walls.

The young man followed Herman inside. The tunnel was easily 10 meters across and 15 meters high. The cold and biting winds from the outside could not make it past the entry arch, as if some kind of invisible force had kept it outside. Herman seemed pleased about it and simply continued along the way with a satisfied smile on his face.

Flynn was right on his heels but took the time to observe the artistic depiction on the walls. The young man had some difficulty assessing what exactly they were about, but it was clear most of them represented scenes of some importance or another; great battles, historical marriages, important figures. The depiction from one mural to another varied too much to represent one culture or civilization. Not only their depiction but even their style and aesthetic suggested they were created by vastly different people, separated by customs, artistic techniques, and probably time itself. Herman caught the interested look of Flynn.

"As impressive as the view outside, right? Maybe more, even," said the old man. "That old sac of bones loves his History. There is probably more knowledge displayed on the walls and tapestry of this place than in the entire library of the Guild Towers of Leveni. The mages of the Towers would probably part with their very soul just to be able to peruse one of the old tomes that have been accumulating dust here for centuries. I personally don't see the interest in accumulating so much lore on historical details of the mundane world but my old mentor has always been very fond of it. It's not the same if you have lived through those events yourself I suppose..."

"Just how old is your mentor?" asked Flynn.

"I don't know," admitted Herman. "but I have my suspicions that he is way older than we could imagine or that he would ever admit. Some of those kingdoms or tribes on the walls, I have never even heard of, and I am a well-read and informed man if I can say so myself."

Flynn remained silent. The way Herman was talking about it, this mentor of him was centuries, if not millennia, old. The enhanced genetics of the human in the Empire allowed them to live until 120 or 150 years old if they were lucky and healthy, but only those incredibly rich could afford the treatment and technologies to expand their life beyond that point. The oldest person in the Empire was the Emperor himself, at around 800 years old, and a tremendous amount of research and money had been invested into keeping him alive since he was the one that led the Empire out of its initial slump against the Mind Eaters and gave hope to humanity they would one day prevails. Without him, the war would not have gone nearly as well as it had gone for the last few centuries. Just what kind of crazy planet have I ended up on?! Magic creatures that shoot balls of fire, glowing princesses, old men that can jump at will, immortal hermits living atop a mountain... Just what is this place?!

They arrived at the end of the tunnel and into a large, circular room. There were alcoves in the wall, each displaying a large stone statue. Most of them were of men but two or three depicted women. They were all austere and dignified.

"The Hall of Kings," said Herman. "According to my mentor, those represent the greatest leaders and heroes this world ever knew. If you'd listen to him, he'd also say that there won't ever be another one like them. 'We now live in a world of lesser men and petty causes', he likes to say. And in a way, I suppose he is right."

"Old people like to cling to the past," remarked Flynn absentmindedly while looking at one of the statues with androgyne shapes and a strangely blank and nondescript face. He automatically regretted his comment as Herman was pretty old himself - maybe more so than he looked if he had received any insight from his mentor on how to extend his life.

Herman simply laughed in agreement. "Don't ever say that in front of my mentor or a dwarf though, if you don't want to get in trouble."

The old man got near Flynn to observe the same statue. "They call this one 'The Savior'. I know you are from far away but surely you have heard of him? I think every person in the world has."

"No, I never heard of him," said Flynn.

Herman raised an eyebrow. "Well, you're bound to if you're to roam the Inheritor Realms for a bit. He's probably just known in your native kingdom under a different name. He's the most pervasive figure of old myths and legends there is, even though no one seems to agree on exactly who he was or what he did. Hell, people don't even agree on his name, origin, or even if it was a man or a woman. According to some, he was the most powerful mage the world ever knew, according to others he was in fact the most fearsome warrior of its time or the champion of a god. Some will argue he was a half-god himself, or a king, or a general. The records of his accomplishments are as numerous as they are different. The only thing people seem to agree with is where he got his name from; that when humanity needed him most, he rose to the challenge and saved it from destruction."

"Mmmh..." Flynn rubbed his chin. "And your mentor, he doesn't know more about him?"

"Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't. He won't talk about it."

"That's strange."

"Not nearly as much as you might think," said Herman. "When you're as old, as erudite, and especially as arrogant as him, admitting there are things you don't know might be a bit of a sore spot. Especially when it regards one of the most known historical figure to ever exist and you consider yourself a master of ancient lore and history."

"I see." Flynn looked around him but he saw no other way to proceed. There were no other tunnels that led further into the mountain, and still no traces of the famous mentor. As attentive as ever, Herman saw the puzzlement on his face and explained.

"Now we wait. He is certainly aware of our arrival, probably of our reason to come too, and is trying to decide if it's worth bothering to spend time on us." Herman looked all around him with an annoyed and slightly anxious expression, then he raised his voice a addressed the walls and vaulted ceiling in an almost comical way. "WELL, IT IS OLD MAN! My friend here brought you gifts of a unique kind! Surely you'll be interested in the lore he is offering! He's a lord from a faraway land I doubt even you have heard about! "

There was a sudden burst of flames in the middle of the room and the body of a man formed from the fire. His hair and beard were both long and of immaculate white. He wore simple but luxurious crimson robes adorned with golden trims. What caught the attention of Flynn was his eyes. they were of a bright and burning red that turned an incandescent orange as they neared the center. There was no pupil nor sclera in those eyes, only flames, and embers.

"I know of all the lands in this world," clamored the new arrival with an angered voice. "I know of places in the abysses of the sea, the depths of the earth, and beyond the stars that would give you nightmares for the rest of your life. Don't try to play one of your stupid games with me Herman. And I thought I told you never to show yourself in front of me again."

Herman smiled innocently. "I'm not here on personal business, Valsevor. I am simply a guide and messenger this time around, here to present you Lord Flynn. He is the one doing business today."

The man named Valsevor observed Flynn for a moment with a contemptuous look but his gaze somewhat changed as he saw the armor the young lieutenant was wearing.

"That is indeed an unusual attire," he said while ignoring Herman completely. "Fine. Taking some time to discuss might prove worth it."

Valsevor snapped his finger and Flynn was engulfed in flames that only burned the world around him to ashes before reconstructing it from said ashes. He was now standing in a large study with a ceiling lost in the darkness dozens of meters above his head. The high walls were covered in bookshelves filled with all manner of old tomes and exotic baubles with, to access them, an intricate layout of stairs, narrow bridges, and wooden catwalks. There was no window anywhere. The only light came from thousands of candles strewn all around the place in iron and bronze candelabra, or directly on one of the many surfaces or support beams of the study. Flynn soon realized that some of them were even suspended in the air and moved around indolently. The smell of wax, tobacco smoke, old paper, and parchment filled the air. There was someone standing not far from where Flynn had appeared, wrapped in purple, red, and orange robes. The form seemed feminine but it was hard to determine with the ample clothes and the veil on its face. Eyes of glowing coal similar to those of Valsevor, but displaying more curiosity than the annoyance and anger of the old mentor, observed Flynn for a moment.

Valsevor and Herman materialized beside him in a burst of sparks and fire.

"I will be entertaining some guests, Velka. You may excuse yourself for tonight. We will continue the lesson tomorrow."

The woman draped in colorful clothes bowed her head imperceptibly, then left the room by one of the numerous doors tucked between the shelf on the ground floor.

"I thought you were no longer taking in any apprentice," said Herman.

"She's not an apprentice, she's my daughter."

"Since when do you have a daughter?!" asked Herman with a surprised tone.

"None of your business," said Valsevor.

"Well, not that long. She was not there when you were mentoring me."

"It's been almost 40 years. And do you really think I would have presented my daughter to a little rascal like you?"

"Maybe I could have saved her from inheriting your nasty character. I hope it's not too late for that."

"Enough Herman," warned Valsevor. "My patience is already growing thin. Your friend better be damn charming and convincing if you don't want to end a pile of ashes for disturbing me again when I had specially asked you not to."

"Yeah, he better be," said Herman while sending a furtive smile Flynn's way.

Valsevor gesticulated toward a table covered in old tomes and parchments. Everything that was strewn on the table started to float and flew away to be deposited on other tables or empty shelves. There were only two chairs at the table but the old man snapped his fingers and a third one appeared.

"Take place, so that we can be done with it. I already have a pretty good idea of why you are here but there is no harm in letting you explain yourself."