A letter recovered from the Magerony by Councilor Duma Van on his final trip there.
To my fellow Magerons and Mageronesses,
Matar is a country as beautiful as it is bloodied. While we know only our chromatic streets, rushing canals, and stony skyline beneath a perpetually starry sky, our southern neighbor boasts paradises of palms, winter wonderlands, mighty mountains, and a resilient people. A people so resilient that they have survived not one, not two, but three Dooms. They’ve defeated even us. For no longer do we tower over them, subjugate them, experiment upon them, or strike fear within their very bones at the sight of us.
Some of you wish to return to those days. You wish to bring back the miasma of our Founders. Men and women who thought themselves gods and goddesses until the point of their own hubris nearly destroyed everything, if you had forgotten. We all know we brought Doom into our world, and yet we sit comfortably on our island, gazing south while our own Mistake annihilates people not so different from us. And now that they prosper, instead of brokering peace, these Loyalists to the Founders want to return us to our grandeur. We know not what truly lies in their hearts. Do they seek to revive the Founders? Is such a thing even possible? Certain magic was outlawed after the Founders left us, but we’d be fools to not think it continues still. How long will we continue to moralistically rot as a nation? Until we make a Second Mistake?
No. I will not stand for it. Our time has passed. Instead of returning to our bloody past, I long for a gilded age. An age borne on the Gilded Wings of a united Matar and Magerony. I leave you all, now, on those very gilded wings.
-Mageroness Morrithana Agianile, true name Morrithana Aladoro, Descendant of Founder Aladoro
The letter is sealed with a wax Dragon whose wings are colored gold.
We begin in a Matar quite different from the Matar of the past. Long gone are the supernaturally powerful mages once revered as gods; gone is the dynasty of King Korrin, whose family was instrumental in stopping the cataclysmic event that seems to strike Matar in a rhythm known as The Doom; gone are the heroes of the past ages, their duties done. For now, we live under a new queen and newfound peace.
There have been four Dooms that have ravaged Matar. The first two were successful in all but wiping out the citizens of Matar. The Third, which began 60 years ago, was stopped by a league of Golden Age heroes, under the rule of King Korrin. Though these heroes are gone, and the line of King Korrin only continues with his aging son Aurum, their heroism inspires to this day. A Fourth Doom nearly gripped the nation 10 years ago with the death of Aurum’s twin sister, Queen Aura, but The Rectifiers stopped The Doom itself in its tracks, and a new Queen was crowned.
Matar has been ravaged by cataclysms, racially motivated wars, and subjugation by supreme mages from an, until recently, forgotten nation to the north. The Solstice Magerony. Not much is known still about the Magerony, other than that they wield a different sort of magic. Instead of the powers of the earth, they pull from the powers of life itself. Though the history is muddled due to the Dooms, the Magerony is thought to have been the true lords of Matar, enslaving, experimenting on, and even creating some of the races we know today. Eventually, Matar won their freedom from the Magerony with the help of the gods and goddesses. The Magerony has hidden away on their island until recently, it seems. There are signs of movement on the northern horizon.
Back home in Matar, Queen Zola rules from quite a popular throne. Where Aura’s widow Zin let the nation wither and nearly die during The Fourth Doom, Zola has shared the grand wealth of the crown from the new capital of Amanta. Cities are safe once more with the protection of the Knight and Mage Orders. People feel safe to live outside city walls again. Life, at last, seems to be moving forward in Matar.
Though she is adored and loved by most, Zola has never taken another by her side after losing her love, Londo Artlatta. She rules alone, and it appears she intends to not leave behind a dynasty to pick up where she leaves off. Despite that, she seems to spend every one of her waking moments bringing Matar truly together.
One of these great efforts is the annual Festival of the White Flame, named after her own magical powers. The festival is held in a new city every year and seeks to bridge the divide between the diverse cities across Matar can sometimes have. Instead of allowing isolated peoples of different origins to hide away and grow resentful, Zola brings out those differences and celebrates them at her festivals. No artist of any kind is turned away. Though some in her court question the amount of money it costs to throw these festivals, Zola will hear nothing of it. Is she preparing for something others cannot see? Is there something in her heart willing her to continue this tradition?
This humble story set in the peaceful and prosperous nation of Matar begins in a bustling port city, known as Naviga.