BEGINNING

The one destined to unite the clans under a single tribal roof first had to prove his courage and wisdom to his own people. My brave prince fought the dreadful dragon of the river for this very reason. He could not slay that ancient darkness lingering from primeval ages, yet he managed to imprison it within the waterway of the Oka Valley. Thus my prince became the new master of the river. And he swore to erase from the earth the donbettirs that rose in the dragon’s shadow. From that day forth, no one would ever oppress his people again. He pursued their traces for years. At last, he reached the final one. In a hidden underground labyrinth he cornered it. Its name was Love.

“Desire Me, Miss Me, Feel Me,

Think of Me, Long for Me, Love Me…”

My prince and his men, at their very first steps, turned into iron dust unable to resist the pull of a magnet, as their minds were invaded by that call. They completely forgot their purpose. They obeyed the voice that swelled their sense of possession. Their only thought was to reach the source of the sound, coming from no direction and yet from every direction at once, and to claim it.

With every step they took, they became detached from their surroundings, drifting apart from one another, vanishing into the tangled corridors of the damp labyrinth. Some collapsed in exhaustion, drained and broken. Some lost their minds and descended into madness. And some…

The soldier stretched out his hands. He longed to touch, to embrace, to love. That which gave meaning to his life stood right there before him. Who could possibly prevent him from possessing it? At the other end of the corridor another soldier appeared. These two soul‑friends, who had known each other for so long, now had to compete in order to claim what they desired. They glared at each other with hatred, drew their swords in blind frenzy, and fought to the death.

The desperate cry echoing against the cave walls brought my prince back to his senses. As he stepped over the lifeless bodies of his men who had slain one another, he plugged his ears with stoppers and raised his shield. He would watch the last donbettir only through its reflection on the shield’s gleaming metal, so that neither its voice nor its fiery gaze, capable of melting a man into wax, could affect him. With caution he entered the decrepit structure. He knew that the paradisiacal visions before his eyes were nothing but hallucinations, and that the only truth was the demonic being standing in front of him. Like all that is demonic, it was irresistibly seductive.

When my prince appeared, Love burst into a coquettish laugh. She found it childish that this pitiful man, standing before her as though ready to wage war against an army, sought to protect himself with such precautions. With her beautiful eyes she swept over him from head to toe, as if absorbing his very soul.

“Do you desire me?” she asked.

Her voice was alluring, her manner inviting, her attitude spoiled with arrogance. Her address was not to the ear but to the mind. Realizing that his precautions were useless, my prince removed the earplugs, lowered his shield, and let go of his sword. He had fallen under Love’s spell.

“Very much so,” he said. “If you accept me, I will bring you gifts, rare and precious ones; gold, silver, jewels, whatever you desire…”

Love adored gifts. She never refused them. A man who wished to win her heart had to toil and lay the most precious offerings at her feet. Yet this proposal was not enough to satisfy Love’s desires. “I will bring you slaves,” he said. “You may do with them whatever you wish.”

Love delighted in slaves. She took immense pleasure in watching the helpless struggle of free will against her irresistible power. Yet even my prince’s offer could not satisfy her desires.

“Ask,” said my prince. “Ask, and I shall fulfill it.”

Love loved to ask. Her desires never ceased. With her heart, her soul, her entire being she demanded. And she did not love resistance to her wishes.

“Love me alone,” said Love. “If you vow to love me, and only me, I shall grant you happiness and fortune.”

That day my prince emerged from the labyrinth alone. From then on, he left every struggle victorious. He united the steppe and mountain clans and forged a mighty kingdom. He was now the King, destined to be remembered as the Iron Fist of the North. Yet he could not remain faithful to the vow he had given to Love. He never realized that the worth he possessed had been bestowed upon him by Love herself. His betrayal would carry a price. For Love’s greatest delight was vengeance.

Aspar, Envoy of the King, CE 357