Solomonari:Fables/Tales/At the Court of Alagada
More actions
At the Court of Alagada
[Joseoh] | [2/15/2026]
There was once a time when the “Realm of Masks” blinded the eye with its radiance. Radiant and ethereal, it glowed brighter than any kingdom or realm of man, even surpassing the ancient slavers, may their name be accursed. The glory and might that Alagada exuded were attributed to the youthful, yet wise king of the realm, one full of judgment and sound mind. For treachery didn’t trod his heart, and blasphemy didn’t blot out his eyes. His name was whispered and spoken with adoration, as many counties, dukes and even kings offered their vassalage to him, recognising the piousness of the man. Despite such grandeur and holiness, there was a perverse mystery surrounding the man, a secret veiled in shadows which none dared to ponder… For this unbound prosperity had a price, a sinister price. Before time was measured and chroniclers kept records of history, the land was plagued by decay. For men unified to slaughter the innocent, wrath was spilled upon women and children, ailments brought misery and ruin… The unbearable and ravaging madness couldn’t be tamed by means of man, but by means of Gods. For the depraved, primordial beings answered the pleas of men for salvation, offering the first king a corrupt pact to save his people from the blight that burdened the land:
“We shall pour forth our grace upon thy land. Thou shalt be elevated among men and shalt rule over them. Thou domain shall stretch from the abyss of the oceans to the searing peaks of the mountains. Stars shall chant thy name unceasingly, and men shall build monuments of eminence for thee. For this boon, thou shall sacrifice your firstborn upon the altar of our glory, who shall be kept pure and cleansed of all impurity, like a lamb…”
Thus, this grim tradition lived through the ages of prosperity. Many sovereigns have perished from the madness of such an act, and many more lost their sound judgment, pronouncing harsh chastisement and wrath upon wrongdoers. It came to pass that the firstborn son of the youthful king was conceived, bringing joy to the ignorant and deep woe to the knowing. For the king was burdened with deep sorrow, firmly ordering his chroniclers to find a path to salvation. Yet, there wasn’t a plain choice to avoid such a grim conundrum. One day, when the night was still young, an elderly man stepped into a dolour-filled court, grasping a tome which whispered of forbidden sorcery. For his frail frame emanated filth and an all-consuming void…yet as the man spoke, his words struck a chord in the king’s soul, providing a hope of darkness, of blight and corruption:
“ Your eminent majesty, I have travelled many lands and crossed many realms to arrive towards your court. Heed my word as I speak, for your wisdom is revered amongst men. I possess the might of generations of sorcerers and physicians. A power born from the rituals of blood and gore… For I spilt the blood of the innocent, and saw your suffering and misery, thus I answered the call of your woe. I can save the soul of your firstborn and break the curse of the Old Gods, yet… There is a price to such salvation: The lives of a thousand innocent…”
The blasphemous proposition deeply repelled the king, but the prospect of his son’s salvation allured his soul more than light allured the unsuspecting fly with its radiance. For many days, his mind was preoccupied with the offering, lamenting over the dilemma of despair, his sound mind overwhelmed, and his body growing weak with the pressing matter. Days and nights he fasted, in an attempt to achieve enlightenment and understanding in the dire moment of struggle, analysing many tomes of moral excellence and purity, with the conviction to unveil the answer from beneath the shadows of the void. Nothing seemed to contain the solution, salvation distant and cold, as sanity crippled and madness overtook the king, now reduced to a shade of the former wise man…Hope was extinguished from the mind of the king, as he took the fateful decision…Under the shade of the sacred night, he carried the seed of his blood upon his overwrought hands, tears unceasingly running down his pale face, as he lowered the boy unto the altar, grasping the dagger with vice-like hold, the frail physique trembling with the grievous and spirit-breaking hopelessness, as the dagger was raised…
“THUS SAID ION, OUR DELIVERER, SPOKEN TO HIS CHILDREN, THE KALMAKTAMA!”
The voice boomed through the quiet woodland, filled with primordial rage and authority, shaking the very soil upon which the king stood…Moments later, the being revealed itself. A grotesque scenery of warping flesh soon took the form of a man, seemingly the same age as the king, with an aura that calmed the disturbance of the king. At first, they stared at each other, the overwhelmed mortal fascinated by the mysterious being standing in front of him, his gaze overflowing with adoration, the silent awe tangible between the two figures. Soon, The Grand Karcist, took the dagger out of the king’s hand, smiling calmly as he resumed, his voice encapsulating the living and thriving power which the Grand Karcist possessed:
“Thou art a just man, a man deserving deep reverence and honour. I shall save your seed from damnation and teach you the ways of the flesh, the path to immortality and rebellion against the Old Gods. For I have seen many of your lineage suffer in pain and devastation, for my mind professed much atrocity which occurred during the reign of the Old Gods. I shall free you from the curse bestowed upon your lineage, for recompense, all that I ask is for you to abolish the worship of the Old Gods and become a part of the Ikuuna soon to come…”
Thus it came to pass that Alagada was once unified with the family of Ion, and grace freely roamed through the vast expanse, freed from the blight of the Old Gods…