"That was the five-hundredth year of history's gradual descent into oblivion.
Nothing could be recorded. Only rumors passed from mouth to mouth offered glimpses of the glorious age that had come before.
In that age, anyone had the right to fabricate a story. So long as you possessed the fearless courage of a lion, you could proclaim your own legitimacy whenever you pleased.
Royalty did it, nobles did it, and commoners did it all the more—
Moser I, the child of a slave, was thrown into the kingdom's wars.
Unwilling to spend his entire life crushed beneath his rulers' feet, he used his Silver Tongue to convince his comrades that he was a royal bastard, quietly gathering followers of his own and kindling the sparks of rebellion.
He was the first, but he was not the only one.
When people realized that history and tradition had been severed, morality and law also dissolved into nothing amid the chaos.
Opportunities to rise in the world were like fields of wheat in autumn, gold scattered across the land.
Kingship lost its sanctity, and everyone sought to harvest that gold into their own domains. Every city was a nation.
Our grandfather was a true noble. He treated commoners kindly, abolished serfdom, and held unshakable control over his territory, declaring independence amid a continent torn by division and chaos.
Whenever war encroached on our land, he donned his armor, raised his sword, and personally delivered punishment to the invaders.
Thus, [Night Raven] endured in peace."
Tang Qi quietly listened to Van Vreene's account, recalling the old man at the center of the oil painting.
He now had some understanding of the history of several centuries ago—
To learn the truth of history, he could only ask the dead who had lived through it.
Van