The beautiful moonlight fell from the stellar night skies. The glitters of silver shimmered on the mortals below the earth. The glorious tri-colored moons weaved the shadows of an old mysterious book.

It was a book made of wood – heavy and cumbersome to hold.

Soon, the heaven’s gentle beams passed through the window, lighting up the forest glass. The shining moonbeams caught a glimpse of the shadows of a little boy of around six to eight years.

The cute kid had his ash-grey hair swaying in the wind every time he flipped the antique pages of a book. His big blue eyes focused and charmed. The light in his eyes reflected a series of unreadable wriggling letters. The words were mosaic-like rough sketches, undecipherable within the pages of the book.

Yet, if you look deeper within the boy's innocent eyes, you would see shining letters. The letters were dancing and prancing like ants, performing in front of the little boy.

Yes… as if they were alive.

In one moment, the little boy would smile. Next, he would pout. Then, he would sniff as if he was ready to cry at any moment. His face was full of different emotions. Be it sorrow, happiness, anger, hope, helplessness, love, fright, and many others - his young face shows it all.

Yet, his expressions too vivid for a young boy of his age. It seemed like he had seen the lives of many people. Something impossible considering the little lad’s young age.

From time to time, the boy would try to touch the moving letters with his small hands. In turn, sending the letters in panic, the letters scurrying away from his small hands.

The letters in the wooden book were once again acting as if they were among the living.

The child took a deep breath. Then, he whispered in a soft childish voice.

The letters stopped. Slowly... forming a group of words.

“Duke Fellington’s Memoirs…”

His eyes were engrossed by the letters and vivid images appearing one after another. It was telling a story, a story from a very long time ago. A lost era, only known to the wizened few.

 

-The Year 1007, Spring, The Dusk – Had the Gods Forsaken Us-

Tis season known as spring, a season of warmth and joy. Unfortunately, there were no flowering plants or green trees in sight. Nor could I experience any of this season’s warmth at all.

I couldn’t help myself but sigh with a heavy heart.

I only saw corpses from all races blooming in blood, like roses in a dull soil, their petals fell.

It’s a spring of blood.

I saw busy coachmen with their wagons driving not the living but the dead.

It feels stifling to see these comrades in the army thrown in the carts reserved for the dead.

A few days ago, some of these men were even bragging, talking about drinks and all. Some had even claimed that they could drink the strongest beer in Maxim. Boasting that they wouldn't get drunk at all. Of course, that's a lie alright.

We were still boasting with each other a few moments ago. Each of us promising that we would drink our fill together after this war was over.

Yes, it was over now.

...

Over for them.

Yet, the battles continued to rage everywhere.

Heroes fell, demigods fell, nobles and even kings fell one after another.

The hopes in my heart were like a flickering candle flame in the middle of a windy night.

I can’t tell where I am headed. May it be either east or west. North or south. I see no peace.

Thus, I decided to write my heart out.

To free me from this burden of the heart.

I, Lord Bach Von Fellinton, the last duke of my line.

I decided to write my words on this old heirloom as proof that I existed once upon a time.

Well, the reason I decided to write these things was also to ease my restlessness and fears.

The cumbersome worries that were gripping my weary heart.

The first sentence I built and inked on the first page though was….

Have the gods forsaken us?

 

***

-The year 1008, Fall, The Dusk - Vagabonds-

Ten years ago, it started.

No one knows what started the war, nor what will end this nightmare.

The Great War bore death, disasters, famines, and poverty.

I’m still among the living as of now, standing along with a few brothers and sisters as we thrive to survive.

They call me Duke. But deep in my heart, I know I’m no Duke.

I’m only a simple man trying to survive in these trying times.

We marched to these unknown lands, a place where the last bounties of nature remain untainted.

We survived through scavenging and foraging the forests. Places where the arms of war still cannot reach.

Since many of the once fertile lands of Eudoria were now barren earth, polluted with poison and magic.

Dead earth and plague lands, the former greenish cape is gone.

We decided to build a frontier of sorts in these lands.

We welcomed the survivors who were able to run away from the war and arrive at this place.

Giving them little food, a warm blanket, and a not-so-beautiful place to sleep.

At first, the people were suspicious.

Who can blame them?

This era pulls out the best as well as the worst of all the races.

Well, at least it made me a bit happy.

Let them think and see!

I wish to give other people the smallest ember of hope that I could give in these dark times.

I already saw too much.

Maybe I can call this place - The Last Bastion.

The land of a landless Duke.

A few years ago before this dark era came to fruition. At the tender age of 18, I became titled Duke.

Though, it is only an empty title now.

We were like leaves drifting in the wind. Falling from the thick branches of a dead tree, dripping like rain from a cold windowpane. Waiting for our inevitable end.

No land, no riches, and no hope in sight.

Pure guts, but no glory. Vagabonds.

 

***

-The year 1097, Winter, The Dusk – the First Duke’s Slumber

So numbed, so tired, and so lost.

My eyes blurring, lips chilled and parched, my back hunched, arms and fingers shaking…

The years, months, and days are starting to creep their embrace towards me.

Ah! It’s time for my successor to take the mantle now.

I could still teach him a little bit more.

I would not live for long. In this, I’m sure.

A few years? A few months? Well, who knows?

Do the gods know? Are they even still alive?

Anyway, that darn brat dared not to give me any grandchild at all!

Sometimes, I ask myself what made the kid hard-headed and stubborn.

He’s as stupid as I am when it comes to making our own decisions.

A damning proof that my blood runs deep within his veins.

The kid indeed was my child.

Though, as a father, I worry about his future.

It’s decided then!

I’ll at least give him time and a nice repertoire of ladies to choose from before I die.

Fleeting memories came and go.

My century is gone just like that.

I watched the small camp became a city.

It passed like a breeze. It came and it went away.

I'm not a powerful warrior like my son which could last a few hundred years more.

...

Though...

I fought a good fight. My heart believed.

I chose not to fight on the battlefield.

My battles lie behind the tattered walls.

A battlefield that lacked the glitters and luster.

A place where the inglorious battles happen.

I lit up a lot of meaningful smiles.

As I close my eyes, I bring them as treasures to boast before the first ones to go.

Ah! I can hear the edgy whispers of my bosom friends. The strongest drink of Maxim was waiting to test my mettle. The hooting of my silly brothers and lovely sisters. And of course, my beautiful wife.

Some were even jumping up and down like monkeys. Shouting and calling for me on another shore.

Their voices filled with excitement and glee.

Will my old man welcome me? Will he say I did a good job?

I'm tired.

I must call my son now.

Perhaps, my duty has finally ended...

***

The little boy didn't understand most of the contents and images that flashing before him. The narratives gave him a surreal feeling. Reaching his tiny hands to grasp his chest, he gasped. He felt the small beats of his heart skimping as if something was resonating deep within him.

His tiny heart lurched. He should have called his sister and brother before opening the book.

Feeling woozy and dizzy, the little guy almost closed and sealed the book. Such vivid imagery.

The story was too much for the tiny child.

In thought, he wondered about the stories read by his caretaker from the same book. It was funnier and happier. There were flying dragons, drunk dwarves, heroic humans, smart-ass lords, and fluffy beastkins.

How? Why? It was an answer only she knows.

With his brows furrowing, the little boy could only scratch his head.

Still, the unique feeling pushed the little guy to read further, he felt forced to do so. The gears of destiny were moving.

In the first century of the Dusk, the secrets laid and hidden in a thick mist.

There were only two things the boy was sure of.

Two secrets flickered from the heavy book.

First, there was a war on an unimaginable scale.

And second… death was in their midst.

 

***

-The year 1099, Summer, The Dusk – Succession-

Before he took his last breath, my father called for me.

He spoke with tears flowing down his cheeks.

His legacies were like rice buds from the stalks falling in the granary, it was full of his wishes and dreams.

In whimpers, he asked.

He asked me how am I right then.

He asked me would it be okay for him to leave first.

My father seemed to be worrying too much about me.

My mother is gone.

I have no sons nor daughters.

And he was about to leave me.

He asked me with glassy eyes to find a wife though and build a family.

He even voiced out a few unmarried girls while gasping in short breaths.

I didn't know whether I should even cry or not.

He told me that he had a list of wonderful ladies, asking me to at least give it a look.

"..."

But I do not wish for such a thing.

I decided to thwart the thought from my mind.

I do not want them to be born in this era where anyone might die in a snap of a finger.

Though I am already 63 years old, he still worries too much.

Unlike him, I could still live for a hundred years more.

My passion for the arts of the divine allowed me to have longer longevity.

I also look younger compared to my age.

Besides everyone in this bastion of ours is my family.

They are my fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, brothers, sisters.

I wouldn’t be...lonely...in a sense.

But that does not mean, I would not die though.

In a battle to defend this last bastion, I may one day fall.

Oh. He also gave me an old memoir, its pages made from the now obsolete scribe tree.

An incredibly rare magical tree that produces rough paper unfettered by mother time.

He told me to read it.

He told me to continue it.

And thus I will.

 

***

-The year 1109, Fall, The Dusk - Remembrance-

I missed my father.

My father was the smartest guy I knew.

He toiled and burned his life for the remains of all the races.

Along with the last living survivors, he established this paradise in hell.

In exchange, he lost his chances for a longer life as he forsook the divine arts for those who wished to live.

His talents were obscured and lost with time.

His purpose was noble.

To give the lost a glimmer of hope in their hearts.

As I skimmed around all his logs in the memoir, I cried and laughed.

I never thought that my strict nagging father was so fluffy inside to the point that I cringed.

He didn't even forget to list the names of all the unmarried ladies in the bastion in hopes that I would change my mind.

I’m still here protecting this bastion along with some of my father’s sisters and brothers-in-arms.

Not for long though.

We all felt it.

Like a lull.

We were waiting for the final battle.

In a hundred years or so.

It will come.

Definitely.

I must prepare.

 

***

-The year 1153, Fall, The Dusk – Funny Little Girl-

Today…

I lost a few people dear to me.

Two great pillars of the last bastion.

A man and his wife, the bastions most powerful hunters.

They were my dear friends for years.

Yet, I did not shed tears.

I'm numbed by the passing deaths I saw in my lifetime.

I know my tears won’t bring them back.

I understood that a long life had a fair share of the burden.

In this era, long-life doesn’t bring perfection.

...

They orphaned a little girl.

She was nine years old.

For her, I felt wretched and sad.

Her cries almost made me lose control of my tear ducts.

For the first time, I decided to break one of my taboos.

I allowed her to call me father!

Though, it seemed like she hates it.

So, she called me ‘Uncle’ instead.

Such a funny little girl.

She’s like a cat, so easy to provoke.

Though, she’s too mature for her age.

I guess that’s not bad too.

Anyway, they say that girls mature earlier than boys.

Maybe such a thing is true.

That’s more acceptable though, due to my divine arts my looks were still the same as I was a young adult.

After all, it's not a boast to say that I’m talented at practicing the divine arts.

Even my father and everyone in bastion acknowledged that fact.

The little girl sees me as a great older brother. I guess?

Well, it’d make me feel less of an old geezer.

Hmnn, it's decided!

I’ll teach her my arts and my ways on how to become strong.

***

-The year 1183, Spring, The Dusk – Hope's not lost -

They are here.

I’ve been waiting for this moment for almost a hundred years.

With their heads held high, the bastion’s last army gazed towards the upcoming enemies.

We’ve done all we could.

It was a preparation for a hundred years.

Behind me, lies the last bastion of the living.

I heard earth-shaking roars vibrating throughout the sky, again and again.

Seas of monsters were in our sight. There end we couldn't see. A horde.

I am currently sitting on a chair on top of the towering walls.

I could feel my smile stiffening.

As I write, my table is covered with litters of papers.

It was our strategy.

It was the plans that we were about to put in place any moment now.

Still looking young, as if time was nothing but a word to me.

Beside me was my feisty adopted niece, until now she refuses to call me father.

I couldn’t help but grin every time she lashes out at me when I call her little shrimp.

She's matured enough to think for herself though.

And well, she indeed became a…very fine lady.

I could see that she was ready to die with me.

The problem was…

I am not ready.

I am not ready to lose her…

 

***

-The year 1183, Fall, The Dusk – A Bellyful of Laughter-

From spring to summer. And summer to fall.

This might be the last time I would write in this memoir.

I already decided to pass down this memoir to my adopted niece.

I’ll force it to her.

Like how my father asked me.

I would ask her to read it.

I would ask her to continue it.

Anyways, I would also add my seal as my gift to her, my successor.

I would stay here until the end.

Until these walls fall and its bricks turn to ashes.

The soldiers in the army all knew that this might be the last.

Thus, they left their wills to their families, friends, and brothers.

The months of testing and light skirmishes would be ending soon.

Bloody hell! Ten thousands of deaths for a light skirmish!

We already established a cave system with the help of all the races. The last remaining dwarves and gnomes allowed everyone a slim chance of survival.

We also developed some edible scrubs. Edible plants that could grow in the caves through the help of the elves.

The livestock brought by the beastkins also helped. All races also brought some magic items necessary to live there.

I decided that the last batch of people to retreat to the caverns must prepare and go now.

Including those who didn't wish to remain here.

…

And those who didn't belong here.

I asked my soldiers who were the men that we still need to send to safety.

After the not-so-loud commotion, the old veterans were the ones who earned the right to call the shots.

But I heard almost all decided to stay.

Those stubborn young ones who wished to stay were shooed away.

Knocked to the ground by the old soldiers, they were loaded in the carriages.

They looked like logs for delivery, making everyone laugh.

The old veterans gagged the fools with clean clothes.

Their hands were sealed with tight ropes.

The moment I saw those sleeping boys, I couldn’t help but show a thumbs up.

Haha. Nice one old guys!

The last reverie is about to start.

I could hear the rumbling sounds of the marching beast army.

It seemed like all their preparations were complete.

The great party is about to begin.

Oh! Rosalyn would be reading this later once she arrives at the cave.

So, I wrote something extremely important in another paper.

I could imagine her shock once she reads this letter.

Thinking about it, I couldn’t help but burst in a peal of hearty laughter, a bellyful of laughter.

My adjutants were even giving me worried looks.

They were wondering if I finally lost my mind.

I wrote my thoughts with zeal, the secrets of my heart bared.

No more pretending anymore.

The ink brush on my hand waltzed and danced on the piece of paper.

The black ink pursued the words I have to tell.

I decided to protect her until the end.

It’s time, I gotta start moving my ass off.