From the Writings of Tarric Vethrin
There are people who walk into a room and everyone instinctively checks whether their purse is still there.
And then there are people who make even the worst scoundrels sit up a little straighter.
Caelen Weaver belongs to the second kind.
Templars do not exactly enjoy the best reputation. Some see them as judges. Others as soldiers. And then there are those who simply think of them as the sort of people who ruin your day.
Caelen is…
…well…
something of an exception.
As Commander of the Templars—and, for all practical purposes, Lucryss’ shadow—I see him rather often. After all, The Hanged Elf has become something of a second home for the Crown Prince.
Which means it has become one for Caelen as well.
If you ask Caelen why he became a Templar, he will give you an answer about responsibility.
Ask him again five mugs later…
…and you will receive exactly the same answer.
The man is remarkably consistent.
Even when it comes to looking serious.
Surprisingly enough, even I know very little about him. Only that his magic can nullify the magic of others.
Do not ask me how.
I am a dwarf.
Magic makes about as much sense to me as pink cows do.
Apparently, however, it is a rather extraordinary gift, which is why Caelen became a Templar at a very young age.
Makes sense, really.
Templars are supposed to keep dangerous mages—and magic itself—under control.
Which, translated into plain language, means that what feels like the entire magical balance of Elyndor rests on this man’s shoulders.
No wonder he always looks so serious.
Actually…
Forget what I said about his expression.
He probably looks exactly as serious as he should.
Caelen is human.
And as Commander of the Templars—and Lucryss’ unofficial babysitter—he is probably the most powerful human in all of Elyndor.
Yet he is always the first to lend a hand.
Whenever he is around, I do not have to carry my own barrels into the cellar. And he regularly carries the old lady across the street’s basket of apples all the way up to her apartment.
Just the other day I watched him stack firewood for her.
The most powerful man in Elyndor.
Carrying armfuls of logs.
I decided not to ask any questions.
Lucryss did not either.
He simply stood there, watched for a while…
…and then started helping.
The Commander of the Templars.
The Crown Prince.
Stacking firewood for an elderly woman.
That is one of those stories not even I could have invented.
Far too unbelievable.
Caelen Weaver…
…a kind, serious Templar carrying more power and responsibility than anyone should.
A man who laughs far too little.
Poor bastard.
Men like him always end up becoming part of the stories no one ever wishes to live through.
— Tarric Vethrin
I, Raven Morrigan Hawke, create Elyndor, a world full of hidden paths, whispering forests, and ancient secrets. Every illustration and story draws you deeper—toward brave adventurers, glowing crystals, and places where light and shadow dance together. Join me on the journey through this poetic fantasy world and discover what waits behind every hill, every tree, and every artifact.