“You’ve referenced the military of Bellum several times, I don’t understand. The Bellumi people are many things but soldiers isn’t one of them.” Crimson says as he looks over Prince Aero’s sword.
“Maybe not in your time, but since the Great War that’s all they are.” Aero responds.
“How did they change?”
“I am sure you know about the destruction of Nezerat, don’t you?”
“Yes, such a horrific event but I never thought the people would throw away their entire culture because of a madman.”
“It was a mixture of a lot of things from what I understand. I wouldn’t say Nezerat was the sole reason, but it was clearly the catalyst.” Aero responds
“How so?”
“In the years that followed the people were held down by those that practiced blood magic, Nezerat was just the beginning. The people were forced into their bleeding cathedrals that sprung up all over the countryside. Regular blood donations, and the mandatory offerings from their cattle continued a downward spiral of the Bellumi. Finally, the magi forced women into prison farms that through magic made them pregnant repeatedly. Each time the women would have their babies taken away at birth for blood offerings, then they were impregnated again.” Aero says
“Damn, I’ve never heard of such evil magic.”
“Really?”
“Yes, the magic I knew was always for the betterment of the people. Blood magic was healing magic. Healers did what was called miracle work. Everything from healing broken bones, to insuring safe births but never genocide!” Crimson exclaims in grief. “Bellum was the home of the Red Circle, the Elders who protected the sanctity of blood magic… how could they allow this to happen?”
“I’ve never heard of the Red Circle, or the elders… I don’t know what to tell you.” Aero responds nervously as he notices Crimson’s rising agitation.
“How could you have never heard of the Elders of the Red Circle? They are common knowledge.”
“They are not. I’m afraid they were erased from history.”
“By whom? Your family?” Crimson snaps back.
“Probably the Bellumi, I don’t know.”
“How could the Bellumi done it?”
“They went to war with the blood magicians. It raged for years, all the way until the start of the Great War. When the King called for support against magic, the Bellumi were the first to answer. They helped clear the royal lands, in return the united army rallied and cleared Bellum. From there they cleared all the lands in the east, driving the enemy west.” Aero responds.
“But that doesn’t answer how they were erased from history.”
“After the war, the Bellumi army returned to their land and spent decades purging the land of all signs of magic. All the Blood Cathedrals, prison farms, and magic places were destroyed not a single stone of those places remained in the land. Somehow, they were able to break all the magic in their territory. A couple places that they couldn’t break, they moved their borders to exclude it. Places like the Witcher’s Forest and a place called the Snake’s Den.”
“How did they break magic? That doesn’t make sense only a master of the arts could break magic.” Crimson responds in disbelief.
“I don’t have all the answers, the Bellumi are a secretive people. They just don’t hand out answers. They don’t allow anyone in their land. They have so many mysteries to them like the Capital’s histories books record that their skin was once red, but today they are brown in tone.”
“You really don’t understand magic, do you?”
“No, it’s not wise to seek knowledge of the old ways.”
“So ignorance is the preferred path? That’s not wise.”
Aero soaks in Crimson’s words. They are true, but until this point in his life he was indoctrinated to hate the old ways. His eyes have slowly been opening to different thought since entering the cave days ago.
“So the Bellumi cleared their land, destroyed all magic and won the war; why didn’t they return to their old culture? Aside from them being involved heavily in magic, they were artist and poets. Why didn’t they return to that?” Crimson asks.
“My guess is that by the time they were done, all the painters, architects, sculptors and such were all dead. All that were left were infantrymen, archers, and calvary. Every man and woman born into that life; it was all they knew. In fact, the Bellumi eventually sent a new sculptor to the capital to replace the ancient one they originally sent for the Unity Circle in the center of the palace park. It was a hand holding a spear. They paid a local artist to make it. The old one, the emerald jaguar, is in the main hall entering the throne room. It is believed to be the only original Bellumi art piece left in the entire kingdom.”
“I will weep for the Bellumi and the Red Circle. This is the saddest story I have ever heard. The death of a beautiful people and culture. The Gloom of Bellum, the saddest poem to ever come out of Bellum.”
Aero nods in silence, taking note of Crimsons attempt to be poetic. He patiently waits for Crimson to speak, yet he doesn’t. Crimson is clearly mourning from everything he has heard. Crimson looks down at Aero’s sword still sitting in his lap.
Steel is the death of magic…
“Get this away from me.” Crimson says as he hands off the sword. He remains silent for some time. Aero does as well thinking how could he know about Nezerat but not the genocide that followed? It doesn’t match up with the timeline that Crimson had given him. More mystery to the beast, Aero notes…
Relics of the Old Age 