Thousands of years have passed since legends like this happened and no story has ever had such importance. Truth be spoken, there are only a few, the academics and storytellers, who understand the repercussions of these events.
Our story starts in the year 2350 DA, also known as the birth of the Era of Legends. In the first month of this year, the fourteenth day, a young man exited the Temple of The Voice in Puntum Solis. It is hard to say what the man felt at the moment, for as he turned towards the vast forest, he knew he couldn't come back. This is one of the focuses of this great tale.
At this moment, I shall do well to point out our protagonist. His name was Casamir, a kingly name, one bred by generations of great lords and kings. It is said both by written word and tales, that Casamir was of average face. His jaw was well set and his eyes were the kind to stare into the soul. As a young man in a temple, his hair was as unkempt as possible. It is said before his kingship that his hair was infamously knotted. He stood at a good height for any man of the time, a healthy 5 and 10 pes.
To be a great lord was a dream held by any boy on the continent, including Casamir. Though his hopes and dreams could be crushed by all those who have the same, he knows how to pursue them further. However, Casamir knew little of how far he'd be willing to go.
On the fourteenth day of the first month of this year, he left the temple to little words from his fellow Preachers. They knew where he was to go but it can't be said of his fellow Young Dico. They were as unhappy as a lover might be to learn their love has died and indeed cannot return from the dead. Many recorded their plentiful sorrows at the departure of his fellow Young Dico, and many more prayed for his safe return.
As one may know, our great continent is quite large. If you're a learned man as many are becoming in our age, you shall know that at once the great North was a place of Wrath's anger. Therefore the Preachers gave Casamir many warnings to make his way south as far as he could, for there was no good reason to go North of the Great Mountains. So Casamir went south, and at this point in time there had yet been another great kingdom since the Sol Empire. Casamir journeyed for many days and nights on his steed, Rectus whom's right side was covered with tough hair. Indeed this was well known when the Preachers gifted him the horse for his eleventh calendar. Rectus was steady in this journey according to Casamir himself and other sources.
However, forty days into their journey south, Rectus was snatched in the forest of Fabia. Many centuries later we still do not know what kind of beast took him. It was clear from the marks on the ground that the beast attacked from the right. Rectus had such matted and tough hair it should've protected him from such damage. The greatest oddity is that in the Forest of Fabia, there are not known to be any beasts. The Forest has long been thought to be protected by ancient magic from when that state originally rose and fell.
Casamir was known to put the Voice above anything by his contemporaries, and in these following days, he demonstrated it well. He sat for many hours in his mind contemplating his next steps. Listening to the voice was not only the only choice he had, but it was the only choice he wanted... He set himself to continuing the journey without the horse and had only his books which he'd had on his person when Rectus had been snatched. His journey continued further south into the woodlands and many different towns in which he slept. The journey ended in the small port city of Solenus in which he realized he lacked any funds.
His reason left him as he let the Voice command him like it had done hundreds of times previously. Casamir, in the dead of night, when the dire wolves were howling and the port creaked with the sound of lifeless ships, snuck through the town. He slipped amongst shadows and felt their company as he entered a traveler's ship.