Five powers watched the Second Mugna Feud. Altea watched Fandor. Fandor watched Altea. Ahriman watched the borders. Aos Si watched the past. Norn watched something they refused to name. And somewhere between them, the war continued.

A traveller once asked Geddo what Finias was guarding. The old man looked toward the cold horizon for a long time. Then he answered: “Silence.” The traveller laughed. Geddo did not.

In the north, Geddo received the news without surprise. Finias had survived wars before. Kings had risen. Kings had vanished. Through all of it, the Norn continued the same duty their ancestors had carried for generations. A duty they did not explain to outsiders.

Lucia said only this: “Some memories are old enough to look like prophecy.” No one asked her what she remembered. Perhaps they should have.

Her questions made little sense to the messengers. Wars happened. Bodies fell. Kings argued. This was how mortals had always behaved. But the Aos Si remember differently. To an immortal, history is not a book. It is something that happened yesterday.

Far from the eastern roads, the Aos Si watched from places mortal maps had long stopped naming correctly. Lucia heard of the feud and did not ask which army was winning. She asked where the bodies had fallen. Then she asked whether anyone had disturbed the old places near them.

“Ahriman will not sell its blood for another king’s war.” The messengers thought the price was too low. That was their mistake. He was asking a different question entirely: How long must a people exist before the world stops calling them hired swords?

In the east, messengers came to Ahriman carrying gold. Altea wanted warriors. Fandor wanted warriors. Both offers were generous. Warchief Azzad listened until the numbers were finished. Then he pushed the contracts back across the table.

While Altea and Fandor prepared to bleed for Mugna Vale, the rest of Legrand watched. Some with interest. Some with contempt. And some with the uneasy patience of people who had seen kingdoms make the same mistakes before. There were five powers in Legrand.

No one listened to the soldier. There was a war to fight. And by then, thousands of men were already marching toward Mugna Vale. Whatever had started the Second Mugna Feud no longer mattered. At least, that was what everyone believed. WAR ON LEGRAND In Development

Years later, one soldier would claim he had seen something among the bodies at the roadside. A man wearing Fandorian colours. One of the men supposedly responsible for the attack. The problem was simple. He had been dead long before the convoy burned.

The strange thing is that no surviving account agrees on who struck first. Altean records blame Fandorian scouts. Fandorian records describe blue cavalry crossing the Vale before dawn. Both histories were written after the dead had already been buried.

So the banners rose. Blue from Altea. Red from Fandor. Old roads filled with armour, horses, supply carts, priests, boys pretending not to be afraid. And ahead of them all lay Mugna Vale. A piece of land both kingdoms had spent generations learn how to hate each other over.

Across the border, King Dulhallan of Fandor reached another conclusion. Some wars survive because no generation is willing to finish them. The Mugna Vale had passed from argument to grievance, from grievance to inheritance. Dulhallan had inherited enough.

King Emeth of Altea called for restraint. Not mercy. Not surrender. Restraint. There is a difference. A king may hesitate because he is afraid. Or because he understands that once an army begins marching, it becomes much harder to remember why it left home.

Altea said the convoy had been carrying terms for Fandor. Fandor said no such terms had ever reached them. By sunset, both courts had heard a different version of the same story. By morning, both versions had become truth. That is usually how old wars begin again.

The Second Mugna Feud did not begin with a battle. It began with a convoy that never arrived. No declaration. No challenge delivered at the gates. Only burned wagons on an empty road, blackened wheels, and men who had been sent to speak of peace.

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