“The storyteller! The storyteller is coming!”

  The children shouted as a small cart drawn by a tired gray donkey appeared on the rocky path leading to the village. Sitting hunched on the cart was an old man in a tattered cloak, gray hair falling down his neck, deep wrinkles gathering around his eyes. Yet — there was gentleness in his gaze, calmness in his posture.

  Evening draped over the village like a heavy blanket. The donkey was given a heap of hay, and under the stars, next to a crackling fire, the old man settled back on his cart. The children gathered as always, eager for more stories.

  “So, what will it be tonight?” the old man asked. His voice was slow but strong.

  Familiar names of tales and legends rose. The old man remained silent. Then, as the voices quieted, another voice spoke up.

  “How about the story of Velgar–Denar?”

  Asked a boy in a worn vest.

  The old man hesitated. His face darkened for a moment, as if a chill had passed over him. One might notice a slight tremor in him. Then he quietly nodded.

  “Well... why not.”

  He settled deeper into his seat, narrowed his eyes at the flames, and began:

  “Listen to the story now simply called Velgar–Denar.

  Velgar — the name of a man who once commanded the entire Kenderlan navy. An admiral like the world hadn’t seen in ages. And Denar... Denar was his right hand. A lieutenant, young, sharp, loyal to the grave.

  This story took place in times when everything was different. But here begins the first trace of the path that led our world to change. One man desired greater power, more territory. And his ruthlessness reshaped our world. But I’m getting ahead of myself...

  Almarin the Ninth, king of Kenderlan — a man with a cold gaze and merciless heart — longed to control something that could give him a strategic edge: a small plant growing only on the Kelnaj Islands. We all know it as Tishilca. Scholars call it Kelnajka neutralis— for its unique ability to neutralize every natural poison. Without exception.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  And that was its curse.

  King Almarin IX wanted to dominate its cultivation. Using it in battle would give him an advantage over any enemy. And Kenderlan, already the strongest power on our continent, would become unbeatable.

  The king summoned his army. Men were called from fields, towns, and ports. The fleet formed and sailed west — toward the island kingdom of Dusughbarah.

  Everyone believed in an easy victory. Kenderlan’s ships were bigger, heavier, stronger. The crews well-trained, command unyielding. Dusughbarah’s ships, by contrast, were smaller, faster, more agile — but fewer in number. Everyone would bet on Kenderlan.

  And yet... that battle went down in history as something incomprehensible.

  After the first clash came chaos. Hulls collided, screams rang out, smoke and confusion. The Dusughbarah forces avoided direct combat, while Kenderlan pursued them like a mad hunting dog.

  Then came the turning point.

  Dusughbarah’s flagship found itself trapped. From behind, the admiral’s ship closed in; from the starboard side, the lieutenant’s ship approached. They pushed it toward the wrecks of two ships from an earlier skirmish. Escape seemed impossible.

  Or so everyone thought.

  At the last moment, the pursued ship changed course. The wind aided it. It slipped through the debris. And just at the moment when victory seemed certain — Velgar and Denar didn’t slow down. They couldn’t. Their ships were bigger and didn’t maneuver as well as the enemy’s.

  Both vessels crashed into the wreckage. The collision was terrible. Wood splintered, hulls cracked, water poured inside. The admiral’s ship began sinking almost immediately. The lieutenant’s ship as well.

  Confusion. Screams. A frantic rescue.

  But then something no one expected happened.

  A retreat signal came from the admiral’s ship.

  And the fleet... obeyed.

  Kenderlan command had a strict hierarchy. Orders were orders. But no one to this day knows why. Why did they retreat when they still had the advantage? Why, when victory was within reach? They only had to keep hunting the smaller ships that couldn’t escape forever. So why that unexplained order?

  It’s said that Velgar and Denar survived. But no one ever saw them again.

  What did the admiral know? Why did he order the retreat? Who knows...

  Or rather: no one knows anymore.

  Most men later returned on the same ships they had sailed out on. Others arrived months later after being ransomed from prison. The casualties were surprisingly few, mainly thanks to that unexpected retreat.

  Some fools say Velgar and Denar chose to sacrifice victory rather than let Tishilca fall into King Almarin’s hands.”

  The old man fell silent. The fire crackled softly. Everyone was still.

  Then he slowly ran his thumb along the sleeve of his left hand, right where a thin snake-like scar might hide beneath the fabric.

  “And that, children, is the whole strange and confusing story of Velgar and Denar.”

  “Do you think there was some secret weapon on that enemy ship?”

  Asked one boy.

  “No one can prove or disprove that anymore,” the storyteller smiled.

  “What if the king of Dusughbarah was on board?” piped a girl. “And the admiral recognized him! And told the lieutenant. That’s why they wanted to sink it!”

  The old man smiled. “I’ve never caught even a hint that that was true... But anything is possible.”

  “What if they wanted to lose the battle on purpose?”

  Asked a quiet brown-haired boy.

  The old man looked at him.

  “That’s possible too,” he said, and gave him a conspiratorial wink.