Wars are fought for them, and won by them. It has been centuries since the fall of the ten consecrated orders known as the Knights Radiant, but their Shardblades and Shardplate remain: mystical swords and suits of armor that transform ordinary men into near-invincible warriors. Cities are built only where the topography offers shelter. Animals hide in shells, trees pull in branches, and grass retracts into the soilless ground. Uncanny tempests of incredible power sweep across the rocky terrain so frequently that they have shaped ecology and civilization alike. Now there are four whom we watch: the surgeon, forced to forsake healing and fight in the most brutal war of our time the assassin, who weeps as he kills the liar, who wears her scholar's mantle over a thief's heart and the prince, whose eyes open to the ancient past as his thirst for battle wanes. Did our foes see that the harder they fought, the fiercer our resistance? Fire and hammer forge a sword time and neglect rust it away. In the end, not war but victory proved the greater test. When there was still magic in the world and honor in the hearts of men. Before the Heralds abandoned us and the Knights Radiant turned against us. I long for the days before the Last Desolation.
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