In The Seven Realms of Pythus, stories of messengers filled the air of bustling taverns and the pages of bedtime stories. Identified by their stark red scarves and Kretian Paints, they were some of the most notable and important factors in Pythus’ rise to Kinghood, and the seemingly eternal peace that came after. Centuries into that peace, though there were couriers still, none were known to live up to the legends. Except for one. In the Spring of 864 A.E., a small courier, still holding on to the old ways, was tasked with delivering a letter that held the potential to alter the course of history itself. “In a world without war for nearly a thousand years, one tends to wonder what secrets lurk in the shadows.” The messenger pried the vial free from the child, then held it up in front of him and spoke as a parent would. “This is dangerous. You shouldn’t open a thing if you know not what lives inside.”  The boy gave a downcast look but remained silent. “I’ll give you some free information. These,” The Messenger held the vial on display between thumb and forefinger. “Are found in the edge of The Noct. Just far enough in where sunlight never touches the ground, growing there are mushrooms. Mushrooms that, if disturbed, release spores in a sort of defense. If an unsuspecting traveler were to breathe these into their lungs….well, let's just say their mind would not remain as stable as it was. There are monsters in the world and one must always be prepared in case of an encounter with one.”  “Monsters aren’t real. You’re just trying to scare me off.” “No, young Hawk, monsters are real. They may not look like the ones in stories, but nevertheless, they roam the world. Monsters in stories are big and loud. They are noticeable. While dangerous, they are still mostly avoidable. In reality, however, the real monsters move among us in secret. They wear many different disguises.” The boy swallowed, pulling back as The Messenger squared and placed an arm around the youngster’s shoulder. Spinning him slightly, The Messenger pointed toward the people milling about the city. “Some appear as bakers, fisherman, guards…kings…”  The youngster turned to stare at The Messenger, who met the boy’s gaze with inky black eyes. “…Couriers.”