Trinity of Magic - Chapter 11.1: Imbuement and Attunement

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In a usurped kingdom , amid a war-torn and blood-soaked Italy, Conradin's battleground is set. To reclaim his birthright the crown of Sicily, he must tread a path paved with blood, learning that he must do whatever it takes to ascend the throne.

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In the year 1266, the tale of Conradin, the last scion of an ancient imperial dynasty, unfolds. His once-great kingdom, Sicily, has been ruthlessly usurped first by his own uncle and now rests in the hands of the cunning French Count Charles. Through a treacherous plot involving the Pope, Charles managed to oust the Hohenstaufen from the Kingdom of Sicily and crowned himself as its king.

In the East, powers such as the Despotate of Epirus are keenly observing the instability in Sicily, poised to seize any advantage that may arise from the chaos. Meanwhile, the small Italian communes are caught in the political crossfire, aligning themselves with one side of the conflict or the other based on the prevailing political party in power and their vested interests. These shifting allegiances turn the Italian peninsula into a powder keg, where all-out war seems inevitable.

As the shadows of history close in around Conradin, the world watches with bated breath. Will he emerge triumphant, his name forever etched in the annals of Sicilian glory as the rightful king who defied insurmountable odds, toppling both the Pope and the usurper? Or will he, in his valiant struggle, become a tragic figure, a symbol of lost opportunities and shattered dreams? The future of Sicily hangs in the balance, and Conradin's destiny remains uncertain, poised on the precipice of history.

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Epic fantasy presence: Ashes Of The First Tyrant [AOTFT]Prologue – The Law of AuraThey say every soul burns.Some flare brightly and fade. Others smolder quietly for a lifetime.But a rare few, rare beyond reason ignite with such intensity that the world bends to them. These are not gods. Not yet.These are the Tyrants.And their aura is not a gift.It is a weight a burden.In this world, aura is everything.It is the breath behind a sword strike, the pressure behind a command, the silent will that can crush or inspire. Most are born with it. Few master it.But only one…only one in an ageawakens the Tyrant’s Spirit…the aura that dominates not by force, but by presence alone.

A huge guy is bawling his eyes out. In this day and age? Sure, maybe the world changed while I was away in that other place. I’m not some old-fashioned boomer.But what if that guy is clinging to my pant leg, sobbing and sniffling—And we’re not even acquaintances?Even in modern times, that’s just messed up. Ask any passing kid, they’d agree.So yeah, I shook my leg. He was gross and too close.“The hell’s wrong with you? Crying just ’cause you saw a ghost?” “N-no! I swear, it was really there! You didn’t see it!!”I let the disrespect slide. Barely. He was asking for help and still talking down to me just because I look young?Obviously, I’m not the one who lost his balls. He is.And yet… when I looked where he pointed—Something was there.I threw some coarse salt and looked again.He stared at me like I was insane, but I ignored it.…Yeah. Something was definitely there.It made eye contact.