It was a time of peace and prosperity, the greatest that history had ever known. Czar Fredek had been in power for thirty-six years, thirty-six wonderful years, and the country was thriving. The trade arrangements were strong and beneficial. The Treasury was full, but with treasures gained from good relations with other countries rather than by pillaging and looting. The people were well-fed, well-clothed, peaceful, and content. This was the Golden Age, the Years of Light.

Unfortunately, nothing can last forever. Life exists in a constant flux, after all, and for every high, there must be a matching low. Balance is the force that holds the universe together, and the only thing constant is change. The strain of working toward the strength and prosperity of the country had taken its toll on Fredek. He was already old by their standards; at fifty-four years of age, he was the oldest Czar the country had ever seen. Previously, as soon as one hit fifty or his son came of age, he would abdicate in favor of the young, giving the son the opportunity to learn the ropes before the father’s death.

However, Fredek had made one fatal flaw in his years as Czar. He had been so focused on his work, his responsibilities to his country, that he had neglected to find a wife and sire a child. By the time he finally realized he had not carried out this most important of duties, his job had already taken its toll on him. He had not ruled this new land of peace for even six months when he fell deathly ill. The responsibility of being Czar was collecting its debt in the form of Fredek’s life.

And Fredek was horrified. Far more horrible than the fact that he was actually dying was that the only person to assume his throne was his brother, Kolenka, who had always had more machismo than common sense when they were growing up, and was more interested in ultimate power and riches than peace and fairness. Something had to be done, and quickly.

With the last of his strength, Fredek summoned a meeting of his counselors. One of the members of his counsel, Milena, was as strong in her beliefs as Fredek himself, and had fought nearly as hard for the peace of the nation as Fredek had. In fact, at one point, Fredek had thought to take Milena as his bride, cementing a rulership of passionate and competent leaders. However, that had not come to pass. Instead, Fredek decided that he had to ensure that Milena would have as much say as possible when the new Czar took over. To do so required some cunning, a method of manipulating his younger brother without letting him know that he was being manipulated.

Fortunately for him, part of the task was facilitated by two things; first, that Kolenka was not yet married, and second, that Milena was a very beautiful woman. All that remained was to ensure that Kolenka would take Milena as his bride before Fredek died.

Amazingly enough, the plot went off without a hitch. It would seem that Kolenka was as stupid as he was power-hungry. Not three months after Milena undertook her task to seduce the Czar-to-be, they were wed in a lavish ceremony befitting a king, presided over by Fredek. Not long after that ceremony, Fredek was laid to rest underneath a large willow tree in the palace courtyard, and Kolenka assumed the throne.

Milena was a cunning and intelligent woman, and she managed to keep Kolenka entirely under her thumb, suffering his romantic attentions with grace and good humor while using her husband as a virtual puppet, ruling the country through him. The land continued in peace and prosperity, the counselors were relieved, the Czar fancied himself powerful and great, and Milena breathed a sigh to herself.

However, as is inevitable, something went terribly wrong. That something was Milena’s pregnancy. While she was beautiful and intelligent and emotionally virile, she had some physical weakness that disallowed her from bearing her pregnancy well. The nine months took their toll on her, until she was pale and wan and often ill. It was whispered among the people that the Czarina was dying, and that she would take the child with her. Many of the people became concerned, as they loved their Czarina, and set up a sigil to her outside the palace, praying for her day in and day out. Unfortunately, their prayers were only partially answered. She went into labor early, and just managed to deliver a small baby girl before the exhaustion took its toll on her. Her funeral was morose and filled with tears and wails and anguish from all sides.

The Czar, however, dealt with the grief in a way that most emotionally immature people do.

Numbness. Anger. Blame.

There was nobody else to blame except himself, and Kolenka was not the sort of person to ever put blame on himself, so he blamed everyone else around him. He blamed his counselors, for suggesting that he keep Milena at the palace during her pregnancy rather than sending her to a spa somewhere. He blamed the doctor, for not giving Milena the full attention that she needed in time to save her. He blamed the people, the rule of the country, for stressing his wife to the breaking point, for killing her. But when he tried to blame the little girl, he found he could not. He looked into her innocent face, her enormous, light blue eyes, and could not blame her. After all, she was all he had left of his beloved wife. And yes, he had loved Milena very much, for she had been a good and attentive wife, and he was still blind to her manipulations.

Something about looking at his daughter lifted a veil from his eyes. He had long desired power and prosperity, after all, and he had spent the last years being drained of his rightful living by the ungrateful people, the people who had stressed his darling wife to death. He had no love for the people, no love for ruling. He romanticized his role as Czar, believed that it was his God-given right to live in a gilded palace with delicious foods and lush clothing and attendants to wait on his every need. He was tired of being taken advantage of by the people, those bourgeois plebes, who never gave anything back to him, and whose fault it was that his wife was now dead.

He had never claimed to be a rational man. In fact, he was highly irrational, which is part of the reason his predecessor was so concerned about his ability to rule. And in his period of extreme irrationality, brought about by grief and anger at the death of Milena, he made a vow to take exactly what he wanted when he wanted it, to ignore the hypocritical council that consistently questioned his judgment but then reaped the benefit of his successes, to leave the people to fend for themselves, and to be sure to give his daughter, his lovely Galina, everything that he’d always wished he could have.

Thus began the Age of Blood.