Sadar is the western Empire of Tartu. Its inhabitants are known for their integrity, austerity and warlike attitude.
Vaalor is the eastern Empire of Tartu, populated by a proud, reasonable people who highly value personal wealth.
After choosing your faction, you will battle the inhabitants of the other Empire in:
• Duels of Truth;
• Sea Battles.
You will only be able to join Clans of your chosen Empire.
Choice of faction doesn't affect your ability to move around the game world, complete Quests and participate in any combats, with the exception of the ones mentioned above. Below you can find stories behind the foundation of the two Empires.
Vaalor. A letter to son.
My son,
When you finish reading this, the black sails of my ship will have long disappeared behind the horizon. My Brother-by-Word and your friend and mentor Vayr will deliver this message before leaving Adan and joining his brothers in the skies.
My last journey I must take alone.
As you are reading this, the bridges of our capital, of my beloved Vaalor, are raised, and the flags of our mighty leviathons and quick galeors are hauled down. White colors of mourning tremble on the walls of my fortress. The guard of honor stands on the Pier of the Nine Seas, and will stand there for nine days and nights, not a single shield touching the ground.
There was a time, my son, when none of this existed. There was no сity, no dragon-frigates, no lighthouses, nothing. Only a small pier made of bad wood, patched-up nets, and a lonely fisherman's hut under a leaking roof.
With my father, I woke up before sunrise every day to prepare the nets and got into our old boat. And only when the first stars appeared in the sky we returned to the land. Some days, we came back empty-handed and went to sleep with an empty stomach. The other days, we came back with fish, most of which was sold by my mother on the market. There were also days when our catch was so rich that we had to throw some of it back into the sea.
On such days, my father, Akhor Dan-Riyad, opened a jar of sour wine and, before taking the first sip, poured some of it into the sea. Thus he praised the Great Dragons for their blessing.
I also remember him drawing constellations on the sand near our house. Constellations that guided the sailors home. Aeona the Mother of Eternity. Argos the Ruler of Winds. Midara the Mistress of Waters.
You won't see all these starts in the sky now. They disappeared on the day when the Dragons returned to Adan to fight Shaab. That year, the year of the Khor-Moyerhan comet, year 2014 in the Republican calendar, was the year when the old capital fell and, along with it, the entire Republic of Tartu. Chronicles now hold memory of that time, and Elven bards sing songs about it, and new stories are made up about it in the port taverns.
I have almost no recollection of that time.
Age and sickness are taking its toll on me, and emptiness now sits where memories used to be. Ever since the doctors forbid me to smoke the pipe, I've forgotten the smell of tobacco. But what I still remember is the smell of a lonely fisherman's hut, burned down by the pirates.
The smell of a burned down childhood.
I can't recall the names of my admirals, but I remember my first battle, the assault on the pirate base of Lagros. I remember the fear, the water mixed with blood, the bitter taste of defeat.
Memories of the long years of slavery fade, and only scars from the shackles remind me of the price that I and many others had to pay for the foolishness of the Republican admirals.
Only pain in the left side reminds me of the riot that granted us freedom. Only the name of the ship that stroke terror into merchants remains. The Black Albatross.
Many years had passed between the day when I drowned my shackles in the sea and the day when I lead the Albatross to Tartu's shores, so full with gold it barely moved. But these years flashed like the arrow that took my right eye in some forgotten battle.
Captain of the Winds, Medal of Honor, a diamond-covered hilt of an admiral's sword – all ranks, rewards and trophies put together meant less than the stone I set in the place where the hut of the honest fisherman Akhor Dan-Riyad and his family used to stand.
Chroniclers claim that my first words on the shore were: "Here shall stand the fortress that will guard the keys to the Nine Seas". Maybe I did say that. Maybe I didn't. I only remember the whisper of the waves and cries of a lonely seagull called the "vaalor".
The Moon Elves say that its cries calm the sea. That's why they draw the seagull on their sails and shape the bow of their ships like its bill.
I named my city after a bird that reined over the storms, but little did I know that the wise Elves also consider this bird to be a harbinger of loss. The cries of vaalor bid farewell to the ships, and not all of these ships come back home.
This is how we lost Aisseya. She left early even by Human standards, let alone Elven. You were probably too small to remember her standing near your crib. But your face will carry her features forever.
The Elves improved our ships to be faster and lighter. Our sales could withstand the fiercest storms. They taught our wizards to speak to the seas, and became our friends and allies.
Aisseya, the princess of the Moon Elves, taught me the Dragon language. Her wise words warmed the cold hearts of Midara's children. My Brother-by-Word Vayr, usually scant of praise, called her the "jewel of Vaalor".
Aisseya gave us five years of happiness. She gave birth to you. And as fate separated us forever, she took my peace.
War started the very day she died.
Memories... The name of our flagship escapes me, but I remember the name of every ship sunk by the cursed sadarians near the walls of Giard and in the entry to Khamola. I've outlived three Scarlet Emperors, their faces vanished in oblivion.
But the words of the first still ring in my ears:
«I would like to offer you my hand. To call you my brother. To stand in the face of the Abyss with you, shoulder to shoulder.
But you bring a sword in your hand. You bring a war.
So shall it be.
Hear my words, the oath of Sadar.
I curse the earth you walk.
I curse the waters you cross.
Where your fields bloom, a desert will arise.
Where your cities stand, ashes shall fall.
I will find no peace while your Empire exists.
And my children.
And their children.
As long as night and day shift, as long as death accompanies life, as long as the Original Flame burns, you are my enemy.»
My son... The Elven cures and warm sea wind have granted me strength to finish this letter. I hear the seagulls' parting cries, and this means that tomorrow my galeor will set its black sail to sea for the last time. It will take me to my family, to my old friends, to my beloved Aisseya. There is no reason for grief.
I wasn't able to finish what I started, but my soul is still at peace. I know that you will follow my last will, as any good son should.
Nine days from now, the colors of mourning will be lifted. Guardians of the Throne will crown you the new Emperor. You will hold the Rod of Storms as you will stand before your people. Like me twenty years ago, you will swear to preserve peace and multiply our riches. You will swear to be fair and just. And you shall finish your oath with the words that I end my letter with.
And as long as you wear the crown, you will finish each and every of your speeches with the same words. And you will tell your children to do the same.
Karos Dan-Riyad, Emperor of Vaalor, my beloved son, here are these words:
"Sadar must be destroyed."
Veron Dan-Riyad
Emperor of the Storms
Sadar. The land of the Red Dragon.
Location: the continent of Tartu.
Name: The Great Sadar Empire.
Other Names: Sadar Throne, The Scarlet Empire, The Western Empire.
Capital: Sadar.
Foundation: 2014 Year of the Republic, 12 Year of Fire.
Demonym: sadarians.
Indigenous population: Humans, Dragons.
Races with a right to gain citizenship: Dedaires, Minotons, Fiery Elves.
Races with supression of civil rights: Fenris, Kinos, Ikarims.
Ostracized races: Moon Elves, Taurs.
Emblem: the sadarian two-handed axe, "vaira", against the background of a large legionnaire shield "teirum" – this composition symbolizes the ever-expanding borders of the Empire and the relentless courage of its defenders.
Form of government: Empire.
Ruler's Title: The Scarlet Emperor.
Form of heirdom: through duel, the sadarian "Trial of Vaira".
First ruler: The Scarlet Emperor Ardian Bor I The Fearless (1976 Year of the Republic – 22 Year of Fire).
Ruler: The Scarlet Emperor Halias Bor XII The Conqueror (Born 147 Year of Fire)
Co-ruler: The Dragon Emperor Helgoran The Fire-Bearer, fenirit (Born 167 Year of Fire)
Fourteen steps of the Emperor. Birth of Sadar.
At ten, having to leave his native village that had been burned by the nomadic taurs, he became a "bor" – a wanderer in the eastern dialect.
At eleven, he stepped onto the drawbridge of the Khart castle, one of the last citadels of Dragon-Knights. Thus he became a novice, then a squire, then a Dragon-Knight, who had seen Dragons only on old drawings. He turned twenty-two.
A year later, the wandering Knight stood before the Stone of Oath in the fort of Tag-Yar, in the eastern steppes. He swore loyalty to the Republic and took an oath to protect it as if it were his heart.
Two years later, he entered the ranks of the "crimson shields", a special cohort of the fifth Republican legion "Pride of Fenir". His detachment, entrusted with protecting the life of the Crown-Legate and the holy standard of the legion, "The Dragon", was one of the first to stand in the way of the taur hordes, united by the tkhan Tchoy-Bors, the "Black Wind". Every second legionnaire died to stop the invasion.
A year later, the "crimson shields" were at the cutting age of a retaliation strike. Dragon-Knight of the Eleventh Rank, elder decurion Ardian Bor was the first to storm into Tchoy-Bors' camp. The tkhan of tkhans of the steppe nomads fell by the officer's axe.
Guard-Legate and a hero, Ardian Bor will triumphantly enter the northern gates of the capital.
Crown-Legate of the Second legion, he will spend five peaceful years protecting the capital after the invasion. As a Commander of the whole Eastern wing of the Republican Army, Magistrate of War, he will leave the capital in the restless Third Year of Fire.
In the Seventh Year of Fire, the Senate will hand the Magistrate of War the keys to the newly-built fortress of Sadar – a stronghold on the eastern borders of the capital. From the observatory, he will watch the fires of rebellion in the neighboring provinces smolder and burn, watch the provinces cut themselves from the Republic. He will send one winged messenger after another, begging to give him a chance to restore order and peace. But the Senate will be too occupied with its petty squabbles and schemes, too busy with getting rid of unwanted senators and selling their places to those who paid well.
The Tenth Year of Fire. Self-proclaimed dukes, counts and kings assault the walls of the fortress of Sadar. To no luck. Built from the crimson Kmeer granite, these walls are as red as the blood that is spilled on them. The capital doesn't answer the messages, sends neither food nor reinforcements. Gangs of mercenaries plunder and kill near the city walls, riots are rampant in the streets. The Order of Zealots, the “crimson cloaks”, seizes Humans and non-Humans suspected of keeping forbidden artifacts or dealing with the Blight, and executes them without trial. The Senate remains silent.
“May my heart betray me if I break my oath. May I tear it out of my chest without a second thought if I ever turn away from the Mother Republic” – these words cost less than a bread crust in the starving besieged fortress. Ardian Bor will tear the Republican standard off the flagpole above the city gates. He will step on it, press it into the mud. On the pole of his axe he will raise a new banner – the red cloak of a legionnaire. And, marching underneath it with his trusted soldiers, he will want nothing else but to tear the rotten heart out of the corpse whose name is The Republic of Tartu, and cleanse its numb body with the Life-Bringing Flame.
It will happen on the Twelfth Year of Fire, the year of the Khor-Moyerhan, the comet that will foretell swift and terrible changes. The year, when the Zealot hierarchs will fall from grace, becoming servants of the Abyss, conductors of Blight, the Crimson Archonts. The year, when the capital and the Temple of the Dragons will be destroyed, when the Dark Gods of Shaab and the Dragons shall return.
Ardian Bor won't know any of this. He won't know that in the west, a former Admiral of the Storm Veron Dan-Gyad will raise blue banners over the fortress of Vaalor, signaling the beginning of his march. He won't know that he, Ardian Bor – a wanderer, a knight, a soldier – will soon enter a new Temple and behold the millennial might of the Elder Dragons. He won't know that he will exit a cave in the Kmeer mountains, carrying in his hands a small red Dragon, his future-to-be Brother-by-Word, Gelgar the Heavenly Fire.
He will unite the eastern lands around a new capital – the fortress of Sadar. He will restore the former glory of the eastern Citadel of Dragon-Knights, and, with the help of his Brother-by-Word, will form an alliance with proud and ill-tempered red fenirit. His enemies, the inhabitants of the western Vaalor, will call him Bloody, his people will call him the Scarlet Emperor. He will fight the vaalorians, the taurs, creations of Shaab's Blight and the very Crimson Archonts, but he will lose his life to the closest of his companions, to the one who shall become the new ruler by the right of force.
Ten fiery, bloody years will pass before the Dragon-Knight will enter the blazing Circle of Trials and wield his axe and shield for the last time. And before taking his life, his weapon and his crown, his opponent will kneel before him and bow his head down before Ardian Bor the Fearless.
A man.
A legend.
The First Emperor of Sadar.