The year is TK 1,000.
The date is January 6th.
For nearly a thousand years, The Kingdom of Thein has stood prosperous—protected by its people, and more importantly, by its geography. The realm lies within a vast valley encircled by the towering Frostspire Mountains, a natural barrier of stone and ice that has long shielded the kingdom from the wider world.
A thousand years ago, the first people crossed a frozen mountain pass in the northeast—a narrow valley carved by wind, stone, and river. That passage would come to be known as Warden’s Gate, and it was the only way into the valley. The First Men wandered in uncertainty. The gods spoke. They were led to a fertile valley ringed by mountains and water — a defensible land. The gods promised “Here you will prosper, if you follow Our will.” The people obeyed. The Kingdom of Thein was founded. No prior civilization is recorded. No ruins are acknowledged. The land is said to have been untouched frozen wilderness. They settled the land beyond, raising towns from snow and rock. In the first century, tens of thousands followed. Roads were laid, fields were carved from frozen soil, and the foundations of Thein were set in hardship and determination.
Then the passage was closed.
Why Warden’s Gate was sealed is no longer agreed upon. The truth has fractured into regional memory and half-remembered warnings. In Abyr, they say overpopulation nearly starved the young kingdom. In Tyr, the story is of assassins slipping through the pass, killing leaders in the night. In Nyvere, the tale is simpler—and darker: foreign armies came, seeking to conquer what had been built.
Whatever the reason, the decision was final.
The kingdom turned inward—and endured.
The Frostspire Mountains proved nearly impassable along the western and northern borders, where even seasoned travelers rarely survive the climb. Only Warden’s Gate remained, and it was transformed from a passage into a chokehold—relentlessly guarded, heavily fortified, and unforgiving. Those who attempt to enter the kingdom through it are turned back… or killed.
For centuries, Thein survived in isolation. Trade became limited and coastal, carried by cautious ships along the Emerald Sea. The land itself changed over time. What was once a frozen valley slowly warmed. By TK 250, the last great glacier melted, and snow no longer lingered year-round beyond the mountain edges. Farmland spread inland. Forests thickened. Rivers deepened. The kingdom became fully self-sufficient.
Every few generations, outsiders tested Thein’s borders—most often by sea. None succeeded. The longest incursion lasted a single year before being broken and erased from memory.
In recent decades, peace has largely held. The last great internal conflict was Tyr’s failed rebellion twenty years ago, led by Lord Fren Brison before he was killed. After his murder King Tauor had all those who sided with Lord Fren, and their families, killed or marked. Since then, the lands have been fertile, children plentiful, roads busy, and magic abundant.
Yet something has changed.
Over the last fifty years, attempts to breach Thein’s borders have increased dramatically. Not just raids or probing attacks—but desperate incursions. Many intruders press forward despite overwhelming odds, willingly choosing death rather than retreat.
From the outside, Thein appears stable.
From the inside, it feels eternal.
But the mountains still watch.