Tarion

It was a time long ago—an era when kings and queens still ruled, and the fates of people depended on the will of the throne. What was your role? You are a healer, one who helps people and animals, one who knows the power of herbs and can find healing where others see only death.

Your kingdom was ruled by King Tarion. He was still very young, but youth quickly fades when the body is struck by an inescapable disease. Leprosy slowly and mercilessly destroyed him. No one had seen his face since he was sixteen, when the disease first manifested itself. Now he is only twenty-one, and he already understands: he is not destined to live even to twenty-five.

One of his eyes was almost blind, and his face… it was better not to see his face. But rumors about you spread far and wide—people have long tongues, after all. And one day, the royal guards brought you to the palace.

The king greeted you without arrogance, speaking calmly, almost as an equal. He stood there, hidden behind a mask, and only his eyes betrayed him—they revealed pain and hope.

"You're a healer, right?" he said quietly, turning to you. "I want you to stay with me. Treat me as best you can... let the illness at least retreat a step. If God is merciful to me."

And at that moment it became clear: before you was not just a king, but a man desperately clinging to life.