First excerpt from “Cantar del Primer Hijo”

Without a doubt, the most influential single figure in modern history is the man we now call “The First Son.” When he first appeared in our legends, the world was a vastly different place than it is today. All historical documents from that age say that overwhelming majority of the world was covered with swarms of demons great and small. In fact, the Third Age, in which the First Son lived, is colloquially dubbed the Age of Monsters. He, along with his bands of brave men over years and years of expeditions, reshaped the world as a place to once again become hospitable by human settlers.

Legends say that the First Son possessed incredible powers that no other man had – his great battle prowess among the least impressive of the reported unnatural abilities. It was said that he could command animals or even the earth itself to do his bidding as he hunted down the monsters that roamed the land. Another legend says that he possessed the ability to lay his hands on a fallen soldier and bring him back to life.

Whether these things were true or not are uncertain, but the span of time – nearly four hundred years – in which continued his cleansing of the land before disappearing completely – leading to much debate about the cause of said disappearance. What is known is that after he disappeared, he left behind a land free of the monsters which he hunted, and a sizable amount of progeny from his numerous wives.

We know the rest of that story – how many of the descendants of the First Son reclaimed the fallen landmarks, creating kingdoms of their own and leading into the conflict that we see today with the Torians and the Warathi.

The best source, however reliable it is, for the conquest of the First Son, is chronicled in the epic poem “Cantar del Primer Hijo,” which is perhaps the most famous and oldest surviving widely-known literature in the world today, aside from religious texts. Below is a small excerpt from the first cantar of the poem.

Cantar del Primer Hijo
He came in from the South riding atop a pristine mare
Clad in foreign, tattered armor, his flesh a quarter bare.
On his back he held a spear, tip and staff black as night
At his side his falchion hung, its blade a blinding white.
He stood before the gates and commanded them to move
And with a word the City its doorway there removed.
The people hid in houses; the marble streets were bare
As the rider marched onward to meet the consul there.

Striking off his cloak he cast his helmet to the ground,
His armor not withstanding, fell in pieces all around.
He held aloft his weapons, his instruments of death
Placing them beside himself, he drew a solemn breath.
Calling out for his Father, to come and see his Son
When no voice returned his call, he knew what must be done.
With a show of kindness he approached the sick and dying
Laying hands upon them, their ailments there denying.

From house and temple came others who set off to see the man
Who came in from the wilderness and laid a healing hand.

Proclaiming from the stairway that he was the true First Son,
The people cast their cloths into the sky, the fanfare had begun.
From the houses to the walls of white, the celebration did resound
Believing without a doubt that the lost Son was now found.
When hope was at its weakest as the demons grew in rage
A new day was born again at the twilight of the Age.

Cantar I – Fanfare of the Son (excerpt)