Alaric Vale was not only the founder of the Order of Onyx.
He was its conscience—and, without yet knowing it, its limit.
He spoke little. When he did, the room seemed to slow down, as if even time itself took care to listen. His decisions were never rushed, never driven by emotion. He believed restraint was a form of strength, and that power, when poorly contained, always turned against those who wielded it.
Physically, Alaric commanded respect without ever demanding it. Dark hair streaked with gray, a clear and attentive gaze, he stood straight, his hands often clasped behind his back. Yet behind this leader's posture lived a man capable of deep tenderness—especially toward his two daughters, whom he loved more than the Order itself.
He ruled neither through fear nor domination.
He ruled by example.
Under his authority, the Order became a bulwark.
Against famine.
Against collapse.
Against human greed itself.
The soldiers he trained did not serve a man, but an idea: to protect, to rebuild, to pass knowledge on.
But not everyone within the Order shared this patience.
It was in this spirit that he supported the creation of ASTREA.
Alaric understood better than anyone what this software represented. Not a miracle solution, but a colossal responsibility. ASTREA could heal the world… or condemn it. Everything depended on the hand that guided her.
And Alaric knew that one day, someone would try to decide in his place.
For that reason, he entrusted her protection to those he judged the most stable, the most loyal, the most capable of restraining their strength.
Among them was Elias Calder.
Alaric trained him personally. Not only in combat, but in restraint. In observation. In the belief that the most important victory was sometimes the one you chose not to win. Elias quickly became one of the Order's finest soldiers—not because he was the most violent, but because he knew when to strike… and when to stop.
Alaric also ensured that ASTREA remained faithful to her original mission: to serve life. Every decision, every evolution of the program passed under his careful scrutiny. He refused shortcuts. Refused easy compromises. And above all, he refused to let humanity become just another variable.
He knew.
He knew the world would eventually want more.
More control.
More power.
More eternity.
And he also knew that a day would come when his presence alone would no longer be enough to contain that hunger.
Alaric Vale was a good king.
A loving father.
A silent strategist.
And the last guardian of a balance the world was preparing to break—
with or without him.