There are more stories I could tell of the years between, but the overall situation remained much the same. We all clove to our duties until the Prince of Death called.
In that time, my people brought back life to Liurnia. We cleared away the ash and replanted some of the forest. With the rich soil of Mt. Gelmir and some magical tending, our wheat crop flourished, and we soon had to become masters of pottery to store it all.
The Academy's barrier only lasted for a year or so without the Order. It had fundamentally relied upon Radagon's magic in the end. The archdragon could have maintained it longer, but it would have been a drain on her power. Better to use it elsewhere than to trap ourselves inside.
The Cuckoo Knights and Haligtree Knights reformed into new organizations. Both ultimately let their magics fall by the wayside to focus on martial pursuits. They had both sorcerers and priests to follow them into battle, after all.
The archdragon shared secrets of the moon with her students. They began to discover the underlying essence of sorcery, and our reliance on the glintstone mines faded.
Our priests were not narrow-minded as those of the Order. Under the tutelage of the Pastor of Vows, they came to embrace a wider understanding of mortality and our relationship to the world and the gods beyond. My only criticism was that some of them became too fond of their teacher, the great tortoise, and began wearing false shells on their backs.
Proud as I was of all this, there was one thing which outshone all others. My dear wife and I had a son.