No story outranks another
A character arrives carrying the whole of their book and none of its authority. There is no main series here, and no one is a guest in someone else's.
The myth of the Agada knight
One ground, standing behind every book we publish — the only place where all of our characters can meet.
The forging
No story we publish contains him. He has no chapter, no line of dialogue, and no name that survived. What is known is the word struck into his pauldron, deep enough to outlast the man wearing it: Agada. Legend. A tale told and retold.
The myth says he was a reader first. That he walked through so many worlds he could no longer be held by one, and that somewhere past the last page he found himself standing on nothing at all. So he made ground to stand on. He struck it the way a smith strikes plate — slowly, in the dark, over and over, until it held.
What he made is the Agadaverse. Not a story. A place between stories, where a mercenary out of 1586 Syria can share a fire with a swordsman from a kingdom erased off every map, and neither one has to leave their own book to do it.
He does not rule it. He keeps the gate.
What the knight set down
A character arrives carrying the whole of their book and none of its authority. There is no main series here, and no one is a guest in someone else's.
Not their beginning and not their end — the moment they were most themselves. Whatever they had lost by the final page, they have it again on this ground.
Meet, argue, fight, drink, part. None of it reaches back. The pages you came from stay exactly as their author left them — which is the only reason the gate can stay open at all.
Who walks there
The Agadaverse grows by one cast with every book. These are the ones already through the gate.
Every title adds a door
It is not a licensing deal and it costs you nothing — you keep your characters and your rights, exactly as always. The gate simply opens one door wider.