

Arcana: A recollection

Liberty

Published by Liberty at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 Liberty
s

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 – Humble Beginnings

Chapter 2 – Moving Forward

Chapter 3 – A forest of thorns

Chapter 4 – Bitter Snow

Chapter 5 – A rough fall

Chapter 6 –A wizard's advice

Chapter 7 – The monster rises

Chapter 8 – Out of time

Chapter 1 – Humble Beginnings

THIS TALE BEGINS IN AN INN, just on the borders of the kingdom known as Harkon. Despite the merriness of the customers who are enjoying a drink at the King's Rest tavern, there is a disgruntled individual who, much to his regret is serving on the local bar during the busiest days of the year for his trade. Festivals are few and far between in his village, but when there is a reason to celebrate on, everyone comes to the King's Rest tavern. Many people from all over travel there too, meaning whoever is serving on the bar ends up with the nightmarishly large crowd to keep fed and with alcohol. Isaac, the embittered barkeep, silently curses his father for getting him into this mess. Apart from the cook who is roasting legs and hunks of meat, Isaac is alone in keeping up with the orders. Isaac is more inclined to scholarly studies, but his father has kept him here to do unfair amounts of labour for the pay he gets. His only relief comes when he is left with his books for a day or two. His venomous thoughts keep bubbling and brewing in his head. He considers just leaving, but he knows his father would probably hound him to the very ends of the kingdom if he did. While these venomous thoughts swirl in his head, he notices the crowd grows silent. Isaac, confused, sees every pair of eyes in the building staring at the front door. He too turns to look, and sees a tall figure looming at the entrance. It was a man, definitely, but Isaac has never seen anyone like him. His appearance is ghastly, as though he is barely alive. His head is completely void of a single hair, his skin is parched and wrinkly, like old leather, and worst of all is his eyes, which hold a weariness in them that makes Isaac flinch slightly. But what Isaac doesn't understand, despite the shocking appearance of this stranger, is why everyone suddenly went silent. Upon closer inspection, he notices a rather large crest on the worn, purple garb that the pseudo-wraith is wearing. It is a simple crescent above a sphere, as though it is an eye with one eyelid. While wondering what the symbol could mean, Isaac suddenly hears an angry voice rising from the back of the inn, shouting one word.

'Arcanian!'

Before Isaac can react, the entire inn is in an uproar, throwing anything they can grab at the figure. The figure doesn't react at all, despite all the rage, mugs and wooden eating utensils pelting him. He surveys the inn, scanning with a cold, mechanical precision. The patrons, not content to just bombard the figure with small items and insults anymore, begin grabbing chairs, stools, whatever they could get their hands on, and begin charging at the Arcanian. Just as it seems they would beat him to death, a blade flashes through the air, stopping a chair as it is coming down towards the head of the "Arcanian", as the crowd referred to him.

'Who's siding with this Arcanian filth?!' The would-be attacker roars with disgust. His ferocity quickly dissipates though, as a Harkonian soldier, clad in the finely crafted armour of the Kingdom, glares at him from behind the gleaming blade. More soldiers begin to surround the Arcanian, keeping a tight formation in order to hold back the angry patrons of the Inn. Completely dumbstruck at what is happening, Isaac simply stares as the situation unfolds, holding a half-cleaned mug in his hands. With the soldiers guarding the Arcanian, the patrons quickly withdraw. Just as it seems the situation cannot become any stranger, a new figure enters the Inn. Everyone, even the drunkest of the customers, is completely dumbfounded as the figure enters the gloomy light of the inn. His engraved armour and white tabard indicated his was one of the Councilmen of the Kingdom. He seems as though he's a perfect contrast to the Arcanian, his face is fleshy and full, filled with the vigour of youth. Despite his youthful appearance, he radiates an aura of a commander. He clears his voice, and speaks clearly and directly.

'I am Councilman Brahm, and this man you have attempted to assault is my prisoner. He is serving my caravan as a way of atoning for his crimes. I can understand your anger, but I will not tolerate any harm towards him. If you do not agree with his presence, then you will have to discuss it with my guards. I would encourage you to return to your merrymaking. That is all.' With that, the inn's previously happy atmosphere returns, but there's tension in the air. It is almost thick enough that it could be cut with a knife. The two men, surrounded by their guards, seem completely unfazed by the situation. They proceed to the bar and towards a dazed and confused Isaac. Any customers in their way quickly move to make room for them. With that, they both seat themselves.

'I wish you would stop wearing that robe. Many people around these borderlands are quite aware of what it means.' Jacques the Arcanian turns to Brahm, and simply gives a shrug.

'You know that this robe has a lot of significance to me.' Brahm puts his face into his palm.

'You say the exact same thing every time. You Arcanians are certainly a strange people. Also, I do not understand why you insist on wearing that garb. Maybe we wouldn't have to threaten people if they didn't see that crest of yours. Anyway, barkeep!' Brahm makes a show of pulling out a small dagger and banging its hilt on the bar, as is the tradition for visiting Harkonian noblemen.

'We've come a long way and our throats are parched. Will you not provide us with the means of quenching ourselves?'

With that, Isaac continues working hard through the entire night. He listens intently to the conversation between Jacques and Brahm, though he doesn't really understand what they are discussing. Politics is a subject he can't quite grasp just yet, and the Councilman and Arcanian seem to be discussing that at length. His curiosity slowly gets the better of him, and he attempts to pluck up the courage to join in their discussion. As he approaches the section of the bar where the two men are seated, Brahm notices him.

'Ah, barkeep. I've noticed you've been listening in to our conversation. Do politics interest you that much?' Isaac tries to speak, but nothing comes out. Disregarding his lack of an audible answer, Brahm continues on.

"I see! Well, I know that it's hard to follow! Even we Councilmen lose our heads in the storm of politics around the castle at times. Jacques here knows full well about how chaotic politics can be too!' Jacques remains silent, just sipping from the tankard of ale he's holding. 'He's not one to share his thoughts with strangers. I suppose you're wondering what an Arcanian is doing in my company.' Isaac, still unable to speak, just nods.

'Well, my fine barkeep, to put it simply, he is a prisoner from Arcana, and he is serving out his sentence in service of my caravan.' Isaac, despite spending so much time with his studies, had never found any records of the kingdom of Arcana before. There is an intense hatred between the two nations, as was clearly evident when Jacques stepped into the inn. Isaac is still in awe of being in the presence of a Councilman, and finds no words will come to him.

'Why are you so nervous? It is not like I am going to execute you for speaking. Eh, no matter.' Brahm pauses for a moment to drain what brew he had left in his tankard.

'How much do you know about Arcana?'

'N-not much.'

'That's not so unusual. What you should know is that Arcana is quite an unusual place. The politics there are even nastier than our own, and there are even stranger things which are thrown into the mix. If you want to hear about it, you'll have to get Jacques to talk. We'll be staying for a few days to enjoy this festival, so you'll get your chance to convince him soon enough. But, for the timing being, I'm pretty sure for the time being you have more important things to do.' Brahm is right, of course. While Isaac was listening to Brahm, a group of disgruntled customers have lined up at the bar.

'BARKEEP! Where are our drinks? We've waited long enough!' Isaac immediately returns to calm them down. Brahm let out a hearty laugh, clearly finding the situation amusing.

'It seems the barkeep will have his hands full tonight.' Nodding in agreement, Jacques looks around the bar.

'Is there someone else to help him? Eh, it's of no concern to us. What were we discussing before?' With that, he and Jacques immediately return to their previous conversation, and talk the night away in that dimly lit tavern. In the kingdom of Harkon, stories are considered to be among the greatest treasures that can be acquired, and grand tales from adventures considered to be the most worthy prize to seek as a member of the Kingdom. Deeds and legends are sung about for many a decade long after they're first told, echoing through taverns and the halls of great fortresses. Isaac was only a few days away from recording one of Harkon's greatest legends.

Having gotten no sleep that night, Isaac rests well into the afternoon. When he wakes up, he remembers that Brahm had told him they were staying a couple of days to enjoy the festival. The scholarly side of Isaac begins to get the better of him. He finds himself being deeply interested in the story of Jacques, that wanderer from a mysterious and largely undocumented land. Isaac has no more shifts for the rest of the week, so he decides to get his paper and quill. After rummaging around in his tiny, dusty cottage, it takes him roughly half an hour before he finds his writing tools. With that, he quickly dresses and heads straight out the door. Though he doesn't remember being told where they were staying, he is certain that he will see them. Brahm, being a Councilman, is bound to attract a lot of attention, as well as his mysterious companion.

Brahm and Jacques stroll through the festival stands, seeing the sort of activities the peasantries have prepared. People look at the two of them in awe, but respectfully keep their distance. Many of the angry patrons from last night are revelling in the festivities, but they have no memory of anything that transpired, especially not Jacques being an Arcanian. Both of the men find the festival mildly interesting.

'This isn't the most exciting festival I've seen.' Jacques notes as he passes by the stalls and looks with mild curiosity over whatever wares the locals are peddling.

'Well, they are a small town. They do what they can with what they have.'

'That's true enough. I wonder if we'll see that barkeep here?'

'It's possible.' Brahm says with a shrug. He wanders over to a stall offering knives and other concealable weapons.

'Why was there only one person serving at the bar? He did a fine job with the crowd he had, though.' Brahm also noticed it during the night. Only one man was serving that entire crowd which had built up in the King's Rest Inn.

'We might have to ask him about it if he follows up on my offer.'

'I have many bitter memories, Brahm. I am not sure that it would be wise of me to share them.' Brahm nods his head, also returning his empty mug to the stall.

'I know that you've suffered, Jacques. But, this chronicle could turn out to be a lasting legend.' Just as Brahm finishes, a flustered young man, panting and wheezing, hurries up to them. He is carrying bundles of scrolls along with a large bag with writing utensils spilling out. Jacques immediately recognises him as the Barkeep from last night. While Jacques looks on curiously, Brahm steps in to speak to Isaac.

'Ah, it's you! We never got your name, did we?' Isaac, red in the face, takes a moment to catch his breath.

'Isaac. I ran all over this fair looking for you two. I would like to know more about Jacques' story.' Inspecting the various items Isaac has in his arms. Jacques, previously apathetic towards Isaac, realises that Isaac is completely serious about this.

'Brahm, I might walk with our Barkeep here. I'll get back to our camp at sunset.' Brahm seems reluctant to let Jacques wander off.

'Just make sure you talk about your life somewhere private. If these peasants catch wind of your origin, it'll get ugly. And I doubt we can rely on alcohol to make them forget this time...' With that, Brahm heads off in the other direction, while Jacques strides next to Isaac.

'Do you have somewhere private we can talk?' Isaac nods quickly.

'Yes, my cottage should do finely. It's on the village's outskirts.'

Upon a wooden stool, Jacques rests in Isaac's cottage, calmly sipping from a cup filled with water. Isaac is ready to start writing, gazing at him expectantly.

'Are you ready, Jacques? I would like to start.' Slightly annoyed, Jacques dismisses him with a wave of his hand and finishes his drink.

'Do not rush me.' Carefully, he lays the earthenware container down on the aged table. Jacques folds his arms and stares at the wooden floor for a minute or two. Isaac's curiosity gnaws at him and makes him impatient as he awaits Jacques' story.

'So, what do you want to know?' After a small pause, Isaac speaks one simple word.

'Everything.' Jacques looks surprised.

'Everything? I am not sure if we will have enough time to discuss everything.' Despite Jacques' dismissal of the idea, Isaac insists.

'Please. You're an interesting looking man, and legends are valued around Harkon.'

'Well, I guess we should start from the very beginning...' With that, Jacques begins what will become known as the Arcanian Recollections in the libraries of Harkon.

As you already know, I'm from the land known as Arcana, the kingdom which has long opposed Harkon. I believe some degree of explanation will be required. There are quite a lot of myths I have heard while wandering this kingdom. A lot of what you may hear about Arcana and its people is untrue. We don't roast children and eat them as a tribute to our gods, we aren't immortal, and most importantly of all, people from Arcana aren't monsters. It's unfortunate that every trace or record of Arcana has long been destroyed throughout your kingdom. Even the wisest of scholars don't know how our two kingdoms first came into conflict with one another, since it happened so long ago. We do not even know why we're fighting anymore. In our long wars with Harkon, the legends of our land were formed. It was an attempt by the current king of Harkon to encourage his peoples' fury. Nothing motivates people like hatred and anger. You can still plainly see it to this day, as I wandered through this land with Brahm. Anyway, I haven't actually told you much about my origins, have I? I was born there fifty odd years ago, into a simple family of farmers. My early childhood consisted of studying and writing. It is mandatory for all children in Arcana to learn how to read and write, so that we may expand our knowledge and better ourselves with it. My father was a man of the earth, and my mother a lady of the sky. He was hard, thick with muscle and vigour. He tilled soil endlessly, worked his hands to the bone, and chose only to learn things which were practical or useful to him. My mother was light and graceful, seemingly as delicate as the Wrens which sang in the trees. She chased ideals and whimsical thoughts during her spare moments. She avidly wrote poetry, and constantly sent out letters to various lords, beseeching them to attempt to create lasting peace between Harkon and Arcana, to no effect. We're more understanding of Harkon than you are of Arcana, but that doesn't mean that we don't have our own prejudices against your people. It's not as violent as what you witnessed in the inn, but it's still there. My mother tried her best in order to chase peace, but one person alone can't change a nation. My father dreamed of wealth and earthly prosperity, while my mother dreamed of peace and serenity. Both of them, despite opposing each other on every thought, formed a whole which I have yet to understand. Love is a strange thing, I suppose. Where exactly did I fall into this picture? I had no brothers or sisters, thus I was put straight down the middle of my parents' opposing ideals. Whenever I was pulled in one direction by one of them, the other would pull me back in the other direction just as swiftly. My family lived in relative peace, but I've learned in my many years that peace can be fleeting, especially if you live in Arcana. Conflict is just as likely to come from within as it is to come from a hostile nation.

My earliest memory was when my father first put a hoe in my tiny hands. Life was tough, and we couldn't afford to have anyone not contribute to the work around the farm. We produced a lot of food, but most of it was taken in taxes for warring with Harkon. We only had a small amount left to feed ourselves. We had to take to exploring the surrounding woodlands in attempts to find supplements to our meager food supplies. We were lucky if we found truffles, which could be traded for a fair price at the market. The woods have their hazards though. Arcanian scrubland is filled with many different kinds of dangers. Beasts you couldn't have even dreamed of in these green and lush lands of Harkon roam freely beneath the lunatic moon of Arcana, dangerous beasts. I am getting off track again, aren't I? So, I had been trying my best to hoe the soil, mimicking my father's movements as he skilfully turned and prepared it for planting. He laughed heartily as I got frustrated with the hard soil refusing to budge. It was similar to trying to chip granite with a spoon. I tried and tried to break the ground that day, and ultimately it only resulted in failure. My father brushed away my tears of frustration. Though he was an earthly man, he had a wisdom which I have never been able to achieve in my life. It was an understanding of patience and knowing that every little bit of work you do adds up eventually.

'There will be times like that in your life, Jacques, where you have only a lousy tool at your disposal, and a seemingly impossible task to do. But, you should know that even the weakest of tools can eventually yield results. Look at where you were digging.' With that, he took me to see my handiwork. Much of the hardened soil, though still fairly intact, had developed cracks and visible weaknesses. I realised that my anger had blinded me from seeing the results of my work. Father knew this too. Embarrassed, I looked away from it, but my father stood there until I looked at him. What I could see in his eyes was pride. Pride in his son for learning an important lesson in overcoming follies. The very next day, I took up my hoe again, and the hard soil finally gave way beneath its strikes. Overjoyed with my success, I quickly dragged my mother to see my work.

'Look mother, look!' I had so keenly told her over and over again. She had a look with disinterest, gave me some light praise, and then went back to her own works. While she knew that toiling with such things are required, though she took no pleasure in the task. Poetry was where she found her joy.

The very next day, my mother came to me and placed a writing quill in my hand. Before I knew what was happening, she pulled me inside the house and sat me in front of her desk. Books were stacked high on her stool so I might be able to look at her desk without being picked up. She then gazed at me expectantly. 'We are going to practice writing today, Jacques.' She commanded. Not wanting to do any writing today, I opened my mouth to tell her that I wanted to work with my hoe. But, beneath her gaze, my disobedience crumbled into dust. While she was a fleeting dreamer, she was stern. She made me read out various poems and short passages from a large collection of books she possesses, and made me write down thoughts about what was happening on the farm and our situation. She made me memorise a variety of poems and rewrite them onto fresh paper. Arcana has many different poets, you know. Their subject matter was often grim, but my mother managed to find what poets she could that had more whimsical and brighter themes. These were the poems that I had to recite, rewrite and recall. This exercise continued all day, and by that time I was nearly capable of reciting each passage off by heart. Pleased with her work, she stopped to give me some advice.

'While doing earthly things is important, there is so much more wondrous things to the world, Jacques. I dream of seeing this entire kingdom, one day. When you come of age, I want you to travel. See this wondrous world, and take in every experience you can. Your father and I have spent our whole lives stuck on this farm, but I think you're destined for greater things than tilling soil.' I didn't believe her at the time, and wanted nothing more than to expand our farmlands and work hard to accumulate wealth, just as my father dreamed of while he was working those fields and harvesting wild herbs and foodstuffs in the wilderness. But, fate chose another path for me, hence I ended up here. It works strange ways, doesn't it?

We lived near the Arcanian border, just next to Harkonian lands. There were some disputes between Arcanian and Harkonian peasantry, but it never really resulted in any serious skirmishes. Groups of raiders were fairly rare as well. There had been no attacks for years, but that day... I was tilling the soil to plant this year's harvest. My parents were out exploring the woodlands around our home for truffles. Just as I finished my chore, I heard the sound of many hooves in the distance. As I looked over the fields, I saw a group of mounted Harkonian soldiers riding towards me. They came with hatred in their hearts and fire in their hands, trampling the soil I had just so carefully tilled. Like maniacs, they lit anything that would burn with their torches. They were already up to our little cottage and had seen me. Before I could react, the raiders had already trampled pass me. One of them took a wild swing at my head while riding pass. He had been using a club made from green wood, but it was more than enough to cause me to black out.

I woke bound and gagged, like some sort of wild animal ready to be slaughtered and roasted over a savage's fire. That soldier had gotten a fair hit, and I could feel a massive bruise swelling on my forehead. I couldn't see much at first, due to the darkness and the dizziness induced by the savage blow to my heads, though I heard plenty of whimpers and muffled crying. Flames flickered from a cheerless fire created a dreary scene painted in harsh crimson against the purple night sky of Arcana. Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I began to see much more. I had been unfortunate enough to be laid watching the camp of the Harkonian soldiers. They were a grim looking group, their armour worn and flecked with dents and chips. They looked more like a group of random mercenaries thrown together than a group of well-trained and disciplined soldiers, the likes of which marched by our house every now and then. I watched as they walked among the people they had captured, occasionally picking out someone and sending them to an isolated spot on the other side of the camp. I did not understand the concept of slavery at the time, but it was clear to me whatever they were doing, it wasn't pleasant. They eventually came to me, and gave me a light kick with a steel boot. Much to my surprise, I found that our languages are identical. I completely understood everything they had said that night. I would have preferred it if I hadn't been able to understand/

'This one wouldn't be much good as a slave. Think we should cull him as well?' A taller man, who seemed to draw the attention of the others, inspected me closely. He gives me a couple of pokes here and there, noting how I squirm and writhe. He pulled out a sword, and began inching it towards me. I tried to wriggle away from its tip as best as I could. Just as I thought he would put it in my eye, he pulled it away and returned it to its sheath.

'He's too small for physical work, and not a girl either, so we can't sell him off to some fat aristocrat. He's a livewire though, filled with life and youth. There will definitely be some buyer for him in the market. Put him with the rest of the decent ones.' I had grown deeply afraid at his words, but no matter how much I struggled, my bindings remained firm. One of them grabbed me and threw me over his shoulder, dumping me with the other captured men, women and children on the other side of the camp. The commander, or captain, or whoever he was, continued his inspections. Prisoner by prisoner, he delivered a verdict of whether to keep them or not. Paper in hand, a soldier quickly writes down the verdicts into a list.

'We'll begin executions at dawn. For now, we will wait. You may do whatever you please with the condemned.' With that, the Harkonian soldiers threw away what little discipline they had and depravity ran wild across the camp. Women raped and abused, men forced to do horrid acts for their twisted amusement, and even the children didn't escape unscathed in their depraved games. Only a few of the soldiers didn't participate, much to the disapproval of their peers.

'They're going to die anyway, they won't remember any of this when they're rotting in the ground. So what's the problem?' Just as the Harkonian soldiers began to pull out a chopping block for beheading prisoners, a sudden shout comes from the edges of the camp. Chaos breaks out as Arcanian soldiers clash with the raiding party. Now, this is where the perception of our supposed demonic nature comes from. While Harkon advanced in earthly weaponry and are brilliant engineers, we Arcanians chose a different path. I believe the common term for it is "magic". We Arcanians have learned to use this force to our favour, and every part of our society revolves around magic in some way, shape or form. Each person in these lands has potential to make use of it, though very few master it. Unfortunately, the Arcanian soldiers in this battle were unable to use it effectively. Their lack of control caused all sorts of chaos as bizarre things began occurring. The roaring fire began flaring and exploded violently, setting the tents alight and showering sparks all over the battleground. Harkonian soldiers rallied around their leader, creating a tight formation to hold back the Arcanians. Each force had about equal numbers, and the lack of proper training with magic caused both sides to fight on fairly even grounds. This battle was extremely bloody and prolonged, and we hostages could only watch as our fate was decided between the two clashing forces. Every time it looked like one side had gained an advantage, they just as quickly lost their ground and fell back into defensive formations. While I was horrified at the situation I was trapped it, it was interesting to witness the difference in battle tactics used by the two different sides. Some Arcanian soldiers had managed to reach the hostages, attempting to cut people free. I only managed to have my feet removed of their binds before a Harkonian soldier thrush his blade right through the back of my would-be rescuer. With no other options available to me, I ran from the battlefield with my hands still bound. In the bloody chaos, no one paid any heed to one fleeing hostage, especially not a small boy. I imagine the others were far less fortunate than I was.

I do not know how long I spent limping towards home. I had to know if my parents had survived the raid, if there was anything left to come home to. Arcanian beasts were roaming beneath the moonlight, and it was only out of sheer luck I avoided an untimely death beneath their strange and twisted claws. One of the beasts had caught my scent. I knew it was after me, I could hear it rustling through the undergrowth, stealthily observing its prey before going in for the kill. Exhaustion slowed me down considerably, and my injuries were only getting worse as I continued to limp along on my wounded leg. The beast was upon me. A similar creature in your kingdom would be described as a "snake", and it was covered with the most wondrous and colourful shimmering scales. The main difference, however, is that this creature had claws in addition to that horrid and thin body, and was keen to tear me apart with them. Being in the state I was in, I wasn't able to move quickly enough to escape its coiling grasp, though I managed to reach the gigantic face of a cliff before it got to me, hissing and tasting the air with its wildly flailing tongue. Just as I resigned myself to a fate as a meal for a wild creature, I heard the tumbling of stones, crashing along the cliff and down below to where the creature had me trapped in its grip. Before I knew it, a sharp shard of stone had fallen down the cliff face, and violently imbedded itself into the skull of the serpent. Frenzied by the sudden injury, it writhed with me in its grip, and then it died quickly and relatively painlessly. My wounds were too painful for me to move at this point, and I blacked out again. This isn't the only moment where I have been saved by extremely unusual circumstances. Some people I've met have claimed that something is protecting me. Whether or not that is true is another thing, but I will not deny that there have been some strange happenings which have turned the odds in my favour when I needed it the most. Where it was luck or divine favour, I am not sure.

When I came to, the snake had begun settling into rigor mortis. It was difficult, but I managed to crawl out of its death grip. My pain had dulled a bit since nearly being killed by that horrid beast. Fortunately, I had been around the surrounding woodlands to this cliff face a fair bit, so I knew my way around. I was exhausted at this point, but I managed to find my way home. Or rather, what remained of home. Nothing but a pile of smouldering ashes was left of our beloved cottage. My parents were nowhere to be seen. I had presumed that the soldiers must've waited and captured them as well. It doesn't take a genius to know that a child wouldn't be able to live alone in the Arcanian wilderness, tending to crops and as such. I do not know how long I waited, sheltered underneath a blackened sapling. An entire day had passed and my parents had yet to return. I had no other options left. I hobbled away from home in the hopes of reaching the road. I had managed to make it there, but I fell flat on the ground, unable to further exert myself. Travellers of Arcana frequented those roads constantly, and it was only some time later until someone came along. It was a travelling merchant's caravan, headed by a beautifully carved wooden carriage. After noticing my battered and torn body lying on the road, a woman stepped out of the carriage. Her name, which I learned later, was Nadine, a wealthy merchant of the Traders' Guild. She was youthful and full of life, keen to explore Arcana and make a profit along the way. 'What is the hold up?' She inquires. Then she noticed me, lying broken and seemingly lifeless on the dusty ground. 'Quickly, check to see if he's alive!' She commanded her servants. Sure enough, I was still breathing, though far too weak to move. I was scooped up from the ground, and place inside her carriage. She produced a small knife and released the bindings around my hands.

'Does anyone have my herbal kit? I need to treat these wounds.' She urged her servants and they quickly produced it. She began binding my wounds with Arcanian leaves and herbs. She often had to treat the wounds of her servants in the Arcanian wilderness, and she had extensive knowledge of herbal medicine. I heard a sniffle from her every now and then as she treated my wounds. She was from the city, you see, and had never really been exposed to violence. She wasn't prepared for seeing me in that state, and it was even worse that I wasn't even ten years of age.

'Who did this to you?' She quietly whispered to herself. I had no idea who had attacked us at the time, Arcanians seldom educate about Harkon until a child reaches their later years, when they can understand the concept of war. All I could offer as a reply were bitter tears.

It was a long ride in the carriage. Stragglers from the Harkonian raiding party were ambushing anyone coming along on the roads, including our caravan. Nadine's guards were enough to deal with them, however, and the trip was rather uneventful. Though she had managed to treat my injuries, the worst trauma was done to my psyche. There's no medicine or cure for scars of the mind. She provided me small sips of water every now and then, regarding me with her pitiful brown eyes. Nadine, despite never having children of her own, was very much a motherly kind of woman. She had money on her mind, but her heart was as warm as the sun.

'I suppose we should talk now. What happened?' I turned away, attempting to hold back my tears as best as I can.

'Men came, wielding fire. They burned everything and I don't know what happened to my parents. My old home is nothing but a pile of ash now.' With that, I spoke no more. Nadine was silent as well, embracing me as I wept bitterly. After a while, she broke her silence.

'You can stay with me for now. We'll try to find your parents someday, but for now, this isn't a safe place to stay, okay?' Her compassion is something that still inspires me to this day, but I wasn't ready to abandon searching for my parents.

'But my parents...' She cut me off before I can continue.

'Not now. We can't go searching for them right now. But, we'll come back soon.'

I never came back to my old home. The fate of my parents is something that is still a mystery to me.

Isaac puts down his writing tools for a moment. Jacques sits completely still, gazing at the dusty floorboards.

'I have seen many things, Isaac. The horrors of war are but one of those things. Arcana is a land filled with many mysteries, and despite my long travels over it, I've only scratched at the very surface of them.' Isaac nods, and then quickly glances out the window. The sun is starting to dip beneath the horizon, painting the sky with a deep crimson.

'It's late, Jacques. I believe we should give it a rest for today. I will have to ask my father for some time off from working in the inn.' Jacques' interest picks up.

'Oh, so your father owns that inn? Why were you the only person working there on that night then?' Isaac's mood turns rotten and a deep scowl crawls across his face. Obviously a sensitive subject for him. Jacques notes to himself.

'My father arranged for it, so I might learn about "working with people". I don't get paid at all. Apparently you don't charge for rendering services for your father.'

'I'd render my parents plenty of services, if they still lived. You should be happy that you still have your father.'

'I'm happy to have him, I'm just not happy to have him make me work for nothing during the busiest night of the year for the inn.' Seeing that this father might interfere with their new arrangement, Jacques hatches a plan.

'Don't worry. I can talk to Brahm about getting your father off your back. Who's going to deny the authority of a Councilman?' Isaac, mildly shocked, shakes his head.

'No no, don't worry about it. I can sort it out myself.' Jacques raises an eyebrow.

'Oh really? Considering what you said earlier, your father doesn't sound like a reasonable man. I've dealt with men like him before, and I know that they'll only listen to authority.'

'Please, just leave it to me, okay? I appreciate the thought, but I need to sort it out myself. My father is a rumourmonger, and he would spread word of you in a heartbeat. We both know that the last thing you need is angry villagers after you.'

'Suit yourself. I shall return to camp. Good night.' A couple of strides later, Jacques disappears underneath the dark cloak of dusk.
Chapter 2 – Moving forward

JACQUES RETURNS TO A MERRY CAMP, and Brahm immediately pounces on him, keen for details about how their meeting went.

'How did it go? Did anyone follow you? Is he a half-decent scholar?' Jacques raises a single hand up, bidding Brahm to halt for a moment.

'The session went fine, and we weren't followed by anybody. I was impressed with how quick and accurate his work with a quill was. He recorded every detail I mentioned with exceptional speed. He's got a talent for scholarship.' Pleased with the results, Brahm lets out hearty laughter.

'Maybe we should stay a bit longer, or bring him with us. It would be a shame to only have him record a partial tome of your recollection!' Quietly spending a moment to ponder on the possibilities, Jacques' mind wanders, remembering that Isaac's father may interfere.

'I am thinking that we should bring him with us. His father may disrupt our new arrangement. You remember how Isaac was working the bar alone on that night?' Brahm immediately nods.

'It turns out that his father was the one responsible for that. I would say we employ him as a scholar in order to get him away from this stifling environment. What innkeeper will argue with the authority of a Councilman, after all?' With a great nod, Brahm gives his full approval of the plan.

'This idea should work out nicely. Will you be returning there tomorrow? If so, I would like you to inform him that he's just been employed as part of Councilman Brahm's office. Effective immediately, his first task is to record the full life story of Jacques the Arcanian!' With that, Brahm dashes to his tent, taking his fine quill to a sheet of fresh paper, he creates an official binding document. He even goes as far to place the royal seal on it. Placing it in Jacques' hands, he gives a few more instructions.

'In addition to delivering this document, I would like you to take one of my guards with you. Do you understand, Jacques?' Expecting Jacques' usual surliness and general lack of cooperation, Brham is surpised when Jacques takes the document and slips it into his new robe.

'It shall be done. You have my word.'

At sunrise, Jacques returns to Isaac's cottage, one of Brahm's guards with him. Sleepily shambling out of his home, Isaac comes to greet them. He notices a scroll held in Jacques' left hand. Unsure of its purpose, he decides that Jacques will bring it up sooner or later. 'Greetings, Arcanian. I see you have also brought someone else.' Giving another one of his casual shrugs, Jacques doesn't even look at the guard. 'It's for my protection, apparently. I hope that this isn't an issue for you, Isaac?' Isaac makes no fuss at all.

'I think it's a good idea. Having another listener for your tale can't be a bad thing either, right?' Rubbing his partly shaven face, the guard chimes in.

'I do like a good story, and Jacques here hasn't told us much about himself.' Jacques seems to be daydreaming at the moment. His eyes have a glazed blank look, gazing up at the cloudy sky. Several minutes pass, with both the guard and Isaac waiting for something to happen. Jacques suddenly snaps out of his dazed state.

'I have also got an important document for you to read, Isaac.' His hand outstretched, Jacques waits for Isaac to take the scroll. Curious as to what the scroll may contain, Isaac gently plucks it from Jacques' grasp.

'We will worry about this scroll later, Jacques. For now, we must continue our work as we don't have much time.'

'Well then, shall we continue this adventure through my memories?' With that, the three men proceed inside.

We left off from my early childhood, didn't we? After the devastating raid on my home and the surrounding farmlands, I had ended up in the care of a lovely woman called Nadine, a wealthy merchant who was an established member of the Arcanian Traders' Guild. Adjusting from the wilds of Arcana to the wondrous cities was quite a step for me, especially considering the trauma I had just gone through. Stromfor was the name of the city we travelled to, the capital of Arcana. It was an incredible fortress, with walls which seemingly reached to the very skies from my own tiny perspective. The use of magic is what drives Arcana forward. These gigantic structures were all constructed with the use of magic. There is not a single stone brick hewn or placed without the aid of the mystic arts. It's interesting to see how Harkon differs when it comes to building. They seem to focus on clever use of mathematics and engineering when building, as opposed to us with our mystic approach to construction. Within Stromfor, the Arcanian council dwelled. A governing body from various disciplines and walks of life, each representing the interests of their chosen paths. From here, they guided Arcana to further and higher greatness When we first arrived at the gigantic arched gate, a guardsman stopped them. Gate guards were required to keep records of every passing person in and out of Stromfor.

'Declare all people present.' He instructed clearly. Sure enough, each servant and guard for the caravan was accounted for, and eventually he came to Nadine and I.

'Ah, Nadine. How was trade out to the south, and who's our little guest here?' He inquired curiously. He seemed to know Nadine, which made me feel a little less daunted about entering such a huge place.

'Not so good. All the villages we usually did trade with were burned to the ground. The Harkonians have been raiding across the border again, leaving nothing but ash in their wake.' With disgust, the guard spat on the ground.

'Filthy animals. How is it we've been unable to destroy their hideous kingdom yet? And you still haven't told me who this little fellow is...'

'Oh, I haven't asked him what his name is yet...' The guardsman seemed surprised by the situation.

'Really? He's in your caravan and don't even know his name? Where exactly did you meet him?'

'On the way here. His home was destroyed by the Harkonians, and he doesn't know what happened to his parents. So, he is staying with me for the time being...' The guardsman leaned inside the carriage to have a closer look at me. Between the various herbal salves spread across my skin, the cuts, bruises, dirt and blood, I must've looked like I had gone through a terrible ordeal.

'Oh... Well, little fellow, what's your name?' Having been addressed directly, I spoke out as best as my croaky voice would let me.

'Jacques, sir.' With that, he gives a nod of approval, quickly scribbling my name down.

'Well, Jacques, I hope you enjoy your stay in Stromfor. Nadine's a nice lady, she will look after you.' With that, he turned his attention to the top of the gate.

'All clear, open up!' His booming voice carried far, and soon enough the gates opened and we entered Stromfor. I am guessing no one here except me has been to an Arcanian capital before, so I believe some description is necessary. The colourful and glyph-inscribed walls protecting the city impressed me, but entering the city itself took my breath away. The roads were of a fine yellow stone, filled with patterns like what you call "marble" in Harkon. The streets were narrow and perfectly measured, with no space at all being wasted. Each building seemed to bleed into the next building, as though they were all one structure as opposed to many. Beautiful gardens of exotic plants from all over Arcana were planted in as part of the design of the streets. It seemed as though the entire city shimmered with gold and green. It was coming to sunset as we came to the city, and they began lighting lanterns across the city in order to repel the coming darkness. Not even in my dreams could I have imagined the wealth of this city. My father would have had a marvellous time browsing the shops filled with finely crafted jewels, tools and weapons displayed in countless market stands along the city's streets. It was enough for me to forget my fears for the time being, and simply marvel at the sights the city presented. Nadine's home was in the wealthiest district of Stromfor, where the nobles and merchants lived.

Nadine spent a lot of time travelling as a merchant, but she had one permanent home, and it was in Stromfor. Her gigantic home had plenty of spare rooms, and soon enough she had settled me into one. When she came home with me trotting behind her, there was quite a buzz among the servants. They joked among themselves that Nadine had gone to Harkon to trade for a child, though Nadine had told them the actual story of why I was there. She took me away from the eyes of the servants to her private bedroom. We sat for a time, before she thought the time was right to speak.

'Remember Jacques, we'll go look for your parents once I have some spare time. Being a merchant is a busy job.' Being as young as I was, I believed her without question.

'Okay Nadine. I would like to do that soon.' With a reassuring smile, she rustled my dirty and matted hair.

'First though, I would like to talk about how long it's been since you've had a bath. We need to wash that dirt and blood off. I will have to reapply all those herbs to help those injuries of yours to help you heal, so I need you to be tough.'

Before I knew what was happening, I was dumped inside a hot tub of water by Nadine's servants. Despite my howls of protest, they furiously scrubbed me from head to toe, cleaning away every bit of grime and small trace of my blood from my skin. My torn and unkempt clothes, which my mother had spun herself, were thrown away, and they quickly slipped me into freshly cleaned linen clothing. Off again to Nadine's room I went, with herbs carefully applied to my wounds. By the time the whole thing was done, I was about to faint. The servants noticed how I wobbled on my legs, so they bundled me away to a spare room. The bed was warm and soft, spun from fine silk and cotton. I fell asleep without so much as another thought in my head.

Nadine never got around to bringing me back to the borderlands to find my parents, and rather than treat me as a guest, she eventually settled me into becoming a full time resident of her household. She had essentially adopted me, believing that my parents had already been killed or captured by Harkonian raiders. This new child in her life particularly surprised her colleagues from the Traders' Guild. Though they were supposed to be a guild of merchants and traders, they enjoyed gossiping. Some rumours were spread amongst them, the most popular one being that Nadine had a secret lover, and of which I was the love child. I mostly heard of these things due to my tendency to wander around the Traders' Guild main hall while Nadine was busying herself with whatever business she had for today. However, despite these rumours, they never spoke about this subject directly to Nadine herself. They knew she had great influence in the guild, and it would be unwise for any of them to provoke her needlessly. Another thing that deterred them was how unprofessional it would seem if they tried to pry into other merchants' personal lives. The majority of the time common courtesy was the way of things at the Traders' Guild apart from the activities of the select few.

What made Nadine different from these other merchants was that she was willing to travel and negotiate trades face-to-face, as opposed to sending people to do it for her. Persuasion was one of her strong points, and she could be ruthless when bargaining prices and trade. While she was out trading, I was exploring. I explored the woodlands around my home often, but it was rather boring because it was only trees and beasts. Stromfor, however, was a delightful place for a small boy to go exploring. When not being tutored, I would find ways to slip out of Nadine's home unnoticed. She had assigned one of her servants to look after me during her absence. Though Nadine was caring, she was a particularly busy woman. It was hard to act as a surrogate mother when you travelled as much as her, so she tried her best to provide a mother figure for me while she negotiated trades across Arcana. She began spending more and more time at home though, and we grew closer to each other. My thoughts about my parents and finding them gradually began to slip away as days became weeks, and weeks became months, and soon even those months became years. Soon enough, I thought of Nadine as my mother, and she thought of me as her son. But, as always, there was a disruption to...

Midsentence, Jacques is interrupted by a loud banging on Isaac's cottage door. Jacques' guard rose up, hand on the hilt of his sword.

'Wait. We'll see who it is.' Isaac hurries over to the door, and opens it slowly. Jacques looks around and sees an extremely surly looking man, stout and with a mangy beard. His eyes are a dull shade of crimson, his nose throbbing with blood vessels. He looks as though he spends way too much time with ale in his hand. The foul stench of stale alcohol fills the small cottage quickly, as the squat drunk marches inside. Jacques takes an educated guess at who this individual might be. None other than Isaac's father, Atar.

'Now what do you think you're doing, Isaac? You were supposed to be working today. I had to get up myself to serve the customers! Is this any way to treat your father?' His bulging red eyes scan the room, immediately locking onto Isaac's guests.

'Don't think I didn't know about the grand entrance this Arcanian made in my tavern. He is not to be anywhere near my son!' He waves his fist threateningly in the direction of Jacques, he continues his rant.

'If I see you here again, the town guards will have something to say about it! Now Isaac, be a good boy and get back to the inn. There is ale to be served!' Thoroughly unamused, Jacques rises to his full height. He towers roughly a foot above Isaac's father, and the very atmosphere seemed to turn completely frigid.

'Isaac is fulfilling a royal duty, as declared by Councilman Brahm, one of the King's eight high representatives in the kingdom of Harkon. If you interfere with this duty, you will be reprimanded.' The bravado that Atar entered with now seemingly scampers off like a frightened mouse before a lion.

'Erm, well.... Where's your proof?! Why would the Councilman be interested in my son?' Expecting such a response, Jacques turns to Isaac, looking at him expectantly.

'You know that scroll I gave you? Now is the time to read it. And please Isaac, do read out the document clearly. I would hate for your father here to misunderstand the severity of the situation he has just talked himself into.' Slowly, Isaac spreads the scroll out on his desk. After clearing his throat nervously, he begins reciting the scroll's contents.

'"As per order of Councilman Brahm, Isaac is now employed by the royal office of the Kingdom. His first official assignment is to record the life story of Jacques the Arcanian and present it before the King. It is punishable by any means Councilman Brahm sees fit should someone without the authority attempts to interfere with this task. This binding contract of employment is non-negotiable and takes place immediately."' Deathly silence fills the room, as both Isaac and his father begin to take in what just happened.

'... I'm now a royal scholar...' A quivering Isaac whispers to himself. This thought creates both great joy and fear for the now trembling Isaac.

'... Punishable by any means seen fit...' A fearful Atar whispers to himself. Defeated, Atar backs away to the door.

'Everyone in this town will know about this! I will make damn sure of it. Do not think you will get away, Arcanian!'

'And if they do become aware of this conversation said the Arcanian, we will know who told them.' Jacques begins taking slow and deliberate steps forward, Atar to retreat even further.

'In fact, I think you're too much of a risk for us to take. Guard, arrest this man!' Quickly striding to the door, the guard wrestles the wretched innkeeper to the ground. Acting on sheer terror, Isaac quickly tackles the guard from behind. Taken by surprise, Jacques lets out an angry shout.

'What are you doing?!' Before Isaac knows it, Jacques pulls him off the guard and his father is gone. Turning back, Jacques looks on Isaac with some sort of disgust in his eyes.

'Why are you letting that pathetic drunk intimidate you like that? You realize that you've put this entire project at risk?!' Despite Jacques' fierce stare, Isaac remains as quiet as falling snow. Jacques and the guard simply stand there, waiting for him to say something.

'... This is both the best and worst day of my life. I will be the first of my family to leave this village, and to think that I'm now a royal scholar... But, my father is going to hate me for this...' Shaking his bald head, Jacques begins walking out the door.

'Why are you so desperate for the approval from your father?' Jacques sighs at him. Nothing more is said as Jacques disappears into the bright day, followed by Brahm's guard.

Returning to their camp, Brahm is keen to hear more of what transpired. While at first he is jolly, he can sense a storm brewing in the atmosphere, quickly spoiling his mood.

'You're back early, seeing as though the sun is still up. Did something happen?'

'It seems that our guess was exactly right. Isaac's father is naught but a sad and lazy drunk, using his son purely for the sake of having an employee he doesn't have to pay and willing to accept terrible working conditions. He was going to interrupt our session as we had predicted. I had Isaac read out the employment document. He knows he can't interfere with that. However, it appears that he's fully aware of our... incident at the tavern.'

Brahm's eyes widen, realising that this could have some grave consequences. While racking his brain for solutions, Brahm inquires further.

'What sort of a man is he? We might be able to devise a way to stop him if we know what he might do...'

'In addition to the previously mentioned attributes, he is a coward. He knows there will be punishment should he open his mouth. So, he's most likely to hide somewhere and spread word about me as secretly as possible.'

'Why did you simply let him walk away when you knew that he was going to cause such trouble for us later? And how did Isaac react to his employment?'

'Firstly, I had attempted to do just that, but Isaac actually interrupted. Secondly, I am not sure yet. He seemed to be in a state of shock when I left. I do not understand his loyalty to that pathetic man, even if he happens to be Isaac's father.' Understanding Jacques' ignorance, Brahm enlightens him.

'It relates back to Harkonian superstition, quite common in these towns along the border. It is a commonly held belief that if you treat your parents poorly, they will come back to haunt you for the rest of your life. While it may or may not be true, it's a superstition that holds a fair bit of power. As for Isaac's actions during this whole commotion... Well, what can we do? It would be best to take him away from this place, I think.'

'I've met actual ghosts. They do not become ghosts from something so petty.'' Raising his hand, Brahm signals him to stop speaking.

'Enough already. I know you've seen some strange things, but I'm just informing you of why he's behaving that way. You're going to have to take it up with him and tell him why it's absurd to think that, not me. For now, we have to discuss plans in case words get out about an Arcanian being in this town...' Brahm is right, of course, leading Jacques' thoughts away from ghosts and towards how they might protect themselves from the potential danger looming over the horizon.

'It would look poor to the other nobles if you had to fight your way out of here... Come to think of it, is there any reason why we should stay here?'

'Well, Isaac is drafted now. We could take him with us to continue recording your story while on the road. I think that would be our best solution for now. We need a day or two to pack up before setting out.'

The very next day, Jacques returns with the same guard in tow. Knocking heavily on the door, Jacques waits impatiently. There is no response.

'Isaac, are you there?' This time, Jacques opens the door, making the aged hinges groan. They are greeted by the sight of a miserable looking Isaac, slumping in one of his tiny wooden chairs.

'Isaac. Are you ready to continue?' Seemingly with little interest, Isaac picks up his head groggily.

'I have to do it, don't I? It's a command from a Councilman himself... So, I guess we shall continue this... misadventure. However, I wish to talk to the Councilman about this arrangement when I get an opportunity...' Though he is obviously reluctant, still Isaac rises from his chair, dumping himself in front of his writing desk wearily.

'Continue.' He commands curtly. Remembering what Brahm had told him, Jacques attempts to speak with Isaac.

'I know why you're so afraid of displeasing your father. I can't really understand it, but I'm afraid that you'll just have to take a leap of faith here. Believe me, ghosts don't choose specific targets to haunt. I've met them before.'

Shooting up from his slumped position, Isaac begins listening intently.

'Really? You have met actual ghosts, Jacques? Where, and when?' Smiling to himself, Jacques quickly seizes this fresh opportunity to invoke Isaac's curiosity.

'Ah, I see this subject has stirred some interest in you. But before I tell you about that, we have to get there in my story first. So, are you ready, Isaac the newly commissioned Royal Scholar?' With renewed energy, Isaac quickly dips his quill in a fresh vial of ink.

'When you are ready, so am I. Talk, Jacques.'

As I was saying before we were rudely interrupted yesterday, there was always an unwelcome disruption to peaceful times in my life. This time, it was in the form of the only critic who had enough swagger to actually try and convince Nadine to get rid of me. He was a young merchant named Tibault. Describing him as a woeful businessman would be too generous. A career as a jester would've suited him better than a merchant. Among other things, he was scheming and petty, and was hoping to impress Nadine enough in order to marry her, thus ending his own financial woes, which he had mostly brought upon himself. Black market traders were always after him for money than he had borrowed, and there was rarely a moment where he made his presence noticeable out of fear of someone whom he owes money being in the same room. With me in the picture, however, this complicated his plan. Nadine and I had grown very close, and between her busy schedule and me, there wasn't exactly a lot of her time left to pay attention to bachelors who sought her hand in marriage. Nadine had spent some time pondering on this subject herself, concerned that was that she would always be too busy to find a husband and wouldn't have a child to succeed her booming business when she eventually left this world. However, it seemed as though I was going to fill in that gap that had been empty for so long. Tibault somehow found ways to talk to Nadine privately. She seemed to take some sort of pity on him, and tried to advise him with better methods of bargaining and trading. However, since his only intent was to marry his way out of his predicament, her words fell like a waterfall over stone. They only made a short splash but none of her wisdom was absorbed. He had heard the story of how I had ended up in her household, and attempted to prod her towards returning me home. Some attempts were glaringly obvious, while others were much more subtle. I was listening in one day when he came to visit. Up until this point, I had thought the only reason Nadine didn't take me home was because she was busy.

'The boy's been here a while, Nadine. Don't you think you should at least try to take him home?'

'There were Harkonian raiders crawling all over the woodlands where he came from. His parents would've been captured regardless of where they were in that area. When he's older, I will tell him the truth.'

'Don't you think that it's unfair to him to provide him false hope? You need to at least take him back to make sure that they're gone!'

'But... If they're alive, then I'll lose him... Why are you so interested in my personal life, anyway? I've tried to help you out of common courtesy, not because I am attracted to you or anything...'

'He's just some brat who you picked up along a road in a backwater province! Surely he can't be that important to you! Why not marry a fine fellow, maybe like myself, and have your own child?' After that, I heard a loud thud followed by a cry of pain.

'You're no longer welcome in my household. Leave before I call for my servants to remove you.' Hearing footsteps, I quickly hid in another room, peering out as Tibault stomped his way out of Nadine's office. A large bruise was forming above his eye. Nadine herself walked out too, holding a gigantic metal candle holder. Nadine quickly dropped the candle holder when she saw me. I wasn't crying, it felt as though my entire face had turned into stone, fixed in a ghastly looking blank expression. I could only look on at Nadine, and she was obviously disturbed at my cold expression.

'You heard everything, didn't you?' Seeing as though it was obvious that I had heard that entire conversation, I simply looked on. Nadine knew the truth.

'I am so sorry, Jacques, but I am sure your parents are dead, or worse, sold as slaves. Those Harkonian warriors were all over the countryside. If your parents had been fleeing, then one group or another would've caught them.' Something in me broke then, I didn't know what it was at the time, but looking back, I know now. It was hope. Even the raids hadn't broken me yet, for there was yet hope of returning home. Nadine had just crushed that hope. I left without saying anything, leaving a woeful looking Nadine standing in front of her office door. Using one of my usual escape routes in the house, I wandered onto the streets of Stromfor, hoping to find something that would distract me from my worries.

The sun had long set and I was still wandering the streets. The shadows enabled me to blend into the street easily, and most Arcanian people are too busy to pay any heed to a child wandering about, even in the latest hours of the evening. Stalls are still selling their wares, though they make sure to have abundant light covering said wares, so that any would-be thieves would lose any advantage the darkness would give them in their dirty work. I knew I would have to head back to Nadine eventually. I had no desire to live off the streets by stealing or scavenging scraps from the garbage piles within the city. I was upset though, even if I wasn't capable of fully expressing it in that state. I couldn't think about it rationally, and that perhaps I would've had a better lot with Nadine rather than my parents. I suppose I was mourning, since I was previously clinging onto the thoughts of my parents being alive and having a chance to meet them again. But, I understood that Nadine wouldn't say that unless she was absolutely certain it was true. Still though, I wished to spend some time away from Nadine, just so I could be alone with my thoughts.

Nadine had panicked in the period I had left for. When I returned to her home, she had sent off all her servants looking for me, fearing I had run away. She was relieved when I had returned. She knelt down and embraced me with an almost suffocating hug.

'I'm so sorry, Jacques. I won't lie to you again, I promise. I'll look after you. I'm going to be taking you to officially become a member of my family.' Though I had spent some time with her, I had found it odd how attached she had become to me in the few months I had spent in her care. I asked one of her older servants about it later.

'She's just lonely. She does not have many friends or people she's close to, just her servants, and you.' I found her attachment to be justifiable, given the circumstances. I suppose travelling so much doesn't leave a lot of time for you to find other people to be around. So, I decided that I would stay with her, so she might have a son of her own. This wasn't just mere adoption that she was going to perform. Arcanian law enables you to allow someone to become part of a family, regardless of blood relation. As far as the law is concerned after this happens, I may as well be of her of own flesh and blood. However, this ceremony also severs any blood ties you have with any other families, meaning I would cease to be the son of my parents. I was convinced of that they were dead at this point, however, so it mattered little. They had explained the whole ritual to me, and given I was older now, I was capable of understanding more complex subjects. It was daunting when she took me to the ceremony, which was to be held in one of the great garden halls of the Noble's district. Her name carried a lot of prestige around Stromfor. Even the nobles had come to see the event, and from what I had observed during my exploration of their district, they're fairly apathetic towards most events. This put into perspective the sheer magnitude of the situation for me. I was led into a great hall, where an ancient and gnarled tree rose above a small altar. The rite was performed by the person who was adding someone to their family, in this case, Nadine. She spoke the ritual with almost melodic words. There was genuine happiness in the atmosphere, and for a time, I was genuinely happy. It took about an hour before Nadine came to the end of the ritual.

'And so, he shall become my flesh and blood, severing previous ties. May we find fortune and prosper together, as a family.'

A great cheer rose from the small crowd that had gathered. Drinks from Arcana's mystic vineyards and the finest cuts of meat from game hunted in the wilderness around Stromfor were served. It was a great celebration, and Nadine and I were at the centre of it. Her fellows from the Traders' Guild were keen to hear about what plans she had for the future. Nadine herself had not thought that far ahead yet, and so she hushed anyone who attempted to discuss the subject with her.

'That is a private matter for the time being. Jacques and I will discuss what he wishes to do, and we will work it out from there.'

Stars were beginning to shine their light as the celebration wrapped up. Drunken nobles and servants alike were attempting to make their own ways back to their homes. Nadine and I made our way back to her great manor.

'So, how does it feel to know that we're now related to each other, Jacques? I'm actually your mother now!' She seemed beside herself with joy about the whole thing, knowing that she now had a son.

'It feels... alright.' Taken aback by my choice of words, Nadine tried not to show it, choosing to quickly change the subject.

'Now then, we need to talk about what you'll do with yourself, Jacques. I would like you to adopt my business, continue building on what foundations I have here. Imagine how wealthy you'll be in the future...' If Nadine had one flaw, it was her greed. I could already see piles of gold sparkling in her eyes at that point.

'I am afraid that I do not wish to become a merchant.'

'Why, Jacques? What would you rather be?'

'A soldier. I wish to become a soldier.'

Shocked by this, Nadine attempted to keep calm and steer me away from that path.

'I am not going to lie to you, Jacques. Being a soldier is a terrible job. It does not pay well, and you may end up dying on a Harkonian's dirty blade. Is that what you want?' I had not forgotten my parents nor had forgotten that it was Harkon that had trampled my old life and taken away the two people I had held most dear. So, I was driven towards a path of vengeance.

'What do you think I want, Nadine?' This caused her to pause for a moment, and it came to her.

'You want revenge, don't you? For what they did to you and to your parents...'

'Exactly. If I become a soldier, then I can return the pain that they had caused me.' Extremely concerned, she knelt down to my height, and looked me dead in the eye. There was pain in those soft brown eyes.

'You can't live with hatred in your heart, Jacques. Yes, you have been wronged in a most horrific and terrible way, but how would returning that pain to them make you any different? You would just be another savage beast. You're better than the men of Harkon. Please, don't choose this path.' No one had even pleaded with me before, but it sounded like it was far away. Vindication was the only thing on my mind, and I would stop at nothing to achieve that.

Pausing, Jacques quickly looks out the door.

'Brahm gave us until sundown to continue our work. It seems we'll have to do this later, Isaac.' Walking back in, Jacques tosses a rough brown sack onto Isaac's desk.

'What is the meaning of this?'

'Pack whatever you need. You're leaving this town with our caravan tonight. This is not a request, it is an order.' Jacques is a frightening man when he gave a command, and given how timid Isaac is, he is not willing to test Jacques' temper.

'Okay.' And with that, Isaac says nothing more, merely packing away his writing tools, spare clothing and whatever small trinkets he wished to keep.

'What about my house though?'

'What about it? This old cottage is about to fall apart. I would guess it will only last another year or two..' Seeing that Jacques isn't in the mood for questions, Isaac keeps his mouth shut. His sack of items is filled and ready to go within a couple of minutes. Jacques inspects, and then gives his approval.

'You're ready, then? Let's head off. Brahm may be patient, but even he has his limits.'

The trio arrives back at Brahm's camp just as the sun dips beneath the horizon. All of the tents were packed away, and Brahm himself is standing at the front of a large carriage.

'Good to see you've joined us. Quickly, get in! We need to leave this town!' The guard quickly rejoins his fellows, and Isaac and Jacques scramble inside Brahm's carriage.

'Alright men! We are off!' An enthusiastic Brahm shouts. Though slow at first, the caravan picks up its pace and quickly heads off into the darkness of the Harkonian wilderness.
Chapter 3 – A Forest of thorns

LITTLE IS SAID AS THE THREE MEN rest in the carriage, travelling shadowy roads towards the nearest town or outpost. Jacques' head nearly hits the roof at each bump on the road and Brahm, attempting to break the awkward silence, jokes about it.

'We should try to find a way to make you shorter, Jacques. I would hate for that head of yours to be bashed around and for you to lose your memory!'

'Or you could make this carriage taller. Why are men of Harkon so short-statured?' Isaac, though hearing their words, doesn't even register the conversation. Anything that had held up his old life and given it stability has been torn away. He's venturing out in the unknown, and he does not like it at all. Trying to snap him out of it, Brahm addresses him directly.

'What of you, Isaac? Do you believe Jacques to be too tall, or the carriage to be too short?' Unresponsive, Isaac simply gazes out the tiny window on his side of the carriage.

'It seems like he's in another place right now. Anyway, it's fortunate that I ordered those oil lanterns before we ventured out here. This road would've been terrible to navigate at this hour without them.' Jacques gives a small nod.

'Indeed. Where exactly does this road lead, Brahm?' Flipping open a small compass, Jacques double checks their direction.

'I do not remember any road on it which led to the east from that village.'

Confused, Brahm quickly reaches over to the small compartment where he keeps his documents and maps. Fumbling through the huge mass of aged paper, he finds the map which details the region around Isaac's village.

'Hmm, that is strange... This road is definitely not in my maps, and these maps of mine were only drafted a few months ago.'

'Then I think it would be wise to turn around and get back on a road we actually know.' Just as he finishes speaking, their carriage comes to a stop. They hear there's frantic knocking on the carriage door.

'Councilman! We've been cut off from our escort! You have to come out here and see for yourself!' Cautiously, Brahm and Jacques step out of the carriage, while Isaac remains inside. Sure enough, there is a gigantic wall of black thorns cutting off their carriage from the rest of the caravan. Soldiers attempt to hack away at the horns, finding that the thorns grow back over the holes faster than they can cut them. Jacques carefully steps towards the thorns, slipping a knife out of his robe. He slices open a small hole, to watch as the thorns cover it again.

'There's magic at work here, Brahm.'

'Well, Jacques, you're our expert in that regard. How exactly do we break this enchantment?'

'It's simple. We kill whoever, or whatever, is causing those thorns to grow.'

'And how would we do that? The shadows of this forest are pitch black. We would become lost long before we found the sorcerer.'

'Magic of this kind is ancient and powerful. The user must be close by.'

'Well, we're facing such powers, I would rather not have you face it alone.'

'Are you sure, Brahm? I know how crippling superstition can be to a Harkonian.'

'Superstition or not, you aren't exactly in your prime. I will go with you, and aid you if I can.'

Unknown to the two men, Isaac is listening in to the conversation. While afraid of the possibility of a sorcerer holding them all hostage, he becomes curious about the concept of magic. He continues listening in.

'I know that none of your men will follow us, so it will be just us two.' Quickly reaching inside the caravan, Brahm retrieves his well-worn sword and shield, clanging them together to signal his men.

'Report to the highest ranking officer! He will be in charge until Jacques and I return.'

With that, no more is said and Isaac hears the rustle of leaves and branches, presumably as Jacques and Brahm wander into the shadows. Deciding that he would rather not be alone at this moment, Isaac steps of the carriage in order to join Brahm's troops. What few escort soldiers had been travelling with them at the front are now gathered around the commandeering officer. They are speaking prayers, and making signs to ward off evil. Harkonians have a great phobia of magic, believing it to be wicked. In order to inspire the frightened troops, the officer yells at the top of his lungs.

'Stand fast, men! Jacques and Brahm are already working to remove the source of this sorcery! Hold your talismans close and no one is to wander off by themselves! Check to see if everyone is accounted for in your unit!' This stops some of the murmurs and panicked chants coming from the soldiers. Having been inside the carriage, Isaac didn't get an opportunity to see where Jacques went.

'Where did they go?'

'They wandered into the underground, Brahm trailing behind Jacques.' One of the soldiers responds. Scanning around, the soldier seems disheartened.

'We're afraid. Witchcraft like this sends shudders down my spine. We have tactics for fighting Arcanian soldiers, not for fighting thorns which grow back.' Fear strikes Isaac at his core too. He had never walked outside of his village before and magic is a completely foreign concept to him. Still though, he knew Jacques and Brahm are out there.

Jacques slashes his way through the shadowy thicket, Brahm following close behind. Jacques had not even mentioned it to Brahm, but he is actually quite skilled in the use of sorcery. He knew that they were all unnerved by the concept, so he did his best to keep quiet about it. He did not even mention his ability to Isaac, playing off the moments in his life story where magic had aided him as luck. A person with latent magic ability unconsciously affects things around them, as Jacques had done when a great serpent had once attempted to take his life. It is possible that he has actually manipulated Isaac and even Brahm into aiding him, though he denies himself that thought. As the pair carve a vicious path through the shadows, the very vines and thorns which creep through the canopy seem to attempt to lash at them, bind them, doing anything possible to slow them down.

'It seems all the plants here are getting desperate to keep us away.' Brahm observes.

'Then it means we're getting close to the source.' Responds Jacques. Jacques can feel where the flow of mystic energies is coming from. With a sense of triumph, he sees a small clearing in the woods. Moonlight shines down on a giant stone pillar. To his surprise, he sees several figures standing around the pillar. All of them are wearing battered and torn garbs, as though they had been out in the woods for years. They all have the look of wild people. Jacques has heard of rumours about wild users of magic in the remote wilderness of Arcana, but this is his first encounter with such a people. In times even more ancient than the establishing of the two kingdoms of Harkon and Arcana, a primitive people carved great monoliths which served as focus points for magical power. Such stones are shunned even by the Arcanians, who believe them to bring ill fortune should they be used. This stone must've been one of those monoliths Jacques had heard about. Over his shoulder, Jacques signals Brahm to come over. As quietly as he can manage, Brahm peaks through a bush to observe the strange sight.

'What is this? You implied there would only be one sorcerer.'

'This is... rather unusual, Brahm. They are using a focus stone. It is an ancient source of power, but anyone with half a brain would stay away from those things. It's dangerous at best to use them.''

'In what way are they dangerous?'

'They connect to... somewhere else. And I have read legends about some of the creatures which have arisen from such stones. We must stop them immediately.' With no regard to his own safety, Jacques rises from the bushes, brandishing his sword at the small group of wild men. Brahm quickly joins him, shield and sword at the ready.

'Wandering men, capable of seeking us here. Obviously part of the caravan. What to do with them, I ask of us.' One of the figures manages to fumble off their tongues.

'To slay is the answer. Threat ceases to be threatening.' Another figure chimes in. Defiantly, Jacques issues a challenge.

'If you desire to slay us, then why do you not try it?' Each figure slams their fists together, and etchings begin to glow on the pillar.

'Foolish presumption, that we must be the ones to slay. When there are others to slay.' Not desiring to wait and see what they mean by "others", Jacques signals Brahm, and together they begin sprinting the distance between them. He is too late, however, and light begins pouring from the etchings. Glowing strips begin wrapping together, sculpting and giving life to a monstrous shape. The wild ones cheer and sing as the horror they summoned starts moving. It appears as nothing more but a blur of a dark and vaguely humanoid shape to Jacques, but he sees quick flashes of various beasts he had seen across Arcana. At times its face appears as the great maw of an Arcanian serpent, and others as a feline predator, and its limbs seem to flicker in much the same manner. Brahm stops dead in his tracks, and gazes at the thing blankly.

'What... is that?'

'What we were trying to stop.' Its flashing form begins taking awkward steps towards Jacques, and it unleashes a horrid howl, causing the animals of the forest to wake up and flee. It raises one of its blurred and deformed limbs, and sweeps the area around it. Jacques and Brahm barely dodge its clumsy attack, but the wild people weren't so fortunate. They have no control over the beast, and become the target of its wrath as well.

'The other fights us, not just the strangers!' A wild man cries out as he flees from the warped horror. The two warriors take this opportunity to slay the fleeing wild people, and makes sure none of them escape. As their bloody corpses begin lining the battlefield, the beast seems to shrink with every death. Noticing this, Jacques quickly informs Brahm.

'Kill them all! If they're all dead, this thing will lose its anchor in this world!' Some of the wild people attempt to attack them with clubs and primitive weapons. Being slower than he was in his youth, Jacques is only able to dodge a few of their savage swings. With his superior training and youth, Brahm fares much better. Quickly slicing his way through the savages, he deflects a blow which would've cracked Jacques' skill. Between the fighting skills of the two and the monster's blundering and awkward attacks, the wild people are quickly dispatched. When the last falls, the glowing lights disappear and the monstrosity fades away into nothing but a memory.

Meanwhile, Brahm's men remain stuck on the road. Each inhuman howl they hear in the undergrowth causes them to shuffle into an increasingly defensive formation, until they are all bunched together, using their shields to form a turtle-like shell. Sudden sounds of snapping branches causes everyone to jump. Much to their relief, it is the sound of the thorn wall falling apart.

'Quickly, we might have a chance to hack it down now!' The officer shouts out. With that, each soldier takes their blade to the wall, and soon the caravan is reunited. Their horses also calm down as the thorn wall resides, returning to their normal demeanour.

'Now, there's just the matter of Jacques and Brahm. We should wait a moment for them to return.' As he finishes speaking, several rustles come from the undergrowth, as Brahm and Jacques burst through the darkness. Jacques sustained several injuries in the fight, and is walking with a limp behind Brahm.

'I need to get some notes on this, Jacques! How many of them were there? What did they do when you found them? How did you find them?' Not keen to be interviewed after the battle, Jacques hushes Isaac.

'Leave me be for the time being. We will discuss it later.' Seeing that Jacques is not in the mood for storytelling, Isaac chooses to return to reading over the notes he has already recorded.

'I'm getting too old for this, Brahm.' Jacques sighs as he begins surveying his wounds and bruises.

'Well, going against an entire tribe of sorcerers isn't something most men can do even when they're young, Jacques. You should be pleased with yourself.'

'I suppose so. I wish that some of your men were better adjusted to dealing with magical threats.'

'Jacques, we already know that is easier said than done. Let's just get out of here.' Turning back to his men, Brahm beams a bright smile.

'We are ready to leave these accursed woods. Forward, men!' Triumphant over the evil that had attempted to draw them in, the soldiers cheer and march their way back to more familiar roads.

Making it back to Harkonian roads, the caravan eventually reaches a small town at the base of the mountain chain known as the Giant's Spine. Having run low on supplies, and needing a break from the constant travelling, the caravan stops there. The townspeople give them a warm welcome, since they're used to travellers. They weren't surprised to see a Councilman among the caravan, since their town is on a road frequented by noblemen from various regions of Harkon. Isaac realised that he had failed to ask an important question. With no further delay, he immediately asks Brahm while the two of them are wandering around the town.

'Where are we going? What's the final destination of this caravan?'

'I was wondering when you were going to ask. Most people tend to ask where they're going before they start going there. To answer your question, we are heading to Greatspire Castle to see my brother. We have to make a trip along the Giant's Spine, so we're stocking up on as much supplies as we can carry.' Not understanding what significance this has, Isaac questions him further.

'Your brother? Who exactly is your brother?'

'Why, Malaach, of course. The king of Harkon. I swear, you must not know anything about Harkonian politics. I would think that my name would be a household name by now. What does a man have to do to get some attention these days? Is being royalty not enough?'

'You're... the King's brother...' Isaac trails off. Lacking anything further of substance to say, he remains quiet for the rest of their wanderings through the town. Brahm seems to not mind, and keeps quiet too. Truthfully, Brahm knows Isaac may still be a bit shell shocked from his upheaval from his home, and chooses not to push him. For Isaac, this raises more questions about Jacques. Why exactly is Jacques involved with the King's brother? What is his goal for travelling to see the king? Isaac couldn't help but wonder to himself. But most of all, Isaac wondered how exactly these two men had met. He would have to ask Jacques later.

Soon enough, Isaac and Jacques find a suitable spot for them to continue their work.

'What do you think of the town, Isaac? I quite like this place.'

'It's okay. Can we please continue where you left off?'

Getting straight into our work, I see. I believe we left off from where I had been made into Nadine's family. Nothing of particular importance happened after a couple of years, merely study and working with Nadine. However, my desire to become a soldier and to fight Harkonians had not disappeared during those years. Though Nadine had discouraged me at every opportunity, I was set on the path of vengeance. I eventually enrolled in a military academy. I had earned a reputation while I had studied under Nadine's wing which followed me into that place. I had negotiated several significant trades which had paid off quite well for us by the time I ended up at that academy. Nadine's profiteering had reached new heights as she established herself as the most powerful merchant in Stromfor in those years, and no one was willing to even approach me out of fear of evoking her wrath. Though it may seem unusual to you in Harkon, Arcanians don't exclude anyone from the military. There is always something that someone can contribute to a war effort. Men, women, cripples, anyone at all. Wars aren't merely fought with steel and muscle. There's food, warm clothing, armour smithing, weapon smithing... I could discuss it all day, but I believe that is not the goal of our sessions, so I shall refrain from it. While I desired to be a foot soldier, right in the middle of the battle, the academy was reluctant to put the talents I had learned from Nadine to such little use in their war against Harkon. Instead, they put me to use in negotiating with suppliers of various resources across regions of Arcana. We needed iron, hard wood and various other materials for the war effort, and I was the man for persuading the suppliers of those materials to give us a better deal. Nadine was relieved with what I had been given, knowing that I was safe from the frontline, but I was secretly furious. This was not what I had desired by enrolling in the military. I wanted bloody vengeance, but it seemed even my peers were reluctant to give me that. Still refusing to assign me to such work despite my persistent requests, I chose to learn how to fight by myself. I read various books on military theory and combat and practiced swordplay whenever I was not negotiating with traders. In time, I had become quite skilled with a blade, and wished to test my skills against the Harkonians. In secret, I dressed myself in the armour of a foot soldier, and disappeared with a marching regiment who were heading to the borderlands in order to quell a large group of Harkonian soldiers. Everyone in the unit I infiltrated wondered who I was, since they had not seen me at their barracks before. Their commanding officer came up to me when they stopped to set up camp.

'I believe we have a spy among our ranks. Tell me man, who are you? What is your rank, and what regiment have you served with?' I removed my helmet so he could clearly see my face.

'Jacques, trade negotiator, no regiment. I desire to battle the Harkonians in hand-to-hand combat, rather than argue with bureaucrats every day.' He inspected me up and down, sizing me up.

'You're the son of that famous trader, Nadine. It's been the subject of some talk among the Arcanian military, and I saw you while I was on leave in the trading quarters. I have heard of your constant requests to do battle, and now I can see you're determined to see actual bloodshed. I suppose the only way to convince you to move away from this path for you to bear witness to the horrors of war.' He turned away from me and strolled back to his command post. On his way back, he shouted a couple of words.

'Officially, you aren't part of this unit, and I will deny any knowledge of knowing who you actually are.'

Uneasily, I had settled into their regiment, though it was still unofficial. Looking back on it now, I know that I had made an absolutely stupid choice. I was young though, so I suppose there was at least some comfort in that. The faces of the slain men that I would see in the following battle... There is no amount of comfort to make you forget that. When I set up camp with them, their leader actually came to me under the cloak of night. He lacked the same authority he did when we first spoke.

'Listen, Jacques. I know what this is about. Your parents were slaughtered by Harkonians, and now you come wielding a sword in the name of revenge.' He paused for a moment. Looking back on it, I knew it was a moment for him to gather his courage to speak.

'You are stupid. Did you know that? In the name of a juvenile desire for revenge, you're going to risk your life, your limbs and probably even Nadine's wealth? You'd make an excellent hostage to the Harkonians if they learned who you are. Do you even comprehend the situation your pigheadedness has gotten you into?! War is not a game, and at the end of the day, there are no Harkonians or Arcanians. There's just corpses.' I remained unresponsive, and he shakes his head in disappointment.

'Fine then. Just throw your life away for the sake of some petty revenge. I've got bigger concerns than the foolish son of a trader out here. My men need someone to lead them.'

Sure enough, the commanding officer led our regiment against Harkonian raiders on the border. Our battleground was a swamp village just near the border. The Harkonians had already raided it and killed any of the people who had been living there. Getting there in the first place was quite miserable. Mosquitoes and various parasites lived in the murky bog waters, and seemed delighted at the feast which had walked right to them.

'Are you ready, Jacques? I hope you are, because you may not live through this.' Our officer had said to me. I had never killed a man before, and I had no mental preparation for it. They kept me at the back as a sort of vanguard, since I had no knowledge of marching formations. Taking no risks, they chose to put their best troops at the front to serve as a shell against the chaos. The Harkonians kept tight formations as well, and the two forces collided like two great waves crashing into each other. I was not prepared for the chaos. Our small island of order was beginning to fall apart into a chaotic ocean of steel and blades. I had paused for a moment after cutting down the first Harkonian I battled. It took me a moment to overcome the thought I had just taken a life. Still though, I knew I could not be idle. I slashed wildly, cutting down any Harkonian I could see. Due to my wild swinging, it's more than likely I struck down some Arcanian soldiers, but I could never know for certain. It was a desperate and bloody battle, and I could do nothing but raise my sword arm again and again, until it grew so tired that I could no longer raise it. Weapons sliced through the air, and I had narrowly dodged several killing blows among the skirmish. Through the blood and gore, my vengeful rage grew and grew, and drove me to continue killing. It didn't matter how tired I was. I was fueled by my own anger, and desired nothing more than to unleash my wrath on my foes. Just as I had slain another Harkonian, something hit the back of my head, and knocked me out cold.

When I woke up, the stars were out and I had an opportunity to see the aftermath of the bloody battle. Corpses lined the ground like a morbid carpet. Broken weapons and banners were scattered as far as my eyes could see, and it was then I realised that the only winner in this conflict was death itself. I had gotten some degree of the vengeance I had so craved, but it only left me with a greater desire for more slaughter, and a greater feeling of emptiness. The words of the commanding officer actually echoed in my head at that moment.

War is not a game, and at the end of the day, there are no Harkonians or Arcanians. There's just corpses.

Wandering through the great layer of bodies, I was shocked to see the commanding officer. He had a huge wound in his head from where a mace had struck him. He had died with his eyes wide open, and I couldn't bear his deathly gaze. I closed his eyes, and wandered back to the Arcanian camp.

There weren't many survivors from the regiment I had attached myself to. Mostly foot soldiers and a couple of officers. They were shocked to see I had returned from the battle with little injury. Having no commander to organise the lesser ranks of the regiment, they were in disarray. Since there were so few of them left, it was stretching it to even call their unit a regiment anymore. One soldier was speaking to his comrades about what they should do about their situation.

'I think we should join another regiment and dissolve ours. We will not achieve anything without any commanding officer and with so few of us.'

'It would be preferable to being without a commander among this chaos.' Another soldier murmured in agreement. One man seemed less concerned about their current predicament and simply glared at me with some sort of disgust.'

'Fate seems to be mocking us, by returning the trader and not our commander.' He bitterly spat out.

'Take a good look, trader. This is what you wanted. Are you happy now?' I didn't respond to his anger, and simply turned my back away. His fellows quickly responded to his anger.

'Relax. It's not his fault the commander died. We need to stick together through this, not turn on each other.' As if to illustrate his point, a panting scout arrived back at our camp, bearing grim news.

'The Harkonians are preparing to lead an assault. All remaining forces are to rally together.' Each soldier quickly packed their gear up and marched away, following the scout. Having no options, I did the same. We managed to reach a large open plain outside of the swamp. Sure enough, Harkonians were swarming across it. We were severely outnumbered in this conflict, to say the least. The soldiers either side of me seemed more surprised than fearful. One of them was murmuring his thoughts out aloud.

'Why is there so many of them? With numbers like these, they must be launching a full scale invasion of Arcana. There is nothing valuable enough in these swamps to warrant sending so many troops...' These words made me wonder as well. In what history I had learned, Harkon had never attempted a full scale invasion before. They are far too fearful of Arcanian lands to do anything other than gradual and careful pushes on the borders. So, the only thing I thought was that they were after something in these lands. I did not have long to think, however, as the Harkonians were rushing forward, eager to crush what few of our forces remained. I made a strange choice that day. I knew that I would surely die or be captured in the coming conflict, as would all of my comrades. If they were looking for something, I had to know what that was. With a plan in mind, I had to escape the battlefield without dying. Easier thought than done, of course. Then, just as I readied myself, the Harkonians arrived. They weren't using any tactics. They intended to simply overwhelm us with their sheer numbers. It was a slaughter rather than a battle. In the chaos, I quickly thought of a plan to avoid certain death. As much as I hated to do so, I lay among the wretched corpses of the dead, hid myself underneath the freshly killed soldiers of either side. Every once and a while, someone stepped on me, but ultimately I managed to elude death once more.

I spent an hour or two after the battle had ended hiding underneath the carrion. Night was falling, and a thick mist had descended upon the battlefield. The Harkonian looters had been quick, taking anything of value from the corpses and leaving the dead behind. Some were still scavenging among the battlefield. As I rose from my hiding place, none of them paid any notice to me. The coming darkness and increasing thick mist must've made me seem little more than a vague shape to them. Being in that spot gave me a lot of time to think about where my choices had led me. I was now alone among countless hostile soldiers on a battlefield far away from home, with no foreseeable way of returning. Killing had not given me any comfort or satisfaction, either. It had merely soiled the earth with more crimson blood. All I had now was my quickly formed and vague plan. I had to discover their intentions for coming in such numbers. To start my plan, as much as it filled me with dread, I had to dress myself in the armour of a Harkonian. I dragged off a random corpse away from the battlefield, and quickly stripped it of its armour, donning it myself. To say that I smelled putrid would be an understatement. I went towards the Harkonian encampment. They were celebrating their victory with large kegs of ale and plenty of smoked and roasted meat. When I shambled into the flickering light of their fire, they immediately showed concern.

'We've got another survivor! Get him to the physician!' One of them shouted. They sat me down on a nearby log, and a wizened and elderly man came to inspect me. After removing my scavenged armour, he inspected my wounds, little suspecting that he was treating a sworn enemy of their nation.

'Concussion to the back of the head. That would explain why you're rejoining us at this late hour. A couple of bandages and some rest would be best for you. You're lucky though, no major open wounds or blood loss.' It seemed that my injury from the previous battle had served to form an even more convincing bluff. I knew I couldn't speak, because my accent would immediately give away my ruse. The physician didn't seem to mind, however, and bandaged my more major wounds carefully.

'You seem fairly young. I can understand why you aren't so talkative. Seeing war upfront can give even the hardiest of men quite a shock.' After dressing my injuries, he wandered away to tend to another patient. This encounter gave me more perspective on the people I had declared my sworn enemies. They aren't the monsters I had seen in the days of my youth. They were just as capable of compassion and empathy as any Arcanian. However, I knew that I could not be idle at a time like this. My first priority was to discover the motivation behind this major attack. Using the skills I had learned wandering the streets of Stromfor, I disappeared into the shadows. The settling mists helped conceal me as I wandered through the gigantic patch of tents. My first thought was to find out the chain of command in the Harkonians' ranks. If I could find out who was in charge, then I could find a way to discover what they were up to, whether it were eavesdropping on the right conversation, or finding a written document which detailed their plans. Lacking any information to go on, I decided that the largest tent probably held the person whom was in charge of this gigantic fighting force. Someone who leads isn't likely to give himself the smallest tent. Sure enough, one tent stood out like a mountain among many tiny hills in the camp. It was a lavish and comfortable tent, designed to keep out the elements to a much higher degree than the tents of the average foot soldiers. I heard muffled voices, so I moved myself to a dark spot and leaned against the thick cloth of the tent. I heard two people arguing with each other. A man and a woman, to be precise.

'I know you don't enjoy it, but you must see our enemy as they are crushed. As my daughter, you bear my legacy and will sing of my deeds in the future.'

'I will not praise nor remember a man who took tens of thousands of men to find an artifact which only exists in legends, and slaughters innocents with no reason to do so!'

'You are honestly still this naïve? They are Arcanians. They aren't people, they're monsters.'

'You don't know that. All you've done is follow old hatreds and never thought about the truth.'

'The truth is plainly obvious. And I hope you will see it one day.' After this last line, I see a massive man walk out of the tent's entrance. His hair was grey and he was going bald in patches, but he seemed filled with great vigour and strength. He wandered in the direction of where his troops were celebrating, and seemingly jumped in to join them. Whoever the woman was, she seemed to be greatly upset with the events of the last couple of days. I decided to take my chances, and I sneaked my way through the front entrance of the tent. She was beautiful, you know. Lush black hair, icy blue eyes and a face as radiant as the rising sun. She was sitting on a large and elaborate bed, and didn't notice me until I made my presence extremely obvious. She also leapt through the roof to see a young and battered stranger in her tent.

'Who are you?' She immediately asked.

'Oh, I'm just a monster, nothing notable.' I replied. She immediately noticed my accent, and her eyes widened.

'Arcanian.' She looked upon me with pity more than fear or hatred.

'The slaves at home are all Arcanian. My father thinks that I spend too much time listening to them. But, why are you here? My father will return soon!'

'No he won't. He went off to enjoy some drinks with his soldiers.'

'Oh... Then he won't be back soon. But, you haven't answered my question...'

'I came here to discover why there are so many Harkonian troops here. What could be so important along the border to warrant this many soldiers?' She seemed to bite her tongue at this point, unsure of my intentions.

'Well, I know that Arcana is Harkon's sworn enemy... But quite frankly, this has to be stopped. My father is extremely egotistical. He seeks to find an ancient artifact mentioned in the old legends of Harkon called the Stromfor...' That is when I noticed something which suddenly made this conversation make a lot more sense to me. Arcanians know when there is magic at work, and the girl was clearly enchanted. Those Arcanian slaves she mentioned had been manipulating her thoughts with magic. Though I loathe the use of witchcraft for the manipulation of people, I was not going to throw away this opportunity.

'... Stromfor? Could you explain further?'

'Stromfor was a shining jewel of immeasurable wealth. Whoever owned it could own anything he dreamed of.'

'The Stromfor I know is a city, not an artifact. I suppose you could liken it to a jewel, but it's definitely not a jewel in the literal sense...'

'... The legend actually makes a lot more sense now. However, nothing is going to persuade my father to abandon his search for the jewel which doesn't exist. His ego is far too great.'

'I take it you don't exactly have the best relationship...'

'No, to say the least. I know that Arcanians aren't monsters, but my father seems intent on slaughtering them with no even a single shred of guilt. Have you seen any of the villages around here?' After I nodded, her expression became grim.

'Everyone killed, no prisoners taken. Women, children, old, sick, anyone and everyone.' Recalling that information wasn't easy for me, since it reminded me so much of the traumatic events of my childhood.

'That is why I have told you his plans. Please, stop this madness. I want to go home.'

'I will be leaving now. I must inform the military of what happened here, and why it happened. Thank you.' Not wishing to rely on the commander's drinking habits, I quickly disappeared into the misty night. I managed to gather a bag of supplies by sneaking off with the various foods and drinks the soldiers were enjoying after their victory. Delay was not something I could afford, since such a large army was bound to get impatient if it waits for too long. There was plenty of plunder to be had yet, and their appetite for loot was far from sated. My biggest problem was that I lacked any sort of an idea of where I had to go in order to get back home. Arcana is a gigantic country, and I was all the way on the other side of it. So, I just had to take...

Much to Jacques' surprise, Isaac interrupts.

'I am sorry, Jacques. But something has been bothering me, and I wish to discuss it with you.' Preferring to work with Isaac rather than antagonize him, Jacques agrees.

'Go on, Isaac.'

'Brahm told me our destination is the Greatspire Castle, and that we were going to meet his brother, the king. What exactly do you plan to do when you get there?'

'Aren't we concerned about my past, not my future at the moment? And why is my business with the king of such great interest to you?' Realising that his idle questioning has gotten him into dangerous territory, Isaac tries to think of an excuse for his curiosity.

'I'm a scholar, Jacques. I'm assigned to your life story, and I have to record every detail, right?'

'While true, you shouldn't be jumping ahead. I'll tell you about why I want to meet Malaach, king of Harkon, when it is relevant to my chronicle. I think we've done enough for today.' Seeing that Jacques isn't going to be persuaded otherwise, Isaac meekly nods his head and backs his writing tools away.

'We are back on the road tomorrow. You had best be ready to travel by then.'
Chapter 4 – Bitter Snow

REFRESHED AFTER A DEEP SLEEP, Jacques slowly raises from his rough straw bed. Despite his older age, he healed quickly and effectively due to his magic. Nearly all of his injuries from his skirmish with the wild people are gone. He knows that he cannot afford to be injured while travelling along the Giant's Spine. It is one of the most dangerous locations for travellers in all of Harkon. Regardless of its various hazards, it is still a heavily used trade route, because travelling along the base of the mountain chain takes much, much longer than using the treacherous roads that cut through them. Jacques is unsure how Isaac, living the soft life he has, will handle the howling cold and destructive whims of the mountains. Still though, he knows that he cannot afford for Isaac to die now, since they had worked so hard on his chronicle. The idea of his life being laid bare in the form of paper did not appeal to Jacques at first, but the idea grew on him as he recalled his life. He is not sure about what value it has, or why it is even worth doing, but none the less, the idea highly appeals to him. His plan hasn't changed despite this, and he holds high hopes for what his plan might be able to do for the future of both Arcanians and Harkonians.

While distributing thick overcoats of fur to his troops, Brahm takes a moment to look up at the frosty peaks of the Giant's Spine. After the few times he had travelled through those mountains, Brahm had always thought to himself that they seem more like vicious teeth than the bony nodes of a spine. Teeth also made more sense, since they so hungrily claimed the lives of many travellers who had risked everything to get through them. A safer trading route had been impossible to find, since the Giant's Spine spanned from one end of the kingdom to another. The only other options available to merchants are to travel through Arcana or along the coastline, both of which weren't that much safer. It was obvious why that was the case with Arcana, but the coastline's main problem comes from pirates from overseas nations. These pirates had essentially taken up permanent residence along the coasts of Harkon, and their ships were way too fast to be caught by the heavy and slow galleons of the Harkon navy. So, the Giant's Spine was the lesser of three evils for merchants and travellers, though it wasn't that much of a lesser evil. Deciding to get back to the task at hand, Brahm reserves two overcoats for Isaac and Jacques. Sure enough, the pair come walking up to the caravan.

'Good to see you've joined us. Now Jacques, we need to talk. Isaac, would you excuse us?' Nodding politely, Isaac leaves the pair to their own private matters.

'Jacques, I've been thinking... We were helpless before those sorcerers before. My men were immobilised by fear. I think, as much as the idea sends chills down my spine, we might have to learn magic, so we may keep ourselves safe.'

'And you want me to teach you, correct?'

'Well, I don't see anyone else who knows about magic in this caravan. We will worry about it when we get to my brother's castle, however. I know you are cunning, Jacques, but I doubt you've seen anything like these mountains before.'

'Then I will rise to the challenge, as I usually do.'

'It is nice to see you haven't lost your usual bravado. I am telling you now though, these mountains are just as likely to break you as any of us. Also, I think you're starting to rub off on Isaac. He's not quite as timid as the boy we took from that village.'

'I am noticing it myself. He seems more confident. I do not know why.'

'Well, just be careful. Despite his skill with a pen, he's still young. Don't let him do anything foolish. Anyway, you and Isaac should get some warmer clothing. We're heading off in a few minutes.' Having further business among his troops, Brahm heads off. Isaac wanders back, carrying his backpack filled with his recorded notes and writing utensils. He already has obtained a thick, furry overcoat.

'Well Jacques, ready for some trailblazing?'

'Shouldn't I be asking you that? We have to remember who is the seasoned adventurer here...' Isaac lets out some hearty laughter.

'Where I lack in experience, I shall make up for in courage. That's what you did in your adventures, right?'

'Yeah, but you don't strike me as an adventurer yourself. Leave the dangerous work to Brahm's soldiers. We are leaving the carriage and its horses in the care of some trusted stable keepers here, so be prepared for some walking.' After a quick nod, Isaac keeps marching forward. Knowing Brahm as a man of sound observations, Jacques is not surprised to see he is right about Isaac's change in personality. The major difference between Jacques and Isaac is that Jacques had magic to tip the scales in his favour. Isaac may not be so lucky if his new found confidence leads him into danger.

As expected by Brahm, their start in the Giant's Spine Mountains was met with poor fortune. Several troops had already been killed by falling stones and slipping on the icy ledges of the mountain trail. Harkonians, forever superstitious, believe the mountains to be cursed. The sudden deaths of their comrades unnerved the remaining soldiers, despite Brahm's best attempts to calm them down. Brahm's carriage is now empty, since it was far more dangerous being inside it along the slippery terrain. While normally stoic, Jacques finds the cold conditions almost crippling. He wrapped himself in multiple layers of clothing but still felt the bitter cold. On the other hand, Brahm seems largely unaffected by the frosty conditions.

'How amusing. The Arcanian who can slay wild mages can't handle a little cold!' Each jest is followed by hearty laughter from him and his troops, but Jacques is far from a laughing mood. Still though, at the expense of Jacques' pride, Brahm found a way to help calm his soldiers. Through chattering teeth, Jacques curses his tormentors though his words are lost to the howling winds. This only causes Brahm to become even more amused. Meanwhile, Isaac is finding the climb difficult. He stumbles constantly in the snow, and the weight of his backpack slows him down considerably. Noticing Isaac's struggle, Brahm quickly urges some of his guards to keep an eye on the exhausted scholar. He also tries his best to keep his troops inspired.

'Come on, men! You can make it! We've only got to climb for a tiny bit longer until we reach a safe plateau!' This news brought his men renewed stamina, and they continue marching steadily along.

'Why is it the wind only howls when I wish to curse Brahm, and not when he encourages his troops?' A frustrated Jacques mutters to himself. Jacques is not used to being at anything less than his best and the cold severely restricts his movements, regardless of the use of magic. Brahm and his soldiers had travelled through the Giant's Spine before, and seem to be much better tempered against the cold. Brahm takes a moment to slip back to Jacques to talk.

'I'm sorry for the jests, but my men need something to lighten the mood around these mountains. It always seems adventurers have new hazards to face regardless of where their travels take them, doesn't it?'

'Yes, there is always something new to see. However, that does not necessarily make it enjoyable.'

'You must remember that you can't always be prepared Jacques, as much as that vexes you.' Deciding it would be best to leave Jacques alone, Brahm returns to the front of the caravan. With a sense of collective relief, the first haven appears before them in the form of a gigantic cave.

'Finally. We can stay here for a while and rest. We will move out tomorrow.'

Upon entering the cave, Jacques spends a good hour scrapping the ice from his thick clothing, muttering to himself the whole time. Isaac quietly approaches him with his writing tools, as though he is approaching a moody and savage animal.

'You seem to be agitated. Still though, would you like to continue with our work?'

'Not now, Isaac. We can do that when we're somewhere warmer, not these forsaken mountains.'

'Haven't you ever been somewhere this cold in your adventures?'

'Yes, I have. It's just that I hate the cold. It reminds me of that night I spent running in the Arcanian wilderness as a child. You may not think much of it since I recall it with such ease, but having reminders like this weighs on my mind.' Taking a moment to pause, Jacques lets out a long and weary sigh, looking on into the darkness of the caverns' expansive tunnels.

'Caves like this also make me nervous. You never know what's made a home out of these damned places. The systems can be far larger than you can suspect from a glace too. There's nothing trustworthy about a cave.' Turning away from the tunnels, Jacques stares directly at Isaac.

'I've been wondering, how is it that you've never heard of Arcana before? You live on the borderlands, of all places. Surely you've been raided before?'

'Nope. My town hasn't been raided since my birth. My father was always too drunk to teach me anything other than how to work the inn, and like we've discussed before, any records of Arcana have been long destroyed in Harkon.'

'He seemed aware of Arcana though. Surely in his less sober moments, he would've mentioned something about it?'

'I didn't stay around to listen to him when he was that drunk. He tended to become violent.'

'Oh. Well, I guess we should leave that subject then. Anyway, I have often wondered to myself why Harkon and Arcana hate each other. Was it some sort of ancient dispute between neighbours, or difference in ideals?'

'Your guess is as good as mine.' Isaac states with a shrug.

'It's largely irrelevant now, however. Both nations have larger issues at hand, such as fighting each other.' Bored of his surroundings, Jacques stands up to his full height, stretching out his wiry frame.

'Oh, damn it Isaac... I suppose we can continue our chronicle. I would like a distraction from my paranoia.'

It took me weeks to find my way back home and to deliver the news of what had happened at the Battle of Swampbush. Similar stories were circulating from other locations along the borderlands. As I guessed would happen, the Harkonian forces had grown restless and desired plunder. No other Harkonians had ever gone as deep as they did into Arcanian lands, they had even attempted to siege some of the more wealthy cities. An organised army of Arcanians had been arranged to eliminate the Harkonian force. I do not know what became of their leader and his daughter. I can only presume both were killed. Meanwhile, Nadine had been searching for me all over the lands surrounding the Military Academy. I was officially labeled as a missing person by the academy, presumed dead or worse. As much as I loved Nadine, I thought it was time to go out into the world on my own and begin to take in the sights and sounds for myself. For all of her good qualities, she was far too protective. I desired to wander and to see what mysteries Arcana had waiting to be discovered. If I really lost my way, I could return home. Nadine eventually got married and had children of her own. I think it was best this way, for I believe I was too broken a person to bear the mantle of her merchant empire.

I suppose I should tell you why I do not like caves. It was early in my travels that my hatred for these cliff holes was formed. Though it felt undignified, I managed to survive by scavenging food from the undergrowth and stealing supplies when I had to. In the Arcanian wilderness, safe havens were few. The beasts of the land constantly stalked through the trees and undergrowth, and I always had to be on edge to be able to react to their attacks in time. On one cold night, I happened upon a large cave. I presumed it to be a better option than whatever was waiting for me in the woods, so I set up camp in a small crevice in the wall, tucked away from the main entrance and any peering eyes in the darkness. Before I had lit a small fire to keep the cold at bay, I heard voices. Steps echoed across the stone floor, and I was glad I hadn't lit a fire. Figures clad in sickly green clothing were forming a slow procession through the entrance of the cave, holding burning torches. I shrunk and tried to hide myself as best as I could in my small crevice, watching as they silently passed me. One or two them looked around, though their faces were obscured by their shadowy hoods. My guess at the time was that they were cultists of some sort. What was even more ominous was the sound of chattering metal echoing through the tunnels. Though every fibre of my being told me to stay away, curiosity got the better of me. Their procession was long and many had passed by my crevice before it was safe to leave. Before I knew it, I began creeping behind them, similar to the stalking beasts of the Arcanian wilderness. Their slow pace and their torches allowed me to follow them with ease. Lacking any sort of significant marker to note which way to return, I resorted to using a handful of berries that I had collected earlier. I marked the way out of the cave by squashing the berries along the cavern's wall. Seeing the smeared mess in the dim light reassured me slightly, though I could feel from the bottom of my toes that I was in a terrible place. The clanging of metal became louder and louder, almost until the point where it was deafening. Something sinister was at work, I knew that much. It seemed I lacked the will to do anything but continue smashing berries on the wall and continue stalking the cultists' procession.

I walked for hours, and had long run out of berries by the time I came upon the final location of the procession. Torchlight revealed countless empty cages hung from the ceiling. Despite being so deep underground, a chilling wind was whistling through the rusted iron bars of the cages, escaping through the countless tunnels which led to the chamber. Numerous skeletons were strung up everywhere. Age had caused them to take on a ghastly yellow colour, and the stench... It almost made me retch. I am only guessing, but there must've been hundreds of years of decay in there. Though I did not know it at the time, but I had stumbled upon one of the most dreaded locations in all of Arcana. It was the sight of worship to the ancient gods of Arcana. People offered themselves as sacrifices beneath the altars of these gods, only to find that their violent deaths bound them to this world. The existence of these gods had been disproven long ago, due to our advancements with magic and our understanding of mystical forces. However, all of that death and misery had left residues of power in these dark places, and there were some Arcanians crazy enough to try to tap into these places of death. There are several such places in Arcana, one of which we passed on the road. Though there is great power to tap into, these sites are shunned by all but the most insane. To even approach such places was to openly invite death upon yourself. So, as I was watching, the cultists performed an elaborate rite in front of a great obsidian pillars. It glowed with a dark energy as they chanted dully. Bones rattled against each other all over the room, and began jumping like sparks from a fire. To describe the sound as ghastly was a understatement. Covering my ears, I hoped and waited for the end of the rattling. The end soon came, and was replaced by something even worse.

'We hear. What do you wish to hear of us?' I froze dead in my tracks. There was no way of telling where the voice had come from, it was as though it was coming from the whole chamber at once.

'We come to discern your will. We have completed your dictated task. Tell us what we must do now.' A powerful and tall figure amongst the cultists spoke. Given what little information I had, I presumed him to be the leader. I was not sure who, or what, he was speaking to. Even now, despite my extensive research on these subjects after joining Brahm, my only theory is that it was some sort of entity born of the sacrificed peoples' suffering and sorrow.

'Souls still cry for vengeance. You must continue on your path.' This seemed to infuriate the leader of the cultists.

'We have assassinated three targets at your bidding. Please, tell us where we might strike next.'

'He is a proud soldier and leader. Feel our winds, they will guide you where you need to go.'

After growing stronger for a few moments, the howling winds ceased, and an eerie silence fell across the chamber. The cultists begin shuffling off, and their leader seemed content at the result of their meeting. Waiting for them to be a decent distance away from me, the winds suddenly started again before I could follow them. None of the cultists seemed to notice and kept walking away, taking the precious light of their torches with them. Every part of my body felt like it was weighted down, and I couldn't even move any of my limbs. Helplessly, I watched as their lights disappeared completely, and I was left alone in the darkness. Through the howling winds, I heard that raspy voice again.

'You are not of their kind. Your presence is repulsive. Explain, or our song will echo through your ears until you find the edge of madness.' Lacking any other option, I spoke out.

'I am Jacques. Former trader and soldier. I came to this cave seeking shelter, and followed them out of curiosity.'

'Jacques. We find this word displeasing to our tongue. Do you understand where you stand now?' Trying not to let my fear show, I shook my head. Whatever entity had taken me hostage seemed to understand.

'You stand where the dead were offered to false gods, and where we gained our first steps into this cruel and ignorant world. We are the cold justice of death. We will vindicate what has been wrought.'

'If you are justice, then why do you negotiate with men so willing to harm others?' I called out into the darkness. Some of the bones rattled in the darkness, as though the entity was thinking.

'Justice and vindication must be enacted through whatever means we can obtain. We cannot leave this site, as their cries for vengeance sustains us. These impure men will find nothing but death at the end of their pact.'

'What exactly are you?' Again, the bones rattle, and a hoarse reply comes from the chamber.

'We are nothing but the promise of the void, where all shall reside eventually. Though our black canvas is boundless, some shades are darker than others. These shades must be brought into balance, and we are the painter which brings this balance.' Pausing, it seemed to notice how frustrated I was, lacking any real answers for my questions.

'You will understand our riddles one day, when you join us, Jacques the soldier and trader. We are the final justice of the grave, and it is through us that salvation and damnation are offered. Vengeance resides in these caverns. You will act as our servant now, as those ignorant wanderers before you have done.'

'So, you would suggest that I enter a deal which will be the end of me? I think I will decline.'

'Then you will be consumed by our void.' Darkness crushed me from every direction. I could feel it attempting to extinguish my life, pressing down and almost shattering my bones. It mocked me with more of its cryptic speech.

'Balance will be brought to the shadows of this land. Each individual has a price to pay, and we will extract it. Even you have a debt that must be repaid, Jacques.' Just as I thought death was going to finally take me, the shadows suddenly reeled from me, as though it were frightened.

'You.... Are gifted. Do not think this is enough to save you from us.' It attempted again and again to crush me, but something was warding it away. Over the years evil had formed and stirred, it that chamber had actually taken on a physical form, which devoured the light around it. With that vile darkness pushed back, my eyes could partially make out shapes in the dank caverns. Wasting no time, I immediately sprinted for one of the many tunnels that lead into the chamber. Like an airborne viper, the black vapours snaked behind me, seeking to devour me. It whispered again and again as I ran as fast as my legs would carry me.

'The futility of fleeing will lead you to death eventually. There is nowhere that is hidden from us. We will seek you out through whatever means we can, and we will bring you everlasting night.' Each whisper was almost like a threatening hiss. Fear alone fuelled me, and I had no idea where I was going. Each twist and turn through the tunnels seemed just like the previous ones. What hope I had was soon fading, and my exhaustion caught up to me quickly. Whatever it was, it was catching up to me. Roaring in triumph, it poised itself to envelope me. But, as all seemed lost, blinding light began shining through the tunnel. Reeling from the brightness, the darkness retreated back into the tunnels. It spat out one last threat before disappearing in the shining rays.

'You have not escaped. We are eternal. We will balance the canvas.' The sun had risen, and it seemed that I had run into a tunnel composed of a most curious stone. This stone acted like a mirror, magnifying and reflecting the light. My entire ordeal seems like something you'd read out of one of the old legends. A great darkness comes and tries to destroy hope in its wake, and the sun comes and banishes it. Crawling through the increasing narrow tunnel, I eventually tumble out of a narrow opening on the other side of the cliff. Though it had not seemed like it the entire night, luck was with me. Not only had I escaped a grisly death, I had come out nearly on top of a road away from that place. For some time, I waited, resting and trying to understand what I had seen inside that place. Whoever the cultists were, they seemed to act out for the shadows in that chamber, reaching where it cannot. They intended to assassinate someone, but I had no idea who. Many questions swam through my mind, but no answers came, all I could do was make guesses. When I was finally ready to get moving again, I made for the closest tavern. People were surprised when I asked about the death chamber in the mountains. One particular fellow who had researched the ancient history of the surrounding area gave me a lot of insight.

'That is where people in the olden days used to gather. It's unknown whether or not it was before or after the forming of the two kingdoms. Many were offered in sacrifice, and I can only presume that their spirits found nothing like what they were expecting. Volunteering as a sacrifice supposedly granted you immediate passage to the most holy place for the dead.' He looked at me for a moment, noticing how I was battered and bruised.

'You didn't go in there, did you? That place is not ideal for exploring. It's not wise to fool with the dead. I've also heard rumours about worshippers returning to that place. I doubt they would be happy to have uninvited guests.' Not desiring to speak about the evil I had found at the heart of that cave, I decided to be vague.

'Let's just say I've had a rough night.' Seeing that I had no desire to speak about my misadventure, he returned to his drink.

'Then may your rough night be a memory only for you to recall, my friend.' As soon as I had learned what I could about the history of that region, I immediately got back on the road. It had made clear that its reach was short, but I didn't want to risk it being able to find me again. A caravan was travelling by, though it took a lot of persuasion and a little bit of my coin, the leader of the caravan agreed to allow me to join it for a while. Time was of the essence for me, and I had to get away from that accursed place as quickly as possible. When the caravan stopped at the next town, I kept going on foot. I did not even sleep in that time, I ran and moved and kept putting distance between myself and that entity until I could run no further. I stayed for a night at an inn, and thankfully it did not come for me. Sleeping was a terrible ordeal, as I was plagued with nightmares of consuming shadows and unspeakable evil. When I woke up, I immediately made for the bar in order to try and drown any thought of that thing in alcohol. While I was soaking myself, I heard some terrible news from a traveller at the bar. A highly esteemed and beloved nobleman had been assassinated in Stromfor. He was highly decorated due to his many victories against the Harkonians across multiple skirmishes in the borderlands. Some said he had even slain a hundred of them by his own hand in honourable combat. Certain rumours suggested that a crazed cult was responsible for the killing. Despite attempting to forget about what I had witnessed, the thought occurred to me that there might be a connection between those cultists I had seen and the dead nobleman.

'It sends shudders down my spine merely to recall that... thing. There was something far more sinister at work than it allowed me to glimpse. If it was some form of twisted justice, or if it was merely a powerful and angry spirit, I am uncertain. I have been taught since the day of my birth not to fear the supernatural, but that thing... That damned thing... It was something that even I could not bear to even think about. I know how crippling Harkon's fear of the supernatural is, and I think they're wholly entitled to be afraid of it. Terrible things have come of it, and I would like nothing more than some earthly beast to be afraid of instead of that billowing cloud of shadows.' Isaac's nerves give way at this point. Harkonian superstition is infectious, and Isaac could feel the fear that Jacques had felt during that dark and sinister night inside those caves.

'I do not feel like talking any further. I hope that my words did not carry too far in these caverns. The last thing we need is for those men of Harkon to be even more fearful than they already are.' Brushing off the last of the icicles on his coat, Jacques wanders off to the mouth of the cave. Much to his surprise, most of the men look deathly pale. Even Brahm seems to be affected.

'Did something happen? Why do you all look so sickly?' Brahm chimes in to speak for his men, as he usually does.

'No no, nothing's wrong Jacques! We're just fine. We were just thinking about heading off now. We've spent more than enough time resting.' Noticing Brahm's strange behaviour, Jacques quickly heads back inside the cave.

'Isaac, could I ask a favour? Could you talk to yourself for a minute or two?' Surprised at Jacques' request, Isaac thinks about it for a moment.

'Okay. Why not?' Jacques sprints his way to the front of the cave, and listens carefully.

'... And that's just one of the many places I found my father in the mornings. I had to do so much cleaning while he just lazed around...'

He can hear Isaac's voice clearly at the front of the cave. This confirms what he had presumed. Brahm and his men had heard every detail of Jacques' adventure through that stygian cave, and Harkonian superstition always dictates their reasoning and decisions. Still though, it encouraged them to get out of here as quickly as possible, and that suits Jacques just fine. Hopefully this stops them from taking refuge in any cave at all into the future. Jacques, like he had wondered many times before, ponders how such a superstitious people had managed to fight Arcana to a standstill for so long.
Chapter 5 – A rough fall

AS THEY PROCEED HIGHER AND HIGHER into the mountains, everyone is starting to feel the bitter cold biting hungrily into them, despite their thick and warm clothing. Since everyone heard of Jacques' tale, they're all filled with a sense of dread. Trying to work up the nerve to speak with him, Brahm grits his teeth and marches through the thick snow. Whispering, Brahm tries to discuss what he had heard with Jacques.

'Was all of that true, Jacques?'

'I'm afraid it was. There is an ancient evil festering inside Arcana, hiding away from the light.' Brahm had heard of legends about ancient evils, mostly in the forms of mythical beasts like dragons, where some great hero came to vanquish it and bring about peace. But, the world is lacking in heroes right now, since the constant war of Harkon and Arcana has claimed so many lives.

'What do you mean by "is"? Surely someone has dealt with it by now.' Dreading the answer, Brahm attempts to steel himself against the truth.

'No, Brahm. It very much lives. It haunts my dreams. Please, I do not wish to discuss it.' Noticing how grim Jacques' face has turned, Brahm decides not to push him any further.

'It really must be something else if it unnerved you, of all people.' Brahm is right, of course. That swirling blackness that attempted to consume him is very old, and very powerful. Jacques immediately takes the opportunity to change the subject.

'Where's our next stop in this accursed place? I can feel these winds slice through me like a scythe.' Jacques isn't handling the cold well, shivering constantly and his face turning blue.

'We will be stopping at Frostvale Refuge. I'm glad there are at least a few safe places in these mountains.' Brahm sighs with relief, keen to rest from the constant cold.

'I don't want a safe place, I want a warm place. Even the thought of being in the heart of a volcano appeals to me right now.'

Their long and silent drudge continues through the frozen mountain trails, the constant cold taking its toll on the travellers. Jacques is barely able to walk now, every joint in his body is freezing and stiff. He is tempted to use his mastery over magic in order to warm himself, though he knew all of them would be terrified if he revealed he is a mage. So, he grits his teeth and continues the climb through the cold mountains. Even Isaac seems to be handling it better than him, managing to keep up with the group despite the extra weight he carries with his writing tools and scrolls. Jacques begins to think about why he agreed to have his story recorded. Perhaps it was boredom, a nice distraction from the senseless violence thrown at him by Harkonians and the inevitability of his greatest challenge. He would have to return to that chamber one day, and find a way to destroy the blackness inside it. Though well versed in the Arcane arts, he doubts that he is strong enough to be able to confront the entity as he is. He would have to do it sooner or later, however, since he is gradually aging and becoming weaker, bit by bit. The entity itself would only be growing more powerful, as the war rages between their two nations and continue to claim innocent lives. Returning to reality, Jacques sees that they're now on a plateau, the ground thick with snow and ice. A few scraggly and frozen shrubs stick out of the frigid snow. Without warning, an arrow flies by Jacques' head, imbedding itself into the ground harmlessly. More arrows fly through the air, striking a few of Brahm's men. Scanning the area, Brahm immediately sees their attackers.

'Bandits! Should've known those scum would use these mountains to their advantage! Hold fast, men! Get the wounded somewhere safe!' Turning to Jacques, Brahm decides he wishes to prove himself, instead of relying on the adventurer.

'It's our turn now, Jacques. We can't deal with sorcery, but we definitely know our way around battle.' As if to illustrate his point, his soldiers pull out crossbows and return fire. Several of the bandits fall dead immediately, with the remaining ones getting under cover. They had gathered branches and snow to built small barricades with them, hiding beneath them in order to disappear from sight. Not amused by their trickery, Brahm extends his hands out from his sides.

'Sword! Shield!' He commands to his troops. They quickly hand him just as he requested, a finely polished shield bearing the Harkonian Councilman's crest, and a blade seemingly made of obsidian. Charging forward, Brahm uses his shield to deflect any projectiles the bandits throw at him. Isaac looks at him, wondering if he's insane for charging headlong at his enemies in such a manner. However, nothing gets past Brahm's shield, and he engages in melee combat with them. They were well equipped for a ranged fight, but not for one up close. Brahm slashes through them with his shield and sword, felling them as though they were saplings beneath a woodcutter's axe. Despite their superior numbers, Brahm handily wins and makes sure none of them live. He raises his shield above him and lets out a cheer of triumph, his men joining him. However, none of them notice the remaining bandits hiding in the crevices behind them. Some of them sneak up behind Jacques and Isaac, immediately grabbing them from behind. Jacques fares well, throwing off the wretched brigand with ease, but Isaac is not so lucky. Raising him above his head, the bandit begins shouting demands.

'Stop! Or he gets to pay a visit to the crevice below!' Not willing to negotiate with such scum, Jacques immediately charges him, sword drawn. True to his word, the bandit throws Isaac down the edge of the plateau right before Jacques stabs him through the heart. Acting as quickly as possible, Jacques desperately grabs for Isaac's hand. Having nothing to grab but snow, Jacques begins to fall as well, only saving both of them from the deep and seemingly bottomless crevice by burying his sword in the ice along the cliff face. Moving as fast as he can, Brahm slays the remaining bandits, and peers over the cliff face.

'Isaac! Jacques! Are you both okay?!'

'It depends on what you mean by "okay"!' A panicking Jacques shouts in reply.

'My sword isn't going to hold our weight for much longer!' As though he is jinxing himself, the sword begins to groan, slowly splitting the ice it is buried it.

'Hold on! We'll get you out of there!'

'Not this time, Brahm. Keep going! We'll meet you at Frostvale Refuge, if we make it.' Unable to hold them any longer, the ice breaks and the pair tumble down the cliff face.

Waking up sometime later, Jacques rises slowly. Daylight is gone, and the conditions are increasingly frigid. A small mound of snow had built up around him while he lied there. Another mound shaped like a person is close by, and Jacques finds Isaac buried in much the same manner he was. Their fall hadn't injured them greatly, but the cold is going to be enough to finish them off if they didn't find shelter. Picking up the unconscious Isaac and carrying him on his shoulders, Jacques attempts to search for anything which could protect them from the bitter gales and snow. It seemed the bandit was correct. They had fallen into a deep crevice. A bright and full moon shines in the sky, casting a ghostly light which contrasts against the deep shadows of the crevice. Jacques wastes no time in finding a place to rest Isaac, and attempts to find anything he can use to start a fire. Observing his surroundings, he notices ruins of old structures inside the crevice. He remembers Brahm telling him of the old days, when kingdoms before Arcana and Harkon rose and fell across the lands, along with many different cultures and people who inhabited the land. These ruins would suggest a mountain dwelling people, whose demise came long ago. To his luck, there were remnants and fragments of ancient and rotting wood scattered in the ruins. Gathering what he can, he pulls out a small piece of flint along with a tiny steel ingot. Soon, he creates a small fire, just enough to keep the cold away and recuperate from the pitfall down the cliff. With the life giving heat stirring him from his slumber, Isaac begins to stir. He lets out a small groan of pain.

'Ugh... Jacques? Are you there?' He croaks out into the shadows.

'Nice of you to join me, Isaac.'

'We aren't dead?'

'Not yet, anyway. We're currently at the bottom of a crevice, and I have no idea how we will find our way out of here.' Taking the time to look around, Isaac also notices the ruins.

'What are these ruins?'

'I am not sure. I'm not familiar with the lore of this region, apart from the small bits and pieces Brahm has told me. Obviously the old stomping ground of a mountain dwelling tribe or village of some sort.'

'Do you think there are spirits here?'

'No, I don't sense any sort of supernatural disturbance here. I'm guessing that the people who lived here just left. I can see why, this place is desolate at best.'

'So, do you think they might have made a way out of here? Maybe a door or a secret exit or something?'

'Well, I don't see a better option right now. We don't have any tools to climb that cliff face. I also lost my sword on the way down here. We should search the ruins to see if we can find anything we can use. Tools, weapons, anything.' With the fire reduced to nothing but a few hot coals, they begin scouring the ruins. Their search is largely fruitless, with Isaac only finding a stone knife. Its handle had worn away with age, and holding the sharp stone with their bare hands didn't appeal to either of them.

'Whoever was here, they certainly didn't leave much behind. I have another idea.'

'Which is?'

'In certain ancient cultures, it was customary to bury their dead with items they held dear in life. I am sure these people had warriors of some sort among them.'

'So now we're grave robbers? I'm okay with taking small items from their houses, but not from stealing from corpses.'

'Would you rather occupy a grave than steal from one?' A fair point, but Isaac shakes his head anyway.

'Very well then. I'll rob the graves, you don't have to do anything. No moral burden. Let's just hope there's a blade which hasn't been eaten by time.' Searching around for anything which might mark a grave, Jacques sees a large square field of cleared land on the other side of the mountain village. Slight amounts of debris is scattered across the square, but he also sees piles of small and round stones. Trying his luck, he begins digging up the stones. To his luck, small items of various sorts are buried within the piles. They're most useless items, such as brooches and combs, tiny remnants and tokens of the people who were buried there. Knowing that Isaac wouldn't help, Jacques patiently continues exploring the stones, until his patience yields something. Digging through a larger mound, he finds an ancient bronze blade, which has resisted the crawling rust which had claimed many of the other relics he had found. Though bronze is fairly weak, it is better than nothing in this abandoned village. Satisfied, Jacques calls out across the dead village.

'Isaac! We've got a weapon. Let's begin our search for an exit.' After a moment or two, Isaac calls back.

'We're going to need a source of light if we're going to traverse these caverns.' Not trusting ancient and rotten wood to hold a flame, Jacques begins debating with himself. He is deeply tempted to use his magic to create light. Isaac also seems more apathetic to the supernatural than the rest of the Harkonians he has met in his time. So, with a flick of his fingers, a bright spark forms on the tip of his finger. It floats away into the stagnant air above him, casting light in every visible direction. Taken aback by the sudden spark, Isaac immediately stares at Jacques. Before the words can form on his lips, Jacques answers him ahead of time.

'Yes, I can use magic. No, I don't want Brahm to know. A few of those soldiers in his unit are highly suspicious of me, and knowing I was a mage would give them an excuse to slit my throat in my sleep. He always shares any information he gets with his soldiers. So, don't breathe a word of this to anyone else.'

'Okay. Since you're a mage, maybe you could tell me more about magic?' Frustrated, Jacques snaps at him.

'Now is not the time, Isaac. We are stuck in a god forsaken canyon and the only thought on my mind is getting out of this long dead village and away from this darkness.' Rarely did Jacques lose his focus. He does not want to admit it to Isaac, but he's panicking. This entire situation had landed him in a place which he desperately didn't want to be and the only possible way out is through deep and dark tunnels that snake their way through the mountains. The shadows are all too familiar to him. His outburst is enough to make Isaac immediately go silent.

'I take it we're in agreement, then. Let's get going.'

The deep and winding caverns send shivers down Jacques' spine, reminding him of the dark chamber which he had stumbled upon so long ago. Fortunately, these tunnels weren't like the rough and largely un-carven tunnels of that dreaded mountain. These walls and tunnels are smooth and well chiselled. Despite that, he and Isaac have no idea where they are going. All he has are his gut instincts. He can feel eyes watching him too. Isaac is largely unaware of his surroundings, often stumbling on stones that are lying around and losing his footing on loose pieces of the floor. This did not please Jacques, because every slip up sends long and echoing sounds through the chambers, which is more than enough to wake up anything which had taken residence inside these carved and smooth stone tunnels. Knowing that shouting at him to stop doing it wouldn't help either of them. Much to Jacques' dread, he begins hearing noises echoing in reply to their footsteps. Shrill and deep noises, like growling. Stopping dead in his tracks, Isaac begins whispering, his voice quivering.

'Is something following us?' As much as Jacques wanted to deny it, he knows that telling lies would only put both of them at risk.

'Yes. I have no idea what it might be. Maybe some sort of cave dwelling animal.'

'Do you think that it might be... Ghosts?' Sighing, Jacques attempts to persuade him out of that train of thought.

'No. There's no death or misery here. There's nothing for them to manifest with.'

'You know, you never told me where you met ghosts.'

'This isn't really an appropriate time for you to be bringing that up. Keep moving.' Though they quicken their pace through the tunnels, the noises come closer and closer. They make no attempt to try to be silent now, and are sprinting through the tunnels.

'We don't even know where we're going!' Isaac cries out in panic.

'We don't, but I have an idea! This is a maze, so stick to the right hand side.' Looking at him in sheer disbelief, Isaac nearly bursts an artery.

'You can't seriously be saying that!'

'Yes, there was a small carving outside of the entrance to this place. I guess these people enjoyed it as a game. I don't know, but what I do know is we shouldn't be wasting our breath like this!' Just then, a terrible obstacle comes their way. A dead end. Unable to go any way but back, Jacques turns around with his ancient blade, ready to fight whatever was following them. Eyes begin appearing in the darkness, luminous and green. Mangy wolf-life creatures begin crawling towards them. They are wretched in appearance, with patches of hideous black fur across their otherwise hairless bodies, and they seem more like rats than the proud animals which run across the Harkonian lands. Two extremely long fangs jut from their drooling mouths, dripping with saliva. Growling as they approach, each one is slavering at the mouth. There isn't much food in these underground tunnels, and the two weary adventurers seem like the perfect prey to them. One of them takes the first leap, aiming for Jacques' fragile neck. However, the pack learns that its prey is not without their own defences. Quickly thrusting the blade forward, Jacques splits the creature's skull wide open while it's still in the air, almost being knocked over by the impact of its weight. The sudden death of one of their own causes the rest of the creatures to back off slightly. However, their hunger drives them forward still. Step by step, Jacques begins slashing his way through the pack of the withered wolves, slaying five of them before the rest begin retreating. Knowing that they won't make it if he stays idle, Isaac quickly looks around for anything he can use as a weapon. Two sharp pieces of stone were on the ground, which Isaac quickly picks up. Wielding them as though they were daggers, Isaac steps from behind him.

'I hate having to be the one which needs protecting all of the time, you know.'

'Then you had better be prepared for some blood spilling. Those creatures are hungry, and we most likely look like a great feast to them.' Sure enough, the creatures return with greater numbers, even more aggressive than before. Seeing that the weaker looking figure of the two is not hiding anymore, one of the smaller wolves charges at him. Choosing to let Isaac fight his own battle, Jacques continues watching the rest of the pack. Though not used to violence, Isaac is desperate. Just as the creature goes in for a bite, Isaac brings down his teeth daggers, stabbing it in its back. Howling in pain, it struggles pitifully before the shock kills it. Enraged further by the deaths of their pack, the rest of the wolves charge the two adventurers, snapping and slavering in anticipation. The narrow confines of the maze's walls are the only thing that Jacques and Isaac have as an advantage, and are barely able to keep up with the flowing tide of snapping jaws and withered muscle crashing against them. The bodies of the wolves begin piling up on each other, and bit by bit the tide begins stemming. As Jacques and Isaac begin growing more and more tired, their arms are barely able to deliver enough force to kill the remaining wolves. Soon, it becomes a desperate match of fear against hunger. With one last mighty blow, Jacques kills the last of the unseemly canines, slumping against the maze's wall. Still standing, Isaac drops his stone shards and then attempts to pull Jacques back up to his feet.

'We can't stay here, Jacques. We've got to find the exit.'

'I know, I know. I just need... a moment to rest.' Noticing how exhausted Jacques is, Isaac reluctant agrees. He too slumps against the wall.

'You know, there's no guarantee that this maze actually leads out of this place.'

'Let's just say I have a good feeling about this, Isaac. A good feeling tends to lead a mage to fortune.'

'Is that how you managed to emerge unscathed through these adventures we have written down? Just "good feelings"?'

'Well, there's something I feel I should tell you. It is a subject I have avoided discussing during our chronicling.' Taking a deep breath, Jacques shares the truth.

'Someone with great magical power can subconsciously affect things around them to their favour.'

'You mean... it sort of acts like a lucky charm?'

'Yes, kind of. I have often had incredible strokes of luck during my life. I mean, what are the odds of meeting the most powerful trader in Stromfor, and having her adopt you as her own son?'

'If this is true, then why did those raiders find your home?'

'Even with magic, luck can only give you so many favours. My magic also didn't grant my parents any luck, and their lives were just as entwined in that event as my own.'

'But, it always grants you favours at the right moment, does it not? Any other man would've been killed by these... things.'

'Hardly so. Brahm is superior to me in combat in almost every way. He could've slain all of them with little effort. Come to think of it, we're coming up to the point where I meet him in our chronicle.' Realising how off track they are getting, Isaac quickly reminds Jacques.

'Don't you think we're wasting time? You yourself wanted to get out of these dark caverns, right?'

'Well, I have caught my breath. I suppose we should get going.' Kicking several corpses out of his way, Jacques begins striding through the maze again, his light globe trailing behind him.

'Remember, stick to the right.'

Sure enough, the series of passage ways they entered was an ancient maze. However, it did not lead to an exit out of the mountains. Instead, it opens up to a great empty chasm with a slight opening above, allowing moonlight to pour in and banish the shadows. Frustrated with how much time they took to escape the maze, Isaac begins talking to himself.

'So, what exactly was the point of that maze?' He mutters bitterly.

'I'd imagine it was used as a defence against invaders. People who are familiar with it would be able to pass the maze without any trouble, but invaders would have great difficulty with it. It could also act as a means of narrowing the flow of enemy troops, like we did with the wolves. If that theory is correct, then I'm guessing the exit is not far.' Jacques' theory sounds solid to Isaac, and causes him to breathe a sigh of relief.

'I certainly hope so. I think I'm becoming afraid of dark caves too. Why do wretched things always seek the darkness?'

'That's simple. To hide from the sight of others. Nothing wretched enjoys being watched.' Choosing not to waste any more time, Jacques begins crossing the chasm. Squinting in the pale light, he attempts to scan the other side for any kind of opening in the stone. Sure enough, he can see the vague outline of a flight of stairs, carved directly into the stone with superb skill. Thinking it's too good to be true, Jacques mutters to himself.

'Now, it can't be this easy. It never is.'

'Why are you talking to yourself?' asks Isaac, worried that the caverns might be taking their toll on Jacques.

'Weren't you doing the same thing yourself a while ago?'

'True enough.' Despite normally being cautious, Jacques fails to notice the series of stone plates on the floor, and unwitting steps on one. Hearing the soft click of the stone shifting beneath him, he curses silently under his breath.

'Yep, it was too good to be true.' Stones begin quivering below him, and soon pillars begin rupturing from the ground, forming a thick granite wall.

'Move it Isaac! We haven't got long before we're sealed in here!' Realising what's happening, Isaac begins sprinting as fast as his legs will carry him towards the few remaining exits in the wall. They are quickly closing, and it is only by the narrowest margin that Isaac slips through the wall. Panting heavily, he looks at the now unbreakable wall which would've made these caverns their tomb.

'These people... They weren't just skilled with craftsmanship. These pillars are enchanted as an extra layer of defence. This sword is enchanted too. I only noticed since the magic it contains has gone dormant for some time.' Still panting, Isaac manages to give a breathless reply.

'There were people who used magic in Harkon at one time? And why would these people need so many defences?' Tapping the blade lightly, it lets off a harmonious vibe, quivering with the ancient enchantment which saved it from years of decay.

'It would seem that there were some people who did use magic. Perhaps when Harkon came to fear magic, these people were persecuted. So, they built these defences. As we established, however, they must've left this place behind at some point. Perhaps fleeing in search of a home where they could continue living unhindered and free of Harkon's paranoia.'

He begins taking slow and cautious steps towards the stair case. Expecting another trap, he inches towards it bit by bit. To his relief, nothing triggers when taps the first step. Urging Isaac over, they begin climbing up into the shadowy stairs. Much to their disappointment, the stairway did not lead to the surface. Instead, it brought them into another network of caverns and tunnels. A single pinpoint of light glints in the distance, beckoning the pair towards it.

'The exit!' Isaac cries out in joy.

'I can only hope it is.' Mutters Jacques. His wisp flickering brightly, Jacques marches forward, his blade in front of him, ready to strike down any foul creature which might crawl forth from the darkness. Still holding his stone shards, despite the pain they are causing him, Isaac follows, just as ready to attack at the first sign of danger. Entering the light, their eyes take some time to adjust to the sudden brightness. When they can finally see, their breath is taken away. A great underground city stretched before them. Countless scurrying figures run back and forth between great spires of stone, along granite bridges dotted with tiny glowing orbs. Stepping forward with caution, Jacques hides his blade beneath his thick coat. A large bridge connects the stony outlook where they are standing to the network of towers. Looking over the edge, all he can see is unending and empty shadow.

'Well, these people would definitely know this place better than we would. We might as well try our luck.' In awe of what he is seeing, Isaac simply looks on.

'I know, I know, wondrous sight. Come on Isaac. We cannot afford to linger with those beasts behind us.' Urging Isaac forward, Jacques begins taking a few awkward steps on the bridge, unsure if it would hold his weight. As soon as his foot hits the cold stone, his step echoes throughout the entire hollow chamber. All of the figures stop moving, and seem to turn where Jacques is walking. Reaching into his robe, Jacques keeps one hand firmly on his scavenged sword. Suddenly, hundreds of feet can be heard running along the stone bridge. The strange looking figures appear in huge numbers, wielding various weapons. They are a stout and bronzed looking people, despite obviously dwelling in caves. Each of them comes up to the same height as Isaac, still being dwarfed by Jacques. They speak in a strange tongue, thrusting their weapons forward in a threatening manner. Knowing that there is no way that he and Isaac could possibly beat such a huge number of people, Jacques pulls out his sword and drops it in front of the crowd.

'Don't make any movement, Isaac.' Jacques urges him.

'They can kill us in an instant. It's better that we don't appear to be a threat.' Raising his hands up, Jacques shows he's not holding any weapons. The huge crowd of bronzed people quickly seizes the pair and pushes them towards the centre of the tower network, a massive spire glided with silver into its masonry.

'Where do you think they're taking us?'

'That's obvious. To their leader.' Sure enough, they entered a grand chamber, where a regal looking man sits upon a beautiful throne. Held tight by the many people either side of them, they begin shouting in their strange tongue again. The regent raises his hands, calling for silence. Looking Jacques and Isaac up and down, he takes a step off his throne.

'So, what brings two men of the surface to our sanctuary?' Though he has a heavy accent, he speaks the common tongue of Harkon and Arcana with skill and poise.

'We were separated from our caravan because of bandits. We fell down a crevice and travelled through these caverns in hope of finding a way back to the mountain's surface. Please forgive us if we have caused you offence. I am Jacques of Arcana, and this is Isaac of Harkon.'

'How strange, two men of the two kingdoms travelling together. I thought you hated one another with passion that burned as hot as the long forgotten sun?' Taking more steps down the stairs, one of the bronzed figures presents to him the bronze sword which Jacques had scavenged from the graveyard.

'Not all of us hate each other. Isaac and I have been working on a chronicle together, a recording of my life and travels.' Running his finger across the sword's blade, the regent seems disinterested in the unusual visitors in his kingdom.

'Interesting. However, you have not explained where it is you're going, and why you are going there.' Walking in front of Jacques, the regent stares him straight in the eye. Though Jacques is considered tall both by Arcanian and Harkonian standards, the regent easily matches his height. Dangling from his grip, the bronze sword seems to quiver with anticipation. The two of them stand face to face for a while, and the atmosphere grows intense.

'For what purpose do you wish to inquire in my business?' Jacques finally says, breaking the silence which had settled into the room.

'So that I might measure what sort of man you are. I will know if you lie. The Eye of the Deep can see all that lies in a man's heart.' Pointing above his throne, a huge jewel is imbedded into the ceiling of the room. It is a deep jade colour with a black slit in the middle of it, almost like the crystalline eye of a gigantic predator.

'Fine. I seek the council of the King of Harkon, the brother of one of the men I am travelling with. I wish to negotiate a treaty between Arcana and Harkon, so that our age-old dispute may finally come to an end.' Much to Jacques' horror, the gigantic jewel begins stirring and moving. It turns to his direction, staring at him. Its penetrating gaze causes him to squirm slightly, but it quickly returns to its original position. Gazing into the eye's depths, the regent falls into a trance-like state, his hands twitching and his eyes turning white. However, he quickly snaps back to his original regal posture.

'The Eye has determined that what you say is true. It is a foolish idea to pursue, but you are honest about it.' Seeming pleased with the answer to his question, the regent starts taking steps back towards his throne, passing the bronze sword to one of his servants. Trying his luck, Jacques speaks out.

'Now I have a question. What are those ruins we found early on?'

'You mean the ones you raided and took this blade from? It's the old village of our ancestors. We dug into the mountain as the men of Harkon grew more and more fearful of magic, and created defences to deter any that might disturb us in our new home. What I find most curious is how you managed to find your way through those defences...'

'Ingenuity and quick reflexes can account for a lot, ruler of the deep.'

'No, it's more than just that. My people saw the wisp following you. You use magic as well. We know how it affects the material world just as well as your people do, Arcanian.'

'Yes yes. I do not like to speak bluntly with royalty, but for the sake of whatever gods you may worship, please just tell us where we might leave this place. Our caravan will not wait forever for us to return.'

'I shall grant your wish, Arcanian.' Speaking in his native tongue, the regent convinces his subjects to release the pair. Waving his hands and speaking soft chants, Isaac and Jacques begin to feel very tired.

'I am sorry, but we will not risk discovery. Farewell, Jacques of Arcanian, and Isaac of Harkon.'

Waking up later, Jacques and Isaac are back on top of the mountain path.

'Well, that was quite an adventure, wasn't it Isaac?'

'I think I'll let you do the adventuring in the future. It's not my line of work.'

'I think that would be wise. You seem to ignore some of the more... interesting details of an adventure.' Rummaging around in his robes, Jacques reveals a large bag filled with rare and precious gems.

'Tell me Isaac, what's a few gems to a corpse?' Jacques says with a deeply pleased look on his face. Burying his face into his palm, Isaac realises what he had done.

'Seasoned adventurer and mage you may be, it seems you're just as greedy as any bandit we might meet. I thought we were only robbing the dead for our survival.' Shrugging, Jacques quickly puts his ill gotten gains away in his robe.

'Well my fine scholar, these gems could buy us food or shelter, which in turn makes us survive. So technically I wasn't lying. Anyway, our current priority should be to reach Frostvale Refuge. As I have said before, Brahm is patient, but his patience is not unlimited.'

'You make a fair point. I'm glad this backpack of mine has managed to stay intact. Imagine how much work we'd have to do to replace all the pages we've lost.'

Though his men are comfortable at the refuge, Brahm is filled with many worries. He knows that Jacques always finds a way to get out of these situations without injuring himself too much, but Isaac's well being is another matter altogether. The soft scholar knows nothing about survival or battle, and these mountains were infamous for their dangers. If the ice and snow did not kill someone, then the predatory beasts that wander through the area would be enough to finish them off. Admittedly, Brahm has grown to like the scholar. He has waited for two days now, and there's no sign of the pair. Turning his back on the road, he returns to the camp, which is safely tucked away from the blizzards and winds. Just as he about to seat himself, one of his guards lets out a cry.

'There's two figures walking up the road, Councilman!' Realising who it might be, he immediately jumps up. Sure enough, Jacques and Isaac have returned. They're shivering, but they're alive.

'Welcome back!' Brahm shouts with delight.

'How was the trip back? Not too hard?'

'You have no idea.' Jacques speaks softly.
Chapter 6 – A wizard's advice

AFTER ENTERING THE REFUGE and warming themselves by the fire, Jacques recalled the events through the caves to an entranced Brahm.

'This is quite an interesting discovery. Perhaps we could talk of this to the king?'

'I know he's your brother Brahm, but I don't think he would have any interest with these people, apart from annihilating them. Perhaps after we succeed in our first task, maybe then we can negotiate with them.'

'Right, our long held task from the days where we were running across the Harkonian grasslands in an endless game of cat and mouse. Where exactly are you up to in your chronicle? Have we gotten to where I enter your story yet?'

'Almost. Don't worry, there will be plenty of praise for you in the chronicle.' Speaking up, Isaac protests against this idea.

'But this chronicle should be as historically accurate as...' Surprising, it's Brahm who cuts off Isaac this time.

'Isaac, please. It is a Councilman that is featuring in this story. That is definitely deserve some praise and recognition' Leaning over, Jacques whispers into Isaac's ear.

'You haven't seen it yet, but Brahm's pride is larger than the mountains in this trail. It would be wise to indulge him on his wishes.' Brahm doesn't intervene, knowing what Jacques is suggesting Isaac do.

'So, Jacques... What you want is to negotiate peace with Harkon?'

'Yes. You know my origins. I realised long ago that this war is pointless. We have killed each other endlessly, for reasons that have long since been forgotten. Both Arcana and Harkon need to overcome their fears, and learn that in the end, we have fought over nothing.'

'Do you think that you can achieve peace? I mean, hundreds of years of hatred does not disappear simply because the king or your counsellors or whoever they are decide we should.'

'It will be difficult, yes. But, if I keep working towards that goal, I will reach it eventually. I have not told you about what my current position is, have I? I'm actually an ambassador from Arcana. A diplomat.'

'Well, I wish you luck in convincing the king, if we make it past these mountains. How do you know that he will actually agree to form a peace treaty?'

'I don't. All I can do is hope. What is life without a little faith?'

'You know Isaac... After my encounter with that... thing, it broke me.' Surprised by the sudden change of conversation, Isaac goes quiet.

'I think this would be a notable passage in our chronicle, Isaac. Could you please start writing?' Brahm, who normally wanders away, decides to sit and listen to the story.

'I wish to listen to! I am sure that this will be quite the interesting story!'

'Brahm, I have something that I need to discuss with you.'

'Brahm, I have not told you yet because I know some of your men are quite superstitious. But, I am actually extensively trained in the art of magic.' In anticipation of Brahm's reaction, Jacques tenses every muscle in his body.

'And?' Shocked by Brahm's calm reaction, Jacques just looks on at him.

'Come on Jacques. I always thought that was the case. Arcanians all use magic, don't they? Why would you be any exception?'

'Well, we don't all have formal training with magic...' Impatient, Brahm cuts him off.

'But it was obvious that you did. I have actually done some reading on the nature of magic myself. I arranged to have several books transported from Arcana on the subject. I was still not fully prepared to read them, but I knew I would eventually. That incident on the road earlier spooked me into reading their contents. From what I read, only people with the proper training in magic can detect magical disturbances in the area. Whenever I asked you anything regarding such disturbance, you always had something of substance to say.' Gobsmacked, Jacques merely stands there, while Brahm returns his blank gaze with a slightly irritated look.

'What? You said yourself that traditions need to be broken, so I did just that. I need to protect my men, and if I have to learn about magic in order to achieve that, so be it.' Silently, Jacques absorbs this information. He finally formulates a clear thought in his head, and inquires about his other worry.

'But, do your men know as well?'

'They made the same guess that I did. Were you worried that one of us was going to murder you because you know how to use magic?' This was Jacques' fear all along, and he is relieved that he no longer needs to hide his abilities.

'Well, yes, that was my worry. I don't want to die before I reach the castle. But, they were afraid back in the woods, with the wall of thorns. What makes me so different?'

'Don't be ridiculous, Jacques. They're not afraid of you because they know you aren't going to horribly kill them.'

'Still though, I was afraid that was what they thought...'

'Fair enough, but you should know that there's no need to worry about being assassinated while you're among my men. They're a loyal sort and they've actually grown to like you, Jacques.' Previously, Jacques had been constantly tense throughout their journey, and it is a great relief for him to know that he is truly safe in their company. Brahm chooses to move to new points of discussion.

'You know, if we can just slowly change peoples' opinions, we could eventually sow peace throughout our lands.'

'What do you think would happen if we gained peace?'

'In all honesty, I think it would lead to a new golden age. Both of our countries have much to offer to one another. Ancient legends said that we were a single people once, who were divided by choosing different paths. A reunion would bring prosperity to all. We could master all aspects of the world. Engineering, magic, divination... It would become a utopia.' Cynical about this concept of forming a "utopia" after hundreds of years of conflict, Jacques rebukes his idealism.

'That's a best-case scenario. I don't think that Arcanians and Harkonians would get along simply because their leaders said that they should.' Though nodding in agreement, Brahm continues expressing his thoughts.

'They will eventually. I hope so, anyway. When I last returned to the castle, my brother was being visited by various diplomats from foreign lands. There are other armies and kingdoms out there Jacques, and they could turn the tide for either kingdom in this centuries-old war, or they could simply sweep over both of them and destroy us all. We have to stop fighting eventually. If we don't, then someone who hasn't been exhausted by being at war for so long will be the end of us.' Jacques had not considered outside forces influencing their age-old war before. Over the sparkling seas and jagged mountains, other forces had risen in the countless centuries of war between their two nations. For the most part, those forces had remained neutral parties in the conflict, preferring to avoid being caught in the crossfire. However, the news of ambassadors arriving at Greatspire Castle makes Jacques worry for their plans of peace.

'A common threat tends to be a great way of unifying people.'

'Yes, that is very true. Anyway, we've already discussed what we've needed to. Let's get back to Isaac and continue your chronicle.'

'I was afraid of having you listen since it was going to make references to my mentor. The one who taught me the arcane arts.'

'Sounds interesting! We will finally find out who taught the great Jacques his mastery over the arcane!'

It was whispering to me. Dark, little words, digging their way into my head like claws. I could not believe that something so malevolent existed in this world. Though I attempted to forget, the memories simply came back stronger. Each time brought me a little closer to insanity. No matter how far I ran from it, no matter where I wandered to in Arcana, it followed me. Piece by piece, my mind was rotting from its influence. It drained the vigour of life from me, it drained me of my very will to live. Soon, I did not have any strength left in my mind or body. It had gradually worn me down, grinding the foundation of my mind into dust. Soon, I came to desire an end to its whispers. However, light has a way of shining through darkness. I was wandering in a remote wasteland of Arcana. A great calamity occurred there a very long time ago, and the land had not healed despite the passage of time. Gigantic dunes of blue sand rose and fell across the wasteland. Whatever had occurred there was related to magic. Even the air was saturated with the remnants of the great disaster, each breath I took caused the residual energy to swirl in my lungs. Some of the legends I had heard about that place say that once you begin wandering in those lands, you can never escape them. You would walk and wander until death claimed you. I had gone there to test those legends. Endlessly I walked across the dunes. Grains of sand were flicked and scattered everywhere as great and howling winds began to whip through the wasteland. Soon, I couldn't even see my hand when I put it in front of my face. I grew weaker and weaker, my throat as dry as the magic-saturated desert that I was wandering in. The whispers grew fainter and fainter as my vision started to fade, and a gentle exhaustion began to overcome me. But, then another voice spoke, echoing through the hungry gales. It brought me back, and demanded an answer from me.

'You think that you are fit to dump your corpse in my wasteland? No no, this will not do at all. I believe we need to have a discussion, my dear fellow. Stand still for a moment.' Though I did not feel particularly inclined to follow the voice's instructions, my body suddenly seized up completely. I completely lost control over myself, and felt as though I was merely a spectator who was watching his body from a distance. Whatever force had claimed me was quite powerful, and despite my magical potential, it easily overwhelmed me.

'That's the way. Now, take a turn to the right. After that, walk forward about one hundred paces.' Angry at being controlled in such a way, I tried to shout but nothing came out.

'Now now, save your breath for when we're having our conversation.' After exactly one hundred paces, I stopped dead in my tracks. The sandstorm subsided gradually, and before me a great tower stretched towards the sky. From my perspective, it seemed infinite. I could see no visible door or openings in it, but then the voice spoke again.

'Oh, right. I always forget to open the door for guests. Do come in.' The fine white stone the tower was made from began creaking and shifting, until an opening appeared. I was marched directly inside, with the stone door collapsing behind me. A wizened old man sat on a simple wooden chair. He glanced at another chair in the room. Against my will, I was sat down in the other chair, directly facing him. He was stout and his skin was of a deep bronze colour, not unlike the men we saw in the underground tunnels. He rose from his chair and casually strolled up to me, looking me up and down. He had not yet released his hold on me as he inspected, as if he expected me to rise up and assault him. To be honest, I probably would have.

'I could read your intentions as soon as you walked into this place. You came here to test the old legend, didn't you? You wished to end your life?' Struggling to move my mouth, I managed to speak a few garbled words.

'What.... if.... I did?'

'Then I deeply worry for you. An Arcanian, of all people, should know that their lives are not worthless and to be thrown away so casually.' It became silent for a moment, as though whoever was speaking to me was taking the time to think, or to inspect me.

'You attitude make sense now. Darkness hangs over your soul, and whispers in your ear. You must overcome the shadow which is binding you. I can hear it trying to whisper through the sands. While you are here, it cannot say anything. However, we have much to talk about.'

'I only get visitors every now and then, you know. Most people who lose the will to live tend to throw themselves into the war against Harkon. Though, I would say you've already done that, noting that scar on the back of your head. Must've been a blunt weapon of some sort.' After I had left the Arcanian military, I kept my head clean shaven every day onward. It was traditional for Arcanian soldiers, and I came to appreciate it during that time.

'I see why you are in this state, of wishing away your life and leaving an unmarked grave in this little wasteland of mine. As I have said before, darkness has touched your soul, and it seeks to extinguish your light. What is interesting is that you've got great potential for magic, yet I can tell you haven't studied it in any meaningful way just yet. Strange that, they should've taught you at least some in the military...'

'I was a trade negotiator. No combat skills or magic to be learned in that profession.'

'Then how did you get that mark on the back of your head?' Causing me to spin around, he inspected the back of my head, noting the place where I was struck during the borderland skirmishes.

'It... is a long story.'

'And I am a man with plenty of time, and I just so happen to like stories. Why don't you share with me the details of your adventures?' Before I can reply, he seemed to pause for a moment, as though he had forgotten to say something.

'Oh, and what is your name? Pardon my manners, it has been some time since I have had a conversation.'

'I am Jacques, and who might you be, wizard? I do not appreciate being controlled by magic in such a manner.'

'I am sorry, but it needed to be done. Do you know that you cannot defeat the shadow chasing you? Not as you are now, at least. It cannot reach you here, but if it almost broke you, then it's more than capable of doing it again. Unless you have the proper training to protect yourself.'

'So, what are you suggesting that I learn in order to fight it? Pray to some forgotten god in the hopes that it will protect me from evil?'

'Don't be silly. Gods do not act on any mortal's behalf. I've had discussions with a few of them, and they are a surly group of individuals. What I am saying is that you should learn the use of the arcane arts, the use of magic. We might have to brush up on your other skills as well.' He finally released his grip on my body, and allowed me to stand up.

'Show me your swordplay, Jacques. Try your best to strike me.' Though he had annoyed me, I did not like the thought of swinging a blade wildly at him. He seemed to notice, and reassured me.

'It'll be fine. I'm a wizard you know.' Shrugging, I raised my sword above my head and brought it down swiftly where he was standing. He casually stepped out of the way, and my sword sank into the wooden chair.

'Poorest form I have seen yet. It's different when you aren't inside a bloody skirmish and chaos, isn't it?' Even more irritated with the little man, I struggled to pull the sword out of the chair. When the sword budged, its hilt hit me on the chin. Snickering quietly to himself, the Wizard mocked me again as I was rubbing my sore jaw.

'What, you can't even pull the blade out of wood without hurting yourself? That is most disappointing, Jacques.' Swinging my sword in his direction, he ducked under it with no effort at all, and it made a loud clang as it hit the stony wall.

'You're going to blunt it if you keep doing that!' And so it continued. No matter what way I tried to strike him, he always dodged it with no effort at all, and soon I could not raise my sword for another strike. Triumphant, the wizard made his assessment of my skills.

'You said that you taught yourself how to use that sword. And it shows, Jacques.' Walking toward a grand wooden door, he beckoned me to follow him.

'We will begin your lessons now. I hope you are a good learner.'

'Well, Jacques, your other option is to leave here and let that thing crack your mind like a porcelain vase again. You seem smart enough, so I think you know what the better choice would be. Anyway, before we get to that, I want to hear more about your adventures. Tell me.' So, I sat there for sometime, I don't know how long. I recalled what had happened up until then much in the same manner that I am recalling it with you in this chronicle. He didn't seem to express much emotion, all he did was keep that same little smirk he had the entire time I had been in the room with him. It irritated me, but I thought to myself that I wasn't exactly in a position to tell him to stop doing that. He seemed to be observing me as I spoke, trying to understand me a bit better. Soon, when I had finished telling him all that had happened, he gave a nod.

'You carry a powerful destiny, Jacques. I know it has not occurred to you, but think about it. Don't you think you have been extremely blessed by luck throughout your life?'

'What do you mean "lucky"? Raiders turned my house into a pile of ash and my life into chaos. I encounter a living darkness which probably would've twisted my soul into some unspeakable horror...'

'Yes, but always at the right moment, the situation turned in your favour. Don't you think that's unusual? I mean, what are the odds that you just so happen to run into the right tunnel to reflect the sunlight straight into that entity?' He had an excellent point. There and then, I began learning my first real lesson in magic. He taught me the same concept that I have taught you. Powerful users of magic are lucky, because their magic influences the world around them. I often find it hard to believe that a force that originates within a single person can have such an incredible impact on their lives. But it can, and it most certainly has throughout my life. When the lesson ended, the wizard seemed most satisfied with his work.

'You are a capable learner. I believe you will transcend all of my expectations.' And, that's how it was for the time I spent there. He had vast libraries hidden beneath those strange sands, great and plentiful knowledge about the art of magic. There were books on mind control and as such, and I did not wish to learn what wisdom they had to offer. However, the wizard insisted that if I were to resist outside forces influencing my mind in the future, I had to understand how this kind of magic worked. That is a reasonable conclusion. But, I still believe that only evil can come of being able to control someone on such a level.

'Hang on, Jacques.'

'What is it, Isaac?'

'You told me that you purposely avoided discussing what you know about magic in the chronicle up until this point. Why is it you're so comfortable with it now?'

'Well, I decided that perhaps it's time that I speak of it openly and freely in Harkon. It is time to absolve their fears. If they learn what knowledge we have to offer, then they will no longer have to fear the supernatural. And I think that Arcana could learn a thing or two from Harkon as well. Your ironwork and engineering is far superior to ours, despite all of our magic ability. Anyway, as I was saying...'

That is how I learned all of magic. In addition, I read about various different subjects. I trained not only in the arcane arts, but in combat too. There was so much knowledge in that library, and I spent years absorbing as much of it as I could. The wizard tested me in various different ways, checking to see if I was up to speed with his teachings. For every new way I learned how to wield magic, he would test me to see if I had learned my lesson well. I suffered all sorts of injuries during that time, you know. Plenty of pain, but it was worth every moment of it. One memorable moment was when he was teaching me how to manipulate flames. It was always painful to watch as he did it with such ease, and when I attempted to do it, the flames often burned my hands and left me having to use balms to heal the wounds. Even worse was his laughter whenever I failed in my lessons. He openly mocked me every time I failed to grasp the knowledge he was attempting to gift me. I think this was a strategy to get me angry with him, and thus try as hard as I could to succeed with the lessons. It definitely worked. I grew angrier and angrier, and even spent several nights staying up by candlelight, studying the arts which I had failed in. Eventually, I started to excel with the magic he had taught me. But, whenever I had thought that I was finally becoming wiser, he would present an even greater challenge. I grew greatly curious about his origins, and tried to find out more about my mysterious mentor.

'So, who are you exactly?'

'A wizard.'

'I know that you are a wizard, but what's your name? Are you actually from Arcana?'

'This is useless knowledge for you when you have all of these books to study. My name is irrelevant. The only important thing is what I am.'

'Which is a wizard.'

'Precisely. You are starting to grasp my teachings and my wisdom a little bit better every day, Jacques.' He paused for a moment, drifting off into his own thoughts.

'You have proven to be an interesting student. Most people I have tutored across my long life would have given up by now.'

'That does not surprise me. I have only stayed out of necessity.'

'No, it's more than that. There is a great curiosity within you, a desire to wander, to learn, to explore. But, there is also something else...' He pulled out a strange glass crystal, and raised it to the bright candlelight. Light reflected from the crystal and pinpointed itself onto my forehead.

'Ah, I see. Peace. You mean to go out into the world and achieve peace between two warring factions. Before you ask, this crystal lays a person's desires bare and in their most simple form.' Before I could speak up, he quickly cut me off with another statement.

'I believe the time has come for an actual test of your skills.'

'You mean everything up until now weren't actual tests?'

'They were, but not in this sense. They were tests of your individual skills. This is going to be a test of how you use those skills together.' With a click of his fingers, everything went blank.

When I regained my senses, I was in the middle of a forest. However, it was completely unlike any forest I had set foot in before. The very trees and grass were of completely random colours, and twisted in strange ways. Great trunks which seemed to be made of metal rose eye into a purple-hazed sky, reflecting the strange array of colours around them. Looking around, I noticed a sword carefully placed on a nearby tree stump, alongside some simple leather armour and a small sack. Upon carefully opening the sack, I saw it was filled with various foodstuffs. I reached out for the sword after completing my inspection, and as soon as I grasped it, the Wizard's voice suddenly echoed through the bizarre forest.

'This is an artificial world which I have constructed. We will be using this region to test your abilities. The first test will begin soon.'

'So, any advice, Wizard?'

'I have already given you the advice you need. You merely have to apply it to the task at hand.' Nothing more was spoken, and the forest grew deathly silent. My first impression was that I was going to have to slay something, for a sword does not have any purpose other than to slay. Deciding to explore the area for potential shelter, I cautiously sneaked through the whispering trees. Each rustle of the leaves gave an almost metallic sound which carried along the wind, singing through the dense undergrowth. As I came deeper into the forest, the bushes and shrubs which covered the ground became thicker and thicker. Soon, it came to the point where it was extremely difficult to simply walk through them. Raising my sword above me, I only stopped myself at the last moment. Inspecting the branches of the bushes, it was of the same metal that the tree trunks were composed of. It could blunt my sword only after a couple of swings, which meant that I'd be just as worse of if I didn't even have a weapon. This world that had been constructed by the wizard seemed to only have one clear pathway for me to take. Returning to the clearing, I could see that it stretched into a narrow path on the opposite side of the woods. Forward I went, deep into the bushy and dark pathway which cut through the bizarre forest. While I was making my way through the windy path, I heard the bushes rustle around me. It does not take a genius to know when something is watching you. When the erratic leaves above me began to block out any trace of light, I formed a small orb to hold in my hand, which provided me with light. Another thing I had noticed when I walked deeper and deeper inside the forest, it had grown colder and colder. It was a sapping cold, which began to make my muscles ache from the mere act of walking forward. Those same rustles from before had come closer now, and continued to come closer and closer as I continued on the path. Whatever constructs the wizard had made knew about this path well, using the sapping cold in order to weaken any potential prey. Without warning they came bounding from the shadows, my orb barely lighting their twisted forms. Razor sharp teeth and claws barely missed my throat, instead slashing across my chest. My leather overcoat provided a small measure of protection, though it was now completely torn apart. Before I could even react, the shapes disappeared into the undergrowth. Instinctively, I clutched for the sword the wizard had provided, which I had carelessly left in its scabbard until this point. Those things seemed to understand what I was holding too, because they did not come directly at me like they did earlier. Instead, they began to move in irregular patterns through the undergrowth. I was terrified at this point, and I could hear them coming from every direction at once. I knew that I could not win like this. The wizard had taught me many different uses of magic, but I was rummaging through my mind to find the one way which would protect me from the ensuing onslaught. As another shape swiftly burst from the undergrowth, I used my magic to cause the air around me to become extremely frigid. The thing was frozen solid the second it came into contact with the air, and messily shattered on the ground as I ducked underneath it. Its companions released strange quivering howls, as though they were mourning its death. Since it had shattered beyond recognition, I still had no clue what was attacking me. I was not safe from them yet, I still heard them rustling through the thick bushes and tall grass. The way they moved was different than before. They moved faster and with less patience, aggressively tearing through the foliage. I presumed that they were infuriated by the death of one of their own, and that they desired to spill my blood as soon as possible.

'Exciting as this is, Jacques, I was thinking we were about to discuss when I was going to enter this story!' Brahm interjects. If Brahm has one failing, it was that he was proud of himself.

'Patience, Brahm. I think that I'm entitled to recall a moment where I was nearly slaughtered by nameless monstrosities.'

'Well, entitled or not, could you not speed this up a bit? Maybe cut ahead of the story?' While Isaac is usually timid, he objects violently at this idea.

'Councilman or not, you do not have the making of a scholar, Brahm! This is a piece of history in the works, and we most definitely CANNOT leave out any details, especially not for a man's ego.' Caught off guard by Isaac, Brahm is shocked enough to allow Jacques to cut in.

'I think that was unnecessary Isaac. Brahm, we will discuss it in time. Just wait.'

'Alright, alright. I apologise, this is not behaviour fitting a Councilman of Harkon, let alone the brother of the king. Where were you, Jacques?'

In time, the other beasts became bold enough to try and end my life. However, they did not come at me the same way as before. Rustles started coming from above me now, as well as at all sides. My blood nearly froze when I realised that they were capable of strategising. It was clever, if they came at me from every possible angle, then there was definitely no way that I could avoid all of them. Or, so they though. They dropped from the canopy like a stone from trebuchets would rain on a city. The beasts lurking in the bushes ran out as well. What was fortunate was that they had given me the time to think about what my next move would be. With great concentration, I raised the ground around me in the shape of a ring, in order to shield myself from the attackers emerging from the dank forest floor. Great thuds echoed through the forest as they slammed against my temporary shelter, and the beasts falling from above impaled themselves on my sword. While I had managed to stay alive for another moment, the beasts did not so quickly give up on attacking me from the ground. It was now a siege, and they constantly rammed themselves against my earthen wall. Willpower is what determines how powerful one's magic is, and it was my willpower versus their strength and numbers. Even now, I can remember the strain it had put on me. Fragments of my mind started to splinter as they continued their assault. Blood was what they desired, I could hear their bloodlust with every primal grunt and inhuman howl they made as they crashed onto my barricade. Eventually, their attacks began to wane. Unable to overcome my protective shell, they simply wandered off into the undergrowth. This was a great relief, since I had spent the last of my strength at that moment. Given how exhausted I was, both mentally and physically, my memories at this moment are kind of blurry. What bits and pieces I remember involve a lot of stumbling along the path, and eventually coming to a clearing. I remember light as well, searing light which made me close my eyes after wandering the darkness of the forest for such a long time. I found that the clearing was also void of any trees, enabling the wizard's artificially crafted sun to shine its light. Another metallic stump was in the middle, and it too had another sack filled with food on it. Growls of protest came from my stomach, and I remembered that I had not eaten a thing since I had arrived here. Hungrily devouring what food the wizard had left me in my older sack, I decided that I would be more conservative with this new supply of food. Just as I picked it up, the wizard's voice came echoing from every direction.

'Your first test has been passed with flying colours. You were surrounded at all sides, and knew you could be attacked at any moment. You took what time you had and devised a cunning strategy. Excellent work.'

'I know you aren't one for questions, but what were those things?'

'I should be the one asking you that.'

'Excuse me?'

'You will understand in time, Jacques. I honestly know nothing of the beasts which dwell in this forest. You should know them better than I do.'

'Always with cryptic wordplay, wizard. Asking for a blunt answer is too much for you, isn't it?'

'There are kinds of wisdom which can only be gained by yourself. No amount of tutoring from anyone else will ever give you the knowledge you seek.'

'I cannot help but wonder if you are just toying with me for your own sad pleasure.'

'Perhaps. Perhaps not. Either way, I have the greater good in mind.'

'I tire of these games of words. Why not just let whatever ancient evil that is chasing me destroy my mind?'

'This evil is not something you alone have discovered. It has cast its shadow across the land for some time, and I believe you have the potential to finally purge it from this world. I may not be the most virtuous of men, but I do know that having something capable of destroying entire kingdoms fester beneath a mountain is not a good idea. I like Arcana, and I would hate to see it destroyed.' Once again, his voice died on the wind, and I was left alone in the clearing. Unable to continue, I chose to rest for some time. Though I could still feel the bitter cold seeping from the forest, the warm light of the sun was rejuvenating and I felt refreshed. The wizard's test was designed with a very strict and linear path, and looking back, the pathway I had entered by had closed itself, thereby making it impossible for me to retrace my steps. Ahead of me was yet another path through the forest, yet this one was different. Strange torches burned with bright blue flames, casting an eerie light through the bizarre forest. Having eaten and rested, I felt vigourous and ready to continue ahead. I also gained a sliver of confidence from being able to find off the mysterious creatures from earlier, but at the same time reminded myself that I should remain wary. Choosing to not rely on irregular torches, I grasped one of the blazing torches and carried it with me. Sure enough, the torches eventually stopped appearing as I delved deeper into the forest. I expected more beasts to be watching me, but it was eerily silent. Not even a single bird sang or a single leaf moved on this path. A disturbing paranoia slowly built up within me, even though my senses were telling me that there was nothing here. That's when I felt it. Invisible hands reached out of the very air, attempting to drag me down towards the ground. They came from everywhere, and I slashed hopelessly at the air, trying to strike my ethereal attackers. As more and more hands clasped onto my person, they violently slammed me face first into the dirt. Since I did not have time to make a rational decision, I manipulated the flames on the torch I had taken and swirled it around me into a fiery whirlwind. Whatever was grasping me quickly let go, and I swore that I heard cries of pain echoing through the forest. Immediately I sprung up from the ground, and used the whirlwind as a shield as I charged along the path.

Again, I emerged into another clearing, except this time a small cottage was in the middle of it. After dismissing my whirlwind of flames, I took the time to wander around the tiny building and inspect it. Each window revealed no light, the entirety of the cottage's inside was pitch black. In time, I came to the conclusion that I could not trust the shadows obscuring the structure's interior, and cracked open a window. I created a small light globe and made it float inside, providing a measure of light for me to observe with. Strange and vaguely humanoid shapes seemed to be moving around in the shadows, scurrying away from the dim glow of my orb. One figure, however, did not hide as the others did. It shambled towards the broken window, most of its body hidden by filthy rags. When I glimpsed its face, I actually gasped in horror. It looked vaguely human, but it was withered and had grey and hideous skin. Its jaw hung loosely from its skull, and two sunken and black eyes stared at me. What was most horrible of all, however, was the gargling noise it was making the whole time. It did not move any closer to me, however. Simply standing there, it just continued to stare at me and gargle. I still had my torch, and I didn't care what potential treasures or boons I could find inside the cottage. Creatures which envelope themselves in darkness can bring nothing but ill fortune. So, I simply laid my torch at the bottom of the wooden structure, and watched as the blue flames began consuming it. The gargling monstrosity made no movement, even as the flames crawled up its body and engulfed its rags in puffs of smoke. It simply continued to stare at me. I had not noticed it earlier, but there was something very sad about the figure. The others now lacked their comforting shadows and moved as far away from the fire as they could, but this one ignored it. For a moment, it closed its mouth and gave me a withered smile. Before the flames caused the roof to collapse on top of it, it managed to croak out two words.

'Thank you.'

An eternity seemed to pass as I watched the cottage burn away, becoming nothing more than ashes. When the last of the flames smouldered and died, the Wizard appeared again.

'A most interesting session. Well done, Jacques!'

'What were those things?!'

'They are my own creations. Small fragments of ideas rendered into flesh. Rather interesting, don't you think?'

'Dark dreams must hide in every corner of your mind, wizard. That thing thanked me for killing it.'

'I know. It was the personification of what was happening to you before you came to me. It was a diseased and rotten chunk of your mind which has been growing steadily because of dark influences. You have now killed the part of you which was going to lead you to a nameless death. The darkness can never overcome your mind again.' He leaned forward, and whispered a few words quietly.

'None of this was ever real.'

I was back in his tower, right where I had left off in the library. The wizard was also standing there, giving me a small smile.

'That entire world was something I fashioned out of fragments of memories in your mind. Strong steel which shelters all beneath it, shadows of memories which have chased you for your whole life, dark thoughts which would lead you to your own destruction, all combined in order for you to master yourself. You have taken a blade, just as a physician would, and cut away the diseased flesh of your mind. You are whole now, and there is no one in this world which can ever use magic to influence your mind or body again. Your tutoring is over.' Though I found myself questioning the prospect of being able to form a world in my mind, my thoughts were wholly different. It felt as though my mind had been wandering through fog for quite some time. Now, my thoughts were clear, sharp and precise. Arcane power surged through my body, and I could almost feel it crackling in the air. Noticing this as well, the wizard smiled with satisfaction.

'It had suppressed your power by infecting your mind with its darkness. You are free now, and realised some of your potential. It will take time to fully hone your abilities, and the grains of the hour glass do not wait for any man, Jacques. I have taught you what I can, and you must find your own way now.' He was right. There was nothing more for me to learn here. I quickly gathered some meagre stores of food, and was about to leave before he stopped me.

'Before you go, you should take this.' A blurred object began to appear in his hands and slowly took form. I realised it was the weapon I had used in the dream world.

'I believe this to be an appropriate parting gift, along with one last piece of advice. Magic bends and blurs the lines between reality and ideas. Remember to keep in mind the difference.'

I did much pondering on his words. He told me that I had to find my own way. Not knowing which direction to go in and where to start, I took a moment to think. I decided that it would be best to gain perspective on the very thing which had been the source of most of the antagonism in my life. I found open roads, and soon was on my way to Harkon, the kingdom to the west. Arcana has its shares of mysteries, but I soon found Harkon had plenty to share as well.

Brahm seems disappointed.

'We still haven't reached the point where I enter the story?'

'We will deal with that in our next session, Brahm.'

'Very well then. I think we have rested for long enough. I'm going to get the men together and get us out of these mountains.' With Brahm off, Isaac takes the time to ask a few more questions.

'I just want to know, Jacques. Why was it you're so secretive about your plans?'

'Well, let's just say that my idea would not be too popular in the King's courts. Noblemen in this country like to observe what the more important political figures are doing. Brahm's status as a Councilman would have doubtlessly attracted plenty of attention as we've been travelling. If the wrong person overheard our plan, I do not like what prospects it could have.'

'But, you've been talking for days and days about being an Arcanian. Wouldn't that be damaging to Brahm's reputation?'

'No. My heritage is well known to the noblemen. Officially, I'm Brahm's prisoner. My services to his caravan are part of my "sentence."'

'But... you just spoke of magic for quite some time with our chronicle. What if someone overheard that?'

'We're in the Giant's Spine, Isaac. I know that the noblemen have many eyes and ears, but it would be foolish to send spies into these mountains, especially alone. Nor would anyone be stupid enough to take such a task upon themselves. Even I couldn't survive out here if I were alone. Those beasts we saw in the tunnels... They would've been only one of the many different kinds of beasts which hunt along this mountain chain. And a frozen spy would make for an excellent meal.'

'Well, if you're certain...' Just as these words are spoken, a single shadow-cloaked figure slips away from the refuge, escaping the notice of anyone in the caravan. Not even Jacques or Brahm notices as the figure disappears along the frosty path leading towards Greatspire Castle.
Chapter 7 – The monster rises

SETTING OUT FROM FROSTVALE REFUGE, the caravan is close to the end of the Giant's Spine. However, this stretch is notorious for being the most dangerous part of the mountains. The locals have nicknamed it "False Victory" passage, after the countless hapless souls who had believed they had escaped the mountains, only to have their hopes dashes. No one knows why, but there is often strange mishaps which occur just as people are passing by. Several of the more famous incidents ranged from the pack animals of a trader's caravan suddenly going mad, breaking their bonds and fleeing into the mountains, taking with them their cargo and leaving the trader without transport and goods, and he simply froze to death. Another one was with a nobleman passing through. A group of bandits attacked his escort. While bandits are not uncommon in the Giant's Spine, what made this group unusual was that they were speaking in a completely foreign tongue, not known to any man of Harkon or Arcana. Whoever they were, they managed to overcome the guard, and ritualistically sacrificed the nobleman over a burning cauldron. Despite investigations performed the local guard, no trace of the nobleman, the savages or the escort were ever found. The story was passed on by the only survivor, a member of the escort who fled and watched the whole thing. He was quickly arrested for fleeing and not protecting his lord. Despite the strange happenings around that passage, the region surrounding the passage of false victory is one of the safest regions in the Giant's Spine mountain chainw. Small villages which have been established in the region make a living by cultivating hardy crops which survive in the sleet and frost. The caravan is now making its way through the passage of False Victory, Jacques taking the lead next to Brahm.

'Jacques, do you sense any sort of disturbance here? Magical or otherwise?'

'Harkonians do not use magic or learn it. There shouldn't be any sort of disturbance in this region, of all places.'

'I've discussed this passage with you at length before. You've heard about what has happened along here.'

'Peasants aren't the most reliable people for information, Brahm. You should really relax with your superstition.'

'Jacques. Please, just keep alert. That's all I'm asking.' A strange paranoia settles among Brahm's men as they pass False Victory Passage. Despite Jacques' rationality, he couldn't help but feel the same paranoia as well. He tries to concentrate, trying to find any sort of anomaly or disturbance in the area of magical nature. Finding no anomalies at all, Jacques relaxes. Isaac quickly strides up next to him.

'Do you sense anything, Jacques? Anything at all?'

'I can sense nothing here which would warrant the bizarre stories the locals have shared. Harkonian superstition, nothing more.' Although he keeps walking, Jacques notices the caravan slowly coming to a stop. Isaac also stops, and seems to be staring at something.

'If it is merely superstition, then what is that?!' Snapping his head to stare where Isaac is pointing, he sees a gigantic furry beast is lying in the passage of the caravan. Since they are using the paths which snakes around the mountain, it completely blocks them. It bears a vague resemblance to a bear, but huge humps bulge out of its gigantic frame along its spine, and strange bony growths erupted from the back of its legs. It does not seem to care particularly about the caravan, merely giving a monstrous yawn and shifting slightly. With extremely light and cautious steps, Jacques approaches the beast to inspect it.

'It's... definitely magical in nature. But, I can barely sense it even at this distance. Something in these mountains is cloaking any trace of magic. There is something amiss here, Brahm.'

'Well, how do we remove this beast from the path then? Is there some sort of magic you can use to make it move?'

'I'm a magician, not a miracle worker. There's no telling how heavy this beast might be. If I pushed myself too hard when using magic, I could potentially kill myself.'

'So what do we do then?'

'Well, I have noticed that the road here is rather unstable...'

'Not an option. If we destroyed the road and caused the beast to tumble down the mountain, not only would the path be destroyed, but we could potentially cause an avalanche.'

'You make a fair point, Brahm. There is one more idea I have. I could get the beast's attention and lure it down the pathway until we reach a plateau.'

'Why is it that all of your solutions involve you risking your life to some degree?'

'Because whatever gods lie in the heavens have decided I must do things the hard way.' Cautiously approaching it, Brahm unsheathes his sword and pokes the beast gently. It doesn't respond or even notice, simply giving another yawn and rolling around until it becomes comfortable again. Brahm pokes it again with a bit more force, and still it pays him no attention.

'Its hide is thick. I am not sure that we could kill this beast if we wished to.'

'Even the greatest fortress has its weakpoints.' Before Brahm can stop him, Jacques climbs up the mangy animal's back, and drops in front of its monstrous face. Almost retching from the creature's foul breath, Jacques takes a moment to steel himself. When he finally gathers his courage, he pulls back the eyelids of one of the great beast's eyes. Jacques punches the beast in its soft and vulnerable eye, causing it to suddenly rise up from its resting place, howling in pain. Quickly losing his footing, Jacques tumbles off its head quickly and falls into the snow. With its one uninjured eye, the great beast glares accusingly at its tormentor. It raises its gargantuan paws high and slams them down into the snow, barely missing a scrambling Jacques. Fortunately, the billowing snow gives Jacques a chance to escape the beast's vision for a moment, enabling him to put some distance between it and himself. Once the beast sees him fleeing, it gives a mighty roar, shaking the very earth beneath it. With little regard to its own safety, the beast clumsily gives chase to Jacques, barely holding its footing along the icy mountain trail. Brahm simply shakes his head.

'And somehow, he'll still pull out alive at the end of the day. The man must be invincible.'

"Shouldn't we help him or something?' Isaac chimes in.

'What exactly can we do? He purposely lured that beast so we might continue along this road. All we can do, as ever, is hope they he doesn't kill himself in the process.'

Brahm's words ring true once again, as a fleeing Jacques desperately avoids death time and time again as the enraged monster attempts to crush him beneath its great paws. He could feel a slight aura of magic around it. His currently theory of its existence is magical tampering with the native species of these mountains, which were already fearsome predators to begin with. What makes him wonder is who would be practicing magic in these remote regions of Harkon. Magic is not a common craft or skill in Harkon, so the people who would be experimenting here would have to be either travellers from Arcana or natives of Harkon who had learned the craft by other means. However, this is irrelevant to Jacques right now as he barely manages to keep away from his impending doom. Unable to keep up his quickened pace, Jacques searches desperately for something which could distract the angry beast behind him. Soon, his luck holds out once again. Across the great tundras, he sees a huge frozen lake. Winter never ended in these mountains, so the ice would be thick enough to support his own weight. No amount of ice, however, would be great enough to support the beast's weight. Once again placing his trust in his own luck, Jacques begins making one final dash for the lake. The beast, too enraged to see the impending danger ahead, continues to pursue Jacques, each mighty bound it makes over the landscape causing the earth to groan beneath it. Thankfully, Jacques arrives at the lake and its ice is more than thick enough to support his weight. His biggest problem now, however, is that he has to move fast enough over the ice in order to escape the beast. Jacques leaps through the air and does a slide over the ice. Just as he leaps, so does the monstrous animal pursuing him, almost landing directly on top of him. The ice splits open and drags both man and beast into the icy waters. Thrashing about, the beast roars defiantly, but futilely. It can't swim, and Jacques has spent most of his energy during the pursuit across the tundras. Weakly pulling himself onto the now shattered ice sheet, Jacques crawls his way back towards the shores of the lake. Once he is out of the freezing cold waters, he takes a moment to lie there, shivering and exhausted. After a moment, he pulls himself up slowly, feeling his teeth chatter and clack together. He sees the caravan moving slowly in the distance, and a small detachment of Brahm's troops moving toward him.

'So, any theories on what that beast might've been, Jacques?'

'None. All I know is that it's been tampered with, altered by magic or some other means.'

'Then those tales told by the villagers must have some degree of merit.'

'I thought Arcana was a mysterious place, but Harkon has mysteries and secrets too. I can't produce any theory right now. There's not even any traces of magic in these mountains which I can sense. The only magic I have noticed was on that beast, and even then I had to concentrate greatly to even notice it.'

'Well, we can't afford to dwell on this. We have to get out of these mountains as soon as possible.'

'Wait, hold up here.' Curious as to what Jacques is up to, he signals the caravan to stop. Despite still being chilled from the lake's icy waters, Jacques leaps out of the carriage and scuttles towards a series of crumbling stones. Ancient writing is etched into the surface of each individual stone, though the writing is so ancient that their meaning has long since been lost to time. Inspecting it further, Jacques notices strangely laid patterns formed from gathered stones. Each one had exactly ten stones in them, and the symbols they form bear no resemblance to anything Jacques had seen before. Pulling himself higher in order to get a top down view of the formations, he sees they form elaborate cross shaped patterns. Brahm and Isaac manage to catch up to him, and see the formations as well.

'What are these, Jacques? This seems like some sort of witchcraft.'

'I felt something. I do not know what, but there is something abnormal at work here. These patterns are somehow linked to it.' Choosing to explore the site further, Jacques comes up to a small hill with a crypt sitting on top of it. Its gigantic stone doors are just wide enough for a single man to slip through.

'Jacques, we shouldn't be wasting time here. Our goal is to reach Greatspire Castle, not to wander around ancient tombs.'

'It's not something I haven't done before. Brahm, I must investigate this site. There is something here that is familiar to me. If it is what I think it is, then grave danger.'

'What could be here which could put an entire country in danger?'

'The darkness which sought to consume me.' While Brahm was cynical, he could see Jacques is deeply disturbed by whatever is here. Reluctantly, he agrees to allow him to stay.

'Alright. I can see you're worried, and you haven't been wrong about these sorts of things before. You've only recently had quite an ordeal, however. If you insist on entering, I will not allow you to go alone. I will go as well.' Emotionlessly, Brahm gathers his weapons, and bids his men to set up camp.

'We will not be long. Once Jacques and I finish our investigation, we will return as soon as possible.'

Both men slide across the cold stone, greeted by the foul smell of rotting meat. Gagging, Brahm curses quietly.

'I thought this grave to be ancient. Surely the stench of the dead would be long gone from this accursed place!'

'That smell means that there aren't only ancient corpses in this place.' Jacques quickens his pace, and whispers quiet words to create a light globe. Light spread throughout the tomb, illuminating coffins neatly bundled into square slots in the walls. Continuing on, Jacques shares his thoughts.

'Light has not visited this place for a very long time. However, someone else has.' He points at the ground, which has a series of distinct footprints in the ancient dust and dirt of the tomb, leading towards the back of the structure.

'That's more than a little suspicious.' Jacques says, kneeling down to inspect the footprints.

'What would you say, Brahm? Are these recent?'

'These footprints are the most recent, and they're leaving. I can't see any footprints going back in, so I think it is safe to presume that whoever was here has long moved on.'

'I felt something here. They must have left something behind.' Unable to suppress the rising feeling of dread within him, Jacques move deeper inside the tomb, drawn towards the inky blackness. His light seems to be consumed more and more as he goes deeper in. Soon, the blackness is so thick that he could cut at it with his blade. Brahm is managing to stay close to him and his source of light. In time, another light could be seen in the darkness. It glows a gentle blue, and Jacques seems entranced as he comes closer to it, step by step. Soon, Brahm can see that the light is bleeding out of a room. Without the slightest hesitation, Jacques slips into the room.

'Jacques! Please be cautious!' Brahm tries to call after him, but it is as though his friend is possessed. Seeming as though he did not hear Brahm at all, Jacques continues on.

'I swear, Arcanian!' Brahm loudly grumbles as he pursues him. When Brahm steps into the room, he is not prepared for what he will see. The room opens up to a gigantic cave, and in the middle of it, a gigantic pillar carved from obsidian glows sinisterly. Jacques stands alone, blankly gazing at the pulsing object. Afraid of what they have found, Brahm immediately tries to gain answers.

'Jacques! Talk to me! What is this?' His face completely devoid of emotion, save fear, Jacques speaks like he is in another place completely, far away from Brahm and this cavern.

'It is just like the pillar those wild men had been using. It's an eldritch pillar, and it seems as though it has been constructed recently. I thought that the knowledge was long lost, but it seems not.'

'If this is an "eldritch pillar", what is it doing in Harkon?'

'It is happening. It is finally making its move. I can feel it swirling around inside that pillar.'

'Feel what?! Tell me, Jacques.'

'The darkness beneath the mountain. It is finally began to spread. Life will either be assimilated or it will die beneath its touch. This, my dear Brahm, is the end of everything as we know it. It will destroy everything our kingdoms have built, and consume the very land beneath it in its wake.' Finally losing his patience, he seized Jacques by his weather-beaten robe and shakes him wildly. While it snaps Jacques out of his trance, it leaves him slightly dizzy.

'Damn it, Jacques. This is not the time to give up. Snap out of it, and let's start thinking of a plan. How do we destroy this thing?' Pulling himself up slowly, Jacques rubs his jaw for a moment, before answering a desperate Brahm.

'We can't destroy the darkness inside it. But, we can destroy the pillar itself. It will at least slow it down.'

'Then how? Tell me, how?'

'If we can just crack its surface, it should be enough to allow us to break it. Don't you still have that old war hammer of yours?'

'I think my troops are still carrying it, yes.'

'Then we need it, immediately. I hope that you have a strong swing with it still.'

So, after returning to camp, the pair quickly find his hammer and return to the tombs. Brahm's troops and Isaac could see the pair are worried, but none of them try to inquire as to why.

With his great hammer in his hands, Brahm begins hammering blows upon the pillar's surface. It takes several minutes, but it starts to crack underneath the might of his blows. He does not stop once, swinging again and again and again, until he hears the sound of stone splitting. The weakened structure collapses beneath the blow, and the group barely avoid the falling obsidian raining down on them. It stops glowing, and soon the atmosphere grows silent.

Beneath a brilliant night sky, Brahm and Jacques brood quietly to themselves. Inquisitive as to what happened inside the tombs, Isaac attempts to probe them into telling him something. He is largely unsuccessful though, since the two men seemingly ignore him. Lacking any chance at all to learn what happened, he decides to discuss it among Brahm's troops.

'What was in there?' He asks curiously among them.

'Brahm would not tell us anything. That is not like him.' Curious about what would spook Brahm enough to even not tell his men of it, Isaac decided to be a bit more blunt in his approach. He can see, however, that Brahm seems fearful. He is purposely isolating himself from the other men, brooding on his own thoughts. So, he decides to try his luck with Jacques. After searching around, he finds Jacques sitting on a rocky outcrop, looking across the land.

'Jacques. What was in there? What has you and Brahm so afraid?'

'Forever the curious scholar, aren't you? I suppose I cannot hide it from you, Isaac. We found a dangerous artifact in there, a pillar radiating darkness. And it was recently constructed too. Such knowledge was supposed to have been long lost...'

'So, what does that mean?'

'It means the shadow beneath the mountain is now able to spread beyond its original domain. Death will sweep over the land once enough pillars have been raised.'

'Who is building these artifacts?'

'I am going to guess the cultists I had witnessed back in my youth. They have probably have had years to build more of those pillars. What they hope to gain from an entity which will eventually betray them, I do not understand. Do you understand why we are so worried now? The end of days is being engineered at this very moment.'

'If that's so...'

'No more, Isaac. Leave me to my thoughts.' Being dismissed so bluntly, Isaac shrugs and walks away. Tensions would probably improve once they get back on the road. They have nearly exited the Giant's Spine. They should be at the base of the mountain in two days.

Soon, the air becomes sweet and heavy with the smell of a fresh harvest. The biting cold and howling winds cease, much to Jacques' delight. He wastes no time in removing the thick layer of frozen fur, revealing his battered traveller's robe.

'I do not care how long it would take me, I am going to travel around that mountain next time.'

'Surely it was not that horrid an experience, Jacques!'

'Well, I fell down a ravine, got attacked by ravenous beasts, and endured frozen winds and snow...'

'See? It wasn't so bad!' Brahm exclaims, then shares a laugh with his men. Jacques knows that Brahm's casual mockery helped keep the mood of his troops good, so he didn't bother trying to argue. Isaac seems a lot less battered by their recent mishaps. Peasants were out in large fields of crops, enjoying the warmth of the summer evening. A few of them look up at the caravan, with Brahm leading it. They quickly went back to their crops after an idle look.

'It seems the peasants are fairly disinterested in us.' Jacques observes.

'Odd. It is as though making it through the mountains alive isn't worthy of their attention.'

'Perhaps they should be made to make a trip along this path then. Broadening perspectives can do much for people.'

'There's much weight in those words when they come from you, Jacques.'

'I'm not the only one whose perspective has been widened in this caravan, Brahm. You and Isaac both have opened your eyes to many possibilities.'

'It's merely the passage of time and accumulation of experiences. We look at things differently as the days, weeks, months and years pass.'

'How do you think Isaac has handled himself during this adventure?'

'He does not seem particularly distressed about leaving behind his home and cottage. He has carried his weight as well as anyone in this caravan. He could make a fine soldier if he had the proper training. That superstition about the ghosts of ancestors seemed to be the main problem, and you've absolved him of that.'

'Being out of reach of his father has done him much good as well. That man has essentially used him as a willing slave.'

'Brahm. I know we've been avoiding it, but we need to talk about what is coming.' With great reluctance, Brahm agrees.

'As much as I do not wish to, you are right. But, I wish to understand this darkness. What is it, exactly?'

'If I could tell you, I would. When it touched my mind, I only caught vague glimpses of its true form. What I saw... I cannot even begin to describe it to you. It is angry, and it has no love for us. It does not exist in the same manner which we do, and is restricted by rules which we cannot understand.'

'So, how do we fight this then? How can we stop it?'

'I do not know. I am just as helpless before this as you are. The wizard had told me that I would understand what I should do when I had to do it. But, I've grown old over these years. I am not sure if I am still capable of doing what needs to be done.'

'We cannot give up Jacques. You said yourself that this darkness would be the end of both of our kingdoms. What if it simply does not settle for those kingdoms? What if it chooses to spread beyond these lands? Who could stop it?'

'Once something of that magnitude builds up momentum, I doubt any force in this world would be capable of stopping it.'

They stop talking as soon as Isaac comes within earshot of them.

'So, how far away are we from the castle now?' An inquisitive Isaac asks the pair.

'We're not that far at all, Isaac! After another day or two of traveling, we should reach the capital.'

'Excellent. We should have a bit of time for some chronicle writing.'

'If you can write while we walk, sure.'

'Go ahead then! It may be a little less neat, but I'm sure we can fix it later.'

Through this chronicle, there's been one man who has been absent from most of my tales, the now-Councilman Brahm. It was sometime after I had set off from the mysterious wizard's wasteland. I had wandered across many places in Arcana, and decided that I had to see more of Harkon. Knowing how dangerous it could be for Arcanians, I rarely spoke to anyone. I merely offered gold and they traded me whatever goods I had wanted at the time. For all of their failings, the people of Harkon are good hearted. Well, at least when they aren't around Arcanians. Up until this point, I had spent so much of my life blinded by my anger at Harkon, making presumptions about them much in the same manner they made presumptions about Arcanians. Through my wanderings in Harkon, I came to understand them better. Their hate towards magic wasn't wholly unjustified. One of the more common points I heard in conversations around taverns was that they feared what a powerful magician could do. Magic can manipulate just about anything in this world, including the minds of men. This was what made them afraid, the thought that someone could control their thoughts and turn them into slaves, with little hope of breaking that hold. I had noticed it before with the daughter of that Harkonian general. Even the weakest mages were capable of subtle manipulation on the minds of others. Some of their fears and worries about magic, however, were completely absurd, and I couldn't help but shake my head at them. For example, one person was worried that if she learned magic, just having it there might make her cooking worse. Considering that most people in Harkon disguise spoiling meat with herbs and sell them as fresh produce, I'd say magic would be more of a boon than a hindrance. However, I am getting off track, aren't I? I seem to have made a terrible habit of doing that. I first met Brahm along the borderlands, where he was patrolling along with a group of soldiers. As I'm sure you know, Harkonian men have mandatory military duty, even the greatest nobles have to rise their way through military ranks in order to prove their worthiness of their positions. Brahm was the first one to notice me, and quickly notified his men. Apparently, it's a crime to be in the borderlands if you're not of the military, and any suspicious people were to be brought to the closest outpost in order to examine if they're a threat or not.

'Hold it there!' He cried out, drawing his sword. Knowing that being captured by a group of Harkonian soldiers would not end well for me, I chose to run instead. Unfortunately, I had no idea just how good Brahm was with his weapons. Before I could even put a good amount of distance between us, he managed to snare me with a well thrown bolas. What made it worse was that he made me land face first into a puddle of mud, and held my face down in it for a couple of seconds.

'Running from a patrol can be a grave offence, you know? If your guilt wasn't confirmed beforehand, it definitely is now. Men, let's get this prisoner to the closest outpost.' Nodding quickly, they dragged me by my feet across the sodden ground. Just thinking about the countless things my face came into contact with that day, it makes me shudder still.

When they finally dragged me to the outpost, they left me inside a crudely made wooden cage in the tower's lower dungeons. It was a particularly quiet part of the borderlands they were patrolling. Despite the ongoing war, the Arcanians and Harkonians there had come to some sort of mutual agreement to live and let live, which I must admit is quite a rare occurrence. As such, the outposts did not take much due process in security, since they only dealt with peasants and drunken upstarts, rather than actual threats or dangerous people. Brahm had spent some time there, and the general attitude of the people there seemed to have rubbed off on him. I do not know what he thought of Arcanians before arriving there, but upon learning my nationality he treated me with cold indifference, as opposed to violent hatred.

'So, an Arcanian? You must not be a local. Anyone who was would know that they shouldn't be anywhere near the Borderlands. I'm afraid you'll have to pay a fine, my good friend.' Holding out his hand expectedly, he waited for a good five minutes. Since I needed that gold for my... travelling expenses, I gave him nothing. A bit irritated, he turned around and walked away.

'Fine then. A couple of nights in that cage should change your mind.' Little did he know at that moment that his words would ring true, but it did not change my mind in that I would become willing to pay for my apparent intrusion, but rather, how I viewed life after death.

Since the guards were fairly lax, they had not taken the time to remove any weapons from my person. I guessed that they were not used to people wielding weapons in these parts. I waited until the shadows of the night covered the land, and that was when I made my move. I took the blade the wizard had left me, and began sawing away at the lock which was between me and my freedom. The guard they had left to watch over me had too much ale, and was snoring away. It's like the classic situation I had read out of various storybooks in the Wizard's library. The guard's asleep, and that's when the thief makes his move on the locks. Though, what made this so much less glamorous is that they didn't give me water to clean my face of all the squashed bugs, random mushrooms and mud. I fumbled a fair bit in the darkness too, since any lights had long gone out. I could've created a magical light while I was there, as I did in that dungeon we escaped earlier, but I did not want to risk waking the guard. Bit by bit, the aged lock began to give way to my sword. With a loud clunk, it fell on the floor, and the wooden cage creaked open. The guard shifted slightly, but returned to his sleep. Sneaking as quietly as I could, I slipped out of the gate and attempted to find the exit. I noticed a soft light coming from underneath a doorway. At the time, I thought it was the moonlight, and that it must've meant that the exit was just within reach. However, I was too quick to leap at the opportunity. As I burst out through the door, thinking freedom was in reach, instead I was face-to-face with a ghastly looking wraith. Glowing like the light of the moon, its face was like that of a skeleton, with rotting shreds of flesh hanging off parts of it. Its two sullen eye sockets somehow gazed deep into me. It moaned gibberish, and through its bitter wails and cries, I could not even remotely understand what it was trying to communicate to me. After I stood there petrified for a few minutes, I slowly began to understand what it was trying to say.

'Men here... do not see or hear.' Raising one bony finger, it points at the snoring guard.

'Other men... see and hear. You... see and hear...' Each word seemed to be a great struggle with it. My fear slowly dissipated and slowly turned to pity, as I watched the wretched soul try its best to speak to me.

'All... men who could see us... screamed and fled. Did... not help.' Great... tragedy here. We... want rest. Please... help... ussss.' Hissing the last word, it lost any control and began muttering its gibberish again. It flailed its limbs around wildly, and actually hit me, even though its arms passed right through any other object they touched. Scrambling out of the way, I began running from the apparition. After escaping, I finally began to notice my surroundings. Coffins lined neat square shaped nodes in the walls, stretching on into the deep and dark catacombs. The Harkonians had built their tower right on top of an old burial ground. More spirits were lurking in there, sobbing, cackling like madmen, slipping through the walls as if they were made of water. Lacking any knowledge about the catacombs, I did not know whether to go on the word of an insane and undead entity, or simply take the other door out of the dungeon and escape from the wretched place. However, remembering the great sadness that I saw in the voice of the entity, I found that I could not ignore it. Its words were cryptic, but I must be the only one there that can see them. The Harkonians, not having any training in the art of magic, would never even notice the ghosts. It was interesting because I realised that ghosts were inherently linked to magic in our world. If objects are magical, or if people have training with magic, then ghosts can interact with them. If they are not, however, then they simply could just wail and be nothing more than spectators to the events around them. This is why I told you not to worry about your father becoming a ghost. You live in Harkon, and you know nothing of magic. Even if he stops being lazy and decides to haunt you after he leaves this world, he will not be able to do anything. So, in the end, I decided to return to the cage, so that I might learn more of this place. Seeing that pitiful spirit beg me for help, I could not deny that calling.

When I woke up in the morning, Brahm had returned. The drunken guardsman was put through his paces when Brahm found the lock had been destroyed on the cage.

'Why weren't you awake? If the prisoner had been awake, he could've escaped!' Stopping for a moment, he picked up the lock. Inspecting it carefully, he realised what had happened.

'Sawn through. You wouldn't happen to be hiding something on you, would you prisoner? Something capable of breaking a lock?' my guilt was plainly obvious, but what really threw him off was why I had not left the cage. This was the piece of the puzzle he could not place. Naturally, they searched me and found the finely crafted blade that the wizard had left me. After confiscating it, they quickly moved me to a more secure cage forged of Harkonian steel. The lock was still brittle, but nearly as much as the previous one. Just as Brahm left, I called out to him from my new prison.

'Excuse me, Harkonian. Where does that door over there lead to?' As I point at the door which lead to the catacombs, Brahm stopped dead in his tracks. His suspicion of me was painfully obvious.

'Why do you wish to know?'

'I like to learn about the places I visit when I am travelling around.'

'You think this to be a holiday, Arcanian? I swear, your people are so strange.'

'I like to think of everywhere I visit to be an opportunity to learn new things.' Turning back, he took slow and deliberate steps towards my cage.

'I know that you left your cage last night. The fact that you point at that door in particular confirms your guilt.'

'I think it matters little if I actually left that cage or not. What is important is what is behind that door.'

'And is there a good reason that I should indulge you on your curiosity?' Brahm made no effort to hide his irritation, and he had strode right up to make. We were staring at each other face to face.

'I'll pay my fine.' Pulling out my hidden bag of gold, I shake it for a bit to let the coins make a jingling noise through the dank dungeon. Enticed by the noise, Brahm quickly assessed the situation.

'So, you'll pay me what you should've paid me in the first place? I could just have my men pin you down and we take your gold by force...'

'But that is not the sort of man you are. You're the first Harkonian I have met who has actually spoken to me, as opposed to despising me just because of where I come from.' Thrown off by my words, he backed off from the cage. He seemed thoughtful for some time, obviously deciding what to do with me.

'Don't make any attempt to leave this cage. When you want to pay your fine, please speak with the guardsman.' With that, he slips through the dungeon's exit, leaving me with a new guard to watch over me for the night. This fellow seemed a bit brighter than the last one, and had not brought in ale with him. This would be the start of a most difficult situation that I had to spend several days to find a way out of.

It was a bit harder the next time around to find my way out of the cage. Brahm had started rotating men around the clock to keep an eye on me. I heard many wails from behind the door leading to the catacombs across the many nights and days that I had been trapped there, and my pity for them grew and grew. Eventually, right before the night shift, the guard nodded off for a moment. Attempting to not disturb him, I quietly focused my magic on the keys which he had on his person. Slowly, they drifted from his side into my hands. Slipped under my robes, he was none the wiser as the next guard came on duty. He was fresh from a good rest, and completely attentive. Part of me was tempted to use my magic to manipulate his mind, maybe make him lock the door behind him. However, another part of me remembered how the Wizard took control of my body against my will. I did not like the idea of doing such a thing to another person. But, Brahm had been rotating them regularly, and this was the only opportunity I had to escape cleanly. So, I decided to do it. His eyes glazed over. Since I was unfamiliar with mind manipulation, he moved stiffly and very suddenly. Inside his head, he was screaming and thrashing with every bit of willpower he could muster. Countless lessons with the wizard enabled me to overwhelm his thoughts, and so he exited out the dungeon door. With a final effort, I erase recent memories from his mind. I quickly unlocked the thick padlock placed on my cage and locked the door behind him before releasing my control over him. I could understand their fears now. Even for me, forcing someone to do things against their will felt completely violating. However, I did not have time to sit around and ponder upon the choice I had just made. I could hear him fumbling at the door.

'How bizarre. How did I end up out here?'

Wasting no time, I open the ancient door leading below. Dread filled me as I entered the tombs again, and it seemed that even more spirits were crawling out of the walls. Unlike last time, they saw me and started swarming around me. Many ghastly voices spoke at once, and I was lost in a whirlwind of noise. All of them were trying to talk to me at the same time, and I could not make any sense of their words even when I tried to concentrate on listening to one ghost in particular. A stronger voice shouted above all of them, and they fell silent. Quickly backing away from me, they made way for a spirit dressed in ghostly plated armour. He bowed before me and introduced himself.

'I am Kaduri, soldier of Harkon. Please forgive my comrades. It has been some time that they've been able to speak with someone who still walks the mortal earth. Who might you be?'

'Jacques of Arcana, ex-merchant and soldier.'

'Oh, that makes sense. You know a bit about magic.'

'More than just a bit.'

'Well, alright, you're experienced with magic. Anyway, they've brought a few Arcanians to this tower. All of them merely screamed in terror and weren't very helpful at all when we attempted to discuss our problem with them. So, in time we just stopped leaving.'

'So, what exactly is this "problem" of yours?'

'Well, you see, these borderlands have been constantly shifting for the last couple of hundred years. We were, how can I put it... unfortunate victims of a sorcerer with a nasty disposition by the name of Gustave, roughly two centuries ago.'

'A sorcerer?'

'Yes, and quite a powerful one at that. Certain magical disciplines among your people involve the manipulation of life and death. He has achieved a form of immortality inside this tower, and he gains the energy necessary to sustain this immortality by using the souls he trapped here as a wellspring.'

'You mean, he's undead?'

'No. He's alive. He may be withered and ancient, but he's alive. We are undead, he is not. Okay?' After some hesitation, he quickly resumed talking.

'I'm sorry, but it's been quite frustrating being trapped here. He can't leave this place since we are what sustains him, so he simply sits under this tower tormenting us endlessly. He has not bothered with the affairs of mortal men for sometime, hence no one in this tower is aware of him.'

'I think I'll pass on fighting an immortal wizard. I have problems of my own right now to deal with.' After stating this, all of ghosts' faces twisted with rage and contempt.

'Well, none of the spirits here aren't particularly happy with your choice. You seem like a decent man, and I wouldn't like to see another hapless soul be torn apart. I'm not going to pressure you to make a decision, however. If you think you can escape these spirits, then feel free to try it.' He made an excellent point, plus I did not have anywhere to flee to. Reluctantly, I accepted his offer.

'Fine. I will go deal with this wizard for you and free all of these condemned spirits.' For the first time during our whole conversation, the spirit's face lit up with a smile.

'I knew you would make the right decision. We will try to help you when we can. I can be your guide through these catacombs. The paths here twist and turn, and I would advise that you stay close.' With no delay, he set off, beckoning me to follow him. I could hear the angry voices of the guards outside the crypt. I had no way to go but down.

Eerie lights illuminated the gloom of the catacombs as I followed my guide. To describe the crypts as a maze would be a severe understatement. They twisted and turned like the thoughts of a madman, with no clear path nor any way of knowing where you were. I feared that the spirit was conning me into these tombs, hoping to trap me here like the other souls who were unfortunately bound to this place. I did not sense any malice in his personality, however, so I felt content to keep following him.

'Watch your step. This is where his control is greatest. He kept several spirits to serve as his personal guard should anyone come this deep into his macabre kingdom.' Kaduri then disappeared around one of the many corners, and as I came around it he was nowhere to be seen. Frozen on the spot, I did not dare move. One wrong turn in these tombs could leave me trapped in there forever, so I waited for him to return and continue guiding me. After some time had passed, there was no sign that he was returning. Nervously, I began slowly stepping forward, carefully considering each movement I made. Without a guide, I was helpless in the darkness. I kept wandering around, looking for any sign of Kaduri. Then I heard the clanging of metal, as though two warriors were clashing against one another. I made the best attempts I could to move towards the noise, but I found myself wandering hopelessly for some time. With some luck, however, I was able to find the source of the noise. Two ghosts were facing off against each other, both wielding steel blades. They seemed to be locked in an everlasting duel, constantly fighting non-stop. Neither of them seemed to be able to best one another, so they just kept fighting endlessly. There was great hatred in both of their eyes as they duelled, each swing of their blades imbued with a vicious amity for one another. As I stepped into their chamber, they stopped. Slowly turning to me, they lowered their weapons and simply stared at me.

'Flesh... Warm, familiar...'

'He still lives. No, it's not possible. Only the cold dead walk these halls.' Afraid yet curious, I attempt to talk with them.

'Excuse me. I know you two are busy, but I am lost in these halls. Can either of you guide me towards the sorcerer who has set up his residence in this place?'

'We will not. We must fight until the end of days. We cannot escape our hatred.'

'Too much evil has occurred. Farewell, flesh.' With that, they went straight back to the duel, attempting to slay one another fruitlessly. A faint tap on my shoulder caused me to turn around, and I found that Kaduri had returned. He seemed agitated.

'I see you've met those two. It's a terrible shame. They both loved the same woman and she died in a raid along the borderlands. They both blamed each other for not being there to protect her, so when their remains were laid here, they continued fighting. Their match has not ended for two hundred years. They long realised the futility of their battle, but the ruler of these parts will not release them.' While the spirit began walking away, I took a moment or two to watch the two continue their battle. Impatient, Kaduri called out at me.

'Don't linger here. They can't hear you now. The only thing you can do to help them is kill Gustave.'

'So, where exactly did you disappear to?'

'Gustave knows that there is something living walking these halls. He holds dominion over me too, so I must not appear to be associated with you when his eyes sweep through the tombs. I apologise, but I may have to disappear several times yet to avoid his gaze. He's capable of detecting ghosts, but not the living.' Once again, he set off into the catacombs, and beckoned me to follow him. What I did not know, however, was what he done with that spare time he was away.

Eventually, we came to a particularly dark area of the tomb. He began to speak in whispers, urging me to remain silent.

'He is just beyond this archway. I wish you luck, Arcanian.'

'Surely you can help me fight him?'

'No. I would not be able to do anything.' Without so much as offering advice, his ghostly form dissipated into the air, leaving behind no trace of himself at all. Greatly cautious, I began taking small steps inside the chamber. Wandering spirits illuminated the chamber with their pale light, and a single figure stood in the middle of a room. A great nexus of spirits flowed around him, as though he were sitting at the eye of a great storm. Step by step, I approached him as quietly as I could manage, attempting to size up my enemy before I attacked. He either failed to notice me or simply did not care. When I thought that I would be able to strike him down, I raised my blade high, ready to deliver a killing stroke. That was when his eyes opened. Two shrivelled balls of jelly inside narrow sockets, squirming all over the place. After a few seconds, they glared at me accusingly. Before I could react, he unleashed a barrage of attacks on my mind. My extensive training with the wizard had given me great mental resistance, which I was truly thankful for. We battled each other through willpower and determination, until eventually I triumphed, sending his wither formed reeling from me. I attempted to slay him there and then, but despite his age, he managed to avoid my blade completely, twisting his body in a way I thought impossible. His ancient throat croaked out a few dry words.

'These souls are mine. I am eternal. My thralls shall tear you apart.' With that, I saw spirits begin to pour out of the walls, wailing and speeding towards me. Surrounded on all sides by the most ghastly of the spirits, I began using my magic to ward them back. Though I shielded myself, it put enormous strain on me. It was my willpower versus the willpower of countless hapless souls. While I struggled against them, Gustave analysed me, attempting to discern who I was.

'I wonder who could've wandered this far without being killed or becoming lost. I suspect that one of my minions managed to escape the grip of my will just long enough in order to do this. I have grown lazy in the last century or so. Thank you for reminding me that I should keep a firm grip over my subjects.' Once again, he attempted to assault my mind. With my willpower split between holding back the spirits and his mental attack, I had to take a desperate move. Grabbing my blade, I flung it at him, hoping that it would strike home while he was distracted. It ripped through the spirits like a thick veil of fog, and embedded itself into the chest of the withered sorcerer. He gasped for a moment, but he still did not die. However, the spirits quicked reformed themselves, but no longer did they attack me. Instead, they turned to him, and I could hear their howls of triumph. My ghostly companion Kaduri reappeared, and he let out a triumphant cry.

'His magic is severed for a moment! Strike now, before it is too late!' I have seen many horrors in my time, but watching so many vengeful spirits descend upon that man... I do not doubt that he deserved it, but it was still one of the most horrific sights I have seen during my times. They torn him apart eagerly, dismembering him, mutilating him in whatever fashion they could. It was over just as quickly as it had began, and nothing even remained of him. Rumbles began to echo through the catacombs, and the ghosts began to disappear, their pain-filled faces finally gaining smiles. Kaduri turned to me, his face glowing with joy..

'Thank you, Arcanian. I will give my regards to your ancestors in the afterlife. I feel that I also owe you another guide through the catacombs.'

The spirit was good to his word, and led me back out to the tower. Brahm was waiting there, and had been expecting me to emerge from the door.

'There you are, you weasel. We all heard the rumbles below. Just what did you do?' I ignored him, instead focusing on another topic completely.

'I would like to pay my fine now.' Brahm looked at me with awe as I jiggled the bag of coins in front of him.

'You are one of the strangest men I've ever seen. You will pay a fine for one crime, only when you're caught in the act of another crime?' It may not seem like it, but this was the beginning of our mutual respect for one another.

'Whatever works, right?'

'No, I think in light of your most recent crimes, we will require a different punishment. You are to act in my service as a means to pay for your crimes.' At the time, I thought it would be a good way of traveling, so I agreed. It turned out the man I met was actually the brother of the King of Harkon. Before he could attain a higher political position, he had to have some military experience, and thus was assigned to the borderlands. As I have told you before, I'm officially Brahm's prisoner, though we do not really see it that way anymore. In time, we became friends. Though we often did just mundane things around Harkon, such as policing provinces and as such, we came to be quite the pair. He watched my back, I watched his. We began to discuss ideas with each other, and I had come to fully realise that my enemies were never the monsters I pictured them to be. Soon, the idea of forming peace came to mind. I guess my whimsical mother had a part to play in that. We discussed it at length, and Brahm found himself agreeing. After some time, we decided it would be best if we parted ways for a while in order to achieve our goals. I returned to Arcana, and with Nadine's family name, I used it to attain the position as a diplomat, and argued for the idea of peace constantly. Poor Nadine had since passed away, and now her children had taken up her empire. They could do nothing to stop me from using their influence, since I was also family. However, they knew of me through Nadine, and respected me all the same. In time, Stromfor's council agreed after I endlessly hammered the idea of peace into them, and Brahm obtained the rank of Councilman. It took both of us over a decade to achieve this, and we decided that we would meet back in Harkon in order to travel to the King's castle. We had been on the road for some time before we had reached your village. The final piece of this puzzle is the king. Brahm has done his best to help convince the king, and I can only hope we are successful.

'And that, Isaac, is my life up until this point. You've seen what else has happened, you no longer need me to recall any more memories for you.' Just as he finishes speaking, the caravan passes over a large hill. With delight, Brahm shouts to his troops.

'We have made it to the castle, men! Though we have lost comrades along the way, we have made it. Each of them will have an honourable burial. I am sure my brother will welcome us with open arms.'' Little does Brahm realise what is waiting for their caravan inside the castle.
Chapter 8 – Out of time

JACQUES HAD SEEN MANY GREAT STRUCTURES in Stromfor, but even he is impressed by Greatspire Castle. Its towers reach high for the heavens, overlooking the entire valley where the King had chosen to settle. While it did not use expensive materials, the stone used in its walls were elaborately chiseled to form great murals of battles and historically significant events to the kingdom of Harkon. Great stories had been told of how the fortress was unable to be conquered, as long as the men of Harkon live. With great pride, Brahm gazes at the castle, with its many soldiers and servants marching around the battlements. The group move forward towards its formidable gate, and Brahm calls up to the gate keeper.

'I, the King's brother, have returned from my journey! Please, lower the gates!' Immediately, several voices call out, and the drawbridge lowers, enabling the caravan to pass into the castle.

'Welcome back, Councilman!' One of the soldiers calls from the ramparts. Moving inside, the true splendor of the castle finally reveals itself. Beautiful gardens cover much of the grounds. with many servants tending to them, weeding, pruning, and fertilising the soil.

'This is it. Greatspire Castle. The home of the great king Malaach, my brother.' Half listening, Jacques moves inspects the designs and stonework of the castle walls. Exceptional skill went into its creation, and he is amazed that they were able to achieve such precision with their chiseling without the use of magic to aid their construction.

'Tell me more about your brother, Brahm.' Isaac says.

'He has been king of Harkon for approximately the last five years. Our father died of poisoning about a year before Malaach ascended to the throne. He has lead Harkon bravely and without complaint, as can be expected of any king.' After his curiosity is satisfied, Jacques turns back to the group.

'The skill of Harkonian craftsmen is truly splendid to behold.' Unfortunately, upon hearing his accent, several of the guards begin to look at Jacques.

'Please, he is my prisoner. He is serving out a sentence by acting in service of my caravan.' With the authority of a Councilman looming over them, the guards quickly return to their own business, ignoring Jacques.

'I think you should remain silent, for a while at least.' Jacques nods, and quickly falls silent.

'We should get about to business now. We've lingered in my brother's courtyard for long enough.'

Entering the castle's main hall, the decorative walls becoming increasingly elaborate. Great banners embroidered with gold and silver thread sprawl across the hallway, and a grand figure sits atop a throne of carved marble. It could be none other than Malaach, king of Harkon. His grab is not as elaborate as Jacques had imagined that it might be, a red robe simply embroidered with silver and gold thread, designed more for comfort than grandauer. The man himself is of a similar build to Brahm. Solid and stout, obviously being a man who had worked hard in his youth. Brahm is eager to see him again.

'Brother! It has been too long! How has the castle fared in my absence?' Expecting his brother's usual warm welcome, Brahm is surprised to see his brother not even smile. Uneasy, Brahm attempts to discern the situation.

'What is the matter, brother? Are you not happy to see me?'

'That is an understatement, Brahm.' A figure skulks from the crowd of Malaach's attendants, stepping forward to speak.

'We have evidence that Councilman Brahm has treacherous motivations and seeks to undermine Harkonian interests.' Infuriated at these accusations, Brahm shouts at the figure.

'I would never betray my own brother! What is this act of treason?' Unfurling a scrool, the figure begins to reas from it.

'A recorded log of the dialogue shared between Brahm and his Arcanian prisoner, Jacques. This log was recorded by the King's most trusted agent, and there is no doubting its contents. In this conversation, the two of them conspire to form a foolish peace with Arcana, and in addition, to manipulate the King's court.'

'Jacques is an ambassador of Arcana. He genuinely believes in forming peace between us, and I fully support this cause! Is it treason to wish for our mutual prosperity?!'

'Peace with Arcana? Brother, you have brought this Arcanian before me... to discuss PEACE?' With no attempt made to hide his rage, the King takes large and deliberate steps from his throne.

'Where was this wish for peace when Arcanians killed my father while he slept? Where was peace when countless sons have been sent to war against them? Where was peace when our borderlands have been raided constantly for the last few centuries?' Spitting in Jacques' direction, he signals his guards.

'I will tell you where this wish was. Nowhere. It did not exist. And it most certainly does not exist now.' Inching up to Brahm's face, he glares accusingly into Brahm's eyes.

'Brother, you have been manipulated by this Arcanian from the very beginning. He has used his magic to warp your mind and made you his slave. I had believed you to be stronger than that. Alas, I am disappointed. You are fortunate that I was informed of his ill intent ahead of time. Despite your betrayal, I wouldn't have wished the hatred you would have received as one of the men who conspired in my dethroning.'

'No, my king. My mind is my own, and I genuinely believe in what Jacques has to offer. We have worked together in order to achieve this. I beg you, as your brother and your councilman, to please consider this proposal for peace.' Waving his hand, Malaach signals his guards to take away his brother and Jacques, along with Brahm's troops and Isaac. They are escorted into the dungeons of Greatspire Castle, a most loathsome place which is reserved only for the King's greatest enemies. Despair is consuming Brahm, as he tries to understand how his brother had changed in such a short period of time. After being disarmed, they are all thrown into separate cells. Jacques' face is completely emotionless as he is shoved inside his cell. Brahm feels as though he is completely lost.

'I don't understand. Brother, what happened to you?' Calling across the room, Jacques offers a reply.

'I suspect there have been manipulators at work in your absence, Brahm. He knew of me and my Arcanian origins. Someone would've played off his suspicion and furthered his paranoia.'

'Who could've done this?! I will see to it that these manipulators are executed!'

'If the king is going to do what I suspect he will, then you will not got a chance.'

'What do you mean?'

'I believe he's going to execute all of us. Me, you, Isaac, your men...' At the same time, Brahm feels defiant and helpless. He bashes his hands against the bars of his cell hopelessly.

'No... I won't die like this. I refuse to.'

Rising to his full height, Jacques wanders to the front of his cell. Something, however, seems wrong with him. Brahm sees great fear in Jacques' eyes, just as he was when he saw the eldritch pillar.

'Brahm... I am afraid I have very bad news for all of us. I feel it...'

'No, not the darkness. Please Jacques, tell me it's not the darkness.'

'It is. Somewhere in this castle, there is an eldritch pillar being constructed right now. The manipulators are the very same cultists who have haunted me for much of my life.' Brahm's fear returns to him, as he thinks of the sinister pillar they had destroyed not so long ago.

'Jacques, do you know where it is?'

'I'm afraid it might be too late. It gains power even as we speak. It will not be long before they finish building it, and I cannot discern its exact location.' Just as he finishes speaking, the first guardsman watching the dungeons starts banging on the bars of their prisons.

'All of you are to be executed at dawn. You are to remain silent for the rest of this day.' With that, he sits himself in a chair and watches them all intently.

'Oh look, the great Councilman's nothing now. You're just another filthy prison rat like the rest of these hapless souls. The king belongs to us now, and soon you will all die.'' He laughs to himself while mockingly pointing at Brahm. Enraged at this mockery, Brahm slams his fists against his door.

'How dare you do this to my beloved brother! I will see you hung for this!' Isaac, having overheard their conversation, becomes extremely gloomy. He did not wish to die here, and his chronicle would be left forgotten. He had come to admire these two men greatly, and did not wish for their tale to end on a sour note. However, Jacques has not given up yet.

'I did not think I would be doing this twice in my life.' he mutters to himself. Summoning his power, he begins to focus on the guardsman's mind, taking control of him. It was much harder to perform than in his youth, and the guardsman fights him with everything he has. What results is the guard flailing wildly all over the dungeon's floor. Jacques manages to cause him to throw the keys into his cell, which he then quickly uses to free himself. The soldier, indignant at being controlled, strikes at Jacques viciously. The unarmed Arcanian manages to dodge it and elbows him sharply in the face, causing him to loosen his grip on his sword. Swiftly grabbing it, Jacques buries its blade clean through his skull, killing him instantly. He moves to release his companions, hastily fumbling at the keys.

'What did you do, Jacques?' Brahm asks suspiciously.

'... Mind control. I regret it, but I had no choice here. We have to move to the armoury immediately. You need your war hammer if we are to stop this evil before it can spread.' Though what he witnessed nags at him, Brahm reluctantly agrees.

'Alright, men! You know where the armoury is!' With a cheer, they storm out of the dungeons, quickly making it to the armoury and retrieving their arms. Brahm, feeling secure in recovering his armour, rests his war hammer on his shoulder.

'Direct me, Jacques. Where must we go?' Before Jacques can respond, a sudden rumble echoes through the castle. He remains silent as further rumbles follow.

'It has manifested itself. It's coming now. Its path is straight for the King.' Petrified at this thought, Brahm immediately moves towards the throne room, only to be stopped by Jacques.

'You can do nothing to protect him. This is my battle to fight. All you can do is find the pillar and destroy it. I might have a chance at victory then. Isaac, you should go with him.' Jacques takes a few steps towards Brahm.

'There is little limit to what can be done with magic. So, I shall make you see magic for yourself Brahm. It will allow you to seek the pillar.' With a quiet chant, Brahm feels something interfering with his senses. He sees flashes of light and glimpses of things he had never seen before, just brief flashes of beings of light, shadow and beyond the mortal realm. Soon, the flashing stops, and he experiences whole new sensations.

'While you are using this sight, I can't use it myself. I will need one of your troops to guide me to the throne room.' One person immediately steps forward, nodding. With no more spoken, Jacques runs off, heading towards Malaach.

Malaach sits lazily upon his throne, only to be disturbed by rumbles within the castle. He looks out, and notices that the rumbling seems to be approaching his throne room.

'Guards, could you please proceed to the front of the hall?' Instead of obeying, his guards did not even move. Though he is about to shout at them to move, he stops when he sees the wicked grins they are giving him.

'Welcome to your end.' One of them says emotionlessly. Before the king even realises what's happening, a billowing black cloud completely envelop his troops. Fearfully, he tries to slink away from his throne, but the blackness seems to seek him out. He closes his eyes, ready for it to consume him. Nothing happens to him, and he opens his eyes. Jacques stands there, his hands raised against the darkness. His potent magic crackles fiercely, pushing the shadow back away from the King. The sudden appearance of the mage causes the shadow to reel for a moment before recovering.

'It is you... The gifted one who escaped us. Jacques, we regret allowing you to escape. When you die, we will bring balance.'

'No. I will erase any trace of your existence.'

'Do you believe yourself to be serving a righteous cause? This man has brought great evil and enabled great horrors to occur. We will consume him, and in time all of this land will be avenged.' Gritting his teeth, Jacques does not relent. Malaach looks on in awe of Jacques' effort, unable to understand why the Arcanian is defending him. He does not complain though, and watches as the incredible battle unfolds. Jacques does not let up much ground, but the darkness is slowly winning. Powered by the pillar hidden inside the castle, its assault is relentless. Jacques can feel blood slowly seeping from his eyes. All of his hope is now with Brahm and Isaac.

Using the newfound sight Jacques had granted him, Brahm singles in on the pillar's location, Isaac and his troops trailing behind him.

'If anyone tries to stop us, cut them down!' He shouts. The majority of Malaach's guards are unaware of the situation, so they simply look on with puzzled expressions as Brahm charges forward, with Isaac and his troops not far behind. They become even more puzzled as they feel the tremors echo through the castle. Eventually, they come to an abandoned wing of the castle. It had been long shut due to poor craftsmanship and lack of stability in the structure. While it had normally been barred close, it is now curiously open.

'Of course, the miserable bastards would build their foul monument here.' Brahm mutters to himself. With no hesitation, he steps inside the structure. Deep tunnels had been borrowed beneath this wing, which eventually lead to its instability. Jacques' sight gave him the utmost clarity, enabling his eyes to pierce the darkness and find his way. While the abandoned wing would have proven to be a labyrinth elsewise, he knows exactly where to go. His troops follow him, unsure if he truly knows the way. However, they eventually come into a lesser hallway, and they gasp quietly in awe of the monument. Glowing malevolently, the pillar is surrounded by a huge crowd of cultists. It is thinner and its structure seems weaker than the other one, due to hasty construction. They chant eerily, and constantly bow down to the pillar. A single voice is heard over the noise of their chants.

'It is fitting that the rebirth of this world begins at the focal point of its failure, Greatspire Castle. Our lord will wipe this world clean, and we will begin anew.' Finally finding a tagret for his frustration, Brahm raises his hammer high.

'Slaughter them! Leave not one alive!' Following this, a great battle cry echoes from his troops, and even Isaac feels their fervour. The cultists have little time to react as Brahm dsecends upon them. Bones snap beneath his mighty war hammer like twigs. Unfortunately, the cultists begin pulling out weapons of their own, and a great battle breaks out between the two forces. Bram is bogged down by the cultists, even though he tries his best to carve a path towards the pillar. Isaac, having picked up a discarded weapon, comes to his side, striking down the vile zealots, gradually reaching the pillar which needed to be destroyed. The head cultist stands there, ready to die in the defence of the artifact. His weapon of choice is a gigantic great sword, eager to drink the blood of Brahm's men.

'To me! We must reach the pillar! Jacques is counting on us!' His men rally around him, and they form a shield which pushes back the cultists, enabling Brahm to finally reach the pillar. The leader takes a huge swing at him, which he barely dodges in time. The cultist finds himself skewered by a quick thinking Isaac, and dies quickly. With the last of his strength, Brahm raises his hammer for one last incredible strike. Upon impact, the entire pillar quivers. A gigantic crack forms in the middle of it, but it still continues to glow. Exhausted, Brahm cannot raise it for a second swing. Gathering his courage, Isaac picks it up, barely able to lift the gigantic weapon. Mustering all of his strength, Isaac manages to swing it at the pillar, finishing Brahm's work. With a great sound of stone cracking, the pillar topples over, landing on some of the less fortunate combatants. The cultists, having lost their cause to fight, flee immediately, scurrying into the depths of the long abandoned wing.

Jacques is now barely able to stand, let alone hold up against the shadow which seeks to destroy him. It eagerly expands forward, mocking him while doing so.

'You will fail, and you will die.' Just as he is about to lose out, the darkness reels back and lets out a noise similar to a scream. Jacques grins to himself.

'You did it, Brahm. Now, I will give this world my final gift. An end to this evil.' Tapping into his very life force, Jacques surges with powerful magic, trapping the inky blackness before it can escape. With one last great effort, he focuses all of his power into one last spell, intent on nothing else but the destruction of his enemy. The darkness howls greatly, and even Brahm hears its death cry. Great shudders echo through the castle, and then an uneasy silence sets in. Jacques stands for a moment, and feels blood trickle out of his mouth and nose.

'I am sorry, Brahm. I am sorry, Isaac. It looks like not all of us will survive this.' His strength leaves him completely, and he collapses onto the cold stone floor of the throne room. It is not long before Brahm and Isaac rush inside, only to see the King kneeling down before Jacques' crumbled body.

'Why... I am your enemy. Why did you save me?' Malaach asks him. In between coughing up blood and turning deathly pale, Jacques speaks weakly.

'Because... You are not... My enemy....' He turns to Brahm and Isaac, offering a weak smile.

'Isaac... Remember... my final words... Write... them down....' Jacques pleads with him.

'We... have killed each other for so long, king of Harkon... So many have died... For the stupidity of war...' His words become softer and softer, as his life begins to fade away.

'Please... Stop fighting... No more orphans... No more death... Bring peace between... Our people...' He stops to catch his breath, slowly gathering the last of his strength to speak a few last words.

'Isaac... has my story... I can die... without any regrets.' Falling silent, Jacques passes out. Wasting no time, Brahm quickly checks for a pulse. It is there, but it is extremely faint.

'Quickly, get this man to the physician!' Commands Brahm, his voice carrying through each hall of the castle.

Watching over his weak friend, Brahm sits there hour after hour. Isaac comes too, and keeps vigil over Jacques. They wait and wait for him to come back from his unconscious state like he always did before. In the castle's frigid air, Jacques' last misty breath dissipates into the air, and a deathly silence settles into his room. Brahm's face becomes like stone as he watches his friend pass into the afterlife. Neither he nor Isaac say anything for some time, before Brahm breaks the silence.

'He's gone... It's hard to think it, but that wily Arcanian is finally gone.' When the news spreads through the castle, Malaach comes to the room to pay his respects. He bows before the lifeless Jacques respectfully and with humility.

'A stranger, and an Arcanian, gave his life so that I might live. He fought an unspeakable evil, so that I might live. I wish for him to have a funeral here, and be given the utmost respect and honour that our kingdom can bestow. Send a diplomat to the Arcanian council as well. I wish for peace negotiations to begin immediately.' Pausing, he looks over to Isaac.

'Scholar, I wish to have this man's story read at the funeral. Everyone must know of his legend.'

Soon after Jacques' death, a grand funeral is held at Greatspire Castle, inviting noblemen from all over Harkon to pay their respects. No one dares to disrespect the deceased Arcanian in front of the king, and all of them listen as Isaac reads the chronicles he and Jacques had assembled, including the more recent stories they had through the Giant's Spine. With each word spoken, they all began to understand Arcana in much the way Jacques started to understand Harkon. In time, they all respected him truthfully and with great dignity. Jacques' grave is dug in a plot originally intended only for the graves of dead kings, where his resting place would be protected for as long Harkon stands. The king's diplomats were immediately dispatched after the funeral, and receive a favourable response from Stromfor's council. Peace is officially declared, though it settles uneasily among both nations. The mutual hatred between the two nations does not disappear immediately. Small rebellions occur with the Harkonian and Arcanian ranks, but they were swiftly put down. Brahm is one of the forefront men of the peace efforts, helping Arcanian troops and Harkonian troops alike. Isaac, who had joined the King's official group of scribes, spends much of the time after Jacques' death pondering. In time, he grows tired of books and writing, and finally chooses to live in dedication of his old friend. One of adventuring and discovery. When Brahm passes by the scribes' chambers to check in on Isaac, he only found the chronicles Isaac had created with Jacques left behind.
About the author

Little can be said about Liberty for now. What can be said, however, is that Liberty's interest in writing began in high school, when he started writing short stories as practice. He particularly enjoyed the works of the author H. P. Lovecraft during this time period. Since then, he has written many stories, but Arcana: a Recollection is the first one he has shared with the world. He hopes to share more in the future.

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