Cylus 8, Arc 721
It was already relatively late when the son of Ziell finally returned home. He had spent the better part of the trial at the Prime Atheneum, researching, wondering – and worrying, a little, the latter of which was a kind of behaviour that was at least slightly out of character for him. The fact that the island of Scalvoris that occupied a special place in his heart since he had first set a foot on it had to endure catastrophe after catastrophe and was on the brink of an actual war now whereas life in Viden was fairly peaceful constituted the cause of some concern though.
He could not help but wonder if there was more than mere bad luck involved, if there was something that had caused the collapse of the docks, the attacks in Ymiden of 718 – dark ships had appeared, and Smooglenuff Manor had been targeted among other things – the eruption of the volcano on Faldrass, and that played a part in the events surrounding Slag’s Deep now. Was there something on Scalvoris, or maybe under it, some sort of power, or maybe some sort of being? Was there something divine or maybe something magical involved?
And if that was the case, was it of immediate concern?
The people of Scalvoris needed help, no matter what was going on beneath the surface, he decided. Once upon a time, he might not have cared a about the fate of those around him as much as he did nowadays, but not out of simple indifference. He had used to think that mortalkind was doomed. He had witnessed too much cruelty, too much suffering and too many pointless deaths over the course of the centuries in order to believe anything else. He had come to the realization that Idalos was worth fighting for though, with everything that you had, and until your last breath, and that you should never give up.
As long as even a single person kept going, there was a chance.
The research that he had recently conducted would, hopefully, be of use to the Albarech and make a difference, but it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough in his opinion. He could do more. He wanted to do more, needed to do more, and he already had an idea on how he might be able to help further – which was why he immediately made his way into his study after he had eaten the dinner that his mortal cook, Elias, had made for him. He was not particularly hungry – there were so many more important things for him to do now - but he would not refuse something that had obviously been a lot of work.
(Elias had made roast chicken for him this time. It was stuffed with an assortment of finely sliced mushrooms and different herbs, among other things, with a side of vegetables, two kinds of rice, and a comparatively mild, but nonetheless delicious sauce.)
Once he had lit a lamp – in Cylus it was dark, no matter what the time of the trial was – and changed into more comfortable clothes, the Mortalborn sat down at the ornate desk in his study, grasped a pen, opened his notebook and started to think, and ultimately to write.
It was already relatively late when the son of Ziell finally returned home. He had spent the better part of the trial at the Prime Atheneum, researching, wondering – and worrying, a little, the latter of which was a kind of behaviour that was at least slightly out of character for him. The fact that the island of Scalvoris that occupied a special place in his heart since he had first set a foot on it had to endure catastrophe after catastrophe and was on the brink of an actual war now whereas life in Viden was fairly peaceful constituted the cause of some concern though.
He could not help but wonder if there was more than mere bad luck involved, if there was something that had caused the collapse of the docks, the attacks in Ymiden of 718 – dark ships had appeared, and Smooglenuff Manor had been targeted among other things – the eruption of the volcano on Faldrass, and that played a part in the events surrounding Slag’s Deep now. Was there something on Scalvoris, or maybe under it, some sort of power, or maybe some sort of being? Was there something divine or maybe something magical involved?
And if that was the case, was it of immediate concern?
The people of Scalvoris needed help, no matter what was going on beneath the surface, he decided. Once upon a time, he might not have cared a about the fate of those around him as much as he did nowadays, but not out of simple indifference. He had used to think that mortalkind was doomed. He had witnessed too much cruelty, too much suffering and too many pointless deaths over the course of the centuries in order to believe anything else. He had come to the realization that Idalos was worth fighting for though, with everything that you had, and until your last breath, and that you should never give up.
As long as even a single person kept going, there was a chance.
The research that he had recently conducted would, hopefully, be of use to the Albarech and make a difference, but it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough in his opinion. He could do more. He wanted to do more, needed to do more, and he already had an idea on how he might be able to help further – which was why he immediately made his way into his study after he had eaten the dinner that his mortal cook, Elias, had made for him. He was not particularly hungry – there were so many more important things for him to do now - but he would not refuse something that had obviously been a lot of work.
(Elias had made roast chicken for him this time. It was stuffed with an assortment of finely sliced mushrooms and different herbs, among other things, with a side of vegetables, two kinds of rice, and a comparatively mild, but nonetheless delicious sauce.)
Once he had lit a lamp – in Cylus it was dark, no matter what the time of the trial was – and changed into more comfortable clothes, the Mortalborn sat down at the ornate desk in his study, grasped a pen, opened his notebook and started to think, and ultimately to write.
