The Five Kingdoms

Lyssa Lyrameister, almost universally acknowledged as the greatest poet of the Five Kingdoms period, recorded the epic known today as The Lost Tomb of Jhohun Thallash’Mer some 400 years after the events. The time period in which the story took place was at the high point of warring among the Five Kingdoms, a time of volatility and blood. Alliances shifted quickly, generals and armies rose to fame and just as quickly were resigned to oblivion. Every living soul on the continent of Ashan knew nothing but warfare their entire lives.

Lyrameister’s fame as a poet rests upon two equally stout pillars. First, she is known lyrically to be the most accomplished wordsmith of the millennium. Second, her stories are famed for their historical accuracy and great profundity of detail. She is the progenitor of a form of epic known as nousreka, or reality of the mind. She traveled extensively throughout the continent, interviewing locals, surveying locations, and pouring over artwork and provincial records, compiling as much information as possible to form the skeleton for her historical sketches of figures that in most cases had been dead for generations. Historians have long mined her works for the informative details found within.

Even today, in the era of imperial unity that has blessed Ashan for the last 800 years, The Lost Tomb of Jhohun Thallash’Mer and its sequels have much to teach us. Ye who embark on this journey of discovery, heed carefully the lessons to be found within. Even as the translation loses much of her original artistry, the impact of her message should resonate. Lyrameister edifies us on the meaning of loyalty, the virtues of bravery, the follies to be found in treachery, and, most importantly perhaps, the mutual ruination to be found in warfare.

The moon hung low over the valley, just a sliver past full, a spectacular orange yellow orb that filled the window pane in its brightness. The type of night that Cal used to live for, clear enough to provide light for her twilight excursions up the mountain, and warm enough to obviate the need for too much cumbersome clothing. But the days of fun and exploration that she used to share with her best friends were coming to an end, and tonight’s spectacular moon was as much a reminder that the mid-autumn festival was coming to an end.

“You should get to sleep early tonight, Cal. We have a lot of work tomorrow with the harvest.” Her father, a big burly man, filled the doorframe to his room as he stood there in his bedclothes.

Their farmhouse was not big, and certainly not lavishly furnished, but it at least afforded her a room of her own. Cal sighed as she rather listlessly stood up from the window and headed to her bedroom.

Her father sensed Cal’s mood, and the reasons behind it, and offered some words of encouragement. “I know that Dusty leaves tomorrow to go back on the road with Master Primwell, and that with all the work around here this year you haven’t had much time for your studies yourself. But before you know it we’ll have enough for you to start at university. And I’ll be here all alone.”

“I won’t leave if you don’t want me too.”

“More likely I’ll move to Crown Hill with you to make sure you are safe in the big city.”

“I thought you hate it there.”

“I do. It’s a rotting corpse as far as I’m concerned. But it’s the only University we can afford to send you to, so I’ll just have to put up with it for your sake.”

“And then we’ll have no place to come home to, and I’ll never see my friends again. I’d rather spend the rest of my life in Moon’s Thresh then leave here forever.”

They both laughed, and Cal went to bed feeling better, the nostalgia for youthful bliss dissipated by the dreams for her future. After all the celebrations of the past week, Cal found that sleep came easily as soon as she slipped into bed.

Her father’s strident warning snapped her awake in an instant.

“Cal. Wake up. Go out the back and get out of the village. Take this.” He tossed his sword, still in its scabbard, next to her on the bed.

“What’s happening?” she asked, scrambling to her feet.

“I don’t know. There’s no time to dress. Grab some clothes and get out of here. You’ll know when it’s safe to come back.” With that, he was gone from her room, and she heard him shuffling out the front door.

She did not hesitate. Grabbing her boots and an overcoat, along with her backpack that she always kept ready at the foot of her bed, she took only a brief moment to ponder if there were any other essentials she might need. As she did so, she heard shouts coming from the village proper, and knew that her father would not have ordered her out of the village unless it were an emergency. She had every survival tool at her disposal packed in that bag, a habit left over from her youthful days of mountain exploration with Dish and Dusty. Not even pausing to put on her boots, she tore away the canvas that covered her bedroom window, and vaulted outside. There was plenty of light from the moon, now high overhead, and she sprinted across the near field and into the scruff of tree and rocks that marked the rear boundary of their property.

She headed for their regular hiding place, and hoped Dish and Dusty would be there already. She did not want to wait alone.

“History is littered with over eager neophytes who foolishly inserted themselves into situations they were never prepared to face,” Marvela chided dispassionately, almost as if she were reciting a lesson. “The reason you have never heard these stories is because they always failed.”

Cal writhed on the floor, fighting as much against the one sided conversation as the cords binding her hands behind her back. She would not give up the struggle, even now. But the sight of Dish–similarly bound, laying prone next to her–and Dusty–bloodied and breathless in the center of the room with the two hulking brutes taunting him with the occasional kick–made the truth of the matter painfully clear. She had failed her friends, and the entire village was in peril because of her foolishness.

“You’re right. I had no business leading my friends against you,” Cal conceded. “But don’t make them pay for my mistakes.”

Marvela looked up, chuckling. “Your minor inconveniences are not enough to make me change my plans.” She then returned her attention to the object in her hand, examining it closely. “In fact, your interference may prove more invaluable then you could ever imagine. My Lord is always looking for artifacts from our past, but rarely do we have them handed to us like this.”

Cal squirmed again at the site of the amulet in Marvela’s hands. Dusty had said it was powerful magic, more powerful then anything he knew of. Olafur had warned them to leave it behind, that such an item would be more dangerous than it was worth. No one would have expected Dish or Dusty to leave behind something that was potentially powerful, and valuable, but Cal should have argued against them taking it from the tomb. Another one of her mistakes.

Marvella turned again towards Cal. “You need not feel so bad. You taught me a valuable lesson. I underestimated your group’s ability to trouble us, and it has cost us precious time. We had assumed it was only village children that we had to deal with. The presence of an outsider among you certainly caught us off guard. But now that you’ve been captured, the item which my client was seeking has been found, and I have been gifted this unexpected artifact as a bonus, I don’t think there will any need to punish you or your village further.”

“Ahem…” interrupted a voice from the corner of the room. It was the blond aristocrat that had accompanied Marvela and the intruders. Cal could not be certain, but his dress and accent seemed to mark him as hailing from Hesiod’s Pan. She had no doubt that he was the client whom Marvela referred to.

“I don’t see how you can let these children off after everything they’ve learned about us. You said it was imperative to keep our activities here a secret, but the way your two lieutenants,” he pointed to the soldiers, “have paraded about the village, plus your own cavalier tongue have made it very clear to everyone that house Cassivore is behind the intrusion.”

“My murdering these children will only make for more gossip. The only way to silence the rumors now will be to slaughter the whole village.”

“My father made it very clear that we were to leave behind no witnesses.”

Marvela fell silent for the moment, clearly perturbed by the young nobleman, but not willing to contradict him either. After reflecting for a few moments she stood up, putting the amulet in her pocket as she did so. She nodded to the two soldiers as she said, “Don’t leave any witnesses behind.” When they abandoned their amusement at Dusty’s expense to leave through the door, she turned to Cal, the trace of regret quickly replaced by firm resolve.

“I’m sorry it has to end this way. But history acts without mercy on those who fail.”

Cal renewed her struggles to break free, but she knew hope was receding fast.