Paragon of Destruction

As Arran approached Amydon, he saw that the city’s ruins extended even further than he had realized. He’d thought Amydon was surrounded by rocky terrain, but with a closer look, he saw that the rocks and boulders that littered the town’s surroundings had once been buildings.

He recognized the remains of a wall, too. Even with everything but the foundation gone, the wide ring of stone was unmistakable. And it was thick, as well — a good thirty feet, which meant the wall had been massive when it still stood.

But clearly, it had failed its purpose.

Whoever had brought down the city, mere stone had not been enough to stop them. And that, Arran knew, meant they must have been mages. Yet he could not Sense any remaining Essence within the area, which suggested that the city had fallen long ago — centuries, if not more.

Arran furrowed his brow as he passed the outer ruins, his curiosity growing stronger with every step.

While the outer ruins were little more than rubble, closer to the town the remains of the old city were more recognizable. Half-fallen walls and lone pillars stood amid the rough terrain, many of them overgrown with moss or vines.

When he finally reached the edge of the town, Arran saw that most of its buildings were ruins as well, though they had been inexpertly repaired with rocks and stones — likely plundered from the outer areas.

Yet neither the extensive damage nor the shoddy repairs could conceal that this had once been a prosperous place. The streets were wide and paved, and even in their current state, many of the buildings still showed traces of splendor.

The people, however, were a different matter. There were plenty of townsfolk out on the streets, and if they didn’t exactly look poor, most weren’t very far from it, either. Whatever wealth the city had once held, it was obviously long gone.

Still, the town was livelier than Arran had thought. From the ruins, he’d expected to find a ghost town, with just a few stragglers eking out a living amid the graves of their ancestors.

But instead, he saw that the streets were filled with traffic and commerce, with many of the people he saw clearly having come from elsewhere. And if most seemed far from rich, he spotted several well-off merchants among the crowds, as well.

Arran walked around for some time, observing the people as much as he observed the buildings. And as he approached the center of the town, he saw signs of wealth appear on both the people and buildings he passed.

The damage here wasn’t nearly as extensive as at the edge of Amydon, and many of the grand buildings held well-stocked shops and stores. There were more than a few inns, taverns, and restaurants as well, and after a short look around, Arran entered one of these — a restaurant that looked simple but clean, and not too busy.

Inside, he ordered grilled meat and flatbread from a matronly woman with a stern face, and when she brought him his meal some minutes later, he asked, "Mind if I ask you some questions?"

The woman responded with a weary sigh. "If you’re looking for work, head over to the iron mines. They’re always looking for new workers." She narrowed her eyes and gave Arran an appraising look. "Should be plenty of work for mercenaries, too, if you don’t mind travel with the caravans."

Arran shook his head. "I’m not looking for work. I have some questions about the town’s history — back when it was still a city."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "You a treasure hunter?"

"Just a curious traveler," Arran replied. "When I saw the ruins, I couldn’t help but wonder what happened here."

"Not much I can tell you about that." The woman shrugged, and continued, "Place has always been like this, as far as I know. And my great-grandfather was one of the first to settle here, so I know more than most."

"Is there anyone else who might know anything about it?" Arran asked, unwilling to give up his search just yet. "Anyone who’s studied the town’s history?"

She frowned, then said, "You could try old Kimon. He lives a few streets from here. Thinks himself a scholar." With a laugh, she added, "Best be careful with that one, though — give him half a chance, and he’ll talk the ears right off your head."

After Arran finished his meal he left the woman a generous tip, then quickly headed out, eager to get answers to his questions.

He reached his destination some minutes later, and was surprised to find that it was one of the grander buildings within the town, large and lacking any visible damage. And through the glass windows, he could see that it was a jewelry store, with various precious gems and trinkets on display.

When he stepped inside, he was greeted by half a dozen suspicious looks. There were several guards and shopkeepers in the store, and they appeared to have decided with a single glance that Arran didn’t belong — no big surprise, given that he’d disguised himself as a mercenary.

Arran did not let the cold reception deter him. He looked around, then asked in a loud voice, "Is master Kimon here?"

An old man dressed in black silk robes with gold embroidery stepped forward from the back of the room. "What is your business here?"

"I have some questions about the town’s history," Arran said. "And I was told you were its foremost scholar."

The flattery had the intended effect, and a large smile instantly appeared on the man’s wrinkled face. "A seeker of knowledge!" he said in a delighted tone. "Tell me, what is it you wish to know?"

"I’d like to hear about Amydon’s history," Arran replied. "Especially about the fall of the city, and what came before it."

"That’s quite an expansive subject," Kimon said. He looked at Arran with a hesitant expression. "Explaining it all will take me several hours. Are you sure you have the patience for that?"

"I have as much time as you are willing to spare," Arran said. "Naturally, I will compensate you for your efforts."

"Nonsense!" the old man said, excitement now clear in his voice. "No compensation is needed. If you are willing to learn, then I will gladly share my knowledge." He shot a glance at one of the others in the store. "Thouk, take care of the store. Young man, please come with me!"

At once, he turned around and headed to a small hallway at the back of the room, where he guided Arran to a small but well-furnished office.

Even before Arran had fully sat down, Kimon asked, "Is that an imperial accent I hear in your voice?"

"It is," Arran confirmed.

"One moment," the man said. He hurried out of the office, and returned several minutes later with a pot of tea, from which he poured Arran a cup. "Where in the Empire are you from, exactly?"

"Silvermere," Arran lied. He took a sip from the tea, and was surprised at its quality.

"Silvermere! I’ve heard of that city," the man said. "That’s the home of the Wang Clan, correct?"

"The Jiang Clan," Arran corrected him.

"Of course!" the old man said, nodding as if he’d known the answer all along. "Tell me, are you affiliated with the Academy?"

Arran frowned, feeling some unease at the question. "I’ve had some dealings with the Academy," he said, "But I am not affiliated with them."

"A shame." The old man sighed regretfully. "It’s said that their libraries are unrivaled, with histories dating back tens of thousands of years. What I wouldn’t give for a chance to study there..."

"But about Amydon..." Arran interjected. He was already beginning to understand why the woman at the restaurant had warned him. If given the chance, he feared the old man might talk until nightfall before ever even mentioning Amydon.

"Of course, Amydon," Kimon said, the interruption bringing an end to his musings. "Our city has a long history, one every bit as illustrious as the Empire’s. For thousands of years, it stood at the heart of a kingdom unmatched in both beauty and wealth. And if the Shadowflame brigands had not wickedly attacked it, it would still stand today."

Arran looked at him in surprise. "The Shadowflame Society did this?"

"Of course," the old man replied, with an expression that suggested he thought the question a stupid one. "Who else possesses both the power and the malice to do such a thing? Whenever an act of great evil occurs in these lands, you can be certain those vile mages had a hand in it."

He gave Arran a studious look, then added, "With you an imperial, I should not be surprised that you don’t know these things. But heed my words, young man — do not get involved with those mages. Those foolish enough to do so inevitably suffer for their mistake."

Despite the unexpected information, Arran maintained a neutral expression. In a calm voice, he asked, "So what happened to Amydon?"

"That’s a long story," Kimon said. "Let me pour you another cup of tea, and I’ll start at the beginning."

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