All I could hear echoing through the halls was the sounds of distant conversation coming up from far below. “I forget how peaceful it is up here compared to my library,” I thought, as I shuffled up to the old stone door.

“Knock, knock!” I called out as I pressed my hand against the cool smooth surface, feeling it give way effortlessly.

“You know, for a blind man, you sure can track a person awfully easy.” I hear the room’s occupant chuckle.

“And I must say you do look quite awful today,” I retorted, as I entered, closing the door behind me.

“I’m sure I do,” he responded, propping himself up in bed. “What did I do to earn the pleasure of your company?”

“You nearly died again,” I responded matter-of-factly as I slid a chair up near the foot of the bed. “And that got me thinking,”

“Thinking! Now that is a dangerous occupation, many have been killed for doing just that!” he interjected.

“Thinking is at least half of my occupation,” I replied as I produced a pen, ink bottle, and paper from my robe’s sleeves. “Now don’t change the subject. I have been after you about this for years. One of these times you go into battle you will die, Isten willing that won’t be soon, but I wish to record your story.”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Alieative, I couldn’t tell a story to save my life.”

“Then it is a good thing you pay your healers well, or you’d be dead by now.” I dipped my pen into the ink bottle. “Now, I am ready when you are.”

“I suppose I have little better to do,” he paused, shifting pillows behind himself. “But where would I start?”

I considered as I tap my pen’s tip against the ink bottle sending excess drops back into their dark abyss. “Ah! How about you start with how you met Denrood.”

“That long ago? We’ll be here all year!” he scoffed.

“What is a year to you? You’re going on two thousand,” I quipped back.

“Well I never,” he snorted, “I’m not a day over nineteen hundred seventy four,” a grin playing across his face.

“You know that’s a lie, your birthday was two months ago!” I shot back with a laugh.

He waved his hand dismissively. “Bah! You’re far too specific.”

“Specificity is the second half of my profession. How am I to write a biography for you without being specific?”

“Fine, I’ll start with how I met Denrood. Now how do you start a biography?”

“I’ve given that some thought since I first asked you to do this. I think I will start with this,” I put my pen to paper and begin to write.

 It is unknown who may read these accounts -- if our world will exist as it is for us now. 

These are the accounts of the reestablishment of the Seen Order.

Transcribed by Alieative Teddan Dhor. 

Account  given by Sijada Sigma, master of the Seen Order, as he lay wounded in his chamber.