The way back to the manor was about as eventful as the trip to the powderhead's base, if it could even be called that, which is to say nothing extraordinary happened. Once we return Albatos practically drags Orelio and I down into the training room again, even though we both beg for a break.

Albatos spends the rest of the day teaching me about gun maintenance and safety, with some occasional aim practice. Orelio spends most of the time messing around, left completely to his own devices.

After only a few hours we're forced to call a stopping point because of the gunpowder fumes that have built up in the closed room from our target practice. Internally I wonder how Albatos didn't anticipate this, but I keep my reservations to myself as it gives me the first opportunity for true free time I've had since I got out of prison.

I see both Albatos and Orelio off, saying there's something I want to take care of. Miraculously, neither of them offers any words of protest, likely because of the nauseating headache caused by overexposure to carbon monoxide or whatever else is released from gunpowder fumes.

Finally, I get a chance to follow up on that one lead Hithe gave me. I wasn't sure I'd actually get the chance to, and I wasn't sure if I even wanted to, but seeing as how the opportunity has arisen, I can't help but be curious.

I'm of course thinking of the hidden archive Hithe mentioned. I can't honestly be sure he wasn't trying to mislead me, and I'm definitely not sure that my hunch of where it's located is correct, but so long as I don't leave the safety of the administrative district, and I don't get caught, there isn't much risk as far as I can tell. Having more information is never a bad thing, after all.

The real issue is slipping my guard. I haven't seen them, but I know with an absolute certainty they're there. I slipped out using these tunnels last time, there's no way Andora didn't assign a shadow brigade guard to tail me wherever I go down here, or at least survey the exit I used. But considering I could always find another exit, I find it much more likely the guard is assigned to me personally.

Unlike Alice, I can't use illusion magic, else it would be a simple matter to throw them off. It's not that I haven't invested the time to form the concept, I spent the last week trying to compile it into something that worked before sleeping, but no matter how many times I tried to put the spell to effect, it broke.

So that means I'll have to rely on more traditional cloak and dagger tactics to lose my guard.

I put my hand against the floor of the dojo and send out almost imperceptible waves of mana. These vibrations are linked to my senses and I can feel whether they're passing through solid matter or empty space. It's extremely mentally taxing, having my mind flooded with sensory information, but the effect is well worth it.

This is of course a spell that's inspired by Hithe, though I don't know how close my concept is to the original. Below the floor is a relatively open space, mostly consisting of supports for the floor upon which I stand, like the crawl space under a house.

Using more magic, I cut several of the floorboards and lift them away, revealing the crawl space below. I slip down below and pull the removed boards back into place above me. Using one last touch of magic, I reaffix the boards in place, hopefully making it seem natural enough that it wouldn't be spared a second glance upon a cursory inspection.

Reinforcing my vision to better be able to see in the dark, I cast a sound muffling sphere around myself. Though I can't be sure, I find it likely that spaces like this are what the shadow brigade uses to move around the city undetected, which means I need to be extremely cautious of them as I make my way toward my objective.

Hithe said the hidden archive is located somewhere obvious, and considering the library had no perceivable stairs leading to a basement level, I assume that's where said archive should be located.

I used our brief trip to the powderheads to measure the distance between Andora's manor and the library, so once I factor in the coordinates of the training room relative to the manor, I have a vague grasp on what direction to head in.

Really there's nothing much to do but go in what I assume to be the right direction, stop when I feel like I've gone far enough, and probe through the walls until it seems like I've found my target.

I spend the next two hours doing just that. Annoyingly, the crawl space is similarly labyrinthine like the halls above, but seemingly in a different formation. The place is thoroughly annoying, as it's a labyrinth that forces you to crouch constantly while avoiding bumping into support beams to make your way forward.

As I assumed, members of the shadow brigade do use this space, as I have two close encounters with the members of the elusive organization. After calls that are far too close for comfort, I finally make it to the approximate location.

After that, it takes another hour to locate the room I'm looking for. Using the same technique I used to make my way out of the training room, I make my way into the hidden archive.

The archive is tiny, just a small room with less than a dozen books all positioned on display podiums and a table with four chairs. More than half the tomes seem to be either financial records or related to management of the city. I don't bother lingering on them, as they hold zero interest to me.

One that does stick out is what seems to be a record of reports over the years of heartstones collected. Vaguely I wonder why something like that even matters, but I pay it little mind as my gaze shifts to the next book.

The book Hithe mentioned is here exactly as he said it'd be, and it's far older than I expected. The letters 'Erased' are barely legible on its leather cover, and the pages within seem as though they'll fall apart if I so much as touch it. It's also far thinner than the others, less than 50 pages by the look of it.

I mean, Hithe read it, and likely within the last 20 years or so if what Vanderburst said about tinks is true. Wait, what if a past iteration of Hithe was the one who read it? How long ago could that even have been? A century? Longer? I'm going to simply have to hope and pray I don't destroy a historic document by simply picking this book up.

Hesitantly, I reach out and gingerly grasp the book. Thankfully, the pages don't disintegrate at my touch, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Still, I resolve myself to treat the slim tome with the utmost caution.

I realize only a portion of the book is composed of ancient parchment, the other half made from much newer looking paper. Opening it, I attempt to read through the ancient pages, as they compose the first half of the book, but find they're in a language completely unfamiliar to me. Looking at the second half of the book, I breathe a sigh of relief seeing it's written in Common.

*****

Hereafter remains the final record of the mad king, Eldarian. These pages are the journal of Viscount Elsaria, sister to the king and once future queen, and are the only remnant of our once great king's legacy. All else had been meticulously expunged and erased, so the memories of such a tragedy will not linger on Mother's heart. There must always however be this reminder, to ensure Elsaria's will is never forgotten, and so Mother never regrets the choice of her children.

Elsaria did not date her personal journal, and all dates are mere approximations.

—

Fall, 1547

Elnaria gave me this journal, saying I should write about my day in it. How stupid, as if I'd ever bother writing my feelings in a book. I bet she just wants to make me write all my secrets in it so she can steal it and laugh at me. Jokes on her, I'll make an effort to only write stuff that will embarrass her.

—

Fall, 1547

Yesterday Elnaria brought home a pet mouse but didn't tell anyone, I barely caught a glimpse of it as she hid it within a box. When we woke up this morning we found it had eaten a hole into Elmaria's favorite dress trying to get at some food she'd hidden inside. I've always wondered why she liked such a hideous outfit, now I think I know why.

I think Eldarian knows too, but he didn't say anything. He had to console Elmaria for half an hour after the servants were unable to appease my annoying sister.

—

Winter, 1547

Today was the winter festival. It was the first time I was able to break away from those annoying advisors and actually have fun and see all the festivities (thanks Eldarian for covering for me!) I even met a new friend, her name is Sara. She's the first friend I've found that isn't locked in this stupid castle. She showed me all around the festival, showing me sights I never would have imagined before.

I can't believe how amazing it was. Thinking about how many I've missed makes me angry. I think the only thing that would have been better would be if the four of us had gotten to see it together.

Sometimes I hate the Seed. I wonder why it had to be me who Mother gave it to. Out of all of her children, why did I have to be special? I don't want to be special, I just want to be ordinary. Then I could go to every festival and I wouldn't have to sit through as many long and boring lectures on politics and etiquette.

Maybe then I wouldn't have to deal with such annoying sisters. I suppose I would miss Eldarian. Maybe in a perfect world, he and I were both born ordinary and didn't have to deal with the responsibility of nurturing our Seeds. Maybe me and my sisters wouldn't be forced to compete all the time, and we could have all had fun at the festival today.

—

Summer, 1548

Someone tried to kill Eldarian today. I can barely sit still when I think about it, it was so terrifying. There was so much blood.

I don't understand why everyone hates him so much, nobody will explain it. All they say is that men should never be born with the Seed and that he's cursed. I don't get it, he's the most devoted of all four of us and yet he's still hated. I don't get how he can remain so calm when he's faced with enough injustice to make my blood boil.

I think Sara knows, but she won't tell me no matter how much I asked. I need to apologize to her, though it makes me a bit angry. I'm afraid of losing my only friend because of something I said while angry.

The thing I don't get most of all is why people would question Mother. The advisors say Mother can see bits of the future, and that we're created the way we are as a way to prepare for the future she sees. So why then would somebody question Mother's creation? Are we not created in Mother's image, her ideal solution to coming conflicts?

—

Fall, 1548

Today we learned history. The three of us learned history, I should say. The history of our people, and our kings. Why someone tried to kill Eldarian and why people see him as a curse.

Damn my brother, who already knew and simply never told any of us. Damn it, can't you see we care? Maybe that's why, now that I think about it. Regardless, we intend to make him atone for keeping us in the dark.

But first, we need to work together to find a solution to this problem. Eldarian is the most wonderful person out of all of us, so none of us believe he'll ever turn out to be like those who have come before.

The real problem is what his existence entails, and why people see it as a curse. If a king's coming is indicative of some dark event looming on the horizon as it has in every case that has come before then we need to find ways to confirm and prepare.

Though I don't wish to believe such an ominous future could await, I have to admit it does explain some concerns I've had.

I've met the queen and received private lessons from her several times now, and even as much of a novice as I am, I can tell my potential strength far eclipses hers. The same goes for all of us four, where the queen and her single sister seem frighteningly weak. If the number of Seed bearing children and their strength is a sign of Mother's preparation then I fear what she has seen in her prophetic visions.

That combined with Eldarian's being make it almost certain that dark times await. If boys being born with the seed only happens once every other generation, and that birth is always paired with a war that follows, it's easy to see why people see him as a bad omen.

Still, it doesn't change that Eldarian is our brother. We three know him better than anyone, and I know all of us would stake our lives on his virtue.

—

Fall, 1555

All four of us were proclaimed ascendants today. This is the first time in history that a dwarf is recognized as reaching the height of perceivable strength without having a Seed mature. The fact that all four of us were proclaimed as such is another grim reminder of what's coming, though none of us can see it on the horizon yet.

I tried to speak with Sara after the ceremony, but she seemed strangely distant. I worry she thinks this changes something, that either the ceremony or the caution that comes with age has made her feel that she can no longer stand with me, or something to that effect. I don't care about being an ascendant or being one who bears the Seed. I just want our days of friendship to last forever. I must seek her out, make her understand. I don't think I could take it if she rejects me.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

I spoke with with Mother last month, to try to convince her to guide us and show us the path to take. I couldn't even get her to respond. It's as though she's grown weaker these past few years. I wonder if creating us took a toll that isn't readily apparent. Her golden light has somewhat dimmed, and even when she did speak to me before it was as though my voice only reached her through a far tunnel.

Perceptions of strength aside, the day will soon be upon us that the crown must be passed on. It will be up to us four to decide which of us will proceed to be blessed with Mother's gift.

The voices of the advisors are unanimous, but so are our own. Eldarian doesn't take part in these discussions of ours. I think he fears what we think, and doesn't wish to accept that he is the best of us.

Against the will of both the dissidents and our advisors, all three of us intend to promote Eldarian as king. His is the voice of reason all of us have relied upon time and time again, and his is the strength that all of us trust to see our people through the blackest night.

—

Spring, 1556

Today was supposed to be a good day, dammit. Why will nobody accept that Eldarian has what it takes to be a great king?

When put to the question of who would be elected ruler, our voices were one. Even against the mayhem among the crowd we held fast to our choice, and Eldarian was admitted to Mother's sanctum to receive his gift. Everything went wrong from there.

Three of our advisors attempted to kill Eldarian, and one of their blades managed to find his back. Pandemonium ensued after that.

Leaving Elmaria and Elnaria to try to make heads or tails of the situation, I rushed to our brother's side. Though the wound should have been healable, the chaos of the crowd made it impossible to summon a medic in time. I'm ashamed to say I panicked and lost myself completely.

Even amidst all that, Eldarian somehow held his composure better than I. He calmly reminded me that we had a duty to do, and I led him into Mother's sanctum.

I think the thing that still haunts my mind the most is that I had to leave him there on that cold floor, bleeding onto the stone. But the procedures of the ceremony are absolute, and the rational part of me knows that if I had remained I would have ruined everything.

It took an hour to settle the crowd and restore order. Sara helped too. She's become something of my liaison among the people, and her help was invaluable to restore order. Though even she seemed upset about our decision, despite how many times I've tried to convince her of brother's pure heartedness. I suppose it'll be up to him to prove the people wrong.

It took another three for brother to emerge from Mother's sanctum. I was so afraid he would be somehow changed, but he seemed well, if a bit troubled. Mother had healed him completely and it was evident to all that despite their protests, brother's Seed had matured. As of today, Eldarian is King of Wald.

The effect of being in the presence of a matured Seed was astounding. I felt the absolute authority it commanded over my Fragment the moment Eldarian returned, and I'm sure every member of the crowd felt it even more than I, somewhat protected by my own withering Seed as I was.

By now I can feel that the Seed that was within my chest has almost fully withered away, but I certainly don't regret that. It was nothing but a burden anyway.

—

Spring, 1558

I almost can't believe how peaceful it's been lately. It took a while for people to accept Eldarian as king, but his every action has been benevolent and kind, as the three of us knew he would be. The people have slowly started to get over their prejudice and accept him.

It's almost enough to make us let our guard down, but the four of us know that Mother's visions are seldom mistaken. Something is coming, and we must continue our preparations.

But that's a problem for tomorrow, I suppose. I'm going to have lunch with Sara in an hour's time. Mother recently bestowed upon her and her husbands a set of beautiful children. Seeing her this happy almost makes me want to find some husbands of my own and settle down.

But I can't. Someone must be at the forefront to protect those that cannot protect themselves, and Eldarian is not a one man army. From the moment we three supported him as king we swore to assist him in every way we could, for so long as he is forced to bear the burden we entrusted him with.

—

Summer, 1559

Strange people arrived on our northern shores last week. They possess technology far more advanced than any I have ever seen. Their ships do not rely on sails and their blades can cut through steel and stone with the most minimal effort.

They claim to have come from a great land beyond the northern sea, but I find that preposterous. I've never heard of anybody being able to breach the walls of fog at the ends of the world, but they say they've destroyed it entirely. Such an act goes against the Heavens, and I fear they are dangerous, for as benign as they seem.

Nevertheless, we took in these visitors from the faraway land of Prisna as proper guests of the state, as Eldarian instructed. I don't believe he trusts them any more than I do, but he still insisted that so long as they do not wrong us or our land they are to be treated as guests.

Mother's voice has been growing ever dimmer, to the point where having a conversation is all but impossible. The children she blesses us with are still flawless and healthy, but I fear that she is sacrificing something we cannot see to continue.

—

Winter, 1561

The Prisnan ambassadors have invited Eldarian to their land across the sea, claiming they will soon be the hosts of the most marvelous undertaking that the world has ever known. Despite how grand they make their undertaking sound, they adamantly refused to share any details at all about the nature of their endeavor.

Since their arrival it has been made clear that they may have nothing but good intentions. They freely share their technology, though not the methods to create it, and have gathered an immense amount of goodwill not just from our own people, but countries across both Alta and Nourne.

Their automatons have become faithful helpers for what seems like almost nothing, and their people have integrated into our society smoother than I could ever have expected.

Still, it strikes me as strange that they would request our king to leave the country to bear witness to something they refuse to explain. The entire situation sets me on edge and both I and my sisters have all advised Eldarian to not go, to remain here with his people. The people who finally after all this time have accepted him completely.

No matter what we said, it would not sway him. He seems intent on going for some reason none of us understand. His ship leaves tomorrow, and I can only pray that the guards we send with him are enough. He all but forced the three of us to stay behind, claiming that if anything were to happen we would need to be the ones to lead the country until more children with the Seed are born.

Brother, can't you see that it is not us the people follow, but you?

—

Spring, 1562

Why did we ever accept those damn foreigners? We knew something was coming, yet we still played the peacemakers and friendly neighbors. Now we pay the price for our lapse in caution.

The world has gone insane. I don't know how else to put it.

The automatons that the foreigners brought to help have turned into murderous machines bent on destroying anything remotely resembling life. They slaughter both their own people and ours with gleeful abandon.

The very mana of the world seems to have turned chaotic and insane. Monsters pour out of the wilds to join the carnage. Creatures mutated beyond recognition assault our every town and village.

Thousands die every day. The undercities are falling one by one, defenseless against the tide of chaos that consumes them. We did not build them with defense in mind, never expecting the enemy to come from within, all at once.

The crux of it all is that Eldarian is away. I cannot bring myself to imagine him having perished in that land across the ocean, but I cannot dispel the deep fear in my heart. It's evidently clear that something has gone horribly wrong in Prisna, but there is simply nothing we can do. That land is far away, and our ships cannot cross the sea. A terrible creature has appeared in those depths and decimates every ship we send.

I would love nothing more than to go and smash it to pieces myself, but I have had barely a moment's rest. None of us have. I don't even know why I'm wasting my time writing in this stupid book when I should be sleeping.

Sara, where are you? Eldarian, please return to us. We need you.

—

Spring, 1562

Eldarian has returned. Of the fourteen ships we sent with him only his own has returned, and with a third of its crew.

Still, our king has returned. Even now he leads the counteroffensive against these terrible enemies.

I found Sara. She died protecting her children against one of those abominable machines. I can't

there was so much blood

what am I supposed to do without my dearest friend?

—

Summer, 1562

The cursed automatons have gathered in a horde, seeming intent on sieging the Mountain Home. I would never have thought them capable of anything resembling emotions, but whenever I fight them lately I feel a vague sense of irritation, as if they're annoyed they haven't been able to stamp out our final bastion yet.

From what I understand it seems like we may be some of the only surviving nations, or any that remain have lost all sense of structure. We can only be thankful we have Mother to rally around, and Eldarian to lead us with his steadfast will.

It worries me that brother is much more quiet and reserved than he was before. He will not speak of what happened in the north, only that the Prisnans attempted something that should never have been done.

Regardless, I believe this dreadful calamity will have subsided greatly in a month. The automaton's gathering is both a boon and a curse, and we shall simply have to hope our will of preservation holds out against the coming dark.

—

Summer, 1562

Our people live on. Though the battle came dreadfully close to destroying us all, we prevailed. Our losses were so great victory almost seems an illusion, a lie.

I myself lost an arm and Elmaria lost her very life. I worry something within me has broken, as I cannot bring myself to shed even a single tear.

Over 80 percent of our army was decimated, and the field upon which we waged a war of survival is more bodies and steel than earth.

I can barely even fathom the amount of Fragments lost in this cursed war of survival. Our people have been driven almost to the point of extinction, and without those Fragments Mother cannot help us bolster our population back up.

I suppose there is naught we can do but slowly, ever so slowly, collect Fragments and build Mother back up. I do not know how long it will take, centuries perhaps, but having survived this crisis I believe we should be able to overcome anything.

Eldarian worries me. Even after the battle he seemed restless, and mumbled about some future conflict. We have already ridden the waves of calamity, surely there isn't more to come. I have to believe that, else I fear our people will be snuffed out completely.

—

Winter, 1562

I wish I could say that some semblance of order has returned, but to do so would be to lie to myself. Though the majority of the automatons lie in pieces across our once great nation and the world, Eldarian pushes for further militarization.

The forges do not produce farming equipment as I had hoped, but unceasingly spit out weapons of war. In this time where peace is so desperately desired Eldarian pushes our people ever harder, seeing some war on the horizon that only he can perceive.

—

Spring, 1563

I was finally able to get Eldarian to confide in me what he is so desperately preparing our people for, and the answer scares me. I am scared not only for our people, but for Eldarian. The enemy he seeks to face cannot be fought, and yet he intends to do so anyway.

He spoke of Prisna, and a calamity in the north far eclipsing what we so arduously endured. He spoke of pillars of light that razed the land to nothing, a convocation of ascendants that tested their combined might against a god and fell as one.

When he spoke of the enemy he seeks to destroy I despaired. He seeks to bring the combined might of the dwarves against the Heavens themselves.

I tried as hard as I could to dissuade him from this course, but it was as though my words rang hollow in his ears. I pleaded with him to look upon the state of our people and what his obsession is doing to them, but he would not hear any of it.

He could only ask me with a sad smile to keep his ambition a secret from our sister. I don't know what to do.

–

Summer, 1564

At long last I could not take it any more and confided in Elnaria. Our people were already at the brink a year ago, and Eldarian's endless preparations for an insane crusade have done nothing to pull them from that precipice. Our people die now not from the slaughter of wanton beasts and red eyed machines, but starvation and overexertion.

Elnaria could only provide a single solution, and the very idea of it sickens me. But I have tried endlessly to dissuade my brother from his cause over the past few months, and my words fall on deaf ears every time. It's as though his mind has been taken by that primordial flame he stares into.

—

Fall, 1564

It is done. I stand over the site of our great treachery and weep. I could not summon the tears for Elmaria, yet I weep openly for the life taken by my own hand.

Oh Eldarian, why did you have to force our hand like this? You were the best of us, so driven by justice and pure. I believe the scars of war will heal with time, but the wounds on my soul will forever remain.

Truly I cannot even imagine the sight he described to me in the past. This great chasm over which I stand was the result of three ascendants pitting their might against each other, so to imagine a conflict comprising a dozen… it defies imagination.

Elnaria said she would speak with Mother so that this tragedy would not repeat itself ever again. I don't know what she intends to do, but I could not bring myself to return. Forgive me sister, but I think I will have to leave the task of guiding our people back onto the right path to you. I cannot bring myself to leave this desert, this cursed land that we chose upon which to slay our own blood.

—

Fall, 1564

Elnaria came back to visit today. She told me of the binding vows she all but forced upon Mother, and I could barely find the will to reply.

According to her, she imposed her own will upon Mother's weakened mind to ensure there will never again be a boy born to the Seed. At first, I thought she did it from a rough and cynical state of mind, but gazing into her eyes I could discern the truth, and I understood.

She simply doesn't want any others to go through what we had to.

She imposed some other restrictions upon Mother, but I didn't pay too much attention to those. She tried to make me return to the Mountain Home with her, but I refused. I cannot bring myself to leave this place, desert or no. It is the grave of our kin, and I will see to it that it is my grave as well.

—

Winter, 1564

If I did not bear the burns to affirm my memory I would not believe what I saw today.

Eldarian rose from the depths of that yawning chasm. His form was twisted beyond recognition as he climbed the walls of earth.

It took a great deal of power to banish him back into the depths, and his wails as he fell seemed to reopen the scarring wounds upon my soul.

—

Summer, 1565

I wonder how many times I have had to repel the shade of my brother now. Perhaps half a dozen? Every time he returns his form is a little more twisted.

I have informed Elnaria of these grim events and she has agreed to lend me the manpower required to create defenses.

Brother, I'm sorry, but this place is your grave, and I cannot allow you to leave. I will create a sealed prison for you to last an eternity.

—

Winter, 1589

I had almost forgotten about this old thing. I suppose one last entry couldn't hurt.

Our people have slowly come back from that darkest of places we were in all those years ago. I cannot count how many years ago Eldarian stopped encroaching upon the surface, nor how many attempts he made.

The desolate wasteland that was here has started to bloom life, amazingly enough. There are those that have joined me in my self isolation in this land, though they know not that is what I consider it. They believe I am simply trying to expand our borders once again, creating a new town in a place of new life.

We have named this place Voset, and though none of my people know it, it is the resting place of my brother, whom I still love even to this day.

Elnaria has made an effort to erase from the minds of the people that there was ever a king that ruled these lands, though I do not understand why. Perhaps she wishes to expunge the negative feelings our people had for Eldarian in the end, even if it means erasing his name from history.

Regardless, here I will remain. It was always my intention to be buried in this land alongside my brother, though my Fragment will of course return to Mother.