All students of the histories, of sciences, and arts may agree with me when I say that from among the great cities of both the southern and northern continents, only the city of Thardys comes to the mind of most, whenever one summons its many epithets 'the city of the sages', 'the emerald of the south' and, of course, its most common moniker, used by both the highborn and peasants alike, 'the library'. Not a city had been grander since the times of the old Kings of the South.

The city in essence was a wonder to the sight; its walls were thick and huge as its temples and shrines; with towers both great and small, like torches in the skies topped by ever burning fires. The paved streets were wide and long, full of colours and noise, and its folks were sprawling and spoke various tongues and jargons. Three ziggurats of white and green crowned the heights of this metropolis, one taller than the next. The torrents of the river often watered its gardens and the limestone of its buildings, to thus glint ever brighter under the sun's kingdom. The markets abounded in trade; goods and wares, spices and incense from its neighbours to the south and east. But the city's greatest treasure was not of gold or silver, it was of ink and paper; with this I mean to say the millions of scrolls and books the city stored in its large archives. Through centuries, the sages and masters of the library hoarded knowledge and worshiped it as their highest god. The minds of Thardys were thus very learned and wise yet equally as proud, they boasted of their knowledge as if it were wealth, and their pride oftentimes brawled with the wisdoms of other nations and worlds, it was this richness in knowledge and the fame of it that prompted the wariness and envy of the Order of Neldor.

The fierce Order and its endless allies squandered no time to besiege the city, on the eve of its King's death. Sages and physicians went and came from the palace, uncertain of the king's health, and when it became known that his last breath was close to expire, Neldor's attack followed. The king's son in his chambers, not older than ten and five, saw from the heights of his tower, the siege of his city. In horror he witnessed from above the immense fleet of the Order flanking the port. He heard the horns blow, saw the walls fall and quivered as thousands poured into the streets, the armies of Neldor plundered mansions, ravished women and children, brought homes to the ground, desecrated shrines, torn towers down even, but it was what later came that broke the spirit of Thardys. A huge blaze, terror of red and yellow alight, the city's archive burnt as a stake, powered surely by the thousands of parchments in its store. To many it seemed the sun had come down in plain night, and the heat and smoke claimed the lives of hundreds, and many more would die by Neldor's sword. The young prince shivered behind the curtains but soon he heard a noise, and to his chamber came an elderly man, bald but grey bearded, his brown tunic was covered in ashes and in his hands there was blood. His name was Ahwen, and had been the prince's tutor for many years.

-"Quick, my prince" said he "make haste now! We must leave the city ere sun's break!"

The young prince took a cape for the cold, and ran to the man, not knowing what had happened, and concerned by that blood.

-"whose blood is this, Ahwen?" asked he, "You are covered in ashes and smell of sweat and fire. Do you mean to tell me you were down there? How did you make it hither alive? These Neldorians, this northern folk, they are brutes I have seen what they have done to the city and to the Archive!"

-"Enough of that!" said Ahwen "No questions can I answer as of now, I need to bring you to safety. Peril is everywhere, it might be Neldorians, it might be our own palace guard. But you are no longer safe here, not even your father may help you" he took the boy's wrist, tainting his sleeves with blood, and led him out from his room. In the corridors the young prince saw corpses either laying on the ground or struck against the walls. Guards and servants, none were forgiven, and red was the new carpet beneath their feet. The prince was both horrified and puzzled. The men of Neldor had attacked the north of the city, its ports and markets, and had not reached the palace yet, so he thought. Ahwen did not help much either, his look, anxious and troubled, was far too bothersome to further distress with his questions. The tutor took him out of the palace, through secret passageways and tunnels, until they reached the southern walls, there they met with a zealot, he wore the colours of the city guard, yet his looks were far too strange and foreign for him to be from Thardys, Ahwen conversed with him in some strange language, he could not fully grasp whereof they spoke. This caused the prince some concern.

"Whither are you taking me, Ahwen?" asked the prince with much worry.

"Somewhere safe" said he "I know this might seem strange, but you must trust that I mean well, you have no other escape." The prince struggled to understand but followed his tutor and asked no further questions.

On their way to the city's southern gates, the zealot, the tutor, and the prince were met with a mob of Thardys' peoples storming the gates to escape the city's doom. A large portion of the crowd was covered in ashes and blood as well, they had escaped the grip of Neldor's sword yet their quickness to have reached the gates could only mean that the offensive armies were just behind them. Soon a horn blew again, and soldiers of the Neldor army flanked the mob from north and east, and to everyone's horror, the gates were shot as the armies approached. The zealot took the prince and the tutor to a narrow slum to avoid the danger and led them to a dark reeking corner filled with waste and rats.

-"There is another way out" said the zealot "but is not fit for teachers or lordlings" he smirked at them and opened a rusty iron hatch beneath their feet. He extended his hand towards the prince, so as to help him down the sewers. The prince had long fancied himself as an explorer, eager to know of what mysteries might lie beneath the city. In its thousand years of history, many a hidden crypt or underground chambers he hoped to venture into, but the prospect of the sewers, was not of his taste. Reluctantly, the prince descended through that smelly hole of shadows, and his tutor followed behind him.

In that putrid gloom, the tutor hoped to light a torch, but the zealot stopped him,

-"No lights, and mind your tongues too," said the zealot "Though old and dreary, the sewers are not forsaken. Thardys is not only a city to the surface, but also, many layers beneath it, strange folks abide this darkness. Follow me and keep your thoughts to yourselves"

The tutor and prince obeyed and followed him through every tunnel and passage. Oftentimes amidst the murk, their feet would crack what gave the impression to be bones and skulls, and beneath their feet, things would squeeze and groan. They moved to ever slenderer corridors, and the stench in the air seemed to whisper dark things to the nose. The prince almost fell into a shaft in his haste to free himself from the mud of the ground, but the zealot grabbed his arm.

-"Be careful, what you step on, lordling" said the zealot "These paths often trick their wanderers" As if he had known what the prince had stepped upon! He felt something squashing out from behind his legs, for a moment he thought the tutor had crawled under him.

They went on this way for a while. Until they reached a small crossroad through which ceiling a silver light beam gave the shadows some form. The zealot seemed confused but he didn't take long to go on with the main road. Soon a noise grew in their ears of water rushing ever hastened.

-"'tis a torrent" said the prince "we might be out of here soon"

-"Nay" said the zealot "these sounds are from waters deep underground, we are not getting out, we're descending ever lower. we need to change our course or else we'll bury ourselves down here."

The zealot went back to the crossroad, and then they took a turn right, then a turn left, then straightforward and left again, until the sound of another torrent was heard, this time a lot louder than before, and with it came another stench, this time sour and bitter. The zealot seemed to have gotten lost again but he went on either way. Red hues of light soon coloured the walls, and smoke followed. Finally some bright, thought the prince, but at what cost? The fumes of fire were all about them, and the path was narrow and long.

-"We are beneath the city's archive" said the zealot "cover your mouths and nose with whatever piece of cloth you may find" This they did and the tutor took some from the ground, his poor nose must have bled after reeking such a stench, thought the prince to himself.

After much peril and distress, a distant lit rift was seen before their path. They reached it after much effort and were on the surface once more. But they came out to a city square; all about them was havoc unleashed, they were now to the east of the city, and the men of Neldor were in open brawl against the city defenses. The zealot took the tutor and prince to a corner away from the fight, he drew out his sword and led them through the battlefield to the other end of the square. The men of Neldor did not seem human; their faces were long and full of wrath, they were tall, very tall, and their moves were swift and clean, they wielded swords but they did not need them, for their guise was fiery enough to draw their enemies off. The young prince saw in terror the men of the city watch being humbled down by these monsters and would grow to hate the name of Neldor in his heart.

The zealot led them out of the square and into a road that led to the eastern gate. There, the pass was shot, but he whispered some words to it and for a moment the fence seemed to have been lifted, yet the weight of the iron brought it back down with a noisy clash.

"What shall we do now?" said the tutor, "you promised me safe passage out from the city, this is not what we agreed"

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The zealot looked crossed and he told them "there is one passage left; it goes beneath the wall but it's too slender and small for us, only the lordling may fit in" The tutor looked at the prince, and quickly turned his eyes back to the zealot,

"very well" said he "lead us there."

The Zealot led the prince and tutor south, bordering the wall from the inside. He spotted a small crack at the feet of it. He indicated the tutor to lead the prince thither. But he walked past them two, sword in hand; behind them, men of Neldor had spotted them. The zealot fought them off and held them busy for as long as he could until his strength failed him and succumbed to his foes.

The tutor rushed the young prince to the crack under the wall; he pushed him inside and gave him a scroll, which he had pulled out from his pocket.

-"Take this, my prince," said he "go east, to the city of Marthys. Tell the lords and high priests there, your name and title. They will give you sanctuary in their city and perhaps in a year or two, you may ask for their support to defend your claim to the throne of Thardys, but you will have to be patient and trust no one."

The prince, heeded his every words, but the haste did not give him enough time to recall all of his indications. The tutor, then went on to say,

-"In the court of Marthys, you will eventually come about a man, his name if Gwendal, he also goes by the name of 'the scorpion'. Should the court not back your claim, give him this scroll and tell him, I have sent you. You still have many allies outside this city, my prince." he kissed his forehead and blessed him, "Go now, my pupil."

The prince saw his tutor one last time, before crawling away from there, through the crack. The rift was narrow and it seemed to get smaller and smaller, until not enough air fit into his lungs. By some miracle, the boy made it out to the other side of the wall. He looked up back whence he came; the smokes of the siege covered the skies. He took the scroll in hand, and ventured into the path that led to Marthys, crossing the dunes away from his homeland. The screams and shrieks could be heard from leagues away, and not once did the prince dare to look back.

Having distanced himself by some miles from the city, the prince spotted before him a company of seven horsemen approaching him from afar. The prince could not make out what banners they carried, or the colours they bore, but soon he saw the emblem of Thardys on their standards and on their chests. He yelled to them from afar to stop, and when they did, immediately and unwarily the prince stated his name and business in hopes of their aid,

-"Men of Thardys," said the prince, trying his best to sound formidable, "Our beloved city has fallen to the hands of the Order of Neldor, our library has been destroyed, our men have been humbled, our women and children have been wronged. I am Fwehener, son of Hwadener, Crown-prince of the Kingdom of Thardys. In hopes to restore our city and people, I command you to take me to the city of Marthys, so we may find allies there, in our struggle against Neldor."

The riders shared looks and conversed quietly for a while until from among them, one stepped forth on his stallion. It was a man of deep dark eyes and pitch black hairs, his mane was long and though somewhat aged, his guise was kept fair. He wore 'the sun of Thardys' on his chest and a golden helm which had the shape of a falcon. The young prince recognized the man and took a step back in fear.

-"Greetings to you, my prince" said he, taking off his helm "To see how you've grown, nephew-mine, what a bless to the sight!"

-"Uncle Hwabar," said the prince Fwehener "you should not be here, my father, the king, has cast you out."

The Prince Hwabar, 'the falconrider' as he was known in those lands, was brother to the ailing king Hwadener III, the two siblings were the pride of the Kingdom, with one minding for the scrolls of the library, and the other caring for the swords of the kingdom. But things between them took a step too far when Hwabar intended to usurp his brother's throne. In his mind, the crown of Thardys should not be bound to the parchment and books of the archives, but to the strength and iron of the armies. The sages of the city and the other high-born sided with the king, who had his brother expelled from court and cast out from his kingdom.

During the siege of the city, news came to him that Thardys had fallen, so he readied himself to pick up the ashes of his brother's kingdom.

-"Should I turn my back to my countrymen in their hour of need?" said Hwabar, "It seems to me, that all manner of help is needed now to defend the emerald of the south from these Neldor invaders, would you not agree, nephew?"

The prince unsure of what to say nodded. And the falcon-rider went on to say, "It is in that same spirit that I have returned. Mount a horse now and rally with me to gain back our city" his men handed him a horse, but the prince did not mount it, puzzled he look around and saw no army, not even a single battlement.

-"tell me, uncle" said he "where are you bannermen? Where is the army with which to intend to take back our city?"

Hwabar smirked and pointed to the city, saying, "My armies are already on the battlefield, my sweet nephew. I am headed thither to join them as their commander" the young prince looked back upon the city, burning and screaming, baffled by what he had said.

-"I do not understand," said the prince "I just escaped from the city, and the city watch and my father's armies were severely outnumbered. I barely made it out alive"

-"Well," said the falconrider, "that means, O innocent Fwehener, that my armies are taking the win. Isn't it a joyous occasion?! My armies and allies are defeating the usurpers, hurray!"

The Prince then understood, as his uncle began to sheer and guffaw, the tragedy that had befallen him. Not only were the walls of his home breached, but also the trust of his blood had perished.

-"You command the Neldor armies?" asked the prince,

-"That was slow for your wits, nephew" said the uncle, laughing "Did you really believe, that a man like me would just stand aside, cast out, and let your father enjoy of the riches of a kingdom that should be mine?"

-"You, monster," said the prince "you invited our enemy to our shores; you have put a thousand of your peoples to the sword, so you can take my father's throne! Damn you! Damn you 'falconrider'!"

The prince tried to escape, but to no avail. The horsemen of Hwabar immediately seized him and they all rode back to Thardys. Upon reaching the eastern gate, the iron fence was lifted and they passed through. On the ground amidst a feast to crows, the prince saw the corpses of his tutor and of the zealot, who had helped him escape. He wept for them and kept them in memory. The men of Neldor, now that the battle was over seemed to have recovered their human guise, but it was in the aftermath of the siege, that the prince discovered that some of the soldiers of Neldor, were not of mankind, and belonged rather to other races and peoples. They reached the site of the great blaze, the site of the city's treasure; the archive. There the armies of Neldor gathered, and Hwabar paraded proud and tall like a general of old all the way through them. He rode to a canopy under which a figure stood, it looked like a man but was much taller and far more powerful, and he had that long face, the prince had seen before on the battlefield, but this time there was no wrath in it, only depth and beauty, on his brow sat wisdom and there was might in his whole guise. The figure stepped out from the canopy to greet the falconrider and said,

-"Be welcome, Hwabar 'falconrider', King of Thardys, as you have been made of late." the voice of that being was solemn and deep, and his scrawl was paced, it sounded human but there was something odd in his speech as if it came more natural to him to not speak at all.

-"You must be lord Valandu," said Hwabar, the being nodded "they call you Silvertongue, now I see why. You must be more used to your Ennard speech, and to the blue fields of Elymot. I more than most do wonder, what brings you to the dunes of the south, and why haven’t sent a herald in your stead?"

-"There is neither distance too large nor a place too remote," said Valandu, "for those eager to acquire knowledge."

-"That might gainsay your doings here," said Hwabar, "the burning of the Archive was not what we had agreed."

-"None more than I rue this happening" said Valandu, "as I understand, it was the masters of the library, that burnt a section of the archives. One can only fathom what knowledge they wished to hide from us. Still a larger fraction of the archives whole content remains. We will take half of it to the White Tower, and the rest may remain here in Thardys."

-"It truly is a loss" said Hwabar "and yet your terms are fair. Now that I am king of Thardys, the Order of Nelder may count with our amity"

-"Sadly, I must correct you" said the lord Valandu, "the Order does not wish to further feed this alliance; our interest in the southern continent has been sated with our share of the library. As for your throne, I hate to be the bearer of bad news." The Falconrider already disappointed of what he had heard, worried about what that being still could say,

-"There has been no sight of King Hwadener in the palace," said Valandu, "it seems that the King has fled the city, alongside his heir the crown prince Fwehener"

-"My nephew is safe with me" said Hwabar, "I found him on his way to Marthys, he is no threat to me as of now"

-"and yet" said Valandu, "his claim to the throne remains strong; whilst he lives he shall be a threat to you."

-"I shall give him the mercy to be my cupbearer," said the Falconrider, "He will grow to thank me for it, and if fortunes change, and some lords support his claim, his head will be next to roll. As for my brother, he was an ailing man; he would die soon enough, no doubt. I believe we can be sure to call me 'King of Thardys'. My coronation will be by the morrow, you are invited to attend it if you choose to stay"

The lord Valandu showed no emotion, such a trait seemed to have been alien to him. But he cared to say,

-"I would be delighted to see your ascension," said he "And still, the Order would not wish for us to do so. Our business in Thardys has ended." He revered Hwabar and led the armies of Neldor back to their ships, carrying lines of coffers with their share of the city's archive,

The prince still a captive and seized by Hwabar's horsemen witnessed the whole issue, and was pleased to learn his father, had escaped. In his mind, he wished to believe, he was gathering banners to his cause, to retake the Kingdom of Thardys, in truth he might have died in his pursuance thereof, or was otherwise killed in later days. But years passed but the wounds of the city did not fully heal. The city accepted Hwabar as their King. None other than the prince felt the indignity in this. To see that such a tragedy would befall the emerald of the south and not a long time thereafter, all would be forgotten and all would be forgiven broke the prince's heart. Not even the sages of the archives seemed to have minded for the loss of such a large amount of knowledge from their stores. But the city was not free from change.

Those, who would not hold their tongues against the reign of Hwabar lost them, and their wives and children would be sold off to the cities of Marthys and Hebes. The market of slavery grew a great deal under Hwabar's rule and the kingdoms and states of Neldor were often their main buyers. No longer was the city of Thardys remembered as the beacon of knowledge and wisdom it once was, but a trading centre for richer kingdoms to buy goods and wares and slaves.