It has been a long time since I have heard the name of Dhol Maron, there are few left amongst the living that have knowledge of that wondrous place, though it still runs rampart in the tales of the manifold dead. It was many dozens of winters ago, in the youth of my wanderings, when I came upon it. I had been travelling for days across the gemstone moors, marvelling at the mad sights hidden in those dazzling hills, when I spotted a jewelled city, crowning the horizon. I knew it immediately to be the spires of that fair Dhol Maron that I was spying, for what other towers could possibly pierce the crimson sky of that garish world.
Making short work of the separating distance, I quickly found myself at the ruby gates of the keep, where the dazzlingly shod knights of that gleaming fortress were arrayed in force. Hailing them as the great men I knew them to be, they told me of the expedition they were just finishing preparations for, to slay the great onyx tusked boar of the emerald forest. Recognising in me a kindred call to adventure, the leader amongst them invited me to join them on their quest, to which I eagerly assented. The memory of that hunt is still fresh in my mind's eye, even after the many decades it has been, and I would gladly recount the tale of how we slew that monstrous beast, if it were not for the grander story that I must now tell. For all the glory of those short nights spent in the emerald forest, they were nothing compared to the events that followed, for it was within those crystalline halls that I first laid eyes upon the Prince of Seekers.
It was the third day of the feasting which welcomed our triumphant return, and all were partaking joyously of the rich flesh of the slain beast. The craftsmen had already finished fashioning the first of two horns from the tusks of our prize, and the perfect, pure note which it struck moved all in those shining halls to tears. It was shortly after the first sounding of that instrument, when one of the squires interrupted our feasting to proclaim that a great man and his host had arrived at the city gates, and were to be received shortly in the throne room. The king demanded the presence of all his greatest knights, desiring not to be put to shame by the noble wanderer at his doorstep. A great knight I was not, however never before in my journeys had I missed an opportunity to peer in upon higher powers, and I had no mind to begin doing so then.
Following the crowds, I made my way to the throne room, wherein sat the king surrounded by his many retainers, all bedazzling in their finest garments. Pulling my eyes away from this majestic sight, I found a place amongst the thickening throngs from which I could spy upon the events. The excitement in the room was palpable, and increasing by the minute, irritating my already strained curiosity as to the identity of the famed guest. Pulling aside a nearby page, I asked the boy if he knew the name of the unexpected visitor. "It's the Prince of Seekers" he replied, before continuing in a hurried tone "He is the greatest of all wanderers, it was he who slew the golden dragon atop the mount of the world, and drove back the pestilence of the southern lands" he said, eyes overflowing with awe. "They say that he is seeking an abode to match his prodigious history, perhaps he will choose our city?" Seeing that the boy was anxious to find a place in the crowd more befitting of his stature, I released him and turned my attention back to the marble gates of that great hall.
It was not long before the doors were swung wide on their adamantine hinges, admitting the Prince of Seekers into the throne room along with his entourage. The turquoise pillars and cerulean arches of the hall, magnificent monuments to architecture as they were in their own right, seemed to take on a regal and exultant veil in the dazzling light of the Prince's golden breastplate. Most wondrous of all were the towering tapestries, which showed in their silver embroidered fabric the mythical history of the warlord conqueror who paved the way for the founding of the diamond city. The legendary figures displayed upon them seemed to dance and flicker in the sheer brilliance radiated by the Prince and his retinue, bringing to life those bloody battles sown into history. It seemed as if all the gold and silver were collected in the armour of this noble man, forged as it was with the finest detail and care, and reflecting the awed faces of all the gazers in the room. It was equalled only in majesty by the flowing midnight blue of his cloak, which seemed to twist and churn with the grace of the ocean itself. All this fine regalia framed a face of chiselled marble, yet despite these regal features, no crown lay on his head, other than the golden wreath of his own fair hair.
Marching down the route cleared for him in the dazzled throngs, he approached the king of Dhol Maron. Crowned with the eternal diadem, carved from a single enormous diamond, and wreathed in the jewel swathed robes of the kings of that city, he stood in welcome for the legendary figure standing before him. Reciting the greetings suitable to a man of the kings stature, the Prince began to speak of his purpose within the city, and though his words were addressed to the king, all could hear plainly what was said in that resonant chamber. "Great king of Dhol Maron, I am impressed. Never in all my travels have I seen such sparkling towers and parapets, this city truly is the greatest of jewels that stud your starry crown. It is only with the greatest of anticipation that I await the coming days, when I may explore freely the onyx ramparts and sunlit thoroughfares of this most ancient of cities. Not a single hall in the vast array of holds that I have visited could compare in magnificence to the crystalline chamber in which I now stand, and no craftsman in my memory could ever match the works displayed here on every parapet and pillar."
His words rang out in a strong noble voice, demanding the attention of all present, and though just minutes before the hall had been filled with a bustling frenetic energy, a total silence now descended upon the awe struck audience. Every man and woman in the room seemed to hang in anticipation on the words echoing from the amethyst clad walls, all save the king, who stood in silent contemplation of this proud man who had entered his domain. Into this enraptured silence, the Prince continued his speech. "I am sure I have only scraped the surface of what this city hides within its gemstone walls, and there are many secret niches and sacred places that I would yet explore in my time here. I have been travelling for a long time in search of a city such as this, a place of such beauty to calm the longing in my heart, a place that I may truly call home. How I long to end my journey, to settle down here and live the rest of my years in peace, but alas my heart tells me this is not my destination. Time and time again have I followed the words of sages promising my fulfilment, but never has it been delivered, and it grieves me dearly that this journey has proved itself to be yet another disappointment. Even so, my heart is no fit compass, and the advice of these wise men and women have been my only guide in these long years of searching. If there are any among you knowledgeable enough to offer guidance to my quest, I would be forever in your debt."
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Hearing this, the king raised his hand in a silent gesture, and from the ranks of his retinue emerged a cloak swathed and stooped figure. Such was the resplendence of their surroundings that I had not noticed them, clothed as they were in the humblest of garments and carrying themselves in a manner to deflect the eye. Their shuffling gait as they approached the edge of the dais seemed awkward and out of place in the otherwise resplendent surroundings, however the voice that emerged from those wrinkled folds of cloth displayed clearly the power hidden within that hunched figure. "It is our honour to receive you, greatest of seekers. We are glad to hear that our abode is to your liking, however it is no surprise to us that you will not be ending your journey here. Your reputation precedes you, and we would be hard pressed to find any soul within these walls who had not heard your name, save for the youngest of infants. You are known here, every man will open his door to you, and treat you as their closest brother." At this, they raised their arms in the salute of friendship customary to the region, before lowering them and quickly moving on. "It is a great honour to be called upon for council by such a great man. I will give what advice I can, and I hope you will profit by it. Far you have travelled in your journeys, the tales of which are known by all in this room. There are few men amongst the living who could truthfully claim to have visited both the sunken depths of Karpatchu and the frost clad cliffs of Mossindr, yet you have seen both, and more. Your travels however have brought you not only to places, but to people, and many of these have sworn themselves to your cause, perhaps possessed with a passion for discovery nearing your own. Wealth too, have you been in no way lacking. Even a man who saw you now with no prior knowledge of your adventures would claim you to be a rich man, and to any who know even a fraction of your story, you are amongst the wealthiest beings populating the surface of this earth."
"And yet you seek, and one can only wonder what you could desire that you have not already found. I make no promises that my counsel is true, for though I have many decades of experience with the minds of men, and Dhol Maron has many times its fair share of the proud, to truly understand a man such as I see before me now seems a cyclopean task. If the stories are to be believed, your years alone likely defy comprehension. Nevertheless, I am not completely unfamiliar with the passionate energy that I see before me, and I knew a young man in years long gone who had a similar seeking spirit. A warlord he was, and I his adviser. Even then in my youth I had a revulsion of violence, yet the man with which I travelled was far more than the sum of his actions, and demanded my respect despite his bloody tendencies. Long we marched together, winning conquest after conquest, but for what purpose was always unclear. It happened one day, on the eve of a great victory, that this warlord came to my tent, wracked with doubts. He told me of how each triumph was more hollow than the last, and where once he had sought to fill that victory shaped gap within him, it was now all he could do to stop it from consuming him. Once he had sought a kingdom, yet it was long past the day he had first obtained one, and many more had since come to rest upon his belt. I had long since suspected that such a force drove him, and had been preparing myself for just the situation that I now found myself in. I pleaded with him to forgo the war path, to take all that he had gathered in his conquests, and to turn it towards another task. I had offered similar advice in the past, but that night his despair was great enough to allow my words entry into his mind. The years following were a struggle, for that void within him was never truly filled, even if over time he began to grow numb to it. He proved to be a talented builder, as well as a destroyer, and his vast treasures gained throughout his conquests allowed him to erect a city with no peer on the face of the earth. Although I never again saw him ecstatic with joy as I often did on the nights of his conquests, neither did I see him sunk down into despair. Yet even if he never found true satisfaction in his creations, all one has to do is cast their gaze upon the crystal walls of this hall, and the many others like it strewn amongst this city, to appreciate the beauty that he gifted to his descendants. I am sorry that I do not have any advice as to your next destination, and I would be hard pressed to think of a city that could satisfy you given that Dhol Maron does not, even if I believed such a place would do you good. The thing you seek is either something you have already found, many, many times, or it is unable to be found at the basest level of its being. I would therefore give you the same advice that I gave my friend and companion all those decades ago. It is true that it will not lead you to glory, but it may lead you to peace, and any of the citizens of this city can tell you that a peace such as I speak of is a treasure well worth having."
As the sage spoke, their words had a most remarkable deflationary effect on the Prince. The royal aura that had surrounded him on his entrance seemed to be stripped piece by piece away from him, until by the end of the speech he stood bare for all to see, a vessel of foolish arrogance hiding behind the armour of pretended glory. For a while he stood there, naked in front of the assembled crowds of the city, before responding with the following words, his voice no longer so full of resounding strength. "Thank you for your advice, though it pains me greatly to hear it said. It is the pain however of the thorn removed, a service for which I am incredibly grateful. I have often doubted the objective of my quest, when one has been travelling this long doubts are inescapable, but it is my folly that I surround myself only with those who would blindly smother such doubts. Though I hesitate to end my life's journey so abruptly, it is clear that I have much to consider. At your grace's permission, I would stay here in your fair city for a while yet to properly digest this counsel." The king nodded his head, and the Prince bowed low before turning from the hall. As he left however, a little of that aura of nobility returned in his step, and the pride that had momentarily left him could yet be glimpsed in the grace of his step. It also happened that, while glancing around the room, his eyes by chance met mine, and in that moment I knew that the sage's words would never be heeded. His composure degraded and his resolve challenged, his eyes for the briefest of moments were stripped of their royal facade, revealing within those pits an unbounded burning hunger that could never be quenched.
My stay in Dhol Maron was doomed to be haunted by those eyes, and after but a mere month spent in the diamond city their spectre drove me from the gates. The Prince however was to leave within the week, and it is said that throughout his time there an uncharacteristic pall hung over him, dampening his ordinarily boisterous personality. When not caught in contemplation upon one of the bunches strewn throughout the many parks of the city, he would skulk through the streets, barely acknowledging the greetings thrown to him by passersby. Rumour has it that the cause of his eventual departure was a foreign merchant, who entranced him with tales of his homeland deep within the southern wastes, and offered himself as a guide to its mighty towers. And with that kindling of his inner flame, he was gone, off to the next destination of his eternal search.
This encounter with that legendary figure had a profound effect on me, for I consider myself to have no small measure of the adventurers spirit, and in the years that followed I kept a close lookout for stories of his travels. I discovered that Dhol Maron was not the first place he had received such advice, and neither was it the last, and each time it was met with the same obeisant ignorance. These days news of him is beginning to grow thin, and perhaps in time another youth unclouded by his shadow will rise to take his princely throne. Such is the reason why I tell these stories, for as long as the warning persists, the tragedy can never be repeated. As for the final fate of the Prince, it is likely that on one of his journeys his strength of arms failed him, and he met the death awaiting all adventurers who walk hand in hand with danger. Occasionally however a tale will drift in from the border towns that dot the unformed abyss of the world's edge, of a golden tower standing right on the boundary of creation. The stories are mixed and often contradictory, some place at the top of the tower a chivalric knight adorned in golden armour, others a demigod wreathed in smoke, and some just a frail old man withered in his years. In all of them however the actions of this figure are the same, they stand and stare out into the shapeless mass of unformed matter, searching for something in that roiling primordial soup. Despite it all, I can't help but hope that one day he will find it.