Muffled tapping can be heard coursing throughout the glamorous hall of Lamspire, slowly making its way towards and around corners of the great hall adorned with paintings of extravagant proportion as well as other ornaments placed on top of tables or hammered into the wall, glimmering with traces of masterful craftsmanship. Far above the heads of men can reach, there hung a great chandelier, wider than three men standing abreast and taller than the most proud and finest of all noblemen; and yet, it simply took up a tiny portion of the ceiling. More of such chandeliers were hung throughout the entirety of the long hall.

  At long last, the muffled tapping is now more decipherable than it once was, turning out to be steps rather than mere tapping. The one who made such noise was none other than a man taller than most; his long black hair was flowing gently over his shoulders; he was clad in a purple coat lined with streaks of gold, forming a distinct symbol that radiated majesty; his sharp eyes were unmoving, keeping a cold yet observant demeanor, displaying wisdom beyond common men; his face looked old yet fittingly regal, always showing an indifferent expression.

  The kingly figure finally reached a tall, gate-like door; both sides of it were furnished with thick and wide streaks of gold, curving and bending from the hinges of the door towards its brink; the longest and widest streak of gold touching its counterpart at the center. Between the linings of gold there lay a black, metallic layer showing some of itself from beneath the shimmering gold.

  "Avre Purtan." with a swift breath, he muttered two words that were not of the common tongue. The strange words echoed throughout the spacious halls. The door before him started to tremble with great weight and moved inward, opening a passage towards a large room behind it.

  The room within possessed a grandeur that rivaled the halls that lead up to it, otherwise surpassing it outright: The large quarters were lined with bookshelves at its edges, filled with hundreds of books and scrolls; in front of the shelves to the right and left there stood a long table, laden with parchments, inks, quills, jars filled with strange items, and more books. some were larger than what the shelves could accommodate so they were placed on the table instead. The room was once again lit by a great chandelier, shedding light onto the corners of the room and onto the great paintings and illustrations hung on the wall.

  Despite its undeniable charm, the room was quite messy; dozens of papers littered the floor, and many books were taken off the shelves only to be left on the floor or on either of the tables. Amidst the complete mess, a tall and dark silhouette was standing firmly at the far end of the room, peering out of a large window far larger and wider than he is. The wind was whistling harshly outside, carrying fallen leaves with it; on the horizon, a dark cloud could be seen looming over the mountains of Rugrock standing sternly behind the thick woods of [Forest name].

  "[Wizard name]," the mysterious stranger spoke, his voice echoing throughout the room. "Oh, Sullivhan, you finished?" the lone figure at the window turned, showing his curly white beard draping to his chest; he was wearing a blue robe and he wore glasses; though he looked like he did not need them, his eyes appeared deeper and more perceiving than most men. "Dolephor, I've been meaning to ask you of your reason for making me do such treachery?" Sullivhan closed the door behind him with a wave of his hand before carefully treading the paper-ridden floors towards Dolephor with furrowed brows.

  "The reason comes last; come, sit." Dolephor pointed to a chair beside the window; on which Sullivhan sat with anxiousness and haste.

  "Did you find out?" Dolephor caressed his bushy beard, looking out of the window with his eyes set upon the faraway mountains.

  "I did, miraculously," Sullivhan said, looking down. "The expedition party will make for the vales of the 'Pale Peaks' down to the east. Their date of departure is already known to you, I presume." Dolephor gave a nod. "Then, with their speed, they should reach the vales within a month or so, that is, if no mountain orcs or other perils reach them; if that is so, then it may take them a month and a half, I reckon." Sullivhan said, staring at Dolephor's figure intently, as if to catch any nuances in his expression or stature. No such changes could be seen, so Sullivhan leaned back on his chair, as if to relax.

  "Now I've told you my part; how about your account?" Sullivhan asked.

  Dolephor turned slowly and walked, his hands tied behind, and walked slowly to the table at the left wing of the room. There he reached for a large tome. It was dusty and its size was significantly larger than Dolephor's hand. With a huff Dolephor blew away the dust on the tome, though it still looked fairly dusty.

  "Great peril is upon us, Sulivhan." Dolephor's face was grim; his eyes were fixated on Sullivhan. "The consequences of what our kindred of old has done a long time ago have finally come back to bite us, as I feared."

  "Of what deed do you mean, Dolephor? And could this be the reason as to why you sent your young disciple out into the mainland?" Sullivhan took on a more serious posture, being more attentive.

  "The great cataclysm, Sullivhan, that is what I am referring to. As scholars and lore masters know, the great cataclysm that happened uncountable years ago was once regarded as the catalyst of the end of all that we knew, the end of times, as some would call it. But as the domain of men and its people expanded and grew, the cataclysm that was once seen as the trumpet of the end was then seen as a tool used to fulfill our most deepest desire: power." Dolephor sighed, opening the book to a certain page before handing it to Sullivhan. "And yes, this is the reason I sent that lad out. In his mind, he may think that this is only a slightly peculiar errand, though I am sure that in the future he will come to bear suspicions."

  "This great cataclysm that you speak of must bring so great a peril that you were forced to cast your disciple out: something that you won't usually do under any circumstances. You just cherish the lad so much." Sullivhan looked at Dolephor before taking the large book and looking into its pages. The page to the left showed a picture of great detail, an illustration of a gem, a brilliant gem seemingly radiating dozens of colors even though it had none. The gem was hexagonal in shape with it being taller than it is long and wide. the gem had perfect and symmetrical cuts, as if to be fitted on something; whatever that thing may be, the magnificence of the gem will truly heighten its worth to an unprecedented degree, befitting kings and lords and queens and ladies of the highest and most royal order. On the other page, there was a long paragraph of lore and history and questions regarding the gem; where did it come from? what is it made of? If it was made, then who made it? (certainly not the Dwarves; they have already confessed their detachment to it, stating that its beauty cannot be replicated even by the most renowned and skilled of the Stoutarms.)

  "The gem slotted into the crown of the one." Sullivhan said after a long pause, feeding his eyes with the unmarred and pristine beauty of the gem, with only it being a mere drawing.

  "I have read thousands of scrolls and tomes in my lifetime, yet what you speak of now is much too unknown for me. How does this gem relate to the great peril that you speak of? For this very gem has given nothing but blessings to our empire, has it not?"

  "No, your reverence for that jewelry is the very reason why we are in this situation. The gem may be the most beautiful thing to behold in this land; but for all its glory, we neglect one particular aspect of it that may very well determine the fate of the world as we know it. The maps of political powers: warped; Sanctuaries of folks of times long gone as well as friends of old: eviscerated; and that is just the best scenario, not taking into account the possible fate of any and all that lives and breaths walking the vast plains and mountains and forest of this land. Remember, Sullivhan, Death exempts nobody; whether they be of good ilk or bad. All will suffer."

  ......

  The cruel and cold northern winds were howling through the vast expanse of a snowy valley, making a chilling and yet somber ambiance in the air. Tall trees of spruce and firs populated the little land between the vales. The land was seemingly devoid of vegetation due to a thick layer of snow. A large portion of the ground beneath the snow was completely made of stones and rocks, barely allowing the growth of trees. No wildlife can be seen for miles and miles on end, save for birds and eagles that fly far above the thin and scarce layer of greenery below, if that could even still be called green. Placed in the center of the valley, there lie a tiny flame, its meager size making it appear to be a small dot of color when compared to the canvas that is the valley between the mountains of the Pale Peaks.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  The trees were tall and stiff, with its roots burrowing deep into the ground. In between the trees, there was a small pit dug into the snow. The flame stood delicately against the rushing winds that were trying to extinguish it; yet it held on, at the expense of the thin, dry sticks that are occasionally thrown into it. Around it, a group of people were round and about; some were setting up tents, some gathered firewood, some were scouting the surroundings.

  "By Tobias' grace! It's cold out here," a fair young man said standing by the fire, shivering; an appearance of cold and weariness plagued his young face.

  "Oh stop it with the complaints, William." another young man spoke, not as fair as the last, but he still held a unique charm in his serious face. "You begged to come with us, remember? The least you could do is to come prepared enough so as not to become a burdensome liability." his furrowed face turned to William; he turned away in reply.

  "Come now, don't bicker lads," an older man sat on a fallen log, laughing. "What are you holding that map out for, Sam? The area is straight and the path is clear. A map holds little significance here." the old man pulled out a few strips of meat jerky out of his pouch at his feet and started munching on it. "Oh, and you guys over there, start your own fire nearby: the fire that I made would not be able to heat all of us up," he turned to the people behind, to which they all nodded.

  "Mr. Goras! Why, do you truly think so shallowly of me? Why else would I look at the map if it does not regard our future path? The gaps and rifts of the valleys of Pale Peaks intertwine, and with a single mistake, we could be out of our original path by miles!" Sam said angrily.

  "I was just joking; no need to get so irritated." Goras said apologetically. "We're heading for some sort of elven ruins, right? The elvish domain is supposed to be in the east; why go to the west? Isn't that place a part of the dwarfish domain? Are you sure that the scouts were speaking truthfully?"

  "That's the interesting part, actually," Sam calmed down to collect his thoughts; "The scouts sent here by the Order confirmed that the ruins were indeed elvish; I remembered that in their reports they spoke of clear elven runes etched on the walls." Sam put away his map and searched his bag. "William? Did you perhaps see my journal somewhere?" Sam turned to Sam once again, who was now sitting on a separate log beside the fire.

  "Nope," William turned away once again.

  "William Glitterbell!" Sam cried, "Can you swear upon your noble name that you truly do not know anything regarding the sudden disappearance of my journal?"

  "Sure, whatever pleases you." William still did not look directly at Sam, fueling his suspicion.

  "Give it to me right this moment, or else I do something undesirable." Sam inched closer, seemingly ready to pounce on William at any moment.

  William held on sternly, not letting Sam's threats get to him; to this, Sam's only reply was to increase the pressure. So Sam leaned closer, grabbed William by the collar, and then asked him once again: "Where is my journal, William? I strongly believe that you have taken possession of it; and I assure you, you won't get away with stealing something from me, especially my journal!"

  "Fine," said William, "I just wanted to have a little fun, you know?" William finally gave in. Disheartened, he pulled out a thick book hidden behind the log that he was sitting on; William blew off the snow on it before handing it over to Sam, who now let go of his collar.

  "Thank you, master William." Sam took the book off William's hand, "You had made a wise choice. Now, where was I?" Sam scratched his head in thought: "Oh, right! The ruins, correct?" He said after a pause, "Okay, it should be here somewhere..." Sam flipped through the pages of his thick journal, passing through hundreds of pages within only a few moments. Finally, he found it, "Here it is, the reports stated that the inscriptions found on the gates as well as the walls of the exterior and interior of the ruins were undoubtedly of the elvish tongue-- as I said-- though the scouts did not dare to go any deeper, for the smell of rot and decay scorned them. warning them of death and curse if ever they willed to tread deeper into the ruins. That too is understandable since the elves hated our kin to the core, anyway. Though what I don't understand is how an elven ruin existed on the land of dwarfs, knowing that both races not only are secretive, but both also are not on good terms with each other."

  "If the place stunk of death and danger, then why did your order send a young and talented lad like you?" Goras looked more serious now, "They could've just sent some veteran pioneers or explorers? You are an asset of great worth to them, and yet they chose to send you across the treacherous mountains and valleys, knowing that you might not come back? This deed of theirs is tantamount to them throwing their future into the fiery pits of Lahum-dur!" Goras cried, his loud cry caused a disturbance in everyone present to witness it; even Sam and William were shocked and stunned by his act, leaving their frostbitten mouths agape.

  "You give me much credit than what I deserve, Mr. Goras." said Sam; suddenly, he felt his already reddened face turn even redder. "Sure, I may or may not posses a talent that may or may not qualify me as a 'valuable asset' that you entitle me to be, but even then, I do not have the feeling that my existence-- no matter how great-- still falls short when you take into consideration the grandest scheme of things. The world is simply too vast, too big, too magnificent to care, for its beauty alone satisfies itself."

  "But still," said Goras; he has now recollected himself a bit, "A promising lad, so young and so hopeful, sent into the midst of uncertain evil..."

  "Worry not, Mr. Goras, it was I who voluntarily chose to partake in this expedition. I find the world vast and epic, and as perilous as it is, the repetitive design of the walls of Dullford bore me to no end. It's even stated in its name: dull. I would rather be placed in the exact center of Orcmash than to be stuck inside walls that choke and hinder my desire." Sam looked up, recalling his mundane memories-- these memories he does not necessarily hate, yet, he wishes to forget them. Sam is the son of a noble, bearing the name 'Seerpond'-- a family known for giving birth to great scholars and counselors-- Sam inherited the talents and merits of a Seerpond, and yet, more than that. One trait that not one of the Seerponds that had come to pass was curiosity, the nearly insatiable thirst for knowledge, almost to the point of selfishness. Unlike his kin, Sam had an endless desire for wisdom and knowledge, the former and latter having different meanings; Sam always made sure to emphasize that. He wanted not only to read about the world beyond the walls of his spacious room for it wasn't really enough for him, his most truest desire lie in the plains of the world; the mountains that stretched to the sky, piercing the clouds; coursing through the great rivers, to the ends of the sea; and even going deep into the ruins found lying covertly and sleeping quietly, the fragments of the world long gone. As a child, his grandfather, who was a former counselor to the former king, was also fond of studying maps and he allowed Sam to enter his study every night, normally to ask him to read a story for Sam, but more often than not, Sam also began to bear interest towards maps and the world, soon leaving the confines of the fantastical worlds within his story books and coming to see the world around him as extravagant and magnificent as the books he read, if not even more so.

  At length, Sam chuckled lightly; the once dull recollection of dull events soon became a jolly reminiscence when he remembered his grandfather and his room littered with maps and books and all sorts of paper. "And another reason not to worry is that I have a whole lot of things to go back to." Sam spoke with a smile: "And a man who has something that he cherishes so deeply, no matter how far, he shall find his way back, even if the most terrible perils of the world bar his way."

  "So you fancy yourself as a 'Man' now, hmm?" William teased, to the mild annoyance of Sam.

  "Well," Goras said, going between Sam and William. "Stop yer worthless arguments and get ready. The ruins that we're making for are only a few leagues away, so be sure to get a good night's sleep to replenish yourselves." Goras touched both William and Sam's shoulders, tilting them eastwards. "In a few hours time we will cross the mountains that you bickering lads are facing now, crossing high mountain peaks and treading through dwindling vales and finally reaching the steep backs of Rugrock. Not to mention the possibility of orcs and other horrors that may assault us on our way." Goras smiled, appearing quite evil in the eyes of the two youths within his clutches. "Though you lads are prepared for any peril ahead, right? Considering how the both of you insisted on coming."

  "Well," said William after a pause, "Make no mistake, I am going to become a renowned explorer as well! Even on par with the great explorer Pan! I shall travel the high mountains and the vast reaches of plains, and even venture out to sea. And you shall be there to witness it happen, Sam."

  "I can hardly wait," Said Sam, "to see your cowardly responses to unforeseen dangers and seemingly insurmountable challenges that show up, that is." Sam laughed mockingly, to the irritation of William.

  That evening, the night went by wearily and uneasily; the certain promise of danger loomed heavily on their hearts, but to some, the promise of adventure and discovery lightened their hearts. The feeling of uncertainty and exhilaration made their slumber harsh, and yet, more comforting as the premise of the new sun amidst remains unknown and ambiguous. As soon as the sun was up, they hardly ate any breakfast before packing up and leaving: no more than a few loaves of bread and salted meat for fire was scarce and risky.

  The band of explorers and a few soldiers soon continued their long march, scaling the treacherous clefts and fissures of the snowy vales before going out into larger and uneven plains of sharp and jagged stones jutting out of the ground. Cries of unknown creatures whistled through the hollow rocks and passed through towers of steep stones that made a view so exotic and intimidating like the fortresses of fallen lords. No birds could be found high into the sky, and no clouds as well. The sky above was simply a large blue expanse, now devoid of the thick clouds that loomed over the vales of Pale Peaks.