2
The city of Allan, capital of Alania, was about a ten days’ journey south of Zaxon. The castle there, Stone Web, was the home of Alania’s King Kadomos VII and his family. The city was known for its rich 400-year history and as the thriving cultural center of Lodoss. The buildings and roadways were all stone, built by the dwarves and unchanged since the days of old.
Parn and his companions had travelled to Allan at Ghim’s request. Their original plan had been to leave the city and head west, pass through Norvis and The Storm and Fire Desert, and finally arrive in Valis from Flaim. But a sandstorm raged in the desert, forcing them to change their route—the only open path to Valis was through Kanon to the south.
Allan, a city usually known for its tranquility, was in the midst of a bustling festival when they arrived. The celebrations were being held in honor of the birth of King Kadomos VII’s first child, a prince born just five days earlier. The streets were lined with food stalls, and there were crowds of people everywhere. The dazzling sun of early summer helped fuel the excitement. Strolling over the stone pavement, Parn and his companions enjoyed the sights.
“Looks like we came at the right time,” Ghim grunted through mouthfuls of the chicken leg he’d just bought.
“We really did,” agreed Parn.
“It’s so auspicious that a prince was born. The future of the Alanian royal family is now secure.” Etoh looked around with blessings bright in his eyes.
“Festivals are nice, but I’m tired from the journey. We should come back once we’ve found lodgings.” Slayn, as usual, plodded along at the back of the pack. They’d been walking since morning without rest, so he was out of breath—it was hard for the older academic to keep up with young men like Parn and Etoh, or someone as tireless as Ghim.
“You’re out of shape because you read too many books. You need to get more exercise,” Ghim lectured, giving Slayn a look. Slayn hummed something noncommittal and hustled to catch up. “Although I am pretty hungry. All kidding aside, we should get some grub at an inn, or we’ll all pass out from starvation long before the exhaustion hits us,” Ghim continued through another mouthful of chicken.
Certain that it was his third chicken leg, Etoh shook his head in astonishment at Ghim’s bottomless stomach. The dwarf only came up to Parn’s chest, but he ate three times as much as the large man. Etoh wondered if the rumors were true—that a dwarf’s round belly was entirely filled with digestive organs.
At Slayn’s suggestion, the four quickly found lodging—an inn called the Crystal Forest, discreetly tucked into an alley off the main avenue. Despite the poetic name, the building was less than impressive—but for a poorly funded group in a city filled to the brim with festival-goers, it was the best they could get.
“Off to the festival!” Parn cried, gulping down the last of his food, and called for Etoh to come along. The priest stood up with a laugh and Ghim followed.
“What about you, Slayn?” Ghim asked the wizard, who had remained in his seat.
“Don’t mind me, go see the sights. There’s somewhere I have to go, but I’ll be back by tonight.”
“Eh, I don’t have time to waste worrying over a wizard. You’re going to that Academy, aren’t you?”
Slayn nodded.
“We’re off, then. But you should really take a break once in a while—otherwise you’ll suffocate in all your books.”
Slayn had begun his studies at the Wizard Academy in Allan when he was twelve. His mother was a low-raking Alanian noble, and when planning for the future of her little bookworm, she’d used her connections to get him admitted. Slayn had lived alone in the city for most of his life—until, after the loss of his friend, he’d feared retribution from the Thieves’ Guild and fled.
It had been years since he’d last seen it, but the changeless city still felt the same. Walking up the hill to the Academy, a wave of nostalgia rushed over him. The Academy was on the outskirts of town, built on a hill overlooking the harbor—a majestic building constructed entirely out of black marble and as large as a small castle. Both it and the white steeples of Stone Web could be seen from anywhere in the city.
But the building he found himself in front of wasn’t as he remembered. The outer walls looked dingy, as though they hadn’t been cleaned in a long time—in the past, a magically summoned spirit had kept up on the whole place, from top to bottom. The front gate was different, too—tightly closed, and the usual Spartoi gatekeepers were nowhere to be seen. Slayn felt uneasy. What had happened here?
“Samalugan!” His voice shook from growing apprehension as he spoke the password to open the gate. With an unpleasant squeal of metal, the doors opened inward to allow him inside.
The inner courtyard was falling apart—weeds taller than Slayn obscured the path to the building, and the faint smell of animal feces hung in the air. Slayn’s face contorted into a grimace. The Alania Wizard Academy had been renowned throughout Lodoss. It had turned out countless great wizards for over two hundred years. It was a place of magical innovation—and a rebirth, however small, of that lost civilization of magic, the ancient city of Kastuul.
“How could this have happened…?” Slayn asked the empty courtyard, a tremor in his voice.
Parn, Etoh, and Ghim walked hurriedly down the main avenue. It was the fourth day of the festival already, and the city seemed to have hit peak merriment. They saw troupes of street performers from all corners of Alania and heard minstrels singing seductive love songs. Parn, a country boy through and through, found all the new sights bewitching—especially the flamboyant clothing on the women. Ghim, as usual, went out of his way to sample all the exotic foods, and Etoh watched everything so cheerfully that Parn had to ask what he found so amusing.