The search for the Keepers of Truth and Might have set into motion events that herald the return of Hemran'na. His harbinger, The Unspoken One, has awoken and shown himself to the Faithful of Cherisium. Elsewhere, secret societies band together and...
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6,493 C.D.
Nations shall tremble.
The mighty heathens shall fall.
And the wretched ones will be as naught.
- Prophecy of the Unspoken One
Almar, the son of Adrin, was determined to slay Mindolarn's emperor. Marden's death would bring lasting peace to Kalda. Full of resolve and concealed beneath a veil of invisibility, Almar crept through the mountainside forest outside the towering obsidian Fortress of Ralican. Though he had brought an army to storm the fortress, Almar hoped for a simple assassination.
But such hopes were rarely realized.
Harmonious melodies carried from the fortress, played by an orchestra composed of a wide variety of instruments. The music heralded the final movement of the Feast of Sorrows. It was a beautiful melody, but Almar had no time to admire the music of his enemies.
It's almost over,he thought.
Eyes narrowed, Almar stopped behind a tree at the edge of the woodland. Though he was invisible, he still took the extra precaution remaining unseen. Certain magics enabled one to see beyond concealing veils, and some tevisrals did the same—though most of those tevisrals had been confiscated as a result of the Edicts of the Mage-King, some nine hundred years prior.
A crescendo of disharmony rose through the air, then dissipated like a wave crashing against a surf. A faint oration soon carried above the fortress's walls, the final remarks from the Presider of the Feast.
Reaching into his pack, Almar removed a narrow spyglass. He pressed it to his right eye and peered around the tree.
Nestled within the peaks dividing Gastrim from Mindolarn, the Fortress of Ralican was a colossal obsidian structure reaching to the clouds, its polished walls reflecting the setting sun. Though it sat atop a mountain the fortress was still many times taller than most buildings across Kalda. Black outer walls rose seven stories above the foothills, but from where Almar stood he could see down into the fortress's wards.
The gardens between the main gates and the entrance to the towering main keep had been turned into a banquet yard. Hundreds of people sat at round tables while servants plated the feast's final course at the heart of the wards. Almar scanned each of the patrons, but soon redirected his gaze to the main keep.
Seven stories above the wards, an ornate balcony jutted from the obsidian walls, lined with golden gilding. At its heart was an ornate throne whose back resembled the seven-headed hydra of the Mindolarn Empire, and upon it sat Emperor Marden Midivar. The dark-haired emperor wore a simple black garb and matching cape. He slouched, his head cocked over his left shoulder. Marden looked rather bored. Three servants milled about behind the throne, preparing the emperor's personal feast.
