Hapem
Looking at the menacing and momentous Tower brought back memories of his lessons on the history of 'Barren Lands'. He recollected his teacher – 'King of History', finest historian alive back then. Alive? Currently? That was a mystery. Nukaton, his teacher had been called, had taught many nobles – Trevan, for one.
Nukaton's biggest success had been determining that 'The Orb' was a certain charm that the King/Queen of Cobardon must always have if he/she were to rule. A forgotten lineage had salvaged 'The Orb' from the ruins of The Great City of the Barren Lands. They had later conquered Cobardon and built the fortress, which we now know as Rulerstead. They had embedded 'The Orb' into the castle, within countless Vaults. 'The Orb' has stayed there ever since. Thus, any Ruler of Cobardon commands from the fortress of Rulerstead. A lucky few have ever been entitled to see The Orb. Nukaton being one of them.
Memory of his master's hasty departure surged back vividly. Hapem was learning about Cobardon as a whole and he had commented, 'Cobardon, our whole world." Nukaton had laughed at that and said, 'Whole, Ha! A fraction maybe!' Hapem had been dumbstruck by it. 'What? See the map there is no more than Cobardon in it." His teacher sighed, 'No there isn't. It is just a legend, a legend I believe in."
Hapem had smirked and jibed, 'It is 7,992! What year do you live in? Legends!'
What year do I live in? What year do I live in? His master had constantly repeated that question, rolling and twisting in his mouth, and then had left in search for an answer. A weird experience, a classic epic tale!
Hapem knew the answer. It was currently the 7,999th year of the Cobardon Calendar.
The tower caught his eye again. Hearing a tale was different from seeing a relic of the ancient times in real life. He refreshed his memory on the history of Barren Lands.
"The Barren Lands haven't always been barren. It wouldn't make sense with all the rivulets running like veins through it. Rather, the Barren Lands had been lushious plains with a powerful and prosperous city at its centre. The city's heart was it's Tower which made the city impregnable. The tower is the highest piece of architecture, even higher than The Eye. The Tower was forged by magic and sorcery and great finance. This city ruled Cobardon, this unfilterable city.
One fine day, like all stories begin, came to the court a wizened wizard with the stereotypical long, triangular beard. He was old, older than the oldest. His power and prowess unmatched even by the greatest castors of the city. (The city was the heart of magic, the tower was the only school of wizards as well as a fortress). The king saw him as a threat to his crown and the Tower's reputation, so ordered the mage's execution.
Guards dragged the wizard on his knees, through the city's roads, to the mightiest rivulet – Marienir, where they intended to drown him.
His grey robe was torn and tattered below his knees, cut by the friction. As they reached the rivulet, the wizard asked, 'Let me stand on my feet one last time, with honour, before I die." And die, the wizard did, but not without making all the people of Cobardon regret it.
As he stood upright, he seemed straighter, taller and more frightening. The skies darkened, clouds shrouded the sun and lightning crackled. He bellowed in a booming voice so loud the barren lands shook and all the people of the city heard :
'Beware wretched people of this befouled land,
tomorrow the sun shall shine on nothing but sand.
Onwards prevail the reign of snakes and mud,
Until these lands are watered by the king's own blood.'
A few men scuttled away that day to live and tell this stain. People went to the city again but found only sand and the tower, an immortal sentinel. The water from the rivers are poisoned till date, like any victory here!"