lore

Fabian,

I have heard of the misfortune of ambassador Rennstein. The poor fool was here prior to his voyage, seeking wisdom, but the evidence shows he took none of it with him. I still believe it was a folly to send him to the elves of the White Isles, yet he sought answers for the predicament the people of Fredericksberg have. Those poor folks have been living with the Saurians these many years. Yet those scaled beings are as inscrutable to us as the crocodilians basking in the sun in the Imperial Menagerie. I do not dare to guess what drives these enigmatic beings for they are as likely to attack as they are to defend those with whom they come into contact, unless provoked. What can be gleaned from drunken testimonies of vagabonds and adventurers who lived to tell their tales is: "bow low, get out of their way and hope they don’t show at your doorstep". If you are lucky and your pocket is deep enough to loosen the tongue of a dwarf in the Red Boar you might hear one of their hymns filled with malice and dread that one has to wonder what horrible age would begin should the Saurian lords of myth rise once again.

However, It seems my instructions on the ways of the elves fell on deaf ears. The courtiers and lords of Aldan are civilised beyond the imagination of the less fortunate folk of the world. But those among them who sit on the high council are as cunning and ruthless as any of the three crimson clad Potentates governing their warlike kin in Silexia. Was it the long voyage or the fabled visage of the elf queen, that turned Rennstein’s brain to mush? Whatever it was, he paid for his mistakes in both blood and pearls. One could almost name him lucky the queen’s consort was a Ryman noble. All clad from head to toe in an image of a dragon and with a steed to match there is little doubt he was anything else. As etiquette was breached honour had to be upheld and Rennstein, raised a knight, chose the lance.

You have seen the charge of the Equitan Knights at the seventh battle of the Fords of Gewache. I remember you claimed that it was the most amazing feat of horsemanship in the world. Now I must contest that title is not without contest. The dragonclad knights of the White Isles are faster, and far more graceful than any woman born warrior I have seen. Ultimately it seems it was his poor showing which saved Rennstein’s life; apparently the elf was so disappointed he withheld the final blow and just walked away, leaving Vogt to drag the bruised and bloodied ambassador back to the ship. Yet this misfortune he brought upon himself could fall on us all, the Imperial court is divided what to do in response. Some want to send gifts of appeasement, others clamour for war and Reichsmarschall Haas will be visiting us in two days hence to discuss the matter.

Until we meet again,

Sigmund

Where do dragons live? Where do they come from? Are they sentient? Few are those who have ever found the nest of a dragon. Fewer still survive the experience. For many an age, the value of a dragon’s egg has driven expeditions to take dire risks. As a result, dragons seem to make their homes in the most inaccessible of locations - rocky crags, distant mountains, remote islands, some even in the Wasteland and other areas of high magic or where the veil is thinnest.

No one living knows where dragons come from - so long as other races have recorded their history, there have been depictions of drakes. The oldest paintings in caves and Saurian artefacts show them, sometimes in combat, other times displayed like gods.

As for sentience, I spoke with a dragon once. The briefest of encounters, while travelling a remote mountain pass. I sought some obscure wisdom, the sort youth believes can only be found in remote places. The wisdom I found was not what I expected, but I have treasured it since. The rumble of words like thunder, from a throat never built to form our speech, yet unwilling to be prevented by mere biology. The conversation I keep to myself and treasure, but I will name it the most terrifying, exhilarating and humbling experience of my long years. Sentient does not begin to cover the intellect I witnessed that day.

The white cliffs of Celeda Ablan! Few human eyes have witnessed their majesty, and fewer still have set foot upon them, for this is the sacred land of the Pearl Queen, and it is reserved only for those she deems truly civilised.

Even merchants must wait on their ships for business to come to them, usually outside the dual harbours of Aldan, the capital city of a global empire. Beyond the cliffs ranges a green and often sodden isle, commonly wreathed in mists or rain clouds, weather that only adds to its mystery and defensive position. Somewhere among the rivers and marshes lie the libraries of Asfada and the towers of Canrac, wherein labour the greatest scholars and mages of their people. The realm extends across the mountains of Ryma, the highlands of E Belag, and the fields of Erle, and out along the smaller islands known as the String. Here the world’s most powerful fleet makes its base, a nexus for control with influence across all the oceans

Land of Enlightenment and Glory,
Mother of the Refined,
How shall we extol thee, who are born of brine?
I heard my country calling, away across the sea,
Across the waste of waters,
she calls and calls to me.
Wider still and wider shall thy bounds be set;
Gods, who made thee mighty,
make thee mightier yet!
Sea by sea, her shining bounds increase the nation,
And her ways are ways of progress,
her goals sophistication.
When Arandach first, at immortal command,
Arose from out the azure main;
This was the charter of the land,
And guardian angels sang this strain:
"Rule, Arandach! Celeda Ablan rules the sea:
"The Arandai simply are the best
no one else is beautiful as thee."

Aloof, conceited, self-righteous...should I keep going? Of course, they got that way by living in those sky-poking towers, I’ve always said so. Living in towers is an old Arandai tradition - done it ever since they tiptoed out of the big forest and started lording it over the rest of us. Didn’t stop with the hills and valleys - next it was the rivers and the oceans. Discovered their precious whitecliffed islands and built towers there too. Imaginatively called them "Celeda Ablan" - White Islands. As if the towers weren’t exclusive enough - talk about a superiority complex.

But the islands weren’t enough, oh no. Soon they were back! Tried to rule the forests again - Sylvans didn’t take too kindly to that, let me tell you. Gave "logging rights" to the dwarves, ha! Them beardies had a few things to say when the vicious ones in the woods started killing them as soon as they came near. To a dwarf, anything with pointy ears looks the same. There was some bad blood in them times...oh gods, so much blood. Didn’t end there, neither. When things turned south in times of Ruin, Highborn even turned on themselves. The toffs in Celeda Ablan thought them who stayed in Vetia weren’t civilised enough to be worth rescuing, left them to the mercy of the beasts and orcsies. The ones who made it back weren’t even allowed on the Islands, had to settle the Western lands. Had a big war about it - now we’ve got bloody dread elves!

As a lifelong merchant, I have known the fleets of all nations, at sea and port. Believe me: there are none more functional than the Royal Navy of the White Queen. It’s not just the vessels, nor their sailing capacity. It’s the perfect coordination, among their many ports and regiments of naval infantry, the Sea Guard, whose training would put Sonnstahl’s Imperial Guard to shame. It’s the feared espionage and oversight of the Grey Watchers, regarded as the eyes and ears of the Queen herself, known from Tsuandan to the Virentian colonies. For very special missions commissioned directly by the Pearl Throne, small Queen’s Guard detachments lead the naval troops against the worst enemies of the crown. Such a vision of martial prowess is both terrifying and fascinating, even for a career man like me.

The Arandai Empire is not what it once was, but it remains exceptionally potent, with awe-inspiring naval power. Its territories on every continent are growing, along with control of maritime trade. Colonies garrisoned by the Pearl Throne include the icy northern citadel of Nedarac, where precious Phoenix eggs are found; the strategic stronghold of Gan Dareb, in the Middle Sea; and Celed Ryman, a fortress monastery scarred by pursuit of magical knowledge in the southern part of the Great Ocean. Additionally, there are outposts in Sagarika, Taphria and around the Sea of Thirst that remain loyal to the Arandai, among other locations.

My young friend,

Serving as the liaison between our beloved Empire and the heirs of the White Queen is a burdensome assignment. Elves are a spiteful people beneath the cordial airs enacted for official events. Their grace in words, voice and movement can turn swiftly lethal. Pay attention to your behaviour; they love formality, and you should respect their ceremonies. You always refer to an Admiral as Herald of the Pearl Throne, Eyes of the Most Precious Jewel of the Elven Race, the White Queen.

Do not underestimate the importance of the political affiliation among the officers you talk to. They will subscribe to one of the three primary factions within the Imperial Council: the Isolationists, who care only for the internal affairs of the White Islands; the Imperialists, seeking expansion and international prestige (especially difficult to deal with for Vetians); and the Mercantile faction, our greatest ally in elven politics.

Don’t be daunted by their towering pride at the outset of your mission. If you’ll act respectfully, they will likely find a use for you, for all their talk of human primitives. But do not expect genuine friendship under any circumstances.

Honoured headmaster,

I am writing to you with my latest findings into the investigation of the demise of your nephew in the battle of Tulpenfeld during the Silver Stoat incident. At a recent audience at a mansion of one of the Aldan nobles I had the dubious honour of meeting one our elven “colleagues” and the displeasure to be quite rudely schooled for my apparent ignorance on the subject of Arandai institutions of learning. Though it is no secret to anyone who deals in elven lore that they possess universities akin to our own the level of ideological divide between them has to date, as far as I am aware, been completely unknown. Our esteemed institutions do bicker and squabble, yet our differences seem petty in comparison focusing on tithes and coin rather than the very soul of a civilisation. My ‘tutor’ relished the opportunity to ‘educate’ me on the matter.

As far as I was able to ascertain around the time of the Holy Maiden there was a schism at the fabled university of Asfada. A group of individuals that my interlocutor named as apostates accused the rest for the calamities of the preceding ages due to what they saw as the abandonment of what it truly meant to be an elf. These ‘misguided’ souls decided to debase their calling by reintroducing the teachings of elven feral ancestors and opening their minds to the heretical ideas from across the western sea in their foolish quest for perfection. To conceal their heresy they wrapped their path to ‘enlightenment’ in religious dogma claiming that through their actions they honour the gods – Amhar, Meritaur, Meladys, Amryl and Nab – and maintain the balance of the elven spirit.

Yet my ‘tutor’ claimed they failed completely in their quest and only managed to tarnish their elven nobility by inviting savagery into their hearts and minds, no longer being worthy to be called scholars but slaughterers and conjurers of cheap tricks. The picture I was painted of these so-called Masters of Canrac perfectly matches the reports from Tulpenfeld and the description of the flaxen haired whirlwind who carved a bloody path through the burgermeister’s retinue, yet there was nothing cheap about her ability. The level of gusto with which the Asfad mage flung dirt at his rivals casts doubt on the veracity of his story. I have put a petition before the relevant offices of the Pearl Throne to be allowed to contact Canrac or gain access to one of the elven libraries of Aldan and learn the truth for myself.

I hope this letter finds you well and the perpetrator of the crime will be brought to justice soon, even if it would only be elven justice.

Yours faithfully
Gunther Faust

…Travails of my youth did not give me peace and even before I was cast upon the Great Ocean by the vagaries of fate my curiosity sampled the morsels of knowledge brought to these shores by pale faced merchants of the Highborn Empire. Through them across an unimaginable gulf of time came to me a story from the birthing days of the Golden Age. Before Sunna, before the kings and queens of the Napaat valley, before even the Elves reached the serenity of the White Isles, there were five great Elven Princes, the mightiest and noblest of their kind beyond the boughs.

It is said Dorac was so taken by their virtue that he could not bear the thought that these exemplary Elves might perish in defence of their budding nations. So he forged for them helms, shields, scale and plate like the world had never seen before. Each piece was a tapestry of engravings that proclaimed the majesty of the Elves to all who dared cast eyes upon them, lighter than the plumage of a Giant Eagle, yet of such craftsmanship it put the finest Dwarven artifice of the age to shame.

When the Princes again took to the field of battle to face the barbaric hordes they shone as bright as the giant brazier overlooking Aldan. Personifications of Elven noble heritage and the right to rule the world they blinded their savage foes with august brilliance of their donned gifts. Many were felled by their keen blades, for who would dare strike such regal splendour?

Nothing is eternal save maybe death, and in strange aeons even death may die. So too came the hour of doom for these exalted ones. From the east it came in a shape of a man, a warrior, a warlord, a conqueror. Jewels of a dozen sundered kingdoms glistened upon his troubled brow and the skulls of their kings adorned his standard. Pride goes before the fall, or so the saying goes, and the Elven Princes went to war. One by one they faced the raven-haired murderer, and one by one they were broken beneath his iron boot, their divine gifts shattered and blemished.

For their failure and shame the names of the Princes were erased from memory while that of the bronze skinned butcher still haunts the dreams of the wise. A phantom of destruction who may yet one day return to finish the Elves for good.

An age later in a time of great calamity when brother fought brother and daughter slew mother the first Prince of Ryma beseeched Dorac to reforge his gifts into a single suit, so that he may defend his people from the madness that had engulfed them. Though bravely he fought eventually pride got better of him on the blood-soaked fields of Erle and the gift of the gods passed into the hands of Queen. To this day her annual champion is granted the honour to don a special suit of armour that many claim is the one and the same as the Dorac’s panoply of “Forgotten Kings”…

• Do male elves have beards?

It seems the barber community has finally taken an interest in my work - perhaps in a hope to earn my custom. Unfortunately the unkempt beard is something of a status symbol for a Sage.

I have never observed an elf with a beard. Nor with other obvious bodily hair, apart from that upon their head. Unless clean shaven is a common style choice, this would lead me to believe that elves are not afflicted by the same grooming requirements as we men.

A scholar’s question - although biggest does not always mean best. My own library, while small, contains many first editions not found in other places. The fact that they are my own books is a mere coincidence - fine volumes, all of them!

There are many great libraries in the world. I have visited all that I was able to gain admittance to in my search for knowledge. Yet not every culture embraces libraries in the same manner.

The elves of Caleda Ablan may possess the finest of magical academia. Asfada is a true gem, and I was once privileged to be permitted admittance to consult a handful of volumes - albeit in the antechambers of the most mundane building and under constant guard.

Aschau also houses many volumes of importance - the colleges across Sonnstahl have long sought to codify knowledge and perfect the teaching of it to the next generation of professors and poets. I’ve always found this instruction by rote a little formulaic for my tastes - learning is to be savoured; a personal experience, not one to be borrowed from another.

However, perhaps surprisingly, I suspect the greatest collections of published works may actually be held in the citadels of the Blasted Plain. It’s not often discussed - few people like their dealings with the Infernal Dwarves to be known - but it’s my belief that they were the first to perfect the printing press, and still produce the finest examples to be found.

I’m not even certain those dwarves value the knowledge they have accumulated in their vaults of stone. I do know that I have often had to trade with Zalaman Tekash to obtain many otherwise impossible to acquire volumes. So much of what passes from East to West leaves a share with the Eastern Dwarves along the way - why not knowledge too? Certainly, they are masters of ascertaining value, in all things.

Do the HE allow humans or other humanoids to enter their island?

I believe i have referred in the past to opportunities to consult texts at one of the great elven universities on Celeda Ablan. It was one of the finer moments of my academic career, but it was not without risk. Humans, and any other outsider, who visit the elven cities on Celeda Ablan take their life in their own hands.

Provided you are wise, listen to your minders, and don’t stray beyond the permitted spaces, you should survive to return to the ships in harbour. Yet the highborn are difficult to predict at times, and easily offended. Even without knowing it, one can ruin their reputation irreparably with their hosts.

Just to enter the Pearl Harbour one must await their approval upon the desolate Rock, some way off the coast, to be vetted and scrutinised at their leisure. I have waited a week there before, only to be turned away for little more reason than the wrong form of greeting from the captain of the ship I travelled upon. Fortunately, a makeshift market upon the Rock has sprung up, to prevent such journeys from being a complete waste.

Discussions of the defensive situation of their home island is difficult at best, but the Highborn Elves do maintain military forces across their island, suggesting they are at least conscious of threats arriving on the island - or some which may already exist. One rumour said a scrapling infestation had taken root in marshes to the southeast of Celeda Ablan. If true, that would be remarkable, and perhaps embarrassing. I wouldn’t raise it with an elf in whose good books you wish to remain.

Elves and humans look similar from the outside, but what makes them biologically different? Internally speaking, do they have different organs? Are there "half-elves" (i.e. can humans and elves mate to produce an offspring)?

It is a well-known truth that elves, with slim and lithe bodies, fine features and delicate skin, have always held a fascination for humans. We see in them many of the qualities we aspire to: grace and wisdom, beauty and culture. Yet for all these parallels, it is often overlooked that elves are as different to us humans as dwarves, orcs, ogres or even saurians.

Elven fragility, their adeptness with magics unfathomable to humans, and their incredible longevity – these are all indications that there is as much separating us as there is uniting. Most marked of all though is their worldview and intellect. I have engaged with their scholars, and while a trade of information was beneficial, their philosophies were utterly alien. How can one hope to comprehend the thinking of a being which can expect to live for centuries, and for whom the lives of their brethren represent a millennium of potential?

As for the tawdry physical aspects – physical relationships are not unheard of between elves and humans. Each no doubt makes gains from the pairing, but offspring is not one of them. The species of this world are much too different to breed – like a horse and a cow, we may all walk on the same number of legs, and have roughly equivalent vital organs, but cannot mate. It is a blessing in truth – those liaisons are complex enough without the addition of half-elves!

Among the more unusual flora native to Sagarikadesha is camillia. An unremarkable shrub producing miniature white flowers in spring, the plant appears to have no use in either cuisine or medicine. And yet, as you may know, camillia was one of the primary reasons for the vast effort and resources invested by the Highborn Elves in their colonisation of this country, and trade in its leaves still accounts for a remarkable portion of Celeda Ablan’s economic activity. After many months in one of the plantations, the overseer deigned to show me how the leaves – picked at precisely the right moment – could be left to dry, then rolled, fermented, fired briefly in an oven and finally soaked in boiling water to to create a strange, tasteless beverage. I could not see the reason for such a concoction, but it was explained to me that it is highly prized among elves, because it acts as an opiate on their sensitive physiology, helping them control some of the primal urges of their ancestors.

Our world is a fragile thing, a perfect pearl in a pounding sea. It is a miracle that the elements necessary for its creation aligned, and in the calm between opposing tides, our island of existence formed.

The Coatl teach of the power of Cosmos, worshipping their prime qualities of order and structure above all others. Yet a world without change is a world frozen, doomed to an entropy which would eventually stifle life itself.

Worshippers of the Dark Gods take chaos and chance as their precepts, and claw at the foundations of the world. They are blind to their own failure to achieve perfect chaos, and the loathsome consequences of structure’s collapse – even our very consciousness relies upon some small piece of order to maintain.

Here, at the eye of the storm, we see what those ideologues fail to. All life exists in a balance, sheltered from the extremes of Chaos and Cosmos, yet made possible by a fusion of both.

In this institution, you will learn the ways of this balance. You will discover how to shape the equilibrium, the ease with which the hand of Cosmos grasps, or the world slides towards Chaos. Yet always you must ensure its return to harmony.

Before you, you will find the scales of balance, and the candle of duality. Take them with you, and take the rest of the day to wander. Seek out the divisions of our world: light and dark, land and sea, life and death, and observe the slender thread separating them. That is the subject of your future studies, and the source of our art.