NationStates Jolt Archive

Damoen Wasterin was not the common Crown Prince. His long length of time putting off thus far the Crown and the title of King made him uncommon.

His wife had died shortly after the monarchy was restored in Aerion following the fascist government‘s fall. In most recent times he had appointed an Buddhist Lama as an spiritual advisor, and met personally with the Makan Buddhist High Lama. Approximately 25% of Aerionians, by recent statistics, claimed Buddhism as their religion, though only 11% Makan Buddhism.

Thus he had earned the ire of Aerionian press, and some of the High Society. The mostly agnostic, and atheistic Aerionians did not agree that the Crown Prince Regent should be of any particular religion or express such open religious devotion of any religion.

Damoen Wasterin, Crown Prince Regent, sat meditating in an private garden off of his bedroom in the Royal Residence of the Royal Palace in Astevane. He had in one corner of the garden a simple stone fountain, and on the other side an contemplative rock garden. While not the bedroom of the King, as Crown Prince Regent he had chose to stay in this more secluded bedroom with a private garden. The three room suite was more than sufficient for his needs.

In his meditation the First Valet, Valeuraint Perisun, would sit quietly in his niche where his small bed was waiting quietly for Damoen to complete his meditations.. Valeuraint was in his fourties, slightly older than Damoen, though had been a trusted servant of Damoen’s side of the Royal Family even in their times of isolation. He did not believe in the Crown Prince’s religion, in fact he was raised Catholic though had drifted away from his religion

In his meditation it came to Damoen in his own accord that he should make perhaps a personal pilgrimage, a journey, to Snefaldia. He had been reading the dossiers on the unusual country, and found the religion behind their theocracy interesting. Damoen read a travel book on Snefaldia’s culture which gave him a cursory glance of at least the practices of the Aatem Nal. He felt drawn to the small country somehow, he wanted to visit it as an seeker and so would plan his trip secretly.

He would call the Royal Travel Office the next morning to arrange his visit, and he knew the royal staff there would keep the secret.

The mountains shone, outlined by the setting sun, orange and red skies burning around purple clouds. Under the trees, a man sat in contemplation of the majesty of the natural world.

Thunderheads rolled in to the east, black billowing clouds threatening to obliterate the idyllic scene. Lightning flashed, a prime expression of the natural will- and then, the man saw it.

From beyond the horizon of the mountain peaks, a great winding shape rose, snaking through the sky, as if on fire. The fire met the black clouds, and the lightning crashed, and the clouds thinned and broke. The great fire-worm, with the clouds gone, sank beneath the hills, and the orange-red fire of the setting sun disappeared, leaving the man in darkness.

Rising, he adjusted his ragged clothes, picked up a leather satchel, stared ahead at the scene he had just seen, and walked away.

* * *

"Damnit! Damnit! Damnit! Not another request, if I get another visa request I swear I'm going to kill someone!" screamed secretary Imgur-Bel, a functionary in the Foreign Ministry's Bureau of Visas and Warrants.

Ghez-Pak, another secretary, scowled. "Shut up! This one's special. From the Royal Office of Aerion, just come from their embassy. The First Minister marked this one "urgent: top secret," so forget whatever you're doing and get on this one."

Imgur-Bel frowned. "Cloak and dagger, eh? Fine. It'll be done in a moment."

* * *

24 hours later, the Prince's request had been fulfilled, a Special Warrant of Travel had been issued, and a secret meeting had been set up in Sargedain. The Prince, and if he desired a small entourage, would fly by jet to Sargedain International Airport, and from there to rooms in the Golden Hotel, the most famous hotel in the entire capital city.

When the Crown Prince Regent traveled, there was no light undertaking. Though for this journey the Royal Travel Office would try to be more simple. If the proper arrangements were made, an Aerionian Cargo Plane would arrive earlier with one of the Crown Prince’s private cars, this one less marked as the usual Royal Car. The car that was brought would still be an Adinas Star Coach V, an luxury sedan often used by Aerion’s highest class, but would not be marked in the same way. Some of his Royal Guard would also arrive.

The journey was secretive to the point that only the most senior officers of the Diplomatic Service at the Royal Embassy would even know. The Prince made such journeys before, though usually on pilgrimages to Makan Buddhist holy sites or other religious sites within Aerion.

An 140 ft Takares Business Jet, an luxury jet often customized for the Aerionian elite, was prepared for this particular jet. It was an more discreet alternative to the large super jumbo jet often used as Royal One.

Damoen would travel with his First Valet, Second Valet, some other staff as well as an private secretary. Along with an chef for the jet’s kitchen, the flight officers, and others. The Royal Guard would also be present on the jet.

An helicopter carried Damoen from the pad behind the Royal Palace adjacent to the Royal Guard Headquarters to the private airport outside of Astevane where the Royal Family and officials sometimes departed from.

The Takares Business jet was prepared on the runway. The helicopter landed at the airport outside of Astevane, and Damoen with his entourage boarded the jet.

While traveling through Aerionian airspace, the jet would be known as “Royal One” but upon leaving an different callsign would be adopted.

The jet departed Astevane in the middle of the night.

Footsteps (http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a188/kuroutesshin/NN_20bethlehem3.jpg) echoing in an empty stone hall. Gaslamps crackling. Water dripping. A man hunched over a huge book, sitting on an old wooden desk.

"Came out of the mountains yesterday. Speaking about the Fire Worm."

The man's crooked fingers brushed over the markings on the page. The footsteps stopped.

"Came to him in the Serils. That's what he said at least."

An ancient vellum page turned. More fingers lightly touching.

"He wrote it all down, of course... they always do, write it down."

Another page turned. An oillamp on the desk flickered.

"The Masters are in agreement. De Stella Nova was clear."

The lamp flickered out, and the fingers stopped. The crooked back straigthened.

"The new star. "

* * *
As the Aerionian jet entered Snefaldian airspace, the first thing the passengers would see were the brilliant blues and greens of the Bay of Fuschal, with great transport ships passing by each other in the great water entrance to the nation. The hills of the Zogor and Hightop (http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a188/kuroutesshin/Snefaldia_elevation.jpg) mountains rose before the pilot, and the sandy red-brown Shahd plateau appeared under them; passing high over the bustling seaport city of Taxilha.

The way to central Snefaldia was a simple route, and the old adage common in every region applied: Follow the river. The Mighty Saard, the Life-Giver, the At'jan, the Blue God... the names of the river were many, but from the sky its majesty was barely glimpsed, a huge blue vein cutting through the Snefaldian landscape. The land got greener from the Shahd as the aircraft passed into the Dayan farming region; and below them the farms and irrigation trenches cut through the basin like capillaries in the human body.

"Takares-x234, this is landing authority. You are cleared for landing at Sargedain International, runway 3. Have a safe landing."

From the sky, Sargedain looked like a huge mess of streets, stone walls, and tall buildings- a modern city growing out of a historic one. The airport lay on the outskirts of the city, and just like the rest of the capital it sat a full thirty feet above the surrounding floodplain- the product of years of experience with the floods of the Saard. The most amazing sight for foreigners would probably be the huge airship fields- hundreds of dirigibles, huge airships, lined up- some taking off, some landing- big silvery and grey blimps, colored in bright designs and in regional languages, lifting gracefully off and heading out to the rest of the country.

Touchdown.

Taxiing into the proper position, the Aerionian jet reached the hanger they had been assigned. Already waiting were several government officials in black and red redingcotes, white wigs and brilliant white stockings. With them stood two men in long black robes, black phelonia, and sporting tall fur caps.

As the Prince and his entourage descended, one of the men in red stepped forward, pips and gongs on his breast. All the men present bowed at the waist in unison.

"Your excellency, welcome to Snefaldia."

Damoen had just finished putting on his suit in his suite on the plane, a rather luxurious suite for an airplane, assisted by his First Valet and another staff. He wore an three-piece black suit, with an dark blue French collar button-up shirt underneath it, and an burgundy tie.

Then the message came from the pilot that they were landing, and so Damoen with is staff took their seat in various plush seats on the plane. Damoen chose to sat in the comfortable armchair with seatbelt that was by a window in the bedroom, and he gazed down upon the scene of Snefaldia with a look of awe and interest. The great river, the city of winding streets that looked both medieval, and modern. From what he could see this was an place most unusual. Aerion was beautiful, but there was something about this place that drew him in.

Upon landing, and being pulled into the hangar Damoen’s staff prepared with the Royal Guard.

After arriving in the hangar, the first to emerge were two Royal Guard wearing basic suits with red and yellow ties. Usually they would wore an uniform, but for this they appeared normal.

Then the Crown Prince himself emerged followed by his First Valet. Damoen was an slightly tall Eastern Aerionian, with an chiseled face of an athlete, jet black hair cut in an business style, and deep eyes. He appeared to be in his late thirties or early fourties. His composure was one of confidence, one of Royal Blood, though the look on his face was more peaceful, and more contemplative. His eyes showed one who had struggled in life.

He stepped down the steps of the plane in an confident, but not arrogant stride. His eyes were respectful as he looked over those, he thought that those gathered were government ministers, though looked at the men wearing black respectfully thinking they were perhaps priests.

The First Valet had frowned slightly at the addressing of the Crown Prince Regent of Aerion as an excellency, and not highness. Though Damoen did not even seem to notice.

The man who had spoken took another step forward, bowing with a flourish of his hand.

"Greeting to the honored guest, may the sun shine warmly on your stay." The other men in the entourage touched three fingers to their forehead, and returned to their position. The central official smile. His features were fair, with brilliant blue eyes and pale white skin. Some of the other men had the fashionable white makeup and rouge on with their white wigs, but this man did not. He was not tall, but of a respectable height, and was slightly thinner than the average man.

"I am, your highness, Ket'man Toghuz, Third Minister of Cultural Affairs. Allow me to introduce my staff." He introduced each of the men in red, their names weren't important and neither were they. But he gestured to the two men in black, and took on a more deferential tone.

"My pleasure is to introduce to you Naj Ak, Loremaster 9th rank, and Suburman Kumrakaj, Inquisitor 13th rank. These honored scholars will be giving you an introduction to the culture of Snefaldia."

The two men bowed only slighty at the waist, enigmatic half-smiles on their faces.

"Your excellency has been reserved space at the Golden Hotel, as have your servants. We have provided a special automobile fleet for your use, as we have very strict vehicle laws in the Capital. If you please, the honored Arsathaes and I will ride with you and show you the city."

Damoen nodded to each in return, though did half-bow if culturally appropriate. He nodded deeply to the Loremaster and Inquisitor. His eyes looked over them politely.

The First Valet and Royal Guards remained quietly in the background, though the First Valet Valeuraint Perisun seemed to watch closely though remained reserved.

He spoke, "It is an honor, and an privilege to be within this great nation. I am fascinated by your people, and culture."

In response to the offer, Damoen nodded, "Very well, that sounds like a good plan. I look forward to seeing your capital. Though I most look forward to seeing Serasarda. There is so much to see."

Damoen added, "And as I may respectfully add, I am here in discretion. If possible I do not even want all of my own Royal Embassy to know of my presence, nor anyone beyond an few. This is a private trip."

His Second Valet and other staff wearing simple black pants and burgundy buttoned shirts were unloading the plane of the Crown Prince's luggage. There were quiet a few pieces in monogrammed luggage.

Minister Toghuz bowed his head gracefully. "If you desire, only your ambassador will be informed of your presence. If you please, your excellency-" he gestured to the car- "Your things will be at the hotel."

A black transatlantic limousine sat idling, and the Arsathaes entered first, followed by the Prince, his Valet, and then the Minister. Pulling out of the airport, the airport was soon far behind and the car merged into the city. Wooden and stone buildings mixed with modern skyscrapers, and the first thing the Prince would notice was the lack of actual automobiles. Most people were walking- and almost no one wore western-style clothing.

"To your right you see the Eastern Bank of the Saard river- the lifeblood of our nation. It's wide banks and rushing waters give life to our fields as it floods each year. You see how the city is built up high above the water- this is no accident. In the 1600s, devastating floods broke the dikes around the old town, and the city leaders instituted a building program. Now, the city sits a full thirty meters above the water."

The Prince would see a huge, wide river, leveed with huge megalithic stones. pipes and holes dotted the south shore, which was also part of the city. On the Eastern Bank, he would see aqudeucts and stone cisterns dotting the riverside- which was lined with trees and green grass. The pipes and holes fed water into the city's underground water network; the remnants of the old city's waterworks. When the Great Flood destroyed the town, the stone aqueducts had just been covered up, and were rerouted to push the floodwaters through the city and out into the fields surrounding the city.

"We are most proud of our water-management systems in Sargedain, your highness. Without the Saard and its water, this region of Dayan would be as dry as the Allashan desert."

They continued to drive deeper into the city. Parks and boulevards were more common, as they closed into the government district and the city centre.

"Ah, the National Forum." Toghuz pointed at a huge sunken amphitheatre surrounded by tall pillars. "And there, you see across the way is the Golden Hotel."

The Golden Hotel was a huge, Art Nouveau structure, some forty stories tall. A huge sweeping brick drive led up to the entrance, a gilt affair that shone in the sun. The flags of foreign nations fluttered in the breeze, and uniformed valets stood at perfect attention outside of the large doors.

As they approached, the elder Arsathae, Naj Ak, spoke in a heavily accented voice.

"Pleaze tel me, Prinz... are 'ou a man of litteras? buchen, 'ou read many buchs?"

Damoen entered the limousine, glancing back at his Royal Guards who would be accommodated in another vehicle he was sure. His First Valet glanced around as they entered the limousine, and sat appropriately to the Prince as the Prince sat next to the Minister to listen to his words.

Damoen watched the city with fascination, listening attentively to the words of the Minister. He watched the passing people, and buildings. He had commented, "An very diverse people."

As they approached the hotel, he looked interestedly. There were, surprisingly, Art Nouveau structures in the Grand Kingdom of Aerion. Even some skyscrapers were built Art Nouveau in certain wealthier areas, large golden Nouveau statues.

He commented, "Ahh, lovely hotel. We have a similar style for some buildings in the Grand Kingdom."

As they stepped out of the vehicle, he glanced at Naj Ak closely. "Yes, I read as often as possible, and have even been criticized for my reading. As Crown Prince Regent I am expected to be on the move constantly, though I have taken numerous spiritual retreats at the Great Monastery of the Makan Buddhists. There I meditate, and read. I have read both religious, and secular texts. I enjoy most though studying the Buddhist Sutras, and the writings of High Lama Kath Makan of Makan Buddhism and other High Lamas. High Lama Kath Makan brought Buddhism to Aerion. I have also read though the Bhagavad Gita, Qur’ān, Roman Catholic Bible, the Bible, some of the Upanishads and other religious texts." He continued walking as he spoke at length to the man.

The elderly Arsathae clicked his tongue when the Prince mentioned criticism for reading, but he nodded as the Prince described the religious texts he had taken in.

"We will give you a copy of the Snefaldian Catholic Bible." Arsathae Kumkaraj interjected. "You will be interested to compare it with the texts you have read."

By now they were exiting the car and entering the hotel's lobby, a huge turned metal affair with intricately laid marble floors, filled with swirling patterns and whimsical images of natural life. A huge sweeping staircase opened up before them, and following it up revealed a tall golden statue of an angel, and above that a huge glass dome allowing light.

Toghuz snapped his fingers and spoke rapidly to a page, and in a moment the mada't* was before them, traditional crimson robes and sashes swirling gracefully. He and the minister conversed quickly, and Toghuz turned.

"I am afraid I must apologize for the lack of rest, but your things will be taken to the stateroom. The mada't had the kitchen prepare a meal... the dining room is just this way."

Through a tall mahogany door, the party came to the private banquet room (http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a188/kuroutesshin/Salacons.jpg), the smells of Dayan cooking filled the room. mugs of wheat and barley beer sat next to plates of roasted river duck, fresh-baked breads and ripe tomatoes sat side by side.

The Prince was given the head of the table, and his Valet offered the seat at his right hand. Minister Toghuz sat to the left, with the Arsathaes taking the two seats opposite each other and the rest of the officials filling the rest.

Naj Ak sat, and when the rest had taken their seats and the waiters stoof to attention, rose again and pulled back his sleeves, tying them with silk cords. The Snefaldians stopped talking. The elderly man raised his hands, palms up, level to his eyes, and the Snefaldians did the same.

Be began weaving his fingers in and out in complex patterns, graceful and mystical, clasping and unclasping his hands in ritual patterns. After a minute, he returned his hands to their original position; and all the Snefaldians dropped their hands in unison.

"Now, your highness, please eat. And tell us about Aerion!"

*a mada't is similar to a concierge or host. The closest translation of his title would be "house-master," but since the term master is reserved for the highest religious dignitaries, the original bagura term is used.

Damoen followed steadily, and his bearing was not one of arrogance. He spoke in response to the comment, "Thank you. I would like to read this Bible. Though I am more interested in the Amershaman Medrahov, and your faith." He stepped through the hotel, gazing around with interest at the exquisite interior. He could not help but admire the large angelic statue as followed. He adjusted his suit as he walked. He nodded to the mada't.

Upon entering the Banquet room, he gazed around the surroundings. He was impressed by the fine surroundings in a hotel, and that the Golden Hotel was almost on par with some of the luxury hotels in the Royal District of Astevane. He followed, and took his seat at the table when offered. Valeuraint, the First Valet, sat to the Crown Prince's side.

Valeuraint was the first to notice the problem. He gazed at the food, then glanced at the Crown Prince. Then Damoen noticed.

Damoen cleared his throat, speaking in a low polite voice to the Minister, "I am an vegetarian."

Toghuz's face reddened and he snapped to the mada't. The two quickly conversed, the mada't gestured to the waiters, and they quickly cleared the offending plate away from the Prince.

"I am so very sorry! Please forgive the slight; we should have remembered that amny Buddhists do not eat meat- we have a small population here as well."

In its place they brought a similar disha, sans the river duck. Fresh-cut tomatoes with cut parsley and drizzled with vinagrette sauce, grilled asparagus shoots, and steamed white rice. Water cups had been put on the table in addition to the Dayan beer.

"Is everything satisfactory?"

Damoen looked a bit embarrassed at the fuss made, though did not appear flustered. He smile cordially, "Yes, everything is very well. Thank you very much." He took a sip of the beer, seeming not to mind drinking such.

He said a small mantra, and began eating the meal starting with the tomatoes. He nodded, "Very good, yes. Unique." He glanced around the table at the men around him. "Do any of you know many things about the Grand Kingdom of Aerion, or have any of you visited there." He knew the Cultural Minister had not visited there, or he would have received it in some report.

The First Valet Valeuraint ate the food with no problem, obviously not a vegetarian. He had waited until the Crown Prince began eating, however.

Minister Toghuz smiled. "I can't say that any of us have been to Aerion; but from what our august Arsathaes have read and what little I've been able to pick up, Aerion seems to be a diverse nation. Your ethnic divisions are certainly fascinating; similar to our own, and I read about your nations cultural taboos and practices with singular interest. Cremation is only practiced among in Bae; the other ethnic groups either bury or expose their dead."

The two Arsathaes nodded. Even in a cosmopolitan nation like Snefaldia, certain cultural practices were looked on with disdain, and even though the practice of cremation was almost a necessity in Bae, it was considered a crude and uncivilized practice. Cremation among the Bajeong was required- both by vague religious requirements, space necessity, and disease prevention. Cenotaphs replaced graves, and ancestral temples replaced graveyards.

"I am interested, though- your government's report indicated that there is a small "elven" population living in the country? Our limited foreign record seem to say that elves are a mythical race- perhaps you can shed some light on the subject of the Aerionian elves?"

Damoen nodded, "Yes, it appears to be diverse but culturally in the cities it is not. Aerionians live very utilitarian. People wear very subdued clothing as compared to Snefaldia, and a large part of the population live in huge metal and concrete apartment blocs in the cities. Now in northern Aerion, and in rural areas the real culture of Aerion is expressed more. I can say unfortunately that most of our population lives in urban areas, but this has helped us to preserve the wilderness largely untouched. Yet it has also caused a decline in culture, or perhaps you might say an emergence of an less colorful new culture."

Damoen took a sip of the beer, and took another bite which was one of the last bites of the meal.

He spoke further, "The Elves are not a mythical race, if you have studied such nations though they consider themselves to be. They are as far as we are able to discern an different biological species with some unique genetic properties. Most of the Elves in Aerion came from Menelmacar long ago. They are scattered across Aerion, though many had settled an island in the Rashier Islands. An city there has a majority Elvish population. They tend to stay to themselves."

He took an other sip of the beer, glancing at the Arsathaes with a cordial look.

The Arsathaes nodded through the discussion, not saying anything, chewing on their food thoughtfully. They were memorizing the entire conversation, and would dictate it out verbatim after the meal for archive.

Toghuz listened with rapt attention. As a Cultural Affairs minister, he was of course proud when the Prince spoke well of Snefaldia's common clothing. He was not a great scholar or official, Minister Toghuz- that was why he was Third Minister for Cultural Affairs and not first. The meal finished up, the mada't reappeared and spoke quickly to the minister, handing him a note. The other officials in red seemed less concerned with the goings on and the foreign royal (probably because they couldn't understand what was being said), and more concerned with fixing their white makeup with pocket mirrors.

Toghuz looked unhappy for a moment, then brightened again.

"Your highness, I am afraid I am called away on official business. In my place, the honored Arsathaes Ak and Kumkaraj will be your guides - in our nation, Aatem Nal is intertwined with the government. If you have need of official contact with my office or the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the Arsathaes will be able to oblige, I'm sure." He threw a withering smile at the two Arsathaes, who nodded their heads with a smile of equal insincerity.

With that, the officials rose and left, paying their respects to the Prince with a bow and brief words in their various languages. When the table had been cleared away and the servants gone, the Arsathaes approached the Prince.

"Politicans. Like chickens, their feathers are easily ruffled." chuckled Kumkaraj. "Prince Wasterin, your presence in our country is a welcome sign. You have asked about the Amershaman Medrahov, and thus far we have no answered. We see that you are a man of deep intellect and great clarity. We see the sharpness which has honed your inner sight. Your desire to learn more and developed your spirit is a great virtue- and if you are willing, you will be taught."

The elderly Ak nodded slowly. "Tomorrow. We 'ill go du sa Librar, and 'ou 'ill see sa Medrahov."

The Arsathaes bowed in unison, and exited. The mada't returned, bowing copiously to the Prince, and showed them to their rooms. The beds were comfortable, the surroundings were opulent, the service was attentive and exact- all part of the treatment of a foreign dignitary.

The Prince would surely sleep soundly through the night.

* * *

Sleepers awoke in Sargedain to the sounds of a city rumbling to activity. Even from the suite of the Golden Hotel the cries of travelling merchants, sounds of horse-hooves, and festival bands mixed into a sublime symphony of sound. Automobiles were almost unknown in Snefaldia; and in the cities only government offices had them.Public transportation was almost universal; Sargedain had a train system to carry people everywhere they needed to go. Horses and carriages were common, and the municipal cleaners were given bonuses based on how quickly and how well they could clean the streets in the early morning hours.

The Prince was provided with breakfast of his choice, the mada't himself served it. A carriage waited for the royal, a bodyguard, and his valet when he was ready to depart for the Library of Sargedain.

Damoen slept very soundly after having contemplated for a moment the words of the Arsathaes.

Damoen awoke to the varied unfamiliar sounds of the city. He was surprised by them, for his chambers at the Royal Palace in Astevane were most often quiet as they were toward the center of the Royal Residence Wing. Here he could hear the streets, the cries of merchants, and the festival bands which were most unfamiliar. As he climbed out of the bed Valeuraint was already up, preparing the luggage for the day's journey. He awoke him. His digital satellite phone lay in the corner, and already had several messages. The digital device was directly linked to an satellite positioned above, that was transmitting from networks in Aerion. He was already able to check his emails, reports, and messages. It could even make live video calls in clear areas.

He gazed at the flip screen on the video device, using the small QWERTY keyboard to scan through. He then placed it back down, not particularly feeling like checking through reports at this time.

He did his morning yoga, meditation, and mantra. He would have to shorten it this morning, and the jet lag had pained him. He performed the bare necessary ritual for only thirty minutes before he was informed by Valeuraint

His eyes glimpsed the interior of the hotel once more before he stepped out into the bustling streets. He had not realized the full culture of Snefaldia, and was surprised by the lack of vehicles.

Valeuraint supervised the loading of the luggage onto the carriage with the hotel staff.

He spoke to the mada't upon catching him after loading the luggage, "We are going to need another carriage, the Crown Prince requires another for his full staff. His personal secretary, and two other guards will be traveling with him."

With the luggage loaded onto the carriage, the mada't withdrew to other matters. The First Valet's questions fell short, the man neither heard him nor wanted to hear him- he was not the Prince, and the mada't was a very busy man. He snapped his fingers at a woman nearby as he flowed through the lobby with a sheaf of papers in his hands, his robes making it look like he was gliding along water.

The woman came forward; she wore similar robes as the mada't, but less opulent and voluminous, and of the same color as the servant's uniforms. She smiled. "The mada't explained your request to me. The carriage is capable of seating all you require- the Prince, the secretary, a bodyguard, and yourself may be seated comfortably inside; and with the other bodyguards riding exterior- on with the driver and another in the rear. The Honored Arsathaes will be meeting you at the Library." She bowed again, taking a step back.

Valeuraint had gotten a lesson in the social structure of Snefaldia. All the mada't knew was that he was a valet of the Prince, and accorded him the due honors of that position- delegation of the request to an assistant. One couldn't blame him, though- the mada't was a busy man.

Once the Prince was ready and his affairs set in order, the carriage would depart for the Library.

With the luggage loaded onto the carriage, the mada't withdrew to other matters. The First Valet's questions fell short, the man neither heard him nor wanted to hear him- he was not the Prince, and the mada't was a very busy man. He snapped his fingers at a woman nearby as he flowed through the lobby with a sheaf of papers in his hands, his robes making it look like he was gliding along water.

The woman came forward; she wore similar robes as the mada't, but less opulent and voluminous, and of the same color as the servant's uniforms. She smiled. "The mada't explained your request to me. The carriage is capable of seating all you require- the Prince, the secretary, a bodyguard, and yourself may be seated comfortably inside; and with the other bodyguards riding exterior- on with the driver and another in the rear. The Honored Arsathaes will be meeting you at the Library." She bowed again, taking a step back.

Valeuraint had gotten a lesson in the social structure of Snefaldia. All the mada't knew was that he was a valet of the Prince, and accorded him the due honors of that position- delegation of the request to an assistant. One couldn't blame him, though- the mada't was a busy man.

Once the Prince was ready and his affairs set in order, the carriage would depart for the Library.


Valeuraint had been rather surprised by the ignoring, he was used to be paid full attention to in the Royal Palace in Astevane and by others. He was the First Valet, one of the most important servants of the Prince, and his requests were considered the Crown Prince's if it related to him. In the Royal Aerionian Court he was regularly noticed with some respect, though he was in the shadow of the Crown Prince so was not fully acknowledged always.

He returned to Damoen to inform him that the mada't had been indisposed. Damoen was anxious to see the Library and so decided not to go find the man himself, but rather depart for the library.

The Crown Prince, the First Valet, the private secretary, and the Royal Bodyguard entered the carriage as the other Royal Bodyguards mounted the outside. They were ready to depart.

Valeuraint had been rather surprised by the ignoring, he was used to be paid full attention to in the Royal Palace in Astevane and by others. He was the First Valet, one of the most important servants of the Prince, and his requests were considered the Crown Prince's if it related to him. In the Royal Aerionian Court he was regularly noticed with some respect, though he was in the shadow of the Crown Prince so was not fully acknowledged always.

He returned to Damoen to inform him that the mada't had been indisposed. Damoen was anxious to see the Library and so decided not to go find the man himself, they would depart and the Royal Bodyguards would simply have to be on the inside and one of his guards and the private secretary would have to find a carriage to rent. To be truthful he was glad to be away from his private secretary, it would be less reports he would have to hear. Damoen kept his satellite phone with him though.

The Crown Prince, the First Valet, and the Royal Bodyguards entered the carriage. They were ready to depart.

OOC: To clear things up- the entire entourage can ride in the carriage. Four inside, two outside. The Prince, Valeuraint, the secretary, and a bodyguard inside, with the other bodyguards riding shotgun and rear. That's usually how important people travel in carriages- with a bodyguard inside, and a bodyguard outside. If you need another carriage, just assume that the mada't's assistant procured a hackney for you.

I'll get another entry later today.

OOC: Or several days later...

IC:

The carriage, carrying the Prince and his entourage, proceeded through the city. Since there was no Snefaldian attendant present to explain the city, the Prince was left to try and extrapolate what exactly he was seeing.

The first thing he would notice was a profound lack of cars of any kind. In 2003 the government banned fuel-burning autmobiles in favor of a comprehensive public transportation system, and simultaneously promoted the use of horses and carriages as an environmentally-friendly form of transportation. It had been difficult at first, and horseshit had been a huge complaint- but after several public speeches and the reformation of the streetcleaning service (voted best in the nation three years running!) the automobile ban became old news.

Sargedain was a historic city; but it was simultaneously a modern one, the most modern next to the huge port city of Taxilha. Unlike the rest of the country, huge skyscrapers (http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a188/kuroutesshin/american-zone.png) rose into the sky. These were unlike the metal and glass structures common in nations of the west, or other great capitalist societies; but rather used brick, stone, and steel to emulate the styles of the historic nation. Zeppelins hunge in the air; great modern airships that drifted lazily over the city. It was popular for the rich to put mansions in these airships and moor them above the tall skyscrapers, and then take them out to the countryside for vacations.

The carriage pulled to a stop in front of a huge building (http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a188/kuroutesshin/kazan.jpg) of stone colonnades, and the Prince could see hundreds of people entering and exiting the building. Black-robed Arsathaes moved in groups of two or three, while white-robed, hat-wearing servants trailed behind or performed odd jobs around the entrance to the huge building.

This was the Library of Dain-da-Hol, the Aatem Nal institution of Sargedain. The carriage-driver opened the door, and the Prince stepped out as Naj Ak and Suburman Kumkaraj walked toward them, the white-robed attendants swirling about like graceful spirits, eerily doll-like in their masks.

"Welcome, your Highness, to the Library of the Restorer of Justice."

Damoen, as Crown Prince Regent of Aerion, spent most of his time in the Royal District in Astevane. The Royal District was the historic district of Astevane, and so the buildings showed the mixture of Greeko-Roman, Arabic, and Baroque architecture the buildings were built in. The modern self-guiding vehicles, flatscreens, and other modern elements somewhat contrasted with the architecture. The Royal District was in sharp contrast to the rest of the Aerionian capital of Astevane, a huge mega-city with large skyscrapers stretching high into the sky.

Here though what surprised Damoen the most was the synthesis of modern, and old. His eyes stayed glued to the outside of the carriage. The sight of carriages, and horses against the backdrop of the massive skyscrapers of stone, brick, and metal with zeppelins tethered in the air truly amazed him. He craned his neck high into the sky. Zeppelins were used in the Grand Kingdom of Aerion for air cruises and transportation more than many other nations, but not like this.

Valeuraint, and the normally serious private secretary also gazed at the scenes with wonder. The skyscrapers of Aerion were often tall faceless blocs, or modernist sculptures, interceded at times by beautiful Art Nouveau skyscrapers. Though they were not as unique as these, which looked like something that may be in a children's story book or fantasy world.

The Royal Guard also seemed amazed, but attempted to keep their attention on the surroundings as was their role.

Damoen gazed over the structure. It looked as other libraries did in some nations, though larger, the librarians or surroundings were in no way common.

Damoen had worn an similar French cut black tailored three-piece suit as he had worn when he arrived, though with an burgundy French collar shirt with white cuffs. His tie was an darker burgundy.

He nodded deeply to the two approaching black robed Arsathaes.

The younger of the two Arsathaes gestured for the Prince to proceed, and the three men walked to the great door of the Library.

"This instution was built in 1802, after the original library was unfortunatley burned. It sits on the ruins of the ancient Library of Sargedain- the one that was seized by Dain-da-Hol in his famous campaign. You recall that the city sits higher than it's ancient foundation? The Library's vaults extend beneath it's above-ground environs. Sometimes there are problems with water leakeage, but we're very good at preventing any damage."

The party entered the expansive entrance hall of the Library, four stories high and held up by huge marble pillars, polished to a gleam. Arsathaes mixed with regular citizens, chatting in small groups or sitting in oases of chairs and tables- some reclining on divans and reading or listening to music.

"The white-robed attendants you see" continued Kumkaraj. "are the lowest grade of our order. We call them Cenobites. They are responsible for cleaning, assisting Arsathaes, cataloguing books, and in their studies they copy books and learn the Motions. Not technically Arsathaes yet, everyone who enters Aatem Nal must serve as a Cenobite for a time."

They proceeded through the long hall, paintings and tapestries adorning the walls and pillars, adding color to the marble white. At the end of the long entrance hall was a curling staircase that descended from the third and second floors, with a large mahogany double-door sitting at the center of the second-floor landing. On the left and right side, the Prince noticed a two raised stages in stone and wood, with racks of huge bronze shapes.

Kumkaraj beamed as he noticed them. "Ah! The Great Bells of Chu. These bells were taken from the palace of Chu Wen, a prince of the Zhong people of northern Bae. Chu Wen was at war with the Bajeong to the south, and was losing. In desperation, he attempted to deny them the riches of his capital and had his palaces emptied and transported to the west to reclaim later. Unfortunately, Chu Wen died and his state became part of Bae. The Treasures ended up in the possession of Aatem Nal, and in 1895 the Bells were moved from Serasarda to Sargedain to inaugurate the new capital."

As he spoke, white-robed Cenobites took up position on the dais, some thirty one each side, holding sticks and mallets. One stepped to the largest bell, and in unison tapped it lightly in a special spot. A reverbrating noise of perfect pitch rumbled out in stereo, and the other Cenobites started to move, tapping the other bells to create a haunting musical piece that reverbrated throughout the entire hall.

Pausing only briefly to watch the choreography of the Cenobite musicians, Kumkaraj motioned to continue. They proceeded up the stairs to the mahogany double-doors, and entered into a dark wooden room, lit by gaslamps and outfitted in deep crimson carpets and tapestries. Through a series of open doors more room could be seen, and at the very end a huge desk and a man sitting at the end of it.

Walking through the doors it became apparent this was an office, and as they approached the desk with the man his figures came into view. He was older, with clipped white hair and a waxed mustache. He wore a black frock and a crimson waistcoat, and as they entered his office he rose, smiling from behind a pair of lorgnettes that fell of his nose.

The Arsathaes bowed, and he returned their honor.

"Greetings, Prince Wasterin. Myname is Andrew Holbrook, Chief Librarian of Sargedain. Welcome to Snefaldia- please, have a seat. Would you care for anything to drink?"

Damoen followed, with the First Valet Valeuraint not far behind. Damoen seemed intensely interested, gazing over the scenes. He had listened to the history from the younger Arsathae. He gazed instinctively upward as they entered the entranceway to the library. As they stepped through his eyes scanned the peoples, and the tapestries. He seemed to particularly enjoy the musical bells display, the sounds similar to the deep sounds of the bells at some Makan Buddhist monasteries. He listened, "Ahh, fascinating. They sound as some of the bells do at Buddhist monasteries back home. Very beautiful." He nodded.

As they entered the double doors and the office, Valeuraint stepped back out to the outer rooms as not to intrude on the meeting.

Damoen nodded with an polite smile, taking a seat, and rested one leg on the other. He hmmed, "Some tea, please." He seemed relaxed though still dignified.

The Arsathaes and the Prince took seats, and a white-robed Cenobite in a golden mask boiled, prepared, and served the men tea.

Holbrook lifted the cup to his lips, inhaled the aroma, and took a quick sip. "Ah, Longjing blend. Very good." Smiling and adjusting his glasses, he turned to the Prince.

"Well, sir, I'm sure these past two days have just been filled with all manner of new and strange sights... hopefully it hasn't been too overwhelming. The Honorable Arsathaes have been helpful, I hope?"

Taking another sip of the tea he settled into his chair. His was leather, but he had been careful to steer the Prince into an overstuffed brocade affair- he wouldn't repeat the gaffe of Minister Toghuz at the meal.

"Let me tell you a bit about myself and the Library. I was an orphan in the streets of Sargedain, I've never known my parents, knowing only my name. Aatem Nal took me in, like they do with almost all the orphans and homeless, and educated me. I've spent my entire life working and living in this place- I still remember making the tea for the old Chief Librarian back when I was a Cenobite. I studied for years, learning the secrets of the Medrahov and the knowledge of the world... becoming head of the administrative wing of the Library, Junior Librarian, and when my mentor died I became the head of the Library. That was some twenty years ago."

He paused, pouring another cup of tea. "This Library, though not as large as the Grand Library in Serasarda, is the second largest Aatem Nal institution in the nation. Kumkaraj may have mentioned it was built in 1805- bu the original institution was built sometime around 1300, seized by Dain-da-Hol the Great, and expanded in the great period of Aatem Nal. Our vaults hold priceless manuscripts and great works of art, as well as a university for the liberal arts and sciences. I am served by a staff that numbers in the thousands."

He paused. "Oh, excuse me. I have a tendency to ramble on. Please, do you have any questions?"

Damoen nodded, smiling. He took a seat into the overstuffed chair, and felt almost sleepy in the shadowy surroundings even though it was daylight outside. He was attentive to the man, though, and very curious. He nodded respectfully, He took a sip of the tea. "Yes, very good." He commented about the Arsathaes, Yes, very helpful."

He listened very attentively, watching the man's eyes as he spoke. He seemed fascinated.

He spoke, "Yes, this library must go very deep then. I am most interested in exploring it, though I wish to also visit the Grand Library in Serasarda as I hear it is quiet a sight, it should one one of the wonders of the world. Though this place is truly amazing. I look forward to reading through the holy book, though guided by the interpretation of an Arsathae. One such as yourself must be one of the most knowledgeable of the Aatem Nal."

He cleared his throat, before speaking in the low voice reserved for speaking of sacred things "I studied under His Holiness the High Lama of Makan Buddhism for several months, the sacred sutras contained within the Great Monastery elaborate very deeply on an sort of metaphysical philosophy. The inner teachings of Makan Buddhism are somewhat tantric and metaphysical, I learned several sacred mudras similar to your motions. Though they concern effecting the inner world toward enlightenment more than the outer world."

Holbrook listened with interest, nodding his head as Wasterin spoke. But when he came to the mention of mudras, all three Arsathaes suddenly became more interested.

"How interesting! I must say this is the first time I've heard of something comparable to our motions... I must correct you a bit, though- the Motions do not affect the world, they merely influence it. When the Great Master brought the Book to our lands, we learned how to use the natural flow of existence to touch subtly on ourselves and the world around us. The word for these subtle natural flows is 'Motions.' Our physical motions correspond to the natural motions- we focus our minds and move our hands and bodies in the manner that resonates with the system we seek."

Naj Ak nodded. "But I must say, Andrew- this is not magic. Magic is the domain of the Draghas. Motions cannot turn a cloudless day into a thunderstorm- but if you understand the correct motions, you can make a light rain become a hurricane."

Holbrook nodded, but he held up his hands to the Prince for a moment. "Now, I'll stop right here. It's nothing to talk about using the Motions, but one must first have an understanding of why."

Rising from his chair, he walked around to a cabinet behind his desk, opening it and revealing leatherbound books stacked neatly. Running his finger along the spines, he stopped at a specific tome and pulled it from the shelf, deflty flipping it in his hands. It was thick, with gold-leafed pages and a polished black cover, embossed with swirling patterns. Turning it in his hands, Holbrook extended it to the Prince.

"Take this book and learn the secrets of the universe." He said solemnly, handing it to the Prince. The other two Arsathaes bowed their heads and made a motion with their fingers.

"Prince Wasterin, you are now the owner of this Amershaman Medrahov. Use it's teachings to advance your knowledge and spiritual development. Never sell it, never destroy it nor any other book. It is yours to give to another whenever you feel the need."


* * *
Footsteps echoed on a cold stone floor, and the slight swish of robes penetrated the silent halls.

Two men stood before a dais in a stone vault, a dome which rose and disappeared into blackness above them. A third, clad in black robes like the others, joined them. All three fixed their eyes on a figure on the dais.

A woman sat cross-legged in the center, swathed in ornate robes and ornaments, her face painted in the likeness of a spiritual creature. A jewelled headress on her head, ritual flag-spears on her back. After a moment she raised, her eyes still closed, and began to shake as if in trance.

The three men watched intently as she stopped shaking in an instant, freezing in position. Eyes still closed, she began to dance in quick, stylized motions, moving in a circle jumping and twirling, her robes and flags flying in a cyclone of color. The ornaments jingled together, breaking the silence of the vault.

Whirling faster and faster she halted abruptly in perfect balance, her hand extended into the air. Her eyes flew open, revealing white pupils. Her mouth opened, revealing perfect teeth.

A voice unlike any human living sounded in the vault, echoing and magnifying. It was as if a thousand people were speaking as one voice.

"That which has been lost for eons will be found, and the glory of the past will be seen. The foreign Prince will travel the land with the guide from the Citadel. The Motions will reveal all. Fear not the Well of Souls!"

As she said these last words, she let out a piercing cry that shook the three men and forced them to their knees with hands clasped over their ears. The thousands voices of the dancer shook the vault itself. She fell silent, shook again, and sat slowly to the ground, not moving again.

Raising from their knees, the men looked at the woman, then at each other. Nodding solemnly, they ignored the looks of fear on each other's faces, and their footsteps echoed as they left the Vault.

Damoen nodded, listening to Andrew Holbrook. “Yes, that is similar to how the mudras are sometimes described by His Holiness the High Lama. Perhaps the motions and mudras are similar on some level, for the universal truths are unchanged despite the way they may be interpreted or used."

He nodded to Andrew understandingly, knowing too that the teachings of Makan Budhism were sacred and not always discussed.

Damoen received the book reverently, he too bowed his head and looked over the book, running his hands along it as he examined the spine. He looked over the book closely, "I am honored, and blessed to receive such a book of spiritual wisdom." He held it with him, awaiting further words.

Holbrook beamed. "Ah, it takes to you quite nicely- you strike the image of a learned Arsathae already!"

He turned back to his bookshelf, running his fingers over the spines again. Stopping a few times, he returned with three other books of varying size and age.

"Now, the Amershaman Medrahov is written in our Bagura tongue, in the fa'er script which I am sure you are unfamiliar with. Here we have a primer on Bagura and a Bagura dictionary, and this is an introduction to fa'er. Once you have mastered the language of our people you will be able to study the Medrahov with ease."

Pouring himself another cup of tea, Holbrook sat a moment, his brown furrowed in thought. Taking a sip, he leaned forward with a serious expression and cleared his throat.

"Now, your Highness, I know you are an important man in your country, and that you have drawn much ire for your adherence to Makan Buddhism. But I will tell you that I feel you have a great future in my own country, and that your personal search for the truth will be greatly advanced through Aatem Nal."

The other two Arsathaes were deadly serious as Holbrook spoke. The Prince, had he been paying attention to anything other than the Librarian, would have noticed that the Cenobites and other servants had disappeared.

"Your Highness, I would like you to stay here in Snefaldia for a time, to study in one of our great institutions and bring honor and knowledge to yourself and to our faith of Aatem Nal. You possess a fair and calm mind, one greatly conducive to perception and analysis. You have shown yourself to be patient and insightful, respectful and full of consideration. These are qualities shared by the greatest Arsathaes of our time- Ta'us Ala'a, Wetan Lo, Mazura Maurya, and many others. I humbly ask you to consider this. Snefaldia would be greatly honored to have you."

Damoen sat silently for a few moments, as if thinking deeply. His eyes even momentarily closed as if in very deep, introspective thought. Then suddenly he opened them, as if with clarity, "I do have a daughter whom I am responsible for. My duties as Regent and Crown Prince often leave her in the hands of nannies and tutors, but I still owe her my guidance and time. Though she may be brought here if my studies would not be as enthralling as that of a full monastic."

He sat silently then, gazing into the eyes of the Chief Librarian contemplatively.

Damoen sat silently for a few moments, as if thinking deeply. His eyes even momentarily closed as if in very deep, introspective thought. Then suddenly he opened them, as if with clarity, "I do have a daughter whom I am responsible for. My duties as Regent and Crown Prince often leave her in the hands of nannies and tutors, but I still owe her my guidance and time. Though she may be brought here if my studies would not be as enthralling as that of a full monastic."

He sat silently then, gazing into the eyes of the Chief Librarian contemplatively.

A solemn nod from Holbrook. "As you are a foreign dignitary and have duties to family and state, you are not to be required time as a Cenobite. If you so desire, your daughter will come to live in Snefaldia while you conduct your studies."

Naj Ak frowned noticeably, and Holbrook turned and spoke some words in Bagura quickly to the elderly scholar, to which Ak responded with a more concerned look than before. The two went back and forth for a moment, until Holbrook held up his hand and turned back to the Prince.

"The Honored Arsathae does not approve of an abrogated term of study, but I am of the opinion that since you are not Snefaldian and not enculturated in our ways it would be best to construct a term of study for you. He also disapproves of your daughter coming to live in Snefaldia, but that is because he is an old man and set in his ways."

Ak snorted, muttering something under his breath. The younger Kumkaraj turned red, and Holbrook's face froze for a moment. Softening in an instant, he smiled to the Prince.

"The choice is yours."

Damoen nodded, seeming to reflect quietly for so long as to perhaps have the Arsathaes ask him what he thought once again.

He spoke carefully, "I feel drawn in the depth of my being to be here, to embark on a course of study and devotion in Aatem Nal. Even though due to my social personage I would not be able to embark on this course as a Cenobite, I would still do so with the humility of a Cenobite as I embarked on that course of study in Makan Buddhism with great humility, wearing the robes of the Makan Buddhist monks."

He then addressed the other point, "My wife passed away several years ago. There is very little in Aerion for my daughter other than her familiar nannies, and our homes. The nannies can be brought with her here, and she can easily be flown back home when she wishes to see them. The exposure to an different cultural experience than that of the Royal Family, and of Aerionian high society would bring her greater wisdom than her nannies and tutors could simply speaking."

Damoen nodded, seeming to reflect quietly for so long as to perhaps have the Arsathaes ask him what he thought once again.

He spoke carefully, "I feel drawn in the depth of my being to be here, to embark on a course of study and devotion in Aatem Nal. Even though due to my social personage I would not be able to embark on this course as a Cenobite, I would still do so with the humility of a Cenobite as I embarked on that course of study in Makan Buddhism with great humility, wearing the robes of the Makan Buddhist monks."

He then addressed the other point, "My wife passed away several years ago. There is very little in Aerion for my daughter other than her familiar nannies, and our homes. The nannies can be brought with her here, and she can easily be flown back home when she wishes to see them. The exposure to an different cultural experience than that of the Royal Family, and of Aerionian high society would bring her greater wisdom than her nannies and tutors could simply speaking."

Holbrook nodded solemnly. He was considering more than the religious implications of Wasterin coming to Snefaldia, and bringing his daughter, the government of Aerion would doubtless be suspicious as they had been of the Prince's Buddhist learnings.

"Then it will be as you wish. You daughter will come to Snefaldia while you begin your studies, and you will spend a term of a few months as a Cenobite as it the custom of the faith." He threw a smirk at the elder Ak, who wore a smug smile. "In just the time we have spoken here, I have concieved in my mind the best plan for your study, who will be your superior and where it is you wil study. It is luck that has you here after the death of an old and well-respected Arsathae, and I have been delegated the responsibility of assigning his replacement at his Library."

Pulling a file from his desk, he looked over a page for a moment before looking back at the prince. In the silence, the sound of the bronze bells carried in from the hall; signifying the passage of a long amount of time.

"Loremaster Rank 4 Knechat was a very gifted Arsathae and Librarian, and his replacement will have to be equally well-read. I see no reason why the Honored Arsathae Kumkaraj should not take up his post." The young scholar's eyes widened, and he rose and bowed low.

"Librarian, I am unworthy of the praise. I will do my best to fill the void that Loremaster Knechat has left, and I will be as great a teacher to the Prince as you were to me. Forgive my ignorance, but I do not recall where Loremaster Knechat was assigned."

"Stardeath Gorge." Holbrook said simply.

Silence. Kumkaraj looked schocked, as if he had been hit with a load of bricks, and Naj Ak looked equally shocked. The Prince would sense some tension for an instant, but the silence would be broken by Holbrook.

"Stardeath Gorge is, Prince Wasterin, a very ancient repository of Aatem Nal. It is in a singularly inaccessible spot in Snefaldia, in the Shahd plateau, and it built into the side of a dangerous canyon . Its name comes from the high stone spires that reach from the canyon. When one looks up at night, the stars look at though they are being impaled on the stone- hence, Stardeath Gorge. The Allashan words for it are much less morbid."

"In any case, Prince, Kumkaraj will be your immediate master and as soon as you are willing you may depart for the Library at Stardeath Gorge. I am glad you have decided to accept my offer."

Damoen remained calm, as from his Buddhist training he tended to remain calm in most situations. Unbeknown perhaps to the Arsathaes the sacred Makan Buddhist mantra the High Lama had instilled in him still repeated itself in the back of Damoen's mind, for after chanting it most likely several hundred thousand, perhaps even a million times in repetition in the past year, it was well set there.

Damoen had nodded quietly, and with understanding as Andrew spoke. He did not appear to resist, gazing calmly at the man.

Damoen only looked inquisitively at the looks of shock, though especially looked at the older Arsaethae whom showed such surprise at the mention of this place. He did not know why there was such shock, but assumed it perhaps was the sacredness or remoteness of the place. He had been to such places in Aerion, hidden monasteries, though he had never visited the most hidden secret monastery or city he had heard rumored about from elderly monks. It was almost a place like Shambhala, but he believed it was a myth because he had secretly gazed at satellite maps

Damoen looked questioningly, "It sounds like a most excellent place for quiet, and meditation. For now the Royal Ambassador can just know I am continuing my private tour of Snefaldia, and cannot be reached. May my First Valet accompany me, he will keep my secrets but his concerns need to be calmed or he may be tempted to inform someone of my location out of concern."

The Chief Librarian nodded. "As you wish. As for your Valet, I do not believe he will be much concerned. I hope that he will gravitate toward the study himself. His Excellency Ambassador Jagern will be notified that your tour is continuing. I do not believe there will be much question of contact- Snefaldia is not as "modernized" as some other nations; most of our villages lack electricity and a comprehensive communications network isn't a priority."

Snapping his fingers as if he had remembered something, he moved to a large mahogany box on shelf, opening it, and removing a golden mask.

"Prince Damoen Wasterin, you have shown your desire to understand the secrets of the universe, the knowable truth that is at the heart of all things and non-things. The truth in existence and nonexistence, the knowledge of the moments. You are entering a new life, to take up a new lens and look upon the world in a different way."

Turning the mask face forward he handed it to the Prince.

"You are part of Aatem Nal, though not yet an Arsathae, and your name among the scholars is not yet known. I bestow upon you a new name- "Ta'us Sata'a," Guardian of Peace."

Kumkaraj and Ak performed their Motions solemnly in tandem with the Chief Librarian, and as Holbrook stepped back they rose, bowing to the Prince.

"You are now a Cenobite of Aatem Nal, and it is with great pleasure that I take up the travel with you." beamed Kumkaraj. "I believe you will become a great Arsathae in your own right... and as it stands, you have the honor of being the first non-Snefaldian to join Aatem Nal. Blessings upon you!"

Damoen, now named Ta'us Sata'a in Aatem Nal, took the golden mask of the Cenobite with perfect calm upon his face. He appeared unshaken or disturbed, as the golden mask was placed on him. He nodded, "I look forward to this journey. I seek truth."

The golden mask fit across his features, and his eyes peered through the mask's eyes.

Holbrook wasn't sure if it was the sight of the foreign dignitary putting on the golden mask of the Cenobite that sent the shiver up his spine or the knowledge of what his assignment to the Skahtisallt instution entailed, but he was sure that the best thing was to move quickly.

He didn't quite care if the Prince was nonplussed about the whirlwind of activity over the past three days, because his comfort at this point didn't figure into the grand plan given to him. The fact that the First Valet would be accompanying the newly-christened Ta'us Sata'a was a bit of an annoyance, but with any luck he would take up the book as well.

Holbrook was not a statesman, nor a diplomat. He didn't factor the implications of having a foreign crown prince join a religious order in a foreign country and be assigned to a secretive monastery in an isolated and dangerous valley in the far south. If the Aerionian government disproved, he wouldn't be affected. Of course, since the Prince had gone willingly, there shouldn't be any problems.

Stardeath Gorge... departure to happen as soon as possible ran the mantra in his head. Holbrook smiled widely.

Now, my friend, we must send you on your journey. Honored Arsathae Kumkaraj will be your guardian and teacher now... you will depart in 24 hours for the Skahtisallt. You know how to ride a horse? Ah, I'm sure you do." Turning Kumkaraj, he turned businesslike, smoothing his lapels. "The Proctor-Regent will turn over the instution once you arrive. It shouldn't be more than a day's hard ride, two if you show the Prince the countryside. Ride safely."

The party rose to depart, but he motioned to the elder Arsathae. "Naj, please stay a bit longer. We have more business to discuss. Cenobite Ta'us, may you go with the Motions and open your mind."

* * *
OOC: I'm going to skip ahead to the trip... we can assume the diplomatic things went off without a hitch...

Preparations had been made and the three departed in the morning the next day on horseback, their supplies strapped to their mounts. The Prince and the Valet had been given Snefaldian robes and had set off along the northern bank route. It would take roughly two days to arrive, despite what Holbrook had said, because Kumkaraj had no intention of riding hard through the night- and besides, the traditional villages were renowned for their hospitality and would treat important officials from the city like heroes.

The Dayan basin was low countryside, filled with farms and farming villages set on hills to protect from flooding. There weren't many trees; most had been cut down years ago to build the towns. The road ran parallel to the river, about 100 yards from the pulsing currents of the water. Irrigation streams were bridged by stone and wood planks, and sometimes groves of tree raised on small hills provided respite.

It was around 7:00 in the evening when Kumkaraj halted on the road, pulling his map and looking quizzically.

"Hmm, there's supposed to be a village around here... but I can't see it. Damn maps aren't very good. We can stop for dinner and I'll being your lessons."

Kumkaraj trotted up a treed hill and dismounted, pulling out his pack and starting to prepare dinner, while the Prince and the Valet gathered wood for a fire.

"Now, I'll explain the First Motion to you- the most quintessential concept in Aatem Nal, the First Motion opens the mind to the knowledge of the universe, and is the gateway to further understanding. It calms the mind and orders the thoughts, and tunes your spirit to the motions themselves. Take your hands like thus-" He showed the Prince, and by extension the Valet, how to move the hands and body, guiding them at first and then letting them move on their own. Stopping occasionally, like a teacher he adjusted their hands or arms, their feet, raising lims a quarter inch or speeding up timing. Timing and specifics were exerything- even the longest-serving Arsathaes practiced the First Motion, so integral was it's perfection. It was almost like Tai Ch'i with mudras thrown in.

"There, there. Now focus your mind on the movement of your body, internal and external. Slowly release that focus and move without exertion or force. Your mind begins to open... yes, yes. you've got it."

Kumkaraj was happy the Prince was picking it up.

"We will practice the First Motion more. Perhaps you could show some Buddhist techniques? I would definitely like to see how they could be adapted."


OOC: also, TG coming...

It had been some time since Damoen had been in the wilderness, because of his Buddhist beliefs he no longer went on the Royal Hunts, one of the many customs the Royal House of Wasterin had adopted from European royal families. He felt like he was in another world, a world perhaps that he had stepped into of dreams. Though it felt similar at the Great Monastery, technology was still there, but here riding on horseback in this very strange nation was as if it was a different world entirely. He enjoyed it though.

He nodded, "Give me a moment to go into meditate." He sat in perfect meditative posture in the way of the Tibetan Buddhists, holding his fingers together as he sat. He withdrew from an bag some simple dark sandalwood mala beads, holding them in one hand. He began to count them. His eyes closed from behind the mask and he breathed in deeply as he grew very silent.

Gracefully, and with careful resonance he gestured with his other hand in an pattern of gesture and finger positions. Perhaps it was the brain's reaction to seeing such a ritual, inducing an emotion, or perhaps it was real. Either way those sensitive would feel an sacred vibration in the air as the sacred mudras were performed. It was as if the air grew more still a moment.

Then there was stillness, around Damoen, and in the air itself. A few moments later this was broken by one sacred chant from Damoen's mouth.

Valeuraint had watched quietly, with skepticism and anger. He had been angry ever since he saw the Crown Prince wearing the mask, and even more angrier when he informed him of the name he was to be called for the journey. Because of an order from the Prince, however, Valeuraint had remained quiet. He would not anger the Crown Prince, hoping simply that this was a phase. He was horrified and felt as if Damoen had been drawn into an cult. He did not trust the Arsathaes at all.

Kumkaraj knelt down one his knees, watching the Prince intently. He made mental notes of the postures, the sounds, the calmness of the practitioner, all the specifics, in his head to write down later. He didn't ignore the Valet, either, noticing his unease. The man didn't say much, and Kumkaraj was slightly uneasy himself about the man.

He admitted to himself that the Prince had taken a huge plunge, went head first into a completely new way of life. It was something surprising, and he was still slightly awed that Holbrook had managed it. Of course, it was likely that Wasterin was just a man who was more likely to try new things. He shrugged it off and paid closer attention to his new ward's meditations.

It was worth noting about Snefaldia that while the government professed to be a modernized and international state, the truth was that the country was largely without so-called "modern" conveniences. No electricity, no telephone lines, no internet access, even a lack of highways in some cases. Settlements were tight-knit and more like islands than the urban centers of the rest of the world. News travelled fast when it needed to travel fast- and for Snefaldia, "fast" usually meant a zeppelin gliding lazily overhead. Snefaldian peoples, whether from east, west, north, or south, liked to take their time getting things done- "what's the point of moving fast when you miss the scenery?" was a common saying.

The sun had set long before and the campfire was the only thing illuminating the three figures. Yawning, Kumkaraj stood up and began to prepare his bedroll for the night, leaving the Prince to his meditations. In the morning they would have a day of riding ahead of them.

* * *
OOC: if you like, you can have the Valet and Prince talk after Kumkaraj falls asleep... but I'm going to go ahead to the Gorge.

They rose early, at sunrise, to begin the trek for the day. It was amazing to see the change one made in their habits after returning to a simpler life, going to sleep when the light ran out and waking when it reappeared, moving as if the sun marked not the passage of the day but the passage of a journey. The Ylbai nomads of the southwest have no concept of the words "yesterday" or tomorrow," for them time wasn't something that could run out or pass by. The time spent on horseback, winding through fields and along high dikes and past quaint hilltop towns wasn't time spent at all.

Through the day the three passed farmers and other travellers on the road, stopping for some conversation and introduction. Every person was much impressed by Kumkaraj, coming down from Sargedain as he was with a foreign man and a Cenobite, on his way to a Library in the south. Giving blessings out they went on their way. Kumkaraj told folk tales of the countryside and recounted the histories, talking about the glories of Great King Ráes Dá Têisnáyán, the exploits of Prince Edram Ta'us, and the personal combat between King Trimna III and Drimsang, Emperor of Bae.

Kumkaraj listened intently as the other men told stories of their own homeland, and the histories of Aerion, the folk tales and myths, legends and superstitions of the past and present. The Snefaldian writer Odla-ad-Jadal, writing only in 1935, said "As for these automobiles, I say that I much prefer the horse as a means of transport. It is true that they take much care and are less durable than a car, but I, and I daresay the many of my countrymen, find that riding astride a horse and conversing and taking in the natural beauty is much better for it. When you are distracted by an excellent dialogue, or perhaps a breathtaking scene, you stand much less a chance of being hurt while on a horse than in a car." Thus horses were the popular mode of transport. The horse corrects it's path when the rider goes astray, but a car can only careen onward.

Nearing 3:00 afternoon, the scenery changed and the men had the sensation of going uphill. The grassy green and fields disappeared, turning into sandy yellows and erthen browns, the small hills rising into flattopped mesas and plateaus, spires and hills, small mountains. The river cut off into gorges, small an innumerable, but still continuing its massive run down which boats went. Onto a winding mountain path along the sheer edge of a canyon the party turned, and after an hour the razor-like canyon edge above them turned jagged and evil-looking, thousands of spires raising into the sky, jabbing and jutting at the sky like a bed of nails waiting for the ascetic to do his penance.

The path narrowed, and narrowed, and became infinitely more dangerous as the river below shrank and descended to the bedrock, hundreds of yards below them.

In an instant, they turned a corner and saw it- built into the cliffside was a huge gate of stone and wood and steel, dulled by the oppressive elements after an untold year, her braziers caked in dust and sand and dirt. Cut into the side of the cliff it stood out of place against the natural surroundings, the clean lines and geometric patterns along the scalloped outline of the door, the huge wooden slats focused with tarnished copper, a gate (http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a188/kuroutesshin/obernewytn.jpg) of pure archaic art.

Kumkaraj paused to take in the huge sight, before dismounting and walking slowly toward the portal, brushing his hands over the aged wood and weathered stone, placing his palms firmly and pushing inward. With a groan and creak, the antediluvian wood spoke its discontent at being disturbed, but swung inward with ease. Beckoning for the others, Kumkaraj entered the dark hall, heading toward a slant of light down far.

The darkness imparted little of the appearance of the hall, but shadows of shadows darken only slightly, and the symbols of the wall were visible if only by a little. Silence was the only inhabitant, it seemed, other than the footsteps and breaths of the three interlopers. Toward the light they moved on, another door blocked their way, only half-open. Pushing with purpose this time, Kumkaraj strode forward, filled with the authority he had suddenly realized- this was his house now, he was the lord of this place!

The sight before them would have struck dumb a politician and made a mime gasp. The room (http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a188/kuroutesshin/interior7.jpg) before them was cavernous and huge, filled with rows and rows of concentric bookshelves, descending down to focuse around a circular table. Light shone in from shafts in the ceiling. Not a soul was apparent, only dust and ruin. Statues lay broken and books sat on the ground, discarded and forgotten. The ornate carvings were smashed in some places, and dust trickled from the ceiling-lights.

"By the Motions..." Kumkaraj breathed. "What has happened here!?

Damoen had rode quietly, and reflectively though had spoke of Aerion and the customs which would have been out of place. He preferred to talk more of Makan Buddhism when he did speak, and his experience with the Makan Buddhist monks of western and northern Aerion. He did not wish to speak of the megalithic megacorporations that dominated the average citizen's daily life, the vast concrete and steel blocs of the megacities, the technology, or the snobbish greedy and decadent high society that like a leech dominated and sucked from the average corporate wage slaves from their walled enclaves of wealth.

He had listened with interest through the stories of Snefaldian culture, seeming most interested.

Valeuraint opened up more, speaking with Kumkaraj a bit more freely though still perhaps not as friendly as one would be with a traveling friend. He had spoken with his Crown Prince the night before, and it had seemed to him that Damoen had not been brainwashed into some dangerous cult as he thought though he still felt a great suspicious feeling and unease.

As they began into the more rugged, remote terrain though Valeuraint became increasingly uneasy. He watched with concern upon Damoen, though Damoen was more quiet as he was doing breathing exercises to remain with vigor. The ride was treacherous, and Damoen kept mindful attention on every turn.

Valeuraint was very frightened himself, and went through the breathing techniques that the Makan Buddhist monks had taught him when he visited them with the Crown Prince. He had actually came to like the Lama that had been sent to Damoen by His Holiness the High Lama to serve as his spiritual advisor.

Valeuraint still remained anxious as they wound through the stone cliffs. He kept asking Kumkaraj "How far" or "When will we reach the Gorge." So often did he inquire that Damoen spoke quickly, "Be calm, Valeuraint. We will get there."

Upon arriving he had fallen silent, and Damoen only gazed up at the doorway. The truly remote place had an feeling of sacredness about it. Something sacred, and at the same time secretive. The vibrations of the place were unique.

As they entered through the doors, and then through the next set of doors they assumed the place had been intentionally abandoned until Kumkaraj spoke. Valeuraint immediately jumped forward, "I KNEW we should have brought your guard!" he stated to Damoen.

Damoen only spoke calmly, gazing over toward his new Master in the Aatem Nal, "What has happened here?"

The scholar was bewildered, and the Aerionian servant jumping forward to accuse him made things no better. His head was whirling- there was no one here, no sign of occupation. The layer of dust alone said the place had been abandoned for some time- at least five years.

What had Holbrook sent him for? The man surely would have known the Library was abandoned... the entirety of Aatem Nal would have known if one of the most ancient and mysterious institutions of the faith had been emptied of its wards.

"By the Motions... I have no idea what's going on. There should be people here! There should be lights, and food, and people!" He shouted at the Valet. "Broken statues, collapsed shelves... burnt tables! You both saw the Sargedain Library- there should be dozens of people here attending to the stacks and doing research. There hasn't been anyone here for years!"

Kumkaraj walked around the veranda surrounding the cavernous room, running his hand along the polished stone banister, slightly sooty and black. He breathed in deeply, looking at the broken surroundings, then drew himself up and looked at Damoen and Valeuraint.

"Whatever the case, I am now the Librarian of this place, and it is my duty to find out what happened and to restore this institution. We need to investigate further... there should be a generator and communications room, if we can find that I can call Taxilha for help. Come, let's hurry."

Damoen remained calmed behind the mask of a Cenobite, speaking little perhaps he was contemplating the situation with silence. He did suddenly say, "Perhaps it was meant for us to be sent here to this abandoned place?" He inquired.

Valeuraint looked worried, "I do not know what you were thinking, your Highness. Bringing us into this place."

Damoen glanced toward Valeuraint, "Be at peace.." Valeuraint then became more quiet. Valeuraint could not believe the Crown Prince's actions in refusing to take the throne, and these outrageous trips he would take. Valeuraint had served Damoen's branch of the Royal Family for years even when they were exiled to their estate and treated dangerously by the fascist regime. He knew Damoen would be a better King than the slightly more decadent King Wasterin X was, for Damoen actually cared for the people and not just the megacorporations. Yet these wild tangents of the Crown Prince's, and his propensity toward mysticism could only lead to shame for the monarchy and possible danger in Valeuraint's eyes.

"...which raises questions about whether or not the shipping lanes will be able to handle a bumper crop next year. We're still waiting on the report, though."

Lord High Chancellor William Kellerman looked up over his reading glasses, nodding at the Minister of Agriculture. The daily Ministry briefings were routine in Sargedain, and Kellerman was wishing he'd gotten another cup of tea.

"Alright then... I think we can break for lunch, unless there's anything else?"

"Actually, another note." Foreign Minister Ren Dirh opened his dossier again. "The Aerionian embassy is asking for an updated itinerary for Prince Wasterin's trip... and so far I haven't gotten anything from the Prince's secretary or from his Aatem Nal contacts."

Kellerman nodded. "Librarian Holbrook sent a memo about it, and I put it aside... I assumed he was with his party travelling? The itinerary said they were supposed to head to Serasarda, but his party is still in Sargedain."

Dirh frowned. "His secretary is still here, but they told me the Prince and his valet had travelled to Taxilha."

Kellerman leaned back, removing his glasses. "Now that is perplexing... I'll talk to Holbrook, see what's up. Stall the Aerionians a little longer, tell them we're getting an updated itinerary. Anything else? Good. Enjoy your lunch."

At the balustrade of the huge library, Kumkaraj paced, anxious.

"We'll need to get down to the secondary generators and turn on the communications..." he was mumblind to himself, when a far-off sound made him perk his ears.

"Listen."

The sound was faint at first, but grew more audible with each second. Like a trickle of water, faint drops, growing into a roaring waterfall of sound- the sound of hundreds of horse's hooves. All of a sudden the roaring stopped, and shouting voices raised.

Kumkaraj panicked. Grabbing the Prince and Valet he spun around, rushing down the stairway to the bottom of the library. "Move! Move!" he shouted, as the wooden door burst open and armed warriors poured into the cavernous entrance. They glistened with gold and red cloth, bows slung across their backs and spears in their hands.

"<Chatt! S'Chatt aish!>" one shouted, pointing, then took off after the running trio, his four of his companions following. He moved fast down the stairs, and when he was five feet behind the pair he took a huge step gave a powerful leap, jumping directly at the three to bowl them over.

*bump for Aerion*

Damoen remained calm but ran steadily, appearing slightly disturbed. Valeuraint on the other hand appeared very perturbed, but had had some martial arts training. He went into a defensive position, and began dashing with the Prince Regent. As the man came forward to topple them to the ground, Valeuraint attempted to evade the persuer.

They were certainly in a predicament. The attacker landed on his feet and pointed a long pike at the three, quickly joined by several other comrades. The upper balustrade was filling with other figures, their pikes in the air and bows ready.

Kumkaraj reached to his robes and drew a short blade, hidden in the folds of fur and cloth, brandishing it at the interlopers.

"Stay back! I am the Librarian of this place, and these are my charges! Come no closer, by the Motions!"

The lead attacker paused, keeping his pike pointed, his dark eyes narrowing and his muscles tensing. He took a step forward, but a shout halted him.
Down the stairs another figure came, tall and fair of feature. His hair was dark and long, and his eyes were a glowing blue. Clad in green and tan, he wore a cuirass like folden strips of gold and silver, with a curved sword and knife at his side and a bow at his back.

"Late is the hour the holy men return to their repository. But you are not the ones who were expelled- you were expected. Librarian Kumkaraj- we mean you no harm, stay your hand."

Walking forward, palms open, he went to the Prince. Before anyone could react, the knife flashed out of its sheath toward the Prince's face, and was back in its scabbard in an instant. There was no evil, no malice in the stike- it cut no flesh, there was no blood, only the cord that secured the golden mask at his face was clove. It fell way, revealing Prince Wasterin's face.

His fair features broke into a wide smile. "You have been expected, Prince Damoen, son of the King! You have been expected a long while!"

Damoen only stood silent surveying the situation as the men surrounded them. He gazed around with an alertness though some calmness in his gaze. Damoen nodded from behind his mask as the man spoke to the librarian about those who were expelled. Valeuraint on the other hand gazed at each in a paranoid fashion, though as the man recognized the librarian and spoke he seemed to calm yet then when the man withdrew his knife he seemed as if he was about to come out of his skin until the man put it away quickly.

Damoen looked inquisitively, and strangely as the man addressed him. As the man removed the the mask then spoke to Damoen, he glanced at Kumkaraj questioningly. Damoen cleared his throat, "Most respectfully I believe there has been some mistake of some kind. I am the previous King of Aerion's nephew, not his direct son. Though I am the Crown Prince Regent, and now heir to the throne after my uncle's death without blood heir."

Valeuraint gazed suspiciously at the man, and to Kumkaraj with a raised eyebrow.