Let us for now leave Lablin and go far North to the faerie kingdom.
In a hall of gold that stood high in the trees, in a kingdom that has been long forgotten by men, there lived a Faerie King, Auberon. His gaze wandered around the hall, skipping from figure to figure, behind them, rows of columns were stretched on an even distance. The columns had a decorated top, almost all of them were done in the same inlayed herbal motive, to the ordinary human it looked nothing more than a piece of art. To the faerie folk it meant a lot more. Their whole history was recorded in those strange interlaces and vignettes. On one of the columns, the one that was the closest to the throne, the decorations could barely be seen. That wasn't usual; the decorations made by the faerie folk were a synonym for quality. People from around the world could testify that, for the decorations they were the strongest, but for the weapon-smiting they were third place behind elves and dwarves.
The chance, for something like that to happen, is equal for snow to fall in Gildam, the king thought. There is no way that it could have happened! Not a chance. These pillars are ten thousand years old. There is no chance for that. The problem is the stone. There is nothing else.
He moved his legs forward.
Not a living soul entered that day to seek wisdom. To him it looked it would be a boring day, he always had that feeling.
Nothing interesting, I'm bored.
From the throne, that was dominating the hall; he could see the hall and the other courtyard. The massive Igvirian throne was made from a magical wood from Igvirian region. It looked too uncomfortable but people were mistaken. A lot of the elven kings had wooden thrones, but none of them had magical powers. All faerie thrones are magical. The secret was in the wood, even when cut down, it stayed alive. It lived as long as the king lived. Old branches and dried leaves would fall every fall, only to be replaced with new ones every year in the same day of spring. The cycle continued.
The guards changed alternately, linearly. This irritated him even more. A day, which he thought it would be much different, did start the way he hoped. Something was telling him not to get out of bed.
He was fierce on his throne. From his eyes lightings flashed, he muttered something under his breath. Anger engulfed him more and more, he swiftly turned from one armrest to the other, his eyebrows were almost gathering over the nose.
Where are my sons? What could be so important that they don't appear?
He waited.
The queen passed by.
"Finally," the king said, "someone that I can talk to."
He moved forward on his throne.
"I won't bother you," she said with a smile. "You have a lot to do."
"Where are they?"
"They are gone."
"What do you mean?"
"They went hunting."
"Hunting, are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Of all the things in this world…"
"I must leave, I'm going to Aleena?"
"Why?"
"She gave birth."
"Gave birth?"
"Yes, you are a grand-father."
"A boy or a girl, tell me? Don't keep me in suspense."
"A boy…"
She left.
He was alone again.
I'm a grand-father, finally something interesting.
The hall was empty.
I would jump, if the throne wasn't three meters above the ground, he thought with a dose of sarcasm. It's almost noon, time for a respite.
A servant wearing a red tunic entered, breaking the king's monotony. He was never breathless, something must be happening. His pace quickened. He knelt in front of the throne, his eyes here focused on the first steps that led to the throne.
"Speak, what is that much important? That you are breaking my monotony," the king said, trying to mask the excitement in his voice.
"Your Majesty, I bear urgent news. As you know, the Gilderin mines were flooded a few years ago…"
"And what about them?" the king cut him off.
"Some shafts have opened again…"
"So, Irithin has returned. Has he? He has that custom."
"No. the miners were digging…they have found something…they don't know what."
"Finally, something interesting..." The king suddenly jumped out of the throne, dignifiedly crossed the hall, positioned his crown and headed towards the mines. He was almost flying.
The scenery changed as he walked.
He walked for a long time. Only one obstacle remained between him and the mines. A hill, not a large one nor a small one, a normal sized one. On the top of the hill, he could see the whole valley. The entrance was expanded since the last time he was here. The king slowly walked forward. A lot has changed since he was here; the wooden entrance was replaced with a steel one. After the deaths of the miners, they decided reinforce the entrance.
It took them long enough to figure that one out, he thought. But, it's better late than never! What can I do? I know. I can change the law. Then, they must modernize it.
A group of miners was waiting for him, in front of the entrance. On their faces a tone of worry could be seen, sweat was dripping down their blackened faces. Their eyes were widely opened.
"Your Majesty, we have found something…" the tall one said, appearing for the background. He was a head taller than the rest of them, half a hand shorter than the king.
Fear could be seen on his face, even though he tried to hide it.
"Lead the way," the king said.
"This way, your Majesty." said the torchbearer. "Watch your step."
"What did you find?" the king went behind him.
"Scrolls, sire," he paused, "unknown scrolls."
"Scrolls, are you sure?" Auberon lifted his eyebrow.
"Yes, sire. There is no mistake," he was confident in his words.
"Who knows about them?"
"Only we, the group that found them and you, sire."
"Not a word to anyone."
"I won't tell a soul."
"You better."
"You have my word."
"The forgotten kingdom appears again."
"The forgotten kingdom, there is no way?"
"Yes. I'm taking them."
"You will need help."
"Are you sure? There will be no record of this."