Kellan slowly opened his eyes, the world around him coming into focus in a haze of pain and exhaustion. The familiar stone walls of Arkhaven Fort loomed above, the cold air of the central grounds brushing against his battered body. He winced as he tried to move, feeling the sting of countless cuts and bruises. Bloodied and weary, he realized he was back—back from the deadly mission that had claimed so many lives.
All around him, fellow knights were being tended to by medics, their wounds wrapped hastily, their faces pale with the trauma of battle. The fort's central grounds, usually bustling with activity, were eerily quiet, filled only with the groans of the injured and the soft murmurs of the healers. Kellan's heart sank as he looked around, counting the men and women who had returned with him. The numbers were far fewer than when they had left. Two-thirds of their force had not made it back. The grim reality hit him hard—so many were gone, lost to the treacherous jungle and the relentless Galdorian forces.
Despite the overwhelming sense of loss, Kellan pushed himself to sit up, scanning the grounds for familiar faces. Relief flooded through him when he saw his group—Loras, Lara, and the others—still breathing, though battered and bruised like the rest. They had survived, but just barely.
His eyes followed the figure of Loras, who, despite his own injuries, was already up and speaking with Lord Arlyn, General Draven, and Duke Samuel. The three men listened intently, their expressions grave as Loras recounted the events of the night.
...
Loras's voice was steady but carried the weight of loss. "My lords," he began, his tone respectful yet resolute. "We managed to infiltrate the excavation site as planned, but the situation quickly turned dire. The Galdorian patrols were more numerous than we anticipated. We barely escaped with our lives."
Loras took a deep breath, his expression grim. "Beneath the layers of dirt and rock, partially unearthed by the Galdorian forces, we saw the ruins of an ancient city. It was vast, stretching as far as the eye could see, with structures that seemed both familiar and utterly alien. This city, buried for who knows how long, was like nothing we've ever seen before. It was as if an entire civilization had been entombed underground, and the Galdorians are intent on uncovering its secrets."
He paused, pulling a small, weathered stone tablet from a pouch at his side. The tablet was carved with strange symbols, worn but still legible. He held it out to Lord Arlyn. "This is the only artifact we could retrieve, thanks to Lara's valiant efforts and many more sacrifices. We believe it holds significant information, though its meaning is beyond our understanding."
Lord Arlyn took the tablet, his eyes narrowing as he examined the unfamiliar script. He handed it to Duke Samuel, who inspected it with a discerning gaze.
Duke Samuel took the tablet from Lord Arlyn, his eyes narrowing as he studied the markings. "This looks like the Devanagari script," he remarked. "Do you have any literature scholars here, Lehard? Though I don't expect much from a border fort."
Lord Arlyn's gaze shifted, and he nodded to one of his aides. "Summon Scholar Darius," he ordered, his voice firm.
After a few tense moments, Scholar Darius arrived. He approached with a respectful bow. "You called for me, my lord?"
Duke Samuel's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Minister Darius Wiselern," he said with a hint of recognition. "I didn't expect to see the Modern Sage, here. After leaving the royal court, what brings you to this place?"
"Just the usual research on lost languages and history," Darius replied humbly. "The old libraries of these forts contain some unexpected masterpieces. I've been quenching my thirst for knowledge here, my lord."
Samuel's lips curled into a faint smile. "With you here, I won't need to wait. Decode this, and let me know what it says."
Darius took the tablet from Duke Samuel, his fingers tracing the ancient symbols with reverence. His expression slowly shifted from curiosity to something deeper, almost reverent, as he deciphered the text.
"Where did you find this?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of awe.
Duke Samuel's gaze sharpened. "Just answer me, Darius. What is written there?"
Darius hesitated, his eyes flicking between the tablet and the lords before him. He cleared his throat and spoke, his voice carrying the weight of centuries-old knowledge. "In the heart of the whispering forest, where wisdom's echoes never age, cloaked in the embrace of eternity, rests Ashvathaa, the ageless city."
The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. The lords exchanged glances, the significance of the discovery sinking in. Ashvathaa, the name resonated with myth and legend, a city thought to be lost to time, if it had ever existed at all.
"What does it mean?" Lord Arlyn asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Darius looked up from the tablet, his face alight with excitement. "What we've uncovered is more than a mere relic. This tablet hints at something ancient and powerful, concealed within the folds of time. Ashvathaa, as the mythology of the Age of Sage describes, was the capital of civilization, a city of boundless knowledge. Tell me where you found this. If it's authentic, we could be on the verge of discovering Ashvathaa itself, the ageless city." Darius marveled at the thought of this.
"This suggests that the legends of the Sages might be true, and we could unlock the profound knowledge and techniques of that era, far beyond our current grasp."