The Black Keep began its history in the first Age with the rise of Effinitia. In those days t'was called the Grey Keep– as it had not yet been turned black by the corruption of the Dark Mists. It served the de facto border to the plains of Tarshith, where the Archons lived.
In the first age, Anor was a vassal city of Helion, which was then called Aurë– home of the demigods. Being born of supernatural strength that could carve mountains into valleys and valleys into chasms, the Aurians were among the proudest men. Their obsessive pursuits of glory and strength were so pervasive in fact, that it drove them to their own demise.
And the Archons– masters of the arcane. Their story began when Aezelioth the Blue cast the first ever spell and became known as The First Magician. When He birthed the Original Spell– the soul, He first made several prototypes before finalizing its form.
Among them were the elves: passionate, fair, and immortal— but they were deemed flawed.
Then he shaped dwarves, naturally resilient and of a keen understanding of forms. But they too were flawed.
His last prototype was the Archon– meant to be his finished product, actually. But Aezelioth's sister, Essrethet the Silver, saw in the Archons a flaw that he had not noticed at once. For the Archons were each born of flawless intellect— wise and fair, silver-skinned and eyes whiter than snow. But for all their knowledge and beauty, they lacked any perspective but their own.
While the Aurians centralized in the Samsinurimatu– building an empire all contained in a single city's glory, Archons were lonesome and individualistic by nature. They erected their silver castles in the skies and flew across the Terra watching the world from above.
Unlike Aurum that formed from a network of roads and towers however, the empire of Effinitia was not one continuous stretch of land. More like– if one took a paint brush and flicked it randomly across a map, a splattering of sorts. Their cities popped up everywhere on the continent of Jania and sometimes could be found beyond. But their greatest concentration was just past that point– the Black Keep. Thereafter laid Tarshith of old, in the meadows of cotton nestled between the mountains and forests of silver.
Only now, t'was a place of shadow and misery. Yet the Black Keep still stood despite the years. Its curtain wall hung ever long over the Dark Mists, where presently sat an old and grizzled man towing the line between wrinkled fossil and eternally fit for war.
He did not sit with anyone in particular. The other soldiers mostly avoided him. But the man cared not either way, his focus was wholly captured by the void yawning back at him.
Two of the watchmen mumbled to each other a touch too loudly.
"D'you hear that racket down below? Must be quite a show, that match between Kal an' the Drakkennide boy."
"What kind of show would a brat put on? More likely they're just jeering at the kid's thrashing."
"Dunno about that, sounds like things are really kickin' up right?"
"More likely Kal just gave the kid one hell of a shiner."
"You don't think that Drakkennide boy could win?"
"Nah, my money's on Kal. noble sons don't have the work ethic."
The conversation was cut short however when the rough scraping of a match on stone struck their ears. Both watchmen turned to see the Castle Master lighting himself a cigar.
"'Tis a good evening for gambling. Your losses won't matter on a night like this."
The soldiers stiffened, "General Radovid, I– we didn't, I mean, 'tis a truly pleasant surprise to see you here sir."
"I'm always here, 'tis my job to watch the west, so I watch the west. Good soldiers follow orders after all."
The two soldiers looked at each other, both pondering how to reply.
Eventually, one of the two mustered the courage to say… something, anything to change the awkward silence.
"Erm, sir— what did you mean when you said 'tis a good evening for gambling?"
"Well, what's there to be confused about? The evening is perfect for gambling."
A pause, and then reply.
"But, sir… 'tis still afternoon general."
"On the contrary, just because the sun is out does not make it day. There is no daytime here— certainly not these days."
The watchmen looked at each other in a sidelong glance.
"Ahem… sir. Surely a man of your station need not watch the walls personally. It seems the dimness here at the western wall must've made you tired. We will be doubly cautious in our watch, so why don't you… relax or something? You are the general after all."
The general laughed though there was no spirit in it.
"my , my, am I speaking in riddles again? I've spent so long cavorting with high borns that it seems I've lost my old poison tongue. I used to be a common man– not unlike the two of you. How strange that I ended up in command of the darkest, dusty place in the empire."
There was a moment when it seemed almost too quiet before the boisterous soup of joy and jealously pervaded the castle from below.
Artorius had won his second match against Kalados and had now thoroughly disgraced the cataphract officer. Naturally, the spectators who had placed bets were currently in the midst of either celebrating or cursing out the young would-be knight.
General Radovid let loose a puff of greyish black smoke from his iron lungs, forming a small cloud of incense and herb. He muttered between his teeth as he held the cigar, "sounds like a ruckus is happening down there."
"Yes sir, the soldiers are in high spirits it appears. Should we reprimand them for the noise?"
The general just swatted once with his hand to the air, "no need."
He inhaled the herbs and incense for another puff, "'tis almost time for the next vigil, the two of you should get back to your watch before the sergeant notices your absence."
The realization struck both watchmen as they heard the general's words. They darted towards their post along the wall and tried to look busy before the sergeant came around and saw them bothering the general.
Radovid waited and watched the Dark Mists along the wall for another twenty minutes in silence. He watched a dragonfly flutter on by and land along the battlements. The little creature paused for just a moment, and then flew off into the mist.
"Dumb fly, only death awaits you in there."
A moment later, a priestess and young man approached him.
The woman spoke first, "general Radovid, I presume? My name is Aia, a priestess of Sòl. I have come here with sir Artorius Drakkennide of the duchy of Drakkennide in order to seek your permission as Castle Master to leave."
The general let grey eyes settle upon the young Drakkennide boy before turning to the priestess.
"Aye, I can grant you leave, but stay for a moment. I'd like to ask the boy some questions."
Sensing the desire for private conversation, Aia made herself scarce and retreated to the end of the ramparts. She gazed out beyond the curtain wall into the Dark Mists. They festered below like a sea of black clouds— so far down they were that it made her nauseous to look low from the wall. She glanced at young Artorius and the general– too far to hear their words exchanged.
General Radovid took the third long inhale from his cigar.
"Your uncle sends his regards. Count Eclester asked if you were healthy and well on the southern front."
"He wishes to know if I am dead yet?"
"He didn't tell me as much. Just to say that he wishes his dear nephew well."
"Does he now? 'Tis the first I'm hearing of this."
General Radovid took the boy's measure and added, "he also said that the second prince sends his regards. His royal grace wished you good fortune and health on the southern front."
Artorius' voice took on a warmer tone at this, "that his majesty the second prince takes note of my wellness is an honor. Should you meet him again, do let him know of my gratitude– and that my wishes are likewise to his own."
"His majesty would be happy to hear you say that. You understand why I'm giving you leave– yes?"
"I'm aware."
"Good."
Radovid's cigar had burned down to about half a stick. He flicked the excess ash over the wall and added, "the second prince is a marvelous lord, is he not? Such a shame his health is so frail, were it not for that then he would surely be our empire's golden child."
"I've not had the pleasure of meeting him myself, but all I've ever heard of his majesty prince Idan is good things. They say his mercy is godlike and disarms even the worst offenders– commoners have taken to calling him the Lamb of Helios."
"Everything you've heard of him is true. No one has been more dedicated to peace than the second prince. T'was he who worked to resolve the war in Eninbal. He convinced the lords to lay down their arms after the defeat at Godovere. He has been tireless in handling the fallout from the emperor's conquests."
A gale suddenly kicked up. It swept the battlements and stirred the dark dust. The mists suddenly rose to swallow the castle– but an impenetrable sphere surrounded the city. It struck back the shadow and caused it to recede a few meters from the castle. But no matter… the mists would return again in time.
When the breeze passed, Artorius inquired, "are you planning to stay here?"
"I am. I have to."
"You've been good to me during my time here. I will remember that."
"Go on then, I will guard the south for the both of us."
Artorius put his hand over his heart and bowed.
Radovid watched the young Drakkennide leave. He then looked at the diminishing length of his cigar.
"Not much time now…"
Another thick inhale, and then he tossed the butt of the cigar over the ramparts.