The meadows around An'tia were lush again. The Old Helm River flowed and fishermen stood at its banks to catch a score of salmon swimming upstream.
The cracked walls and cobbled arches of an ancient city littered the countryside around An'tia. For it was of course, the ruins of Old Helm– a reminder of what was lost long ago. Some say that the scorchmarks where ancient fire had burned the city still can be observed by discerning eyes.
But Trenewynn did not let such melancholy memories disturb him. Since, foregrounding the lost Helm was the peaceable Direfolk commoners. Who each made an honest labor of the earth, and entreated with foreign folk wholly on honest terms.
Hyacinth was restless, he immediately began to pester and question the wanderer.
"Mr. Trenewynn, is it true that you visited the Eternal City?"
"I did, I was seeing an old friend I know there. Though sadly he seemed to be in poor spirits."
"Oh, and is the city as majestic as they say? Cut and laid upon the mountains of Anor and surrounded by an impenetrable dome?"
"Well, yes. Although the dome is not designed to defy humans. Its power lies in the abjuration of evil spirits and demons."
Ramnicus' Globe of Invulnerability was a spell that used his own soul as a core component. He could never step outside the dome, lest the spell cancel. Inside the dome, nothing can die. Or that's how it should've been, though the Night of the Bitter Chalice had completely overturned that thought. To devise a poison that could bypass the dome's invincibility would demand understanding of its mechanical functions.
For the dome does not simply grant invincibility as a matter of course, but subverts the ontology of death entirely. Although this is only a portion of its powers. It also had the power to halt aging and reject certain beings from its radius.
Ramnicus used his own soul to power this dome, and through its potency was his soul both consumed and renewed, allowing him to persist on for three thousand years. Naturally, to leave the dome would mean to leave the radius of its invincibility, which would summarily cause his death. But the Archphantoms have found a way to reintroduce the ontology of death within the dome. They know its powers, and how to subvert the subversive. This fact would bode ill for Ramnicus.
Hyacinth asked cunningly, "what's the imperial south like? I've heard they are warriors who fought against the Kar-folk for thousands of years!"
Trenewynn chuckled, "it is true that a Mahadrum southerling is a stout-hearted fellow, and you'll scarce find anyone more willing to bear the thick and thin of hardship to conceive something as humble as a simple good deed. But it is not the tales of armed conflict that which springs their true courageous heart. Before any legendary feats are made, Mahadrum have the courage to do the small things. Simple acts of self discipline that prove them greater men and women than that of the most righteous wizard in the ivory tower. To be a conscientious objector to power is what anyone can do. But to be a conscientious worker takes true rigor."
"But how does one work rightly to a cause?"
"It is simple, all you have to do is stay true to your course. No matter if the waves and rocks batter or the winds turn rough, even when skies are grey and the earth is black. You may at times feel helpless or lost. But the beauty of hope lies in its endurance. For that is work, is it not? To endure, I mean."
"Then to be a worker is to be one who endures?"
"Just so, and the conscientious worker endures himself as well as others."
Hyacinth scrunched his face, "but I don't want to work."
"That is fine too," said Trenewynn with a hearty laugh.
"Not everyone endeavors danger and difficulty– especially not when it would be for oneself. Hard work is only worthy when it is done for someone else. To work hard for yourself would be ironic, since then you would be working hard for nothing at all."
"What do you mean? How can I be working for nothing if it is for myself?"
"But Hyacinth, how do you know that you are— well, you of course? Only by looking around yourself can you come to know yourself, and in that lies the essence of hard work. Never let your labors be for you. Only trust to work for others, and you will find yourself a happier and more successful person than ever a man who chased selfish goals."
The lord of Argentine interjected, "you should heed Trenewynn's words, Hyacinth. A man as wise of the world as he is can tell you much of life's mysteries."
Hyacinth then asked, "do all of the people in the empire labor as hard as the Mahadrum?"
"Well, they each labor in their own sort of way. The Inbali work in colder regions of the empire, they're made sore by the sting of snow. And in the east the Lay-Veneshae mine granite and gemstones from the quarries. Everyone must labor sometimes, but it is the work we do for others, not ourselves that gives us true strength."
"My, the empire has such diversity. Are the Inbali as pale as the snow-skinned Arcticonians? Or are the Mahadrum as tanned as you Mr. Trenewynn? Do they often see the fruits of each other's labors? How do they all get along inside the empire's borders?"
"So many questions, can't you see that your pestering him," stated lord Argentine.
"But father, your the one who spoke highly of Mr. Trenewynn's wisdom. Why should I not ask him then?"
Trenewynn laughed and said, "now, now. I promise to answer all your questions. But first, it seems we've reached the city. Let us proceed on foot through the gates if it pleases the lord. I've not had the chance to visit An'tia in nearly a decade after all."
So proceeded the three and their guards into the city proper to behold the streets of An'tia, which were bustling in preparation for the Festival of Romance.
An'tia was called the City of Colors, and here was home to the beautiful and bright colors imaginable. Reds and pinks, and blues and greens, and many yellows, purples, or turquoise colors too. Lamps lined the chalked roads and banners strung from roof to roof. At the far end of the east was the Five-Colored Palace and the senate hall beside it. Down the main street, Dire Boulevard, there was Jonathan Square, where stood their first patriarch's likeness carved from marble into the center. Stern-browed and decorated with the innumerable faux folds of a stone-chisled garb. He held both hands clasped on the pommel of a sword.
Danathior, the Blade of Fortitude. A relic of the first age passed down with the royal family of Dire. But this, of course, was merely a likeness. The true blade was kept under the king's vaults— safely guarded until a need for its use arrived.
There was a carnival in the square, and Trenewynn passed by a man who seemed terribly stressed.
"This won't do… or should I have done it like that? No. That's no good…"
"Hail sir, what troubles you?"
The man jolted and twisted his head to Trenewynn quickly.
"Oh, a visitor? Are you staying for the fair, there's to be quite a show tonight."
"A show you say? How interesting. And what would be the subject of this show?"
"Well that's— I mean, tis a surprise– yes! A surprise it is."
"Then, is it not yet decided what the show shall be?"
"Wha— well, no! I mean, of course that's not the case…"
The man sighed in defeat and said, "listen, I have the show all planned out and ready— it's just the ending that troubles me. You see, I am a playwright, a worker of performances to awe and woo and bamboozle the crowds! But alas, this work is undecided."
"And why is that?"
"I'm torn you see. This festival, these shows, it's all for our patron god, Philia– the God of Love. But I can't decide if the play should be a romance or a tragedy."
The lord of Argentine said, "well, a romance of course. After all, that is the realm of our god."
"Well, surely it is. But so much more than just romance encompasses the word of love. There's heartbreak in love too, and there is great pain and misery at times. And all of these are what love truly is— feeling. A romance may be more classically aligned to love, but a tragedy is what really bites!"
"What really bites?" asked Hyacinth.
"Yes m'boy, what really bites! Emotion, feeling, sensation— even pain! A tragedy would truly make the audience feel the full breadth of lovely feelings. But a romance would make for a tried and true homage to our god."
"And so you are torn like a lovesick lover," said Trenewynn.
"Exactly!"
The man contemplated exceedingly. His fingers scratched at his lips and his eyes narrowed deeply. Then, a flash of inspiration struck him.
"Why, I've got it!"
"What is it?"
"It's simple really. What if I subvert expectations at the end of the play by making all of the heroes become villains, and the villains become heroes? Why, I might just be the first man to have ever conceived such a brilliant artistic vision."
"Indeed, but in that case, I think we shall leave you to your work sir. It would be wrong of us to sully your epiphany with needless chatter."
"Hmm? Oh, yes, as you were."
The man but dismissively waved his hand and continued his deep contemplation. Trenewynn and the others moved on to see the other affairs of the city square.
Fine fabrics, colored candies, and the sweetest pastries. All the city was abustle with color and life. By the time they had walked all through the streets and to the noble quarter on the eastern hillside, the day had turned to dusk and the lampmen moved about to light the city streets until it appeared as if a canvas of stars had been born upon the earth.
At the entrance to the Argentine estate Trenewynn gazed back at the city below and commented, "how marvelous this place is. I shall hope to keep it this way."
"As shall I, Trenewynn," said lord Argentine.
And the two proceeded into the home to speak of matters pertaining to imperial diplomacy.