"The mines?" Arran stared at Karanos in confusion for a mont, but then, he rembered the reason he had traveled into the tunnels into the first place.
At least, the ostensible reason. The truth was that the startal deposit had only been part of the reason, and not the most important part. What had truly driven him to explore the tunnels was the desire to see what lay beneath the mountains.
This desire wasn’t just idle curiosity. Rather, it was sothing that had grown from his understanding of the world.
In his travels, Arran had gradually co to understand that knowledge and experience were every bit as valuable as treasures and power — perhaps even more so. He had co close to losing his life on many occasions, and more often than not, the reason had been a lack of knowledge.
Right now, however, his nascent understanding suggested to Arran that he was in grave danger.
"You want to show the mines?" he asked in a flat voice, careful to conceal the worry that was rapidly growing within him.
"You ca here to find those, did you not?" Karanos asked.
Arran did not answer imdiately. Instead, he racked his brain for a way to escape the situation. Because although the white-eyed mage might act friendly now, an obvious source of conflict lay just around the corner.
The Shadowfla Society had laid waste to Amydon in an attempt to claim the startal mines, and Karanos had fled his attackers to preserve the secret.
But now, Arran knew the truth. And if he brought word to the Ninth Valley, he had no doubt that an army would be sent to claim the hidden city and any wealth it held.
That he did not intend to do so did not matter — Karanos had no reason to believe him, no matter how many oaths he swore. But still, he had to try.
"I think I would prefer to leave," Arran said in a thoughtful voice. "I do not care about the treasures beneath this city, nor do I an to share its location with the Society."
Karanos shook his head. "You cannot leave," he said. "Not before I grant you a gift, to ensure your silence."
Arran paled at the words. Whatever gift the white-eyed mage intended to give him, he had little hope that it would be anything good. Even after five hundred years in isolation, he did not think Karanos had grown so naive that he would entrust his life to simple bribery.
On seeing Arran’s panicked look, the gaunt mage let out a loud laugh. "No need to look so concerned. The gift I wish to give you is a true gift — one whose value you can only barely begin to grasp."
At this, Arran frowned in confusion. If Karanos had any malicious intent, there certainly was no need for deception — not with the difference in strength between them. Yet the idea that the mage would rely on a gift to silence Arran seed even more ludicrous.
"Allow to explain," Karanos continued, a small smile on his lips. "The gift I speak of is priceless, and even your own allies would betray you to take it from you. And once you realize the value of what it holds, you will realize that you cannot tell anyone. Not without being killed for your possessions."
Arran looked at the man in wonder. "Why wouldn’t you just—" He stopped mid-sentence.
Karanos chuckled, already having understood what Arran was about to say. "Why wouldn’t I just kill you?" He shook his head, and distaste flashed across his face. "Truth be told, I’ve never been one for violence. Perhaps that was my weakness. Rather than wasting lives and wealth on turning Amydon into a large and mighty kingdom, I built it to be a bastion of peace and prosperity."
Although he left the rest unspoken, it took little imagination to understand what he was thinking. If he had focused on building Amydon’s might rather than its wealth, perhaps the city could have withstood the Shadowfla Society’s attack.
Arran, for his part, didn’t know whether to admire the man’s principles or deride his foolishness. Maybe both. If what Karanos said was true — and sohow, Arran suspected it was — then he had deliberately chosen a path of weakness.
"Do you regret it?" Arran frowned as he looked at Karanos, realizing that the man’s motivations were completely alien to him. He struggled to understand why soone would forego the strength to defend himself.
"I do not," Karanos replied in a calm but firm voice. "Had I built Amydon into a fortress and conquered lands to grow my army, the result would have been the sa — eventually, we would have drawn enemies too strong to resist. As it was, we enjoyed over a thousand years of peace."
To this, Arran had no reply. He did not share the other man’s outlook, but he understood the argunt. And perhaps there was so truth to it. If Amydon had used its resources to grow into a power strong enough to threaten the Shadowfla Society, the Ninth Valley would certainly have intervened sooner rather than later.
Still, the idea of choosing weakness over strength made him deeply uncomfortable. Perhaps strength might draw enemies sooner, but at least it allowed one to face threats on equal terms.
"But why did you refuse the Society’s demands?" he asked. Even if there was so logic behind focusing on prosperity rather than power, that didn’t make it any more sensible to resist a foe one could not defeat.
"Siding with them would have ant destruction at the hands of their enemies," Karanos said. "But more importantly, revealing the truth of what lies beneath these mountains would have brought an even greater disaster."
"An even greater disaster?" Arran gave the gaunt mage a puzzled look. Amydon had been all but destroyed, and much of its population either killed or banished. It was hard to imagine a greater disaster than that.
"Follow , and you will understand." With that, Karanos stood up and headed for the doorway.
Arran followed a few paces behind the white-eyed man, a deep furrow in his brow. The white-eyed mage had confounded him to begin with, and their conversation had only further added to his confusion.
While he still did not exactly trust Karanos, the man’s distaste for violence seed genuine — a strange thing, and all the more so in the borderlands.
Yet everything Arran had seen and heard of him confird it. For all its past wealth, Amydon had remained a peaceful city, focused on prosperity rather than power. And instead of seeking vengeance, Karanos had remained hidden away in the underground city.
None of it made much sense to Arran, but he had no cause for complaint. Had Karanos shared Arran’s sensibilities, the outco would have been a decidedly less pleasant one.
The white-eyed mage led Arran past the buildings at the center of the cavern, then continued onward for another mile, with a magical ball of dim white light guiding the way.
Karanos finally ca to a stop before a vast pit, so wide that Arran could not see its far end. Yet with a closer look, he saw that a broad spiral staircase was carved into its sides, as wide as any road Arran had ever seen. And it descended far into the darkness.
"This leads to the mines?" Arran asked, warily eying the dark, gaping pit. Even within the vast cavern, its size gave him an uneasy feeling, as if he was an ant gazing upon the work of giants.
"Indeed," Karanos replied. "Though I should warn you — we have quite a ways to go yet."
This proved no lie, as they spent the next few days traversing the seemingly endless staircase, descending ever deeper into the earth. To Arran, it seed as if the air was staler here, and although there was no visible difference in the environnt, he felt as if the miles of rock above were weighing on his shoulders.
Karanos seed to notice Arran’s unease, and he said, "The feeling is unpleasant, at first, but you will get used to it after a few days."
Arran nodded in response, though he had so doubts about the mage’s words. He could not imagine himself ever getting used to the oppressive feeling of being buried so deep within the earth.
They finally reached the bottom of the staircase a few days later — with Arran not having grown used to his surroundings in the slightest — where they erged into a vast, dark cavern. It was at least the height of the cavern above, and although Arran could not see its walls, he suspected it wouldn’t be any smaller, either.
Yet here, he found no buildings. Instead, he saw what looked to be hills in the shadows, evenly spaced out and each at least a hundred feet high.
Curious to see what these hills were, Arran approached one of them — then stopped in his tracks as his mouth fell open with shock.
What he’d believed to be a hill was actually a large pile of big chunks of tal. And with just a glance, Arran realized it was all startal.
It took him so monts to process the image before him as he silently stared at what lay before him.
A single startal sword was a priceless treasure, worth thousands of Essence Crystals. Just the swords Arran had found in the tunnels likely made him one of the wealthiest people in the entire Ninth Valley.
Yet the hill before him held enough startal to forge thousands of swords — tens of thousands, most likely. It was a fortune beyond compare, more than the combined wealth of an entire Valley. And that was just the one hill — one among many.
"Take it, if you wish."
Karanos’s voice held a hint of amusent, but Arran paid it no heed. Before the mage could change his mind, he began to fill his void ring with chunks of startal, greedily grabbing as much of the tal as he could.
There was enough for not just thousands of swords, but suits of armor, too — and as Arran gathered up the tal, he realized he would have enough to build an entire fortress of startal, impervious to magic.
Now, he understood the greater disaster of which Karanos had spoken. If word of such a fortune got out, it could bring war not just to the borderlands, but to the entire world.
Arran smiled wryly as he now recognized the danger of the gift. If anyone discovered that he had been near such a vast trove of treasure, others would surely kill him just for the chance that he had taken even the tiniest sliver of it.
Still, he continued gathering startal for a full hour, filling his void ring with enough of it to last him a thousand lifetis. And when he finally stopped gathering more, it was only because he realized he already had more than he could ever use — enough to supply an entire army with startal weapons.
But slowly, he ca to his senses. Even what he had already gathered was enough to get him killed a hundred tis over.
A troubled look on his face, he turned to Karanos. "This gift—" he began.
Karanos shook his head. "This was not the gift," he said. "This was re trash — worthless rocks that the ones who built the city dug through to reach the real treasure."
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