“Tardom!” Prime Minister Ederfar yelled, the dwarf’s thick muscles pushing open the heavy double doors into The State Library. “It is time! Remember your promise? I provide you with refuge, and you become the tutor of my daughter when she is of age to learn what you write. Well, the time has come! She turned ten years a month ago; it is time she learned the history of the world.”

Tardom, a hunched grey-haired elderly dwarf, supported by a thick walking stick, and with glasses on his nose, turned around with difficulty from a bookshelf he’d been browsing. He gazed at the determined expression of the Prime Minister. “Your... daughter?” Tardom began, as if having difficulty remembering there was such an individual in the subterranean mountain keep of the capital of Redratall.

“Yes, my daughter. For two years I’ve kept you and your books safe here in the keep – safe from the lords whose honor you insulted with your unflattering accounts. You’ve eaten our food, enjoyed The State Library, and slept in our soft beds. It is time to pay back with what you promised!”

With visible effort, Tardom took a couple of step forwards, heavily relying on his walking stick for balance. “You say I made you a promise?”

Standing just inside the door, Ederfar raised an eyebrow. “You are old Tardom, but I’ve not heard your memory become so poor yet you cannot recall something so important. And this promise was of importance, if not for my immediate benefits, then for your honor.”

Tardom looked out into the blue for a moment, gliding a thinking thumb across cracked dry lips. “Hmm. Yes, I do recall saying something along these lines. I was drunk too at the time, if I recall correctly.” Tardom paused for brief moment, and Ederfar had slight look of dismay. “But! I will not go back on that promise. It is as you say: I owe you. Though I regret I have so little time these days. This dwarf is feeling the end of life approaching, yet his work has at least two more books that needs writing, and there are not much I can produce these days with this mind of mine getting older by the days. I’m not as good as I used to be.”

The Prime Minister nodded, but kept a firm expression. “Then use what moments you have left on my daughter. One day, she may follow in my footsteps. To become a minister, or a diplomat perhaps?” Prime Minister Ederfar stroked a long thick well-combed dwarven beard, while briefly looking into the blue, as if disappearing into the future. “Either way she will need to know much by then. You are the only one who has thoroughly collected this history of our world, so you are the only one who can teach it – as it should be taught. If my daughter becomes a great minister because of your works, then perhaps more people will read them as well. And some day, someone might even finish them, even if you don’t find the time for it now.”

Tardom looked down at the floor. His face was sad. He had realized that maybe there was not enough of him left to write the books, and he was afraid that nobody would continue his project once he was dead – all alone here, in the refuge of the little prime minister, in his little known and small Republic of Redratall. But to be reminded of it, this made the prospect feel so much more real. After a moment Tardom gulped, suppressing his sadness. “When do I start Prime Minister?”

“Now” Ederfar responded, and turned halfway, pointing his right hand out of the open library doors.

Tardom and Ederfar walked together, the prime minister supporting the old dwarf by letting him grip his forearm. Neither of them said a word as they passed along stone corridors, up stone stairs, and into the broad corridor of The Prime Minister’s Quarters, among which were bedrooms, a playroom and two study rooms; one for the prime minister, and one for his family to share. Stepping into the shared study, Tardom and Ederfar were met by the prime minister’s young daughter Evenin, her nanny, and a robed young adult dwarf that Tardom had never seen before. There was a desk there and two chairs, one occupied by the daughter, and one free, likely reserved for Tardom himself. He went over to the desk, and sat in the chair, gesturing curiously at the robed dwarf. “Who is he?”

“Your assistant.” The prime minister responded. “We can’t expect you to walk around teaching like that” and he gestured at the walking stick, “so your assistant will fetch things for you.”

Tardom nodded, and smiled weakly, glad that this challenge had been addressed. He looked over at the girl. The girl tried to meet his gaze but failed, and instead looked everywhere else at and around the old dwarf except for his eyes. “Are you ready, Evenin?” Tardom asked, somewhat hoarsely. “To learn about the history of the world?”

She looked down, mumbling: “Yes”. The prime minister’s daughter wore a simple luxurious attire of shirt, pants and practical shoes. All made of the finest material of course, but nothing too fancy. Her hair was long, black and with braids. She kicked around with her legs, showing she was probably bored, and maybe a little uncomfortable at facing a new authority in her life.

“Well, you already know each other, and you’ve began talking, so I think me and the nanny can leave you three to the education now.” Prime Minister Ederfar turned around, and walked out. The nanny quickly followed, closing the door behind them.

Tardom looked at the robed assistant. “What is your name?”

“It’s Ord, Great Scholar” Tardom smiled, amused at the honorific.

“Ord, can you go get my first work: On The Origins of The Celestial and The Magick?”

“Yes, Great Scholar” Ord replied, and nodded, before hurrying over to the door, closing it behind himself as he disappeared.

“We’ve met before, girl, but we haven’t talked. Not really. What have your father told you about me?”

Evenin took a few seconds to respond. She still didn’t meet Tardom’s eyes, but she was able to form sentences: “That you ran away from great uncle Ruffaring. That you needed to stay here, else mad dwarves would come and take you.”

Tardom nodded. “Do you know why these mad dwarves want so much, to do me evil?”

Evenin shook her head, briefly meeting his gaze.

“It’s because a scholar, especially a scholar of history, must follow every trail. Seek out every source, and discover the truth of our common history. Many people do not like to be reminded it: when history tells us that someone we like might have done bad things. Unfortunately, they do not understand that history is something we need to know so that we may not repeat what we have done wrong, and so that in bad times, we may know what to try differently. To them history is just a story. And they want – and they want badly – that the story about them is just a flattering one. A story about heroism: goods deeds, flawless character and successes. The first lesson I have for you Prime Minister’s Daughter Evenin, is that history is not merely a story. It is a special kind of story, in which we search for the lessons, made of our collective experiences, that will inspire our betterment. Better judgement and better knowledge. These two are the fruits of the special story of a well-made history.”

Evenin said nothing, she just glanced shyly over at Tardom. He however was patient, and waited for his new assistant to return, making for an awkward silence of a few minutes for Evenin, and an almost sitting nap for Tardom who closed eyes. He had achieved a great tolerance over the years for everything boring, the recipe for which was tactical napping.

When Ord eventually pushed the door open, carrying a large weighty book in his hands and nearly slamming it on the desk in front of Tardom, the old dwarf’s eyes shut open and he peered over at the noise. Seeing the book, his expression changed from mild disturbance to warmth: “Oh, there it is. The first book that I wrote, nearly a hundred years ago now.” He stroked the brown leather cover fondly. There was a golden engraving of a tall mountain on it. Beneath the engraving read the title, in large letters: On The Origins of The Celestial and The Magick.

Tardom flipped the book open, giving the curious face of Evenin a glance, before his eyes and index finger nostalgically went down into the book, where he read out loud softly, from his own inked lines: “There are few things more covered in mystery, more shrouded in legends and myths, and spoken about like mere stories, than the origins of The Celestial People and their Magick, whose wonders form The World of Aclima. The Celestial Magick judge the character of every being in our world, and tie us all together in its fantastic webbings. Scholars are still uncovering and debating what possibilities and what mysterious The Celestial People gave us, before they, as is believed; left us behind, and secluded themselves in their Celestial Domains. It is no doubt we have much yet to learn about The Magick they left us. But perhaps the question that should be asked, and which has yet to be forcefully investigated by the Scholars, is this: How did we end up here? Shall we let but legends and myths determine our past? Or should we take up the task to find out? To separate fact from fiction, that which can be known, from that which can merely be speculated? These questions, of how The Magick came about and from where it came, and who The Celestial People are, and where they came from – these are questions that constitute the foundations of this book. These are the questions that BURNED in my soul as I spent 30 years investigating the origins of the world in which we live – The Origins of The Celestial and The Magick.”

Tardom stopped reading. For a moment he just smiled, happy to be back in the memories of his past days, when he had the energy to write everything that needed writing. To travel deserts, pass through mountains, track through forests, to find out that which needed knowing. Tardom’s face blushed with the beginnings of sorrow, and he nodded emotionally at his own text, vulnerable to its powerful nostalgia.

“So” Evenin suddenly inserted, catching Tardom’s absentmindedness by surprise. He looked up at her, expectantly. “You wrote that?”

The heavier feelings left Tardom, and he gave a little smile. “Yes, I did. In my younger days.”

Evenin looked at Tardom for a moment, while his own eyes fell upon the text again, and his mind began moving back towards the nostalgia. “The book is big” she blurted.

Tardom chuckled and looked up again. “Yes” he simply responded, smiling bigger now.

“What did you find out?” Something had changed in her. She was able to give full eye-contact now. Is she curious? Tardom wondered, and those thoughts made his smile stay on his face. I might come to enjoy being this one’s tutor.

“I found out...” Tardom paused. He looked down at his book again, stroking it thinkingly. After a couple of seconds he grabbed its pages and started flipping chunks of paper over, looking for a section. He mumbled as he flipped: “Hmm, Problems with Myths and Legends, Method of Investigation, Investigated Clues and Theories, Foundational Findings, The Beginnings of Magick – ah, yes, here.” He stopped flipping. “Are you ready to hear what I found out?”

She nodded, eagerly, even leaning over towards the desk, her chair not quite reaching it though. Seeing this, the assistant strode in and grabbed her chair, pushing it with Evenin on top closer to the desk. Tardom nodded approvingly at Ord, then gave the girl a quick look, before he fell into the text again: “In a time, about 8600 years ago estimations show, in a land far to the south known as Adalwey, there lived an individual. A human or an elf freed from clanship, we do not know which. All we can know with some certainty is that this individual – only known to us now as The Zer – was fond of travels and lived to learn. We articulate The Zer as ze, as we do zes closest followers and those that came after. A tradition which has survived today among those who still know the story, and rever its meaning. Talking with these revering people, one is quickly wanting to know the answer to these questions: Did The Zer make the first Magick? Did The Zer invent Magick? It seems doubtful, but it does seem likely that The Zer, together with the ancient Scholars of The Zer’s time, managed to unravel the key to communicating with The Ethereal. That space of Magick, which we today know so well as the hidden and mysterious world of Mana. The Ethereal, in front of our eyes, yet we cannot see it, we only know it through the workings of The Magick; a world within which none may visit, only speak they say, and receive answers of magic, manifesting in our own world. It was The Zer and zes followers who first mastered The Magick, we believe, and with it hoarded the resources to create The City of Ages, which today is only known as the well kept ruins upon the side of The Sanctuary Mountain. Evidence suggests this City of Ages was a City of The Scholars, a refuge and a haven for those who sought to know the mystical arts believed to give access to The Ethereal, to the world of Mana.”

Tardom rose up from the text, and looked over at Ord: “Can I ask you to get some water for me? My throat’s a bit dry.” Ord nodded subserviently and then walked out of the room with speed. Tardom met the curious gaze of Evenin: “Is there anything which might’ve inspired a question from you yet?”

The girl looked down at the book, and bit her lip thinkingly for a moment. “Was there no magic before The Zer?”

“You ask an interesting question, and the answer is, I suppose: no and yes. There are at least no reliable sources to back up the existence of The Magick before The Zer, but even The Zer is thought to have met other mystics who claimed similar ability. So there might’ve been, but even if there were, The Zer and his followers – they were different. There are, for instance, no known spells before the advent of The Zer, and as we shall see, many other things followed from their heritage.” He paused for a brief moment, letting the girl digest his reply. “Shall I continue reading?”

Before the Evenin managed to reply the door flew open, and Ord returned with a silver jug and -cup for water. “Oh, thank you Ord.” The assistant dwarf put the silverware on the table and filled the cup up. Tardom drank with a small smile and released a refreshed sigh when the cup was empty. He put it down on the table and gave Evenin another quick look, before turning towards the book again. He flipped a couple of pages forwards before continuing to read: “The ruins of The City of Ages hold clues that tell us about the probability of the stories of today, which until recently were the only means of conducting any major reconstruction of past events. Luckily, two books were discovered that tell of life in The City of Ages, and whose age we estimate to be around 8000 years. The translation of these was perhaps the most ambitious, and certainly the most invaluable labor of my 30 years of study. Its result has been a treasure chest for history. The Zer seems, curiously, to have been alive when they were written, supporting the theory of ze being an elf. But powerful humans are also known in our days to have figured out the secrets to a magically enhanced lifetime. Irridiklara The Witch, that mysterious woman who’s been causing havoc in the lands of The Three Cities, west of The Dwarven States, is rumored to be over 200 years old, twice that of the oldest ordinary humans. Either way, the written and oral stories alike, tell of 2 major wars fought between The City of Ages and the surrounding monarchies in the lands of Adalwey. In the first war, jealous of The Magick, the surrounding kings and queens banded together in an expedition to lay siege to the mountain city. Their grudges are said to relate to the unwillingness of The Zer and zes followers to teach royalty The Magick, as well as an unwillingness to establish an Academy of Learning in each of the monarchs’ holdings. The First Siege of The City of Ages was the first test of the powers of The Zer and zes followers, and the first recorded use of Combat Magick. The City of Ages had no walls with which to defend themselves. Stone stairs lead the way into the city from the ground, and mechanical installations of wood and iron allowed for the fast lifting of goods up short heights, reducing time needed to move goods into the city. If the enemy army captured any of these installations, they might gain a foothold along the mountain stairs and quickly overrun the city. As stories arrived The Zer of an enemy army reaching the foot of the mountain, a desperate situation arose. The City of Ages had few weapons, and with no walls the enemy may simply walk into the city, shields raised. It was at this time that The Zer performed zes first known feat of Magick. Secluding zeself into meditation, The Zer brought forth powers capable of shaking the mountain itself, collapsing rocks both above and below. Many of these rocks fell on the enemy army, yet not enough to discourage its advance. However, as the enemy army climbed the stairs, boulders which had been loosened by the collapse, were pulled and pushed down after them, crushing groups of soldiers at a time. When a few soldiers eventually managed to reach the top unharmed, these were subsequently quickly surrounded and struck to death by a spontaneous militia of city dwellers and visitors. The Zer zeself, and some of zes most capable followers, then ignited the mountain grass which grew most of the way up, and a great firewall spread downwards, savaging the climbing army with either scorched skin or violent death. The fire did not spread to the city, as its streets and buildings were made of stone. The surviving enemy army thus had to retreat, and began instead a month long siege, disrupting any and all from reaching the mountain city, wanting to starve it into submission. But, the story goes, as the month passed, the army grew curious. Why did all its emissaries return with rejection from The Zer? Had they not suffered enough yet? When they grew much more curious, they tried sending spies to find out what was going on. If the enemy had large stockpiles of durable food, and if so, if they could be sabotaged. The spies returned with a curious story: apparently, the city had new visitors! But how did they arrive there? Sending more spies, the enemy army discovered that over the month The City of Ages had built a tunnel through the mountain on the other side, and carved out new stairs there. A new smaller network of more mechanical lifts were also already in place. Such a feat was deemed impossible by the enemy commanders on the ground, and they spent a whole 2 weeks sending scouts around the mountain to find the second way to the city. When the scouts reported to have found it, the enemy commanders are said to have lost their spirits, and their whole combined army retreated back to the holdings of the monarchs. Thus ended The First Siege of The City of Ages, and the first known accounts of Great Magick, capable of shaping lands by shattering rocks and igniting great fires. Nearly 50 years later however, the descendants of the monarchs of Adalwey surrounding The City of Ages, again banded together, for a second expedition. This time however, The City of Ages had constructed walls and an armory, and its population had expanded by half a time its previous number. This time, an assault would by devastating, this much every monarch agreed. And so, the armies split up and began a double siege, even setting up a grand trebuchet believed to be able to reach all the way up into the city. The advances made in the last 50 years of The City of Ages was not merely in stone and metal though, and The Second Siege of The City of Ages ended in less than a week, when The Zer rained molten rocks from the skies down upon the army of the first entrance, causing it to disperse and flee. The molten rocks from this spell can still be found on the outskirts of the ruins of The City of Ages to this day. Thus much our geologists are willing to admit, because at least this would explain the strange rocks which can be found there. I have personally seen to it that a specimen of these rocks were inspected in The Ethereal, and several mages have confirmed for me that they still contain The Magick in them. The fate of the other army, guarding the second entrance, fared little better. As if to prove zes versatility, The Zer and zes followers rained icicles as large and as sharp as the thickest of spears down upon the enemy.”

Tardom paused, and looked concernedly up at Evenin. “I do not think I need to tell you the details of what happened to those victims. I spare you this gruesomeness.” The girl said nothing, merely returning Tardom’s words with wide eyes and a total attention. “Suffice to say, this army fled easily too, and ever since there were no account of any army trying to take The City of Ages by force. Neither by assault or by siege. I will continue reading now a little further ahead.” The old dwarf leaned back down into the book and its already aging pages: “Every army leader, it is said, would forever know The City of Ages as protected by the skies and the mountain themselves. And from here on, The City of Ages would only grow, both larger and greater. Noteworthy wielders of The Magick are only known in the preceding centuries to have successfully been educated at The City of Ages. Nearly 800 years later, or around 7200 years ago from our time, a third book we’ve discovered takes place. Written as a travelling account by a visiting Scholar, the book tells a story of how The Zer was still there, but secluded. The Scholar, regrettably, failed to find an opportunity to visit and talk to The Zer, but talk enthusiastically about the wonders of the city. Enchantments had been discovered nearly 200 years earlier, and the city’s people, and particularly the followers of The Zer, were all adorned with enchanted items. A female close follower of The Zer apparently wore a hat whose shade always stayed at a reasonably cold temperature, even on the warmest of days when the mountain city baked with sunlight. A young man the traveler met, son of a wealthy merchant, carried a quill that needed no ink, but created it as of thin air, whenever the quill was put to paper. The strangest things the traveler ever saw was a large hovering pillow, upon which sat a half-naked fat woman who managed the affairs of The Great Tower of The City of Ages, also known as The Tower of Ages for short, and whose thick tall structure harbored many floors, each with a large encircling terrace. The terraces, according to traveler's claim of first-hand experience, had the most beautiful views into the forest and desert at bottom of the mountain, reaching well beyond the walls of the city. But here, unfortunately, the accounts of life in The City of Ages end. We know not what happened to it, but related accounts from nearby lands hint towards the city’s most powerful people eventually abandoning it, leaving behind only the weakest of witches and wizards, who went on to spread knowledge of The Magick to the farthest away lands. Academies, universities and schools for magic spread, slowly but steadily, encompassing in the end the entirety of the known world with witches and wizards who could reach into The Ethereal, and cast spells. But before they came this far, something changed about the world itself. Or was it a change? It’s difficult to tell. Spells, it seems, were not always mere truths of the world. At some point they required more than the little effort required of today in order to learn and cast spells. Once upon a time, spells were crafted by the casters, and only for that caster. But at some point it seems, the world itself became covered in The Magick, and it was first then that The Magick became a tool for the many. It was only then it could be effectively taught in institutions of learning, instead of remaining the privilege of mystics. What happened in between? Did The Zer and zes followers, in their departure from us, leave us with the means of taking part in their powers over The Magick? The evidence is unclear, but the story seems to want to suggest this, though only later, and after The Zer. Because no more is known of The Zer since. The name leaves history entirely, and mysteriously. Great mages show up in history here and there, and while The Zer never recurs, names similar to The Zer’s powerful followers seem to show up again, but whether these are the same individuals or not is difficult to know, because none recognize them as such. We do know though, that around 5000 years ago from our time, the first accounts of a means of measuring the power of an individual are recorded, long before the now famous Akalios’ Calculus became known merely 1500 years ago. The first accounts of something akin to power levels are around 4400 years old, and the first mention of power attributes around 4200 years old. It seems thus that if any conclusions can be drawn about our Magick of today, and the World of Aclima as we live it, it is that it was CREATED! The Magick, the powers levels, the power attributes. Do we live in the World of The Zer and zes followers? It is an open question, and speculation for now, but it does seem likely the world as we know it was created, and that the logic of our lives are mere creations. There was a world without The Magick, and there could yet become a world without The Magick. Or, at the very least, a world without The Magick of The Zer.”

Tardom paused reading, he looked over at the mug of water, and as if reading his thoughts Ord The Assistant strode over to refill Tardom’s cup. Tardom drank happily, and looked over at Evenin, a little tired, but content. “The origins of The Magick” he said. “Do you have any questions?”

The girl looked at the book, thinkingly for a moment, and then met Tardom’s eyes. She shook her head, but before Tardom could react, seemingly changed her mind, and asked: “What about the gods?”

“Oh, yes, the gods.” Tardom nodded approvingly. He went down into his book, and began flipping pages again. “Let’s see, let’s see. Is it here?” he talked to himself, “No? Here then? No. Oh, here it is! First Accounts of The Celestial People.” Tardom let the pages fall down, and leaned forward, studying his own text closer. He began reading: “Who are The Celestial People? Those beings of immense power, whose names we call upon in our spells, summoning them to our every exercise of The Magick? We have shown that The Magick itself has a history, an origin that shows the likely impermanence of The Magick to our world. Are The Celestial People also impermanent? Was there a time before they were, and could there yet come a time when they aren’t? Before the spells, what were the use of The Celestial Names? Perhaps there were no use, only the silent veneration of mere powerful individuals. The records show that the first mention of an individual evoked within a spell is 5700 years old. The individual was The Celestial Name of Urn. A name that is rarely evoked today, but whose mighty person is still known as The Master of Earth. The account mentions a town in Adalwey called Morn (sadly destroyed later in The Grand War of The South) where many of its people could call forth power bestowed upon them by a protector who they named Urn. This protector had once visited and lived in the town, and upon zes departure had gifted the town this spell. A more interesting clue to the Nature of The Celestial People however, is to be found a few hundred years later, when an incredible story tells of the total annihilation of the second largest city of Adalwey: Sorgam. Likely one of the most populous cities of the ancient world, a mere great city of ruins remain today as the main evidence that such a city likely did exist. Whether its the same city though, and whether it suffered the fate attributed to it, is not entirely clear. Though evidence speak in such favor. Regardless, the story goes that the council leading Sorgam, before its last days, struck a deal with a great being of The Magick. A being who demanded the city send large weekly caravans with tribute up a mountain on towards a grand sanctuary, whose whereabouts sadly remains a mystery. The price offered in return for this tribute was a series of spells, with which the city would lend the being’s great Magick, to protect itself against any and all who would harm it. For years the City of Sorgam sent the caravans, and, the assumption went, were under the protection of this mysterious being. But as years turned into decades, members of the Council of Sorgam were slowly being replaced by a younger generation, who doubted the power of this mysterious being. In particular, they were confident that the spells were theirs, and did not require any relationship with this mysterious being, who by now they called Rivhror, likely the Celestial we today know as Rivor of The Sun. So eventually, they stopped sending the caravans. When emissaries arrived from the grand sanctuary, demanding their tribute, and were rejected, the emissaries promised terrible sanctions if new caravans did not arrive within a month. A month passed, however, and none were sent. After 2 months, witnesses describe seeing a small host of robed individuals marching upon the city, choosing to settle outside of it in a small but luxurious encampment. Here, witnesses describe, were a human-like being, perhaps an elf, but larger than any normal one, more like a giant of sorts. It was a being tall, muscled, calm, with long golden hair, and a gentle manner. The people of the encampment showed exceedingly great respect for this individual, who consumed much of their attention. Even though this person, they say, did little by stare up into the clear sky for the whole morning after they arrived, sitting upon a large pillow out in the open. When a great event transpired that morning, this individual seemed unmoved by it. The event, of course, was the annihilation. Above the city, the sky, witnesses tell, turned yellow-red. Was it with fire? If it was, it was unlike any ordinary fire. Instead it was like the sun became the sky, and the sky fell. Just before noon, the sky crashed its yellow-red brightness into the city, and in mere moments the city burned with an intensity and speed unseen by any witness. When noon came in the minutes after, what was left of the city was but the thickest and strongest of the stone structures, all else was ash, crumbled, melted even. Brick houses collapsed and for days were too hot to touch. The helpless people who tried to venture into the city all returned with burns gained from touching or stepping on the wrong spot, which was about everywhere. But why am I mentioning this? What can we learn from this story? Rivor of The Sun is of those we today refer to as The Celestial People, but is it not possible, or is it not likely, that once ze was a person? In fact, that ze was this exact person, using The Magick to vanquish the city in a great feat of terror? As a person, ze was of course great in power, and greater in size witnesses describe than any other person. But Rivor of The Sun still appears as but a mere individual of great power here. Is it possible that the long lives of the followers of The Zer have with the ages created these people we call The Celestial? From where did Rivor of The Sun gain the great power we know ze to possess? Whether by the story just told, or by the many spells in whose name Rivor of The Sun is called upon today, it seems possible that such power was not always a constant. Although perhaps this is mere speculation. But if not speculation, Rivor of The Sun didn’t exist always as a being of power, but became one by knowledge and practice of The Magick. More telling of this story, if it is true, is the fact that Rivor wanted tribute at all. Because today, most of us I would reckon, expect of the Celestial People to have the kind of omnipotence to not require such plain items as cloth, spices, grains and fruit. Is not such mundane items beneath The Celestial People? So why did a Celestial Individual ask for them thousands of years ago? Perhaps this omnipotence is a misconception we have, or perhaps, and more interestingly, The Celestial People did not start off as the beings of power we consider them today. Perhaps they too, started off like you and me, and merely grew – for millennia, without end.”

Tardom paused his reading, looked up from his book and grabbed for the silver cup. Ord the assistant stepped over quickly to lift the jug and fill the cup. As Tardom drank slowly, he saw Evenin sit there, expectantly but patiently waiting for him to continue. However, more reading was not to be. For when Tardom was on his last sip the door flung open, and in strode a hasty prime minister and an entourage of his dwarf wife, and other dwarf men and -women whom Tardom recognized as The Prime Minister’s Cabinet. The officials were almost launching themselves at Prime Minister Ederfar with concerned questions, rhetorical challenges and retorts against his defensive statements. “But our taxes this year are too low to cover the expense!” said the Minister of The Economy, a middle-aged dwarf woman carrying an open notebook in her left hand, while gesturing vividly with her free right one.

“Then find a new tax to implement!” Ederfar yelled exasperated in return, “The road over the mountain was my main election promise, so it stays in this year’s budget!” The retort triggered but a second of silence, before the whole cabinet launch themselves at him again, each one trying to out-protest the others. The prime minister just looked away tiredly at Tardom while his dwarves yelled into his back. Evenin’s nanny, meanwhile, snuck through the assaulting crowd and stepped up behind the girl’s chair.

“Silence!” The Prime Minister eventually shouted, and the cabinet fell silent. “This is the Prime Minister’s Private Quarters. Please evacuate the floor! We will discuss this further tomorrow in our daily meeting.” The disgruntled crowd of politicians shuffled out of the room. Every one of them releasing a great sigh of frustration, or, in the prime minister’s case, a great sigh of relief.

“I see that The Ederfar Road is facing resistance” Tardom smirked.

The prime minister sighed again, and wandered over to the scholar. “Yes, that’s putting it mildly. The people are content for now, but the cabinet is rebelling almost every week over it.” Ederfar wiped away sweat from his forehead. It looked like he could benefit from a rest. “Anyways, how was your first day of schooling with Tardom, my dear Evenin?” Ederfar stepped over to his daughter, knelt before her and held her hand gently, waiting for a reply.

“Good” she said quietly, shy at being the center of the attention of 4 different dwarves: her father, Tardom, the nanny and Ord.

“Good? Did you get properly started today? Have you learned much?” Her father quizzed calmly, but interested. To Tardom it looked almost as if all the father’s stress went away as he focused his attention on his daughter.

Evenin nodded.

“That’s good! That’s good, my daughter.” Ederfar stood up, still holding her hand. He looked over at Tardom. “I think we are done for today then. But you will continue tomorrow.”

Tardom nodded slowly, but agreeably.

“Alright then” and the Prime Minister turned around, “Ord?” Ederfar looked at the assistant. “Please escort Tardom back to The State Library. The book–” and Ederfar gestured at the desk, “–can stay here I suppose, for tomorrow.” Ord nodded respectfully at the prime minister.

Prime Minister Ederfar, his daughter and the nanny left the study room, and Tardom stood up, grabbing a helping arm from Ord who held him steady, and guided him out into the broad corridor. There the trip went down the stone stairs again, through the other stone corridors, and again into The State Library. The place where Tardom basically lived most of his life these days. He’d even been caught sleeping there many a time by its librarian, who only managed the place part-time, at other times serving as a tutor, like Tardom, but to young adults in the more advanced subjects of mathematics, material sciences and life sciences.

Tardom sat down in a large reading chair within the library. However, Ord did not leave. But instead just stood there, as he’d done in the study room, apparently awaiting an opportunity to be useful. “Are you ordered to assist me, even when I’m not tutoring?” Tardom questioned.

“Serving you is a great honor, Great Scholar.” And Ord bowed in respect. “I was told to assist you, there was no mention of when not to.”

Tardom smiled, silently at first, but then he laughed, a little happily. “Haha. With that attitude, young dwarf, perhaps it one day will be Ord The Assistant, who finishes my work. Well, a dwarf can only dream I suppose.”