The mouth of the Opal Valley was guarded by scattered copses of various wide-leafed trees and maze-like trails of shrubs. A river wove through the field-lands, spilling out from a woodland-ringed lake that spread along the bottom of the vale. A dozen streams bubbled down the three adjacent mountains in thin, silvery falls. Aralim tread over a narrow wooden bridge as he wandered along the road; a mountain breeze stirred the droplets of water from one such lake tributary and dropped them into the grey streaks of his beard.
Even from the mouth of the Valley, Aralim could see a half-dozen monasteries dotting the gentle slopes. He had already spotted a small village on the lake shore, while smoke marked another to the east, against the far edge of the woodland. Aralim had seen a dozen mountain passes and valley havens before, but none more thoroughly qualified for the description of blissfully idyllic. The Emperor’s religion had made his home their sanctuary.
In the town on the lake, Aralim was greeted by a single guard: “Welcome to Vagar, birthplace of the Eternal Emperor.” His intonement complete, the guard leaned back against a small palisade post and resumed chewing on a shaft of tall grass.
“Thank you,” Aralim replied, leaning on his staff. “Is there somewhere I should go to ask questions of the Valley? I might be here for some time.”
The guard paused his chewing and smiled. “Many travelers settle into the Sorina Inn, over there, before exploring the valley further. Next door to the Inn is a small shrine to His Ascendance. The priest there can answer questions about Vagar or direct you to a temple of your preference.”
Aralim bowed and headed toward the mentioned shrine. He had not made it ten paces down the street before he passed an Aura, this one a young woman in a sleeveless orange robe. She looked at Aralim the same as she might a wagon or a well and continued past him. Aralim considered that a good response—she had not tried to kill him, at least.
The shrine was little more than a garden adorned with plaques and old granite columns. A few Aura were maintaining the flowers, while a priest sat with an old book on a bench near the far side of the shrine. The reading man gave him a nod, but didn’t rise to greet him.
The plaques seemed to illustrate Tag’na’s story. Though Aralim remembered a sailor on His Fifth Vision telling him that Tag’na had been born Tageer itt Nagu, all these panels referred to him as only Emperor Tag’na or simply His Ascendance. The first explained that Tag’na was born in 1203, after his father Nagu ai Keevalam had sent his mother to a remote castle in the Opal Valley for safety. During this time, King Keevalam of Rema was at war with several other factions, including the Empire of Trader’s Bay—known as Kebaat during those days—and with the mountain tribes of the west.
The mention of the old castle kept Aralim’s attention. It seemed like a good spot to begin his search for a “prisoner.”
The second plaque described Tag’na’s early years: his time in the Opal Valley to the age of ten, his training by an order of monks known as the Forest Seers, and his departure to travel with his father’s armies. The Seers educated him on matters of math, writing, swordplay, and statecraft. It was with them that he began learning the ways of magic—though Aralim supressed a chuckle at that point. The next plaque described his first two visions, which had also been experienced under the tutelage of the Forest Seers. In the first, Tag’na had seen his own mother passing of old age; in the other, he had witnessed his own journey with soldiers. Thus, he chose to join his father’s wars as soon as he was allowed.
The subsequent stories grew more religious. Aralim skimmed through segments discussing how the old gods had blessed Tag’na’s parents with the spirit of the Great Smith and how the Forest Seers had helped Tag’na awaken to his reincarnated being. If anything, Aralim suspected these passages were referring to the ceremony about which Tag’na avoided speaking—the ceremony that made him un-aging.
A few other details stood out, such as one chronicle about Tag’na’s return to the Valley later in his life, whereupon he met “the Spirit of the World whose name is Bal’nored.” He had never heard about that before. Supposedly, the Emperor had experienced his fifth vision—after which that ship had been named—during one return visit to the Valley. In that vision, Tag’na had allegedly seen the Empire unified, including the as-of-yet separate city of Old Numa.
The last plaque was a map of the Valley as it had been 270 years ago. It was not of much use for modern navigation, but it would help compare the Valley that Tag’na had once known to the current standing of its locations. Aralim made a quick sketch on a piece of parchment from his pack and then approached the priest.
The man lowered his book and bowed politely. “Welcome traveler. Do you believe in the power of our Emperor, the Great Smith? Or are you a skeptic, come to discern the truth for yourself?”
“I’ve been interested in the Emperor and his capacities for some time. I’ve come to learn as much as I can,” he explained.
The priest smiled and stroked his lengthy white beard. “Very good. If you wish to study his life, might I suggest a pilgrimage to the Hall of Numa? It recounts the events of the Eternal Emperor’s life in more detail than these summary plaques. Alternatively, if you seek to know about the powers of the Great Smith, make the journey to the farthest temple in the Valley, the Monastery of the Illumination. It is there that the descendants of the Forest Seers reside.”
“That sounds interesting. Does the castle he stayed in in his youth still stand?”
The man grimaced. “Alas, it has fallen to the passage of time. After the war, it was not maintained as well as the religious sites and the forest has claimed much of it. If such history fascinates you regardless, there is a monument to His Ascendance at the site, and a few walls still stand. But there is little to learn there.”
Aralim nodded. “Are there any other sites of note?” he questioned.
“There are a few other temples, such as a Shrine to the Old Gods—the Great Smith, the Great Healer, the World Spirit, and their kin—and the Temple of Silence, where many come to honor His Ascendance’s Aura with their prayers and seek the blessing of the Eternal Emperor,” the priest explained.
Aralim smiled. “I’ve sketched a map based on the plaques,” he said, and showed the priest. “Could you mark down their locations for me?”
“Of course!” the man said, happily obliging him.
It took him the rest of the day to walk along the Valley floor. He left the lake behind during the midafternoon and spent a couple of hours scouring the woodland before finding the moss-eaten remnants of the decrepit fortress. A few walls still stood, though the keep had caved in long ago. A huge kapok tree grew through one wall, its roots curtaining over a staircase that had been reduced to rubble.
Aralim found no trace of the prisoner there, though he searched the vicinity thoroughly. He did find a single column marking another plaque—the only spot here kept clear of vines. It cited the original construction date as YSO 1110, nearly four hundred years ago. Aralim looked at the weatherworn walls with amazement.
He made his camp against the trusty jungle tree. This Valley was wide, but hid its secrets deep. He would set out tomorrow for another day of searching. As he curled up with his cloak and doused his lantern, Aralim wondered if Tag’na approved of his quest to find answers. He hoped he did not return to Rema as an enemy of the Emperor. He absently realized he was falling asleep a few feet from where Tag’na grew up, and then the dreams came.