Hastiand sat back in the tub, soaking in the warmth of the water. After collapsing in the chair, he awoke a few hours later in his bed. Amon attributed the episode to lack of sleep and malnutrition. He gave Hastiand a healthy meal and plenty to drink. After complaining about the smell, he made the bard take a bath. It’d been a long time since he’d had one, and it felt marvelous.

  His mind ran through the events Amon had described. The Vai’Aneen. The Player. Guardians. The mandolin. It all seemed fantastic. Like something from a myth. His eyes drifted to the mandolin lying on the table on the other side of the room.

  What does it all mean? he thought.

  He lay there for a few minutes longer before he heard a knock.

  From behind the door came Amon’s voice. “May I come in?”

  “Certainly,” replied Hastiand.

  Amon entered the room, shooting a glance at the mandolin before regarding Hastiand.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “Better.”

  “Good. If you’re up for it, I’d like to continue our discussion from yesterday.”

  Hastiand shifted in the tub. His muscles ached, especially his legs.

  "Yeah," he said, “I’m up for it.”

  Amon smiled. “Splendid. Join me in the study when you’re ready.”

  With that, the bounty hunter left the room. Hastiand got out of the tub, and, after drying himself, put on fresh clothes Amon had set aside. His old ones, already road-worn, were ripped and torn from his ordeal in the alley. Wearing his new hunter green pants, dark brown jerkin, and boots and a brown leather belt, he descended the staircase to the ground floor and opened the first door on the right.

  The smell of old books hung in the air as he entered the study. Bookcase after bookcase filled with books and rolls of parchment stretched to the high ceiling. Amon examined a pair of large maps spread out over the round table in the center of the room. The elf looked up at the sound of the door shutting and waved Hastiand over.

  “Come and look,” he said, "these maps will help put the whole story into perspective.”

  Hastiand joined him at the table and surveyed the larger of the two maps. He recognized a few of the contours and coastal lines, but the names were written in a language completely foreign to him. Luckily, below each label was the name written in Common Tongue. Even then, some of the landmarks had different names from what he knew.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  His eyes drifted to the title of the map which read, “The Vai’Aneen Empire and Surrounding Lands.” He followed the empire’s borderline around the map, noting the portions that ran into Tirian. The Great Neyhajin Desert took up a good portion of the center. The cartographer’s signature in the lower right corner read Amaius Nashin. The numbers “67JF-23” were next to it.

  “What does this mean?” Hastiand asked, pointing to the number.

  “That is how the Vai’Aneen write the year,” said Amon. “The first two numbers signify the current emperor’s assigned number. The two letters are the emperor’s initials. The last number is the year of that emperor’s reign at the time of the map’s creation. In this case, it shows the empire as it was in the twenty-third year of the reign of the sixty-seventh emperor, Jiraz Fay’d. In other words, this shows the world as it was over two hundred years ago.”

  Hastiand frowned. “That’s a funny dating convention. Must have been a mouthful in conversation.”

  “When you’re taught to use it from birth, you never really think about it. This is the last map of the Vai’Aneen Empire before the arrival of the Player.”

  “I’m amazed at how large the empire became. Where did the Vai’Aneen elves originate?”

  Amon shrugged. “A mystery lost in the depths of time. All records of the Vai’Aneen before their settling in the desert have disappeared or never existed. What I do know is that settlers found an oasis at the exact center of the desert and built a community around it. The words of Kadron Tash, the founder of our civilization and the leader of the settlers, provide most of the details. According to Kadron, they arrived at this oasis and praised the god Ta’Kish for the water. They had been without water for five full days under the hot desert sun.

  “The legend goes that, during those five days, Kadron and the other leaders prayed to Ta’Kish asking for water. In answer to their prayers, the god himself descended into the desert and plunged his scepter into the ground. Miraculously, water bubbled up from the sand. Before long, a large pool had formed. The sand around its edges turned into fertile ground with many different forms of plant life. Then Ta’Kish told Kadron that as long as the water remained pure and untainted by blood the oasis would always provide clean water to his people, and the fertile ground would spread farther each year. Kadron posted guards to watch the pool day and night, monitoring all who wished to draw water.

  “After a week-long celebration honoring the god who saved them, Kadron Tash founded a village, naming it Ta’Kish Makaran. The community grew around the oasis and became the origin of the Vai’Aneen Empire. True to Ta’Kish’s word, the oasis never ran dry, and the fertile lands spread.”

  “Quite a story,” said Hastiand. “Fairly hard to believe though.”

  “It is taught to every Vai’Aneen from a young age. The origin of the empire has always been with us.”

  “So, religion played a big part in society?”

  Amon’s eyes turned to a golden color as he smiled and said, “Am I wrong, or do I detect a hint of interest in your voice?”

  Hastiand smirked. “Maybe. I’ve never had a mind for history, but I must admit this fascinates me. Since I know the story already has a bad ending, I find it ironic that it had such a great beginning.”

  “I wouldn’t use the word ‘ironic.’ ‘Sad’ is more appropriate.” Blue color trimmed Amon’s irises. “The Player saw to that.”

  “How did the Player even come into the picture?”

  Amon hesitated and then cleared his throat. “No one is quite sure where he came from.”