38th of Nemulum, 412 EA
Citadel of the Athalial League, Athal
At the very center of the citadel of the Athalial league there was a door; a door which opened very slowly and only for a select few.
Nicirin and Jolien should not have been privy to it, but nonetheless did stand in front of it through young circumstance and nepotism.
“What are we doing here?” Jolien watched as the door unsoldered itself inch by fiery inch. “I thought you said this was going to be cool.”
“It is cool,” Nicirin countered, taking his friend’s boredom too personally but wishing only for gravitas. “Behind this door is the whole of the Athalial League.”
Jolien drew in slightly, to Nicirin’s quiet delight. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” Nicirin leaned back in feigned nonchalance, trying not to look around too nervously. “It’s something my uncle told me.”
“Hmm.” Even as young as she was, Jolien knew that the word of a provost meant something.
And so they waited, and waited, and waited under the red pinprick of light which was ever so creepingly pulling the door apart from the wall.
And then, just like that, the magic had worked it’s course and the door began to rumble downwards in opening. Jolien started back, Nicirin leaned forwards eager to see what the Athalial league was all about.
When at last the door opened, the pair were left speechless.
Riches, piles and piles of riches enough to spark envy in a dragon. Silk fabrics in fashions totally foreign and coins minted in far off lands, gems which had no names on this cluster because they could not be found here. Above it all, there were a swirling, eddying mass of ornamental swords and tridents and crossbows most fine, weapons of war turned to gallery pieces and a potential trap for any would-be thieves all at once.
Vast wealth, left in such little regard as to be guarded only by a door which soldered itself. This was the Athalial League.
The Etra Anthology 