Part - 1
My name is Lethan Aric, and ah, you probably don't care who I am. Nobody ever does.
But still, introductions should be made, right? So… I'll say it properly.
I was born in a small village called Brennal's Hollow, a quiet place of barley fields and cowbells, where the loudest thing you'd hear was a rooster that crowed far too early. I was never special. I wasn't the strongest lad, or the cleverest, or the fastest with my hands. But one day, the chief of our village called for me. He said, "The Great Library of Mnemonrae requires a worker. A sweeper. Someone to send. Someone we can spare."
And guess who that someone was?
So here I am, broom in hand, wearing this uniform of dull grey with the golden crest of the Library on my chest. You might be thinking, why so gloomy? Well, because when you're sent to
Mnemonrae… you don't return. Not ever. It's a vow, a chain without iron. My life is no longer mine. I sweep these endless marble halls, I dust shelves that climb like mountains, and I will do it until my hair turns white… and then, until it falls out entirely.
(And yes, sometimes I cry in my mind about it. Don't tell anyone.)
But, there's a good part too. No one here bothers me. No father shouting, no neighbors asking why I'm so useless. Just silence, endless silence, broken only by the rustle of pages. The Great Library is tranquil. Serene. Beautiful, even.
Do you know of it?
Perhaps not. Then let me tell you.
The Library of Mnemonrae is not merely a collection of books. It is one of the Three Great Libraries of the world, and the only one that belongs to no king, no kingdom, no crown. It stands apart, independent, protected by an ancient treaty older than memory. Even the three great nations send coin to keep it alive, though they would love nothing more than to claim it for themselves.
Here, you can find everything: the scrolls of forgotten martial arts, tomes of medicine and alchemy, grimoires of fire and shadow, manuals of every weapon forged beneath the heavens. It is, to many, paradise.
But that is not why Mnemonrae is truly great. No… it is great because of the Crimson Ledger.
A single book. A book that contains the name of the 100 strongest in the realm. Written by… well, no one knows. Not even the Elders. Some say it was penned by a god before the pantheon was broken. Others say it writes itself, change its ranking, as the world continues to bleed.
Well, I don't know, I have never seen it. I only sweep here. But still, the thought of it makes the air colder whenever I pass the chamber where it's kept.
Most days are the same. Peaceful. Silent. The cold mountains of Hailspire guard the north, and the vast green plains of Arcadia lie to the south. The winds whisper across both, and here in Mnemonrae, the days repeat like a hymn. Every morning feels the same as the last, eternal and calm.
Then.
"WHAT IN THE GODS' NAMES?!"
The scream tore through the marble halls like thunder. My broom clattered against the floor as I flinched. It was a voice he knew very well Elder Maerlin, one of the highest keepers, whose hands shook only when he held a quill, never when he spoke.
He burst into the central atrium, white hair flying loose, his voice raw with panic. "It's changed!" he cried. "The Ledger… the words have shifted. For the first time in thirty years!"
The silence of the Library cracked like glass.
Part - 2
The silence that once defined Mnemonrae was gone.
Marble halls echoed with the thunder of sandals and boots as elders and scribes poured out from their chambers, robes flaring like torn banners in the wind. Their whispers turned to shouts, their measured steps into frantic strides. The Library, normally a cathedral of stillness, was alive with panic.
I clutched my broom like a spear and pressed against the wall as they stormed past me, faces pale, eyes sharp with fear and greed alike. The entire island felt as though it trembled even the sea wind that crept through the open colonnades carried unease.
And still… I followed them.
I don't know why. Maybe it was curiosity, maybe some foolish instinct that whispered go, go and see. My feet carried me to a place I'd never dared approach a room whose great black doors had always been shut, guarded, forbidden. Yet tonight, they stood wide open.
And inside, upon a pedestal of obsidian, lay the Crimson Ledger.
Gods preserve me…
It was enormous, its cover of scarlet hide bound with iron clasps thick as chains. The sheer weight of it could crush a man two people would be needed, to lift it. But it was not its size that froze me. It was the aura. The Ledger bled unease into the air, an invisible frost that made my bones shiver and my breath feel thin. My hands trembled, not from the cold, but from the wrongness that seeped out of that book.
The elders and scribes gathered around it in a half-circle, voices clashing over one another. I crept closer, careful, until the words on the parchment came into view.
The Top Ten.
And my heart nearly stopped.
For thirty years, every soul in the realm had known these names. Immutable, untouchable legends of flesh and blood who had not moved from their thrones of power in decades. But tonight, the Ledger told a different story.
The Silent Monk
Halric; The Wolf (New)
Varoc Redbane; The Warlord
Seraphine Durel; The Dawnfire Princess
Aurelius Ardent; The Radiant Knight (New)
Drosvain Marr; Weaponmaster
Morvane; The Hollow King
Caltheris Morn; Destroyer of Kingdoms
Tharos Veyric; Sea Lord of the Blood Tide Fleet
Ysolde Kaerrin; Dream Eater Sorceress.
Two names I had never heard whispered in taverns or sung by bards now stood among gods of war and blood. And not merely within the hundred but in the five.
The chamber filled with uproar.
"This is blasphemy!" cried one scribe, his ink-stained hands trembling.
"They were not even in the Hundred," another spat, "and yet they rise above Varoc? Above Seraphine?"
Elder Maerlin's voice cracked the noise: "Silence!"
All turned to him, his withered hands braced on the pedestal as though he alone could anchor the storm. His white hair was wild, his eyes burning.
"This has not happened in decades," he said, low but fierce. "The Ledger has never lied. If it has shifted, then the world itself has shifted beneath us."
"But who are they?" demanded Elder Ryvin, his voice sharp with unease. "Halric the Wolf, Aurelius… What deeds? What blood? Where were they hidden until now?"
"We do not know," Maerlin admitted. "And that is what terrifies me."
The elders argued in heated voices, fear tangled with ambition. Some muttered of power struggles, others of prophecy, and a few even of war. I heard one whisper greedily, "If we could sway one of them to Mnemonrae's side, think of it protection, influence, dominion."
Elder Lethros shook his head. "No king will sleep soundly tonight. They will tear apart the world to claim these two."
Maerlin raised his hand, silencing them again. "This knowledge must leave our halls. But not hastily. We will not break the vow of neutrality with reckless haste." His voice hardened. "We will send only one messenger that will visit all the kingdoms. The truth will spread slowly, and we will not be seen as favoring any crown."
There were murmurs of agreement, though unease still clung to every tongue. Then, Maerlin's eyes lifted and found me.
I froze.
"What," his voice boomed, "is the sweeper doing here?"
Every head turned. A dozen pairs of scholar's eyes pinned me like a rat in a granary. My knees went weak, and I nearly dropped my broom.
"I—I was just..." I stammered, heart pounding, and took a step back, ready to flee into the shadows.
But Maerlin's gaze sharpened with sudden thought. Slowly, the edge of a cruel smile curved his lips.
"Wait."
He turned to the elders. "Why not send him?" he whispered.
Confusion rippled through the circle.
"A boy?" Ryvin scoffed. "A broom-handler?"
"He'll die on the road before reaching the first border," another barked.
"Precisely," Maerlin hissed. "If he fails, the secret dies with him, and our vow remains unbroken. If he succeeds… then we will still have more than enough time."
My throat dried. My chest thudded like a drum.
Maerlin's eyes locked onto mine, burning with decision. "Lethan Aric," he said, my name striking like a sentence. "Come forward. I have a task for you."
"And that is how I, Lethan Aric, broom-sweeper of Mnemonrae, found myself carrying a secret that could tear kingdoms apart."
End of Chapter.