When Twins War: Book I

Chapter Two

Far away from the Twin Cities stood the Monument, the city of the Outlanders, inherited from the ancient Genicoins who disappeared thousands of years ago. The Monument was the most ancient and powerful centre of learning and influence in all of Lexedore. Here was the Great Library, kept for generation after generation with books and scrolls and manuscripts that dated back for centuries, even to the great war with the Moncoin.

Tarkanyon the Outlander sat down and placed his hands into the sleeves of his black cloak while observing Luillan, the Keeper of the Great Library and one of his greatest friends. His long, bleached white braids fell over the back of his chair as he observed Luillan closely, who was clearly ignoring him, studying some large book on his desk.

Tarkanyon cleared his throat.

"They are sending you to Iza-Kiêrre, I hear?" Luillan said, turning another page but not looking up. "No doubt this is why you are asking these questions."

"I haven't even asked questions yet," Tarkanyon said. "But, yes, that is why I am here."

"Not even to visit an old friend?" Luillan asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Friend? I don't observe a friend down here."

Luillan ignored him, turning a page in his book and pointing his finger at a line, seemingly with more important thoughts on his mind.

"The only friends you have seem to be your history books," Tarkanyon said.

Luillan's left eyebrow lifted again and he turned another page. Finally, he took his glasses off but continued to look at the book. "They appear to have a good deal of manners at least," he said. "Sometimes I cannot believe we're even from the same Order."

He sat back in his chair, placing his hands behind his head, after brushing aside his long, white braids. He was suppressing a smile.

After some silence he let off a laugh. "Let us then talk. I think I understand and know your questions already."

"Perhaps." Tarkanyon said. "So what is it you are studying?"

"Exactly what you will be asking. A complex history of the Sultans of Iza-Kiêrre and Ben-Kiêrre."

He moved the book away.

"Sounds fascinating," Tarkanyon replied. "I so love complex history."

"Yes it is," Luillan answered.

"What of recent events, first? Tell me what you know," Tarkanyon said.

"You're more acquainted with recent politics," Luillan replied. He was always more interested in history than current affairs. "After all, this is why they are sending you. But I will tell you what I think."

"Tell me, my friend."

Stuffing a book marker in his book, Luillan closed it and stood up. He stared at a painting on the wall behind him for a while. Tarkanyon looked at the book and shook his head at the sheer size of it. Afterwards, he looked up and saw Luillan was still staring at the painting.

It was a rather large painting of the Library, with a shadowed man dressed in a dark coat standing by Luillan's age-old desk, arms folded and looking at the artist. Tarkanyon never understood why the library had a painting of itself hung up next to the bookshelves, or who the robed man was, but he knew to ask Luillan better questions than that. Besides, he asked him once and received a history lesson that at once made his head spin. He wasn't in the mood for that – ever – again. He also noticed, before, that the painting looked slightly different in parts to what the library looked like now. The staircase seemed more colourful than it was now and the room also seemed bigger. But he was never patient enough to ask Luillan why.