Jeim'Dal

Chapter 4: The Names Written

"Knowledge is not something that can be given freely like bread to a starving man. It is a treasure earned, gathered with each step of the journey." The old man's voice, though ancient, carried a warm resonance, echoing throughout the grand hall, filled with attentive souls who listened in reverence.

A young woman stood among the crowd, her long brown robe adorned with intricate ornaments over her right breast—medals and emblems, with multiple colored robes, symbols of her many achievements and hard-fought triumphs. Her eyes glistened with admiration as she whispered softly, almost to herself, "Grand Master Ra'Nier is truly remarkable."

Seated beside her, a girl with ginger hair tied in a tight pigtail, her face sprinkled with freckles, leaned in with an eager smile. She wore a similar robe and the same robe, though her medals were fewer, marking her as one still ascending the path. "Aye, Arrizel, the Grand Master teaches all disciplines of the Realm—Herbalism and Agriculture, Metallurgy, Law, Medicine, and even the forbidden arts of Blood Magic!"

Her voice dropped to a hushed tone as she added, "Speaking of which, have you finished it yet?"

Arrizel, her eyes wide with alarm, whispered back quickly, "Not yet, Ingrene! Quiet now, or the Grand Master might hear us!"

Ingrene frowned, wrinkling her nose. "Ugh, don't call me that! You know I hate my name! And you better finish that research on Eastern Runes, or your perfect top-grade score will be forfeit!"

Grand Master Ra'Nier's voice, though interrupted by a brief cough, returned with undiminished authority. "Rather than giving the man bread, give him a fishing rod and teach him to fish... Ahem! Now, let us return to our study—the history of Jeim'Dal and the names written in the ancient Andals."

As he spoke, his eyes briefly flickered in the direction of the two whispering maidens, a subtle reminder of the respect demanded within his hallowed hall.

The two young women exchanged nervous glances before falling silent, their backs straightening as they composed themselves under the watchful gaze of the hall. A few nearby students shifted in their seats, eyes flickering toward them before turning back to the front.

The grand hall, adorned with tapestries of ancient battles and shimmering chandeliers of enchanted crystals, echoed with the weight of centuries. The Grand Master, Ra'Nier, stood imposingly upon the dais, his robe of deep crimson cascading like a river of fire. His voice, though aged and resonant, held a power that commanded respect and attention from all present.

The Grand Master, Ra'Nier, stood tall upon the dais, his voice resonating with a commanding yet ancient authority, his presence filling the grand hall like a looming storm.

"Now," he began, his tone laden with the weight of centuries, "has anyone here ever been drawn to the old tales of Jeim'dal?"

For a moment, there was silence, the students unsure whether to speak. Then, from the sea of blue-robed students, a young man rose to his feet. His robe bore a silver sash, and upon his chest gleamed the mark of distinction—a diamond, denoting his high scholarly achievements. His face was set with confidence, but there was a slight furrow in his brow, betraying his thoughts.