GODS AT THE CENTRE ( EDITING)

Chapter VI, ARIS: WAR COMES KNOCKING

The peoples of the world of the Centre come in vast tongues, races and colours.

Going south of the Baldic, one finds a diversity of colours as well as tongues.

The Thigian empire over the centuries, has merged peoples and cultures so as it now contains a diversity of races fused into one nation.

Some are dark skinned, some brown, some lighter, some copper, sallow, olive and very few paler.

North of them, across the Sea, we Alamarians and a host of nations occupying the North western portion of the coast bear skins ranging from lighter brown to deep ebony(Before the coming of migrants)

The nations north and west of them bear olive coloured skins, being descendants of men who lived in these lands before the rise of Alamaria.

Further north, the Andorian are paler and often called "white", an erroneous misconceptiont when strictly deliberated...

Alamarians of old referred to them as "men of the clouds" for to them their skins seemed as white as the icy land they came from, as white as the clouds. This is of course not so.

The colour of these races seems to be affected by Aoha's sun. In the north, where its reign is not so feisty and snow abounds almost eternally.....

Aris sighed and skipped the chapter as a whole. This book wasn't giving him what he wanted. So far he had learnt nothing surprising. Nothing to tell him where in the world he was from. His skin color could be found on both sides of the Baldic! He could be from anywhere!

He lifted his eyes from the book and gazed absently at the shelves. Old scrolls that were yet to be transferred to the newer leather books, collection of parchments, bound together and made as orderly as possible. Dust settled among seldom touched shelves and silence reigned.

He yawned and looked over his shoulder. The library was nearly empty. He spotted Tasa sleeping with her head on open book.

What was I thinking bringing her to a library?

At his desk next to the door, the fat, squat librarian was busy sinking his teeth ferociously into an orange, not so exemplary of him.

He sighed and returned to the book. He stopped flipping at "A Treatise on the cultures of the peoples", chapter VII.

Yes! If he could remember something about his people, he might be able to find out where he was born. But try as much as he could, he couldn't recall more than vague images, doubtful recollections. It was like staring deep into an abyss, and out of that nothingness few memories sprouted out in isolation and vagueness.

Maybe reading might trigger some memory.

Randomly, he stopped at Hermin's observations of the tribes south of Kras mountains. Emmeso said he had been captured by a Thigian slaver. He thought he remembered that part a bit.

Although, much was vague and he suspected he might be making it up. He saw visions of a burning village, of fighting...the sea. Ah! Nothing more. It was like grasping at web, get a hold on a strand and everything comes loose.

Thigians at times raided the southern tribes for slaves.

Maybe that was where I was born?

The notion didn't seem possible to him, but he read on.

A few minutes into reading it and he was almost sure he wasn't from there.

I, Hermin of Alamaria having travelled the dominions of Thigia in 650 SFC and in the system of Thigian dating 300 AOk, crossed the Kras mountains and lived among the southern tribes for months......