A R X

OR, THE CITADELS OF VALERON

Bernard d’Clouxeville

&

Xavier L. Montverraid

C

astles impress us. I truly do believe there is something primal inside us, that draws us towards these monoliths of stone, no matter where we come from, what languages we speak or what faiths we hold to. This I call, as did the late and venerable general August Alvain, ‘the allure of the unbreakable’. This term realizes its deep meaningfulness, when taking into consideration its origins in the Iron siege, and the position that the Iron Rock, or Mudharak had in the contemporary psyche. The hard and the impenetrable, the larger than life, the man-made mountain standing proud against defiance! And what is the defiance of men against that which is thick rock, laid well and sure, with deep foundations? This humble veteran's fascination with castles began that day, the ten-year anniversary of which is marked by the final release of this book. 

As a siege engineer, I had a unique perspective into the siege. The drawing we had I studied fay and night, peering over the schematics to find weak spots. I had been a simple engineer before, crafting scaffolds and drawing architectural plans for manors, bridges, and all matter of civic constructions. The war however changed my whole perspective on architecture. How could that, which men built to safeguard their very lives not be greater, than the gold-plated ball rooms and carved bridges? I was hooked from that moment, knowing my obsession would never seize. 

After the war, I had a mission. To thoroughly record and document the mightiest fortresses of Valeron! For a year I wrote to the legion high command, every single week I wrote, asking them to sponsor my plan. Never getting a reply, yet not wanting to give up on my dreams, I travelled to Ferios the Honourable, to meet and plead to the generality themselves. And as if my plans had been blessed by the eternal father himself, the love divine and pure, all my prayers were answered. Not by any petty officer, but by the very Lord-Commander of all the armed forces, the Generalissimo Irving Mortemir: Hero of Mudhallam himself. Not more than a minute did our conversation take, before he had already accepted, and been on his way. My boon had been granted, as if I had never sent one letter at all. 

With me on my journey, I chose as my company the most exemplary and erudite, the honourable Xavier Lanair Montverraid. A doctor like me, but of history, trained in the Cassias. Originally the military historian of the Ferios Officer school, now a dean of history at the Hildegarde Institute. Most importantly however, a compassionate brother in the good and the bad, and a dear friend. From him has come all the historical expertise manifested in this book, as well as the skill to scientifically weigh and analyse our targets in an academically holistic way. 

With us also came a knight, the valour of whom no man can deny. As wise and merciful as he was skilled and deadly: ser Samuel Andreu Farrow, who more than deserves his moniker of ‘The Golden Bear’. Because for all his ferocity, brawn, and bravery, he also had a heart of gold, and an intellect twice as bright as that shiny stone. Without his street smarts and cool headedness, not only would this book never have been finished, but the persons of B. d’Clouxeville and X. Montverraid would have never returned home to their families. For this fact the gentlemen with their wives included, bow their heads in respect and thankfulness. 

Without any further deliberation, speeches, and acknowledgements, we begin our journey into the world of Valeronian castle making. We humbly thank the reader for their interest and dedicate this opus to our beloved children: Ellis, Tom, Allan, Victor, and Amy, and to the men manning the walls of which we speak.

I

T H E A R C H

We began our long journey on the first of April, leaving behind the eagle banners of the Imperial home, the capitol, and the seat. One could argue that the Palace of the Seat and the Painted Tower of our ultimate lord: venerable Elnofir Bel-Heirion nine times blessed, would themselves is worthy of this book. To such assertion I do not agree. However, the Seatpalace and the Tower are already well documented, and do not despite their sacred majesty, match the size and architectural uniqueness of our other chosen locations. Therefore, we set forth, on the one masted cog named Lilia. This old yet historically and culturally significant ship helped us immerse ourselves to our journey, sailing north through the gentle waters of the Imperial fjords.

The Green mountains, as they are called in Anroth and Imroth, the walls of the Redfjords offer a uniquely sheltered atmosphere. Though the River Righteous, Ferion is busy with trade, the lands north of the Imperial city were calm and quiet. The black waters of the Upper-Ferion are without torrents, and gently guide its ship along its serene surfaces. Mists gather on the slopes of the fjords, hiding the uphill forests and small towns from sailors on the river. As an architect I had to admire the workmanship of the Whiteroad, the official name of which is the Path of Merennon. This mighty road follows the river north along the fjords, remaining ever seemingly at the same height, despite the changes in altitude. For this the venerable Merennon the Great Bel-Heirion drew inspiration from the Arinothi-roads of Caedan, and though the Whiteroad does not match the grandiose and extent of the Arinothi-road, it is still nonetheless an architectural marvel. As we travelled north, we inversely followed the ancient footsteps of the Bel-Heirion, as he came south from Caedan, looking for a place to build his new Capital city. According to stories, the man most often credited as his chief architect: Aranròvael was a blind man but a genius, being able to make his plans and calculations without sight. It should be said that Merennon the Great played no small part either, having himself had a massive impact on the look and function of their mega-projects.

As we sailed ever north, the mountains started steepening, rising to the clouds. First their peaks turned to grey stone, then to the white of snow, and finally disappeared completely into clouds. We had reached the Southern parts of the White mountains, and our first destination: The Arch of the Arch.

It was the first thing we saw of its namesake city: a colossal arch, stretching from one side of the fjord to another. Proudly it stood on it’s two strong feet, like mighty trunks of stone. The river passed freely between its two gigantic pillars, letting the Lilia to the harbour formed under and around it.

Its size mesmerized me, as did the understanding of exactly how primordial this structure was. The Arch is not of Imperial make, and despite some scholarly debate, likely not even Arinothi make. Its architectural aspects are wholly unique, not seen anywhere else in the world. Crafted of great block of off-white marble, its exact age is impossible to know. The ancient records do not offer clues as to who made it, with the first mention being in the seventh Arinothi chronic. Even this source however only implies its existence and location, nothing more.

Its height is over a hundred meters, from the surface of the water to the highest point of the inner arch. Looking up at it, while sailing through, gives of a strange sensation of the sky turning to stone.

The city of Arch, named after the Arch, is the senatorial capital of Valeron. It has had this honour since the Lawman’s Rebellion in the early fourth age, when the some of the Imperial senators foolishly attempted to revolt against the glorious Palator ‘the White’ Bel-Heirion. After the incident, the Senatorial capital was moved from the Imperial city north to the Arch, both as punishment, and an eternal reminder of the supremacy of the Bel-Heirion as the ultimate guardian over law and order.

Despite common belief, the Great Imperial Senate does not gather in the Arch itself, but in the Manor of Commandment, a white stone palace half a kilometre or so north of the Arch. This palace, built during the fourth age was purposely made to match with the Arch thematically, and successfully too, if I may say so myself. Next to it stands the just as, if not even more impressive ‘Liontower of Libbona’. There the lords of house di Libbona, the traditional Custodians of the Senate, rule and keep a watchful eye over the politicians.

The purpose as well as the origins of the Arch, is not known. What is clear however is that whoever built it, did not design it for military purposes. The halls and pathways are massive, large enough for five men side by side, and twice as tall. There were originally no battlements, merlons, machicolations or arrow shoots. All these present, are later additions, possibly in the fourth age by Merennon and blind Aranròvael. Later in the fourth age, a new fortress was built by Andos Bel-Heirion on top of the Arch to modernize the fort with trash-chutes, fireplaces, watchtowers, and proper kitchens. The difference is between the two great and mindboggling. While the new castle already shows its age in cracks and grumbles, the original Arch stands flawless. Its architectural design, proportions and monumental shapes are unmatched by the new castle, with its careless errors and imperfect designs. A focus on function over beauty, has now caused it to lack both.

The tunnels of the Arch are famous for their eeriness. Their placement seems to be entirely without purpose, leading often to dead ends, or running in useless circles. Their function is such, that all sound caused travels far along them. This sound is then warped, causing scary changes in the echoes. In some of the rooms, often the ones without any windows (Which is almost all of them), writing in an unknown script can be found on the walls and the floor. Despite time at hand, no translation has been brought forwards, and many scholars have come to the conclusion that they do not really mean anything, since no function or correlation between symbols has been discovered. During our visit the halls of the fort were full of bored soldiers, but one can only imagine the silent horror Merennon the Greats men felt when discovering the Arch for the first time. According to accounts and histories, they found nothing and no-one inside it. The record also notes that the entrances had been sealed, not with cut brick, but rocks, clay, and dirt.

The Arch has not seen true military action. It is however not hard to speculate that should such conflict arise; the Arch would be quite hard indeed to impregnate. The wide and meaningless corridors are a weakness, but the sheer size of the fort itself makes up for that. It perfectly controls ship traffic on the river Ferion and has the purpose of guarding the Imperial city from the north. At its sides, the wide mountains spread far, forming what could be considered walls around Ferios, with the Arch being a gate in the only army sized hole in it.

The origins of the Arch remain a mystery, and further research on site grants to new clues as to it’s making or makers. The most common hypothesis is that there is no plausible hypothesis. According to the second most common, the Arinothi did after all build the Arch, making it experimentally different from their other constructions. Other claim it might have been built by the mysterious Kalahori of Kalahor to the north, in the time between the breaking of the Arinothi hegemony, and the coming of the empire. This is however very unlikely, since the Kalahori are barely civilized barbarians, having shown nothing even close to the amount of skill that would be required to construct the Arch. This also would not make sense, since as stated before, there are Arinothi records mentioning the existence of the Arch, a thousand years before the breaking. A few historians from the University of Ferios have come up with a theory linking the Arch to one of the pre- First age primordial peoples of Valeron. This group would be a Redfjord version of the Caedan Moundmen, or the Weirdmen of lake Neilè. Should this be true, the existence of the Arch would be the only proof of the existence of the people who supposedly built it. Needless to say, all these theories are flawed.

An interesting point brought on by the Quartermaster of the Fort was that there might be unreachable clues within the Arch itself, which could hint to its creator. According to analysis there are dozens of sealed chambers still hidden in the Arch. The opening of them however has been strictly forbidden, with fears of such demolition causing the structure of the Arch to weaken. These seals, some of which we saw, were not of the mud and rocks described in the histories, but of the same stone, and laid in the same manner as the rest of the Arch. Some soldiers had old legends that there was a way to enter the chambers, if only you took the right combination of directions in the labyrinthine corridors. The seeing of the secret chambers seemed to be a cause of boast for some of the soldiers, who safeguarded the directions well and jealously. The validity of these claims is obviously questionable, and the captain of the fort was not aware of these stories.

Editors Note: This next paragraph was not published in the official opus for obvious reasons. While true, it does show the Imperial legion in a bad light and was therefore willingly censored from the copy presented to the Imperial office.

During our last day in the Arch, we devised a plan to try to pry more information from the soldiers, over booze, cards, and dice. As the night progressed, and the alcohol rose to the heads of the soldier, we heard two more stories. These were much darker than the ones before, and ones that the soldiers were understandably tight lipped about. One of the older soldiers revealed to us, that some of the chamber might have at a time, been used for brutal torture in the past. As torture was forbidden in the legions, those rooms were abandoned, and the entering of them was seen as taboo. Some other were sealed outright. Another, even more troubling story was of a young local girl, who the soldiers imprisoned and raped in one of the hidden chambers, hundreds of years ago. The girl eventually died in her cell, but her body disappeared, and could not be found again, no matter how hard the panicking soldiers looked.

In the light of these stories, we began to better understand the meaning of these hidden rooms. Though they did eventually offer to show us one of them, we politely refused, and went on our way.