“Have people used this metal and its extraordinary properties for good? I mean if we tell people about Azmoq ore here and help everyone live longer, isn’t that worth some lives changed? I mean the villagers can just move to a different place.”
Olmot smiled. “I wish everyone thought like you. Thinking of the actual greater good.”
Becoming more serious he said, “But that is not how the world is. People want to use the power of the metal to control and conquer, not to nurture and nourish. Its uses are still being discovered, but the research has only been on its destructive power for the many millennia since its discovery.”
“It’s been known for thousands of years and is still not understood well? How is that possible?”
Grim took over and spoke for what had to be the longest duration in my ten years working for him. “You have to understand how man’s fascination and understanding of the metal evolved,” he paused.
Then he told me the history of Azmoq.
Chapter 5: Legends of the past
“A few thousand years back…
Mankind started to realize that there were some places in this world where nature behaved differently from the rest of the world. These behaviors were not understood. There would be an area within a desert that would be freezing, or a place where force pulling us all down to the ground was weak, so one could jump as high as a tree.
It was seen, all those many millennia back, as a manifestation of divine will. One of the world’s first religions, the world’s largest for many centuries, now called Omokism after Stones of Omok, evolved around these sites, to worship their divinity. Slowly, some people started to realize there was one thing common among these places. It was a certain metal. These were the areas where Azmoq was found in high density. As people mined and purified pieces of it, they realized what this metal could do. It seemed to have a will of its own and people soon assigned divine powers to the metal instead of the places.
The first religion of man slowly faded away. The metal has always been extremely rare. This indicated to man back then, that this metal was special. A special presence, a divine presence. It was soon worshipped and the world’s second major religion, Eldurism, evolved around the metal itself. The exponential growth of Eldurism started after the founding of Azmoqshthaal, the current center of Eldurism. Interestingly, this also marked the start of our era. This year being 1628, is basically 1628 years after the founding of Azmoqshthaal.
After Azmoqshthaal came to be, a few centuries passed by. The age of the seven great kings arrived. The world got smaller as it was brought together under one rule. The rule of the original seven kings, who having started from a small, almost unknown city of Mahe, conquered all the five continents within their lifetime. Under their just and benevolent rule, the world had reached a phase of great stability and prosperity. The world’s golden age had begun.
Many schools of thought and pursuits emerged and were encouraged. Studies of various natures emerged, with one of them delving into nature of religion. Slowly, over the years, as blacksmiths studied the metal over and over, they realized that these powers of Azmoq could be predicted and better yet, controlled. It was not divine will, it was just a unique metal. The focus shifted from its divinity to how these powers could be shaped.
In the era of original great kings, during all these studies, there emerged a genius, a man of unparalleled intellect. He was Ayasiddh, the creator. There was never a man like him before, there hasn’t been a man like him ever since. He single handedly discovered many key properties of the metal. Using what he had learned, Ayasiddh forged seven swords with the metal, one dedicated to each of the seven kings. The world saw the power these weapons had. They saw some of these legendary swords in action, and it was never the same again. The world had woken up to the sheer destructive power that Azmoq could harness.
Then, inexplicably, Ayasiddh passed away, without passing on the knowledge that he had gathered, to anyone. He had students, who he taught some basics, but none had his mastery. With his death, the world lost the vital cog in its move towards conquering the metal. But the pursuit has continued. And in the only direction, which the world has come to know well—creating weapons. No one still understood how to use Azmoq for “good.” They continue to try and reach the mastery Ayasiddh had displayed in creating Azmoqian weapons.
A few hundred years later, when the golden age ended with the tragedy on Hephaeson, the volcanic island where the last seven kings died, conflict broke out across the world. In that time, these students of his and the schools they had established, continued to try and perfect Azmoqian weapons. But after the demise of the established order, the schools splintered away to join various factions and tried to help their respective countries to harness the power of Azmoq to conquer other countries. Even with the emergence of the Valantian Imperium, the direction of Azmoq research never changed. The direction remained the same as the one given by one man. A direction that has held the world’s attention for over a millennium.”
I was silent for a while. The history of this magical metal was fascinating. Almost unbelievable. I had so many questions in my head.
“Wow! Can’t believe this metal inspired religions and constant war. Ayasiddh seemed like quite a man. But couldn’t the students of his, study his swords and try to understand how he built them?”
“They could have. If the locations of the swords were known. Ayasiddh had created the swords as a tribute to the great kings. Consumed by his fascination of the metal, he created extraordinarily powerful objects. But many realized what his swords were being used for, what they had become a symbol for, including many of his students. Slowly, one by one, the swords were stolen or hidden by those afraid of their power. By the time the age of the seven kings ended, all the swords were lost.”
“I see. But… How do you know they were hidden?”
Grim paused and looked at me. “Well, to be honest, I don’t. But I can’t believe they could be destroyed. And they are not in active use. So they must be hidden.”
I agreed with his theory. Olmot seemed to agree as well.
He spoke, in almost a hushed tone. “Your hunch is correct. They were hidden… But no more.”
Both of us looked at him. Grim asked. “What do you mean?”
“A few years ago, one of the seven swords of legend was discovered.”
There was something in Grim’s expression that was unnerving. It was a mix of amazement and fear that I had never seen on his face.
Grim stuttered. “One of the… Which one? And when? And… How do you know that it is actually a sword of legend? Has it been… used?” Grim was really struggling to get words out.
Olmot replied solemnly. “This happened a couple of decades ago, right about the time when the revolution started.” Looking at me, he grumbled. “And before you ask kid, the revolution is a movement of common folk hell bent on destroying the Valantian Imperium’s power and ‘give the power back to the people.’ It is a vile and destructive…” he paused, to regain his composure, which he had rapidly lost.
“Sorry, I digress.”
Turning back to Grim as he calmed down, he continued. “The revolutionaries found the sword in the river Valkian. It was apparently in a section that unfroze for the first time in millennia. There is no doubt that this was Ayasiddh’s creation. The world leaders might deny it, but there is no way it can be a fake.”
“Why?” Both I and Grim asked in unison. Grim seemed to have regressed to a state of a nervous, naïve kid, just like I was.
“Well, that is simple. No smith in the world could create a sword similar to the Anzelmen….”
Grim was in shock. “The Anzelmen has been uncovered….”
Unlike Grim, I wasn’t shocked. I was just confused. What were these swords? Both of them spoke of the seven great kings, students of Ayasiddh, the Valantian Imperium, swords and many more things. All of them were equally new and confusing.
Grim then turned to me. “Well, kid, I think y
ou would get more confused as this conversation progresses. Why don’t you explore the hills for some time while I catch up with Olmot about the latest in the world?”
He said it in that tone of his, which I couldn’t disagree with. I had to leave, although wasn’t sure why. I mean, yes, I was getting confused, but what was the harm in letting me stay and listen to the conversation? But I had to find something interesting in the hills now.
The hills, that were so intriguing just a couple of days back, seemed mundane. The heavenly blue that was returning right around dusk, no longer felt special. Blue was just a color. The trees, plants, the birds, they were all boring right now. I was just more and more intrigued by what Olmot and my master were discussing. The metal Azmoq, seven swords of legend, one of which had been discovered. I wanted to know more about those things. What could the swords do? What all could the metal do? Who knew? The name Anzelmen, which meant “God of all elements,” in Deusorthok, seemed pretty boastful of the sword’s power.
But then, there was no point of me speculating in the middle of nowhere. I decided I would head back to the spot where Grim and Olmot were discussing these things and try to eavesdrop. As I got closer to where they were sitting, I couldn’t hear anything. It seemed like they were done talking. Then I saw them both. They both had already gone to sleep. I was really upset. There was nothing I could do. So I tried to go to sleep as well, but unsuccessfully.
When they woke up, their demeanors were markedly different from the night before. Olmot was unusually cheerful and Grim was back to his calm self. The change was quite unnerving for me.
Olmot woke up first, looked at me and spoke so cheerfully, it seemed like it was his wedding day. “Top of the morning to you! Where did you disappear to? We got done quite early and started to wonder where you were. Then Grim said that this usually happens at work and so there was nothing for me to worry about. So we decided to call it a night.”
First his demeanor was upsetting me. He was behaving as if nothing interesting had been discussed the previous night. Second, Grim accused me of wandering off at work? I knew he didn’t say that, but that was how he framed it. I was the one who would stay in the smith shop and work when he took those long walks in the woods. But I suppressed my anger, “I was just looking around in the woods for a bit. I figured your discussion would last longer. So, what did you two talk about? I know I wouldn’t understand a lot of it straight away, but we have time. It’s not like you or I are going anywhere anytime soon.”
Olmot paused and replied in the same irritating, cheerful tone that felt so put on. “Ah that. Well, we discussed the swords and all. Really, there wasn’t much to it. I was thinking about the whole thing after I lied down for a bit. I guess yesterday I was feeling a bit emotional about the whole age thing, so that reflected in our discussion as well. I spoke way too dramatically. Don’t attach too much importance to my words.”
I was exasperated. Why was he brushing this thing aside? Grim was clearly agitated the previous night and that could not be because of something trivial. But I pushed on, with a calm exterior. “Come on! The revolution, Ayasiddh, Azmoq, the swords of legend, the Anzelmen… all that can’t be trivial. Why aren’t you telling me anything?”
Olmot seemed a little uncomfortable, but continued cheerfully. “As I said, I probably got carried away. Ayasiddh and the swords are after all, just legends. Yes, there was talk of Anzelmen being discovered but that’s all it was, just talk. There isn’t any concrete proof available that a sword like that has been discovered. Put the thought of these things out of your mind.”
I was boiling over with anger when Grim woke up. He just looked at us and with his usual calm manner said, “Good morning” and headed off. He seemed normal. Did I imagine his nervousness the night before?
“There is no way I imagined it,” I told myself.
I had known the man for 10 years and he was never that agitated. But maybe… even he was a little disturbed, after I risked my life for him, so his responses might have been off. Doubt crept into my mind.
“No, no… something was up last night,” I thought to myself as I continued, ignoring Grim and his change in attitude.
“Ok… let’s say I believe that… What are the legends around the swords and Ayasiddh? I would really be interested to know about them. Like, what does the Anzelmen do? Can you control the weather with it? And, wait… even if these are unprovable legends, what about the revolution? And… Azmoq? And the fact that we are on a large Azmoq reserve?”
“Well, the reserve in Villasboro is something you should ask Grim. I don’t know what the truth is. But it’s something that does seems true, given the large age differences found here. And the ‘revolution’ did happen years ago, but it is of no importance right now. They were just a bunch of people having petty squabbles with our leaders. The revolution ended a long time ago, like it should have.”
Everything I asked was being dismissed by him, left right and center. I was feeling really dejected. I was sure there was more to it than what was being told to me, but I wasn’t sure why everything was being hidden from me. I didn’t think I would get too much from him, but I continued. “Hmmm… I see… I’ll ask Grim about the reserve when he is back.”
I was thinking of ways I could get more information. I held back all my dejection and tried to let only my curiosity appear on my face. “But, what are the legends around the swords and Ayasiddh? Would be fun to know!” I asked in a casual manner.
“Legends are a waste of time,” said a familiar deep voice behind me. Grim had come back. “Legends are small, simple truths which are exaggerated for effect over centuries until the truth is only the tiniest part of the story… The tales spun around it become the new reality.”
I was stumped again. There were two people who were actively trying to hide something from me. I knew I could go no further right away. But I was determined to get some more out of Olmot, who was definitely the more pliable of the two.
“Sure, Grim. I guess I also got carried away by the seemingly epic stories that Olmot spoke of. Let’s get back to the village… Maybe we’ll get to see some interesting plants or animals on the way.”
Grim’s face was unreadable, but Olmot seemed visibly relieved that I was letting it go. Now with a cheerfulness that seemed genuine, he said, “Yes, let’s do that!”
Then turning to Grim, he said, “Thanks again for the great meal yesterday. What say we try and get something as interesting or unique to eat for breakfast?”
He was handing over the reins to Grim for the rest of the journey. Grim replied with a monosyllabic “Sure” as we headed out.
We headed back towards the village as Olmot continually tried to engage Grim in conversation about the hills, various plants and trees he saw. But he didn’t get much. Grim was back to his normal, stoic self. His replies, while courteous, were mostly monosyllabic. I felt Olmot kept pushing his conversation about the hills to get my attention onto some other “interesting” topic. He tried some other topics also.
“You know what, I’ve been curious about another thing. While I have seen it in major cities in Morgenia, like Welehölla and Khratosh, I haven’t seen this level of racial and ethnic integration in smaller villages as I see in Villasboro. I wonder how that happened.”
That got Grim’s attention. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, while you have people with clearly Morgenian fair skin and blond hair, they aren’t the majority. There are many people of various skin colors, who must have had varied ethnic ancestors. The village physician, the lovely Florence, clearly is not of any well-known ethnicity, with her distinct skin and eye shape and color.”
Grim appeared nonchalant, but I could sense he was upset with this line of discussion. “We never think about another person’s skin color.”
Olmot’s tone shifted to repentant and defensive. “Oh no, no… I didn’t mean to offend… I am not one of those people from the smaller villages in Vesturia who discriminate. I feel delig
hted that there is such a diverse community here, living so peacefully with each other. I was curious of the origins of such a community, that’s all.”
The tension had lifted from Grim’s voice. “Of course. Well, as I said, it has never been identified as a distinction between anyone. I guess it stems from the fact that the community that founded the village was quite diverse.”
As Olmot raised his voice, Grim cut him off. “And before you ask, I don’t know the story behind the village’s creation.”
Olmot returned to silence, with his latest attempt at starting conversation having been foiled by the stoic Grim.
I was lost in my own world. I couldn’t care less about the hills, the racial or historical origins of the village. All I could think of was what had happened the previous evening. My discovery of my master’s insane method of relaxing, my attempt at “saving,” his life, the conversation that followed, about the rare metal and the mythical swords.
It was as if all events in my life were insignificant, compared to what was happening in the world at large, or even compared to others within my own village. What else did I not know? Did Flora smash down trees as her hobby? Did Johotei eat large rocks as a breakfast treat? Did I know anything or anyone in this world? My mind was going crazy with these thoughts.
Days passed as we walked back towards the village. Grim was trying to force the pace so that we could complete our journey back faster. And we would have, if Olmot hadn’t insisted on taking multiple breaks to rest. Olmot had tried to interest Grim in multiple topics of conversation over the first half of our walk back, but gave up after having no success. He tried to talk to me as well, but the topic he chose wasn’t the best.
“So if you don’t mind me asking, what happened to your parents?”
I didn’t mind. It was long back. And there wasn’t much to it. But it wasn’t something I wanted to talk about.
“Well, they went into the woods a few years back. While gathering some wood, a dead tree suddenly gave way and fell on them. They were grievously injured, and although everyone helped them back to the village and tried to heal them, they could not recover from their wounds. They died a couple of months later.”
Age of Azmoq: The Valantian Imperium Page 7
