It was dark by the time the caravan arrived in Ervanon. Bernice had fallen asleep, her head hanging limp over the basket, which threatened to fall. Saldur had nodded off as well, his head drooping lower and lower, popping up abruptly only to droop again. Through her window, Arista felt the cool, dewy night air splash across her face as she craned her neck to look ahead. The sky was awash in stars, giving it a light dusty appearance, and Arista could see the dark outline of the city rising on the great hill. The lower buildings were nothing more than shadows, but from within them rose a singular finger. The Crown Tower was unmistakable. The alabaster battlements that ringed the top appeared like a white crown floating high in the air. The ancient remnant of the Steward’s Empire was distinctive as the tallest structure ever made by man. Even at a distance it was awe-inspiring.
Surrounding the city were campfires, flickering lights scattered across the flats like a swarm of resting fireflies. As they approached, she heard voices, shouts, laughter, arguments rising up from the many camps along the roadside. They were the contestants, and there must be hundreds of them. Arista saw only glimpses as the carriage rolled past. Faces were illuminated by the glow of firelight. Silhouetted figures carried plates; men and boys sat on the ground laughing, tipping cups to their mouths. Tents filled the spaces in between and lines of tethered horses and wagons lay in the shadows.
The wheels and hooves of her carriage began a loud click-clack as they rolled onto cobblestone. They entered through a gate and all she could see were torches illuminating the occasional wall, or a light in a nearby window. Arista was disappointed. She had learned about the city’s history at Sheridan University and looked forward to seeing the ancient seat that had once ruled the world. In the power vacuum left after the fall of the ancient Novronian Empire, civil wars broke out and the people divided along their old Apelanese ethnic lines, forming the four nations of Apeladorn: Trent, Avryn, Calis, and Delgos. Within each of these, various warlords struggled for supremacy, battling their neighbors for land and power. After more than three hundred years of warfare, only one ruler ever managed to make a serious attempt at unifying the four nations into one empire again. Glenmorgan of Ghent ended the era of civil wars and, through brilliant and brutal conquests, unified Trent, Avryn, Calis, and Delgos under one banner once more. The Church of Nyphron threw its support behind him but reminded the people that Glenmorgan was not the Heir of Novron by naming him the Defender of the Faith and Steward to the Heir. They solidified the union by establishing the church’s base in Ervanon and built their great cathedral alongside Glenmorgan Castle.
The Steward’s Reign did not last. According to Arista’s professor, Glenmorgan’s son was ill suited to the task he inherited, and the Steward’s Empire ended only seventy years after it began, collapsing with the betrayal of Glenmorgan III by his nobles. It was not long before Calis and Trent broke away and Delgos declared itself a republic.
Ervanon was mostly ruined in the warfare that followed, but in the aftermath, the Patriarch moved into the last remaining piece of Glenmorgan’s great palace—the Crown Tower. From then on, the tower and the city became synonymous with the church and recognized as the holiest place in the world behind the ancient—but lost—Novronian capital of Percepliquis itself.
The carriage stopped with a jerk that rocked the inhabitants, waking Saldur and causing the old maid to gasp when her basket spilled to the floor.
“We’ve arrived,” Saldur said with a groggy voice as he wiped his eyes, yawned, and stretched.
The coachman locked the brake, climbed down, and opened the door. A rush of cool damp air flooded inside and chilled Arista. She stepped out, stiff and weak, her head hazy. It felt strange to be standing still. They were at the very base of the massive Crown Tower. She looked up and doing so made her dizzy. Even at that dark hour, the top stood out brightly against the night sky. The tower rested on a domed crest known as Glenmorgan’s Rise, which was the highest point for miles. Even though she didn’t climb a step, it appeared as if she stood at the top of the world as she looked beyond the ancient wall and down to the sprawling valley below.
She yawned and shivered and instantly Bernice was there, throwing a cloak over her shoulders and buttoning it. Sauly took longer getting out of the carriage. He slowly extended each thin leg, stretching them out and testing his weight.