Prologue: Thievery
Galain was not one to thieve, but when he found himself in Countess Narina Carvain's Private Quarters, the opportunity of great wealth made him too curious to pass it up. He had served as a pathfinder in the War of the Red Diamond, a deeply religious war, and had ended up on the slightly more lawful side. He was only twenty then, but age had now crept up on him, and he was not quite the eager soldier he once was. The things he witnessed in those times made him vow never to steal again. He had broken that vow once or twice already, but he still liked to say he was still a righteous sort of man, not a paladin by any means but still... righteous.
Back to the present however. The draped silk curtains above the bed hid anyone who might think of attacking the elf; a magnificent piece of furniture it was, with it's huge oaken posts carved by master craftsmen into the shape of roaring Akaviri snakemen. The eagle of Bruma was embroidered onto the curtains, set on the usual guard cuirass yellow. A glance around the room suggested this woman was more than wealthy - she was ridiculously rich, huge tapestries dangled from the enormous wooden beams that spanned the length of the room. Akaviri blades hung on every wall, and one side of the room was dedicated to a large, mouth-watering collection of rare items, each with it's own display pedestal or box. Rings, amulets, swords, maces, precious stones... you name it - it was there.
However, one item caught his attention, not because it was the most dazzling of all items displayed, but because it was the most inconspicuous, battered-looking book there. A closer look revealed a title written in rather fancy handwriting; The Legend of Ivellon by Marcus Scribonia. The book's display was locked, but nothing a dagger wouldn't break. Sure enough, the lock prised open with little effort, and his dear stiletto came out undamaged. He then lifted the display cover and picked up the old weathered tome. It was a stupid thing to be so hasty, as the case could have been trapped or cursed. However, something was drawing him to that book; an overwhelming wave of curiosity had hit him - as though he was possessed by some evil spirit, egging the elf on.
Old and battered as the book had looked from the outside, the pages were undamaged and wholly intact. Reading through the book revealed the legend of a once prosperous keep and dungeon from the First Era, Ivellon, one of Alessia's earliest Prisons for her Ayleid captives. It was unknown whether the Alessians built it, or the early Nedics, or any other race for that matter. But what was speculated (by some) is that the dungeons and great keep held hordes upon hordes of treasure waiting to be discovered by some daring and intrepid adventurer. At the time, it remained legend, but the events which were about to unfold were to show the real truth as to what happened these dungeons and how they seemingly disappeared off the face of Mundus.