Some argued that Nith, having a history of neutrality, and its having no strategic military value, was explanation enough. But others possessed of greater knowledge well knew that such hopes were ill-founded. If the truculent nature of Goblins were not enough to dispel such naïveté, there was always the Library, and that which it contained.
The Loremasters watched nervously as Prince Cir rode about on his horse, giving orders to the Goblin warlords and ranting about the shortage of supplies. They had no real purpose here within the ranks of the Goblin army, and were all too conscious that their presence was sorely needed in Valerian to maintain the Lore’s hold which preserved the Elf Kingdom.
They well knew that the Loremasters who remained in the King’s city were unscrupulous sycophants who would promise the King anything to maintain their status. But the cost of their status had long ago compromised anything they might have held of value, with the exception of the one thing of value that remained to them: their lives.
The King had charged them with preserving his son and seeking a cure for Prince Cir’s state of being; an impossible task. While in Valerian, they were able to put the King off with empty promises while they tended the Lore. Now they were cast adrift, abandoned to the whim of a ghoul, and surrounded by the warped descendants of the Elid-hranin.