”Ah, I see.” Macil crosses one leg over the other. ”That is a long tale, the roots of which are hidden in the beginnings of my people. Here is my rendition, as best as I can tell:”
”Several millennia ago, when the Helcelen were a loose organization of clans and tribes fighting each other on a scale far worse than today, there were also three great clans, just as there are now. This was before even the founding of Helcar, this city."
“The situation became so dire that finally, the clan-chief of the Angoni, called Fara, held a great council. After many days of wrangling, a Clan-Lord, a Tera-nor, was appointed as High King of all the clans. His name was Torna Sornion, and he decreed the building of a city that could house all of the Helcelen at one time in case of assault. That fortress became Helcar.”
“While Torna perished in war, his clan, the Sorni, took up the office of filling the Frozen Throne. But as time went on, gradually the High King mediated less and less, and became a weak and ineffectual ruler, who could not keep the power-hungry clans in check. So after several hundred years of peace, clans broke off and left, seeking their own lands, and war once again began to rule the Iron Mountains. The Narmani were the last to leave, and in the process attempted to take the throne for themselves. There has been bad blood between our clans ever since, though that is not the direct cause of this current war.” Macil looked apologetic. "I am not fit to fashion my answer into an epic saga, but there is such a legend that my people tell. You may perhaps hear it, while you abide here. But as for my own power, I am only in direct command of the Sorni, though I am addressed as Tera-Macil by all elves, Sorni or not.”