Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonlance or any of the characters etc.
This is my first Fan Fiction! I would really appreciate constructive criticism and any ideas that you might have to improve my story. Thanks and enjoy!
Prologue: At the Library of Palanthas
Bertrem hurried through the cool marble corridors of the Library of Palanthas. His Master, Astinus the Chronicler, had requested his presence. Why would he need to speak with me? Bertrem thought worriedly. Have I done something wrong? Astinus rarely ever requested anyone's presence. He was always too busy recording the history of Krynn. Bertrem slowed his rapid sprint as he neared his master's room. He took a deep breath to try and calm himself. The result was not the calming remedy that he had hoped for. Here it goes. He thought as he quietly opened the door to his Master's room.
Bertrem glided into the chamber warily and bowed to Astinus who was seated at his desk. The great Chronicler didn't even look up from his writing when Bertrem entered the room. He didn't have time for such luxuries, for time was swiftly flowing and events needed to be chronicled. Bertrem hated to break the silence; well it wasn't truly silence although the only sound was Astinus's pen flowing across the book upon his desk. Thankfully Bertrem didn't have to.
"Bertrem," Astinus said as his pen continued to fly over the crisp parchment.
"Yes Master?" Bertrem asked apprehensively.
"There is something that you must do for me." Astinus stated without expression as he continued his fluid writing.
The Aesthetic's hands began to sweat. He shifted his weight back and forth and clenched his hands into fists as he replied, unsuccessfully trying to keep the fear and worry out of his voice.
"I would like you to interview the heroes from the War of the Lance, along with their families, friends, and other important acquaintances." Astinus told his flustered Aesthetic.
"But.. uh...wa..." Bertrem mumbled words incoherently as he tried to gather his thoughts. "Master, that is impossible!" Bertrem was finally able to say. "Some of the heroes are dead and others live all over Ansalon!" Bertrem blurted. He would have thought that his master was joking except that Astinus never did jest.
"It is not impossible." Astinus replied in a voice that was tinged with impatience and annoyance. "They will come, all of them. The gods will see to that. As to where you all should meet the most logical place would be the Inn of the Last Home."
"But Master...uh...bu..." Bertrem spoke more incoherent sentences. He was very confounded. His thoughts swam through his mind like a swiftly flowing sea.
"You will leave in the morning, Bertrem. Now leave me to my work!" Astinus commanded his Aesthetic in tones that were quivering with impatience. He even paused his writing and looked up to glare at Bertrem.
"Yes Master!" Bertrem responded quickly and after a swift bow he fled his Master's chambers, his strappy sandals echoing through the empty hallways. Bertrem returned to his own chambers and began to pack for the unexpected trip. How is this going to work? Bertrem thought worriedly. How?