“


    “


    “


    The adjutant made some small adjustments to Rhode’s attire where he could, and then stepped away unsatisfied.


    “Rhode


    “Yea.”


    “You’ve got something in your hand.”


    “Oh, yea. I kinda forgot I have the potion?” Rhode admitted. He held it up and shook it gently. “Should I just take it now?”


    Fidelity Brand shook his head. He reached and took hold of the vial from out of Rhode’s enormous hand. “No, I will take it. With your leave, I shall secure it in your chambers for when you return.”


    “Kay. Thanks Brand.”


    “Mind your manners. Mind your mouth. Do what you’re told.”


    “Yea, I get it.”


    “It is important.”


    “I know.”


    “It is important.”


    “I KNOW.”


    “Good,” Brand said. He stepped further away. He hesitated. “Good. Then I’ll be off.”


    He stopped again. Rhode spread his arms impatiently.


    Ser Fidelity bowed. “Gods will it, your countryman shall join you shortly. Ere tonight, you will be one of two.”


    “


    The guards stepped aside, and he walked through the door.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    It was a person. It was a corpse. It was dead, but maybe it didn’t have to be.


    But there was yet one more soul present. There was a sixth attendee who stood apart from them all.


    “


    He received no reply.


    To see one another eye to eye.


    A head began to slowly turn.


    “Do you mind if I stand here with you? I kinda… I mean I kinda don’t know where to put myself.”


    orange


    Eyes were fixed on Rhode, and their pupils were unusually round.


    “Goodman Irving,”


    “Yea, hey. Uh, wow. Okay,” Rhode stammered. “I guess you’re probably important.”


    “


    Yagget’s hands were shaking violently as he finished his circle. He’d laid concentric rings of silver-powder, ash, salt, and sulfur. He struggled pitiably with the cord that tied his fifth substance. He fumbled so badly he nearly spilled it.


    “


    “Surprisingly apt. Though not your intention.”


    Rhode smiled back. Why shouldn’t he? He was getting somewhere.


    “We are not elf, in fact. We are Vodyonoi.”


    “


    “It means: they who came from waters. For Our ancestors, who sailed the sea long ago.”


    “that’s


    “The goblin tongue names Us ‘true’ elves. Or sometimes ‘high’ elves. Thus, you spoke correctly. We are what elves are meant to be.”


    Rhode tried to unpack that. Something in his heart rebelled against the callous eugenics of what he was hearing. The idea of it violated every sense of fairness, or brotherhood, or equity that he believed in. But still, there was just something about how he said it that sounded, “Badass. You’re like a super-elf. That’s cool. I’m Rhode.”


    “I mean, you knew that. You just said my name.”


    “Goodman Irving, We make allowances for the peculiarities of your culture. Your people make a game of informality. The lowest scum of your society would look upon the highest echelon; at one who holds their very fate in their hand, and that villain would dare address their given name.”


    “


    Rhode looked helplessly around him. He was confused, he was angry. And maybe he even knew what came next. “Seriously, man. Who even are you anyway?”


    “We are Second of the Sacred Crown’s last living issue. Third in succession to Suntide Throne. We are Prince of the realm.”


    “Llanthinanumen