The elven barracks towered over the military camp like a formidable sentinel, shrouded in the shadows of a summer evening. The building, constructed of pristine white stone, was adorned with intricate elven craftsmanship, yet every detail, from the wide gates to the sturdy walls, spoke of its primary purpose—protection. The perimeter of the barracks was surrounded by tall towers, their windows glinting with the reflections of magical lights. A gentle, warm breeze blew over the area, carrying with it the scents of summer—fresh grass, tree resin, and distant flowers.


    Patrols of elven warriors moved silently along the walls, their movements precise and deliberate. In the distance stood a small castle that served as the administrative center of the camp. Lights in the castle windows flickered on and off, betraying the late-night work of those planning the upcoming campaign. Outside, however, the atmosphere was more relaxed. A large bonfire burned in the center of the camp, around which dozens of elves—recruits and veterans alike—had gathered. They sat on roughly hewn benches, sipping ale from elegant goblets and sharing stories that elicited bursts of laughter.


    Eldarion and Calador sat nearby, enjoying the evening respite before the dangers ahead.


    Eldarion gazed thoughtfully at the dancing flames:


    ''''I keep wondering what awaits us in the lands of men. Will it be as they’ve told us? Or will it be far more complicated?''''


    Calador chuckled, taking a sip from his goblet:


    ''''Oh, I’m sure there’ll be a couple of widows in need of comfort. You know, Eldarion, I can’t wait to use my... natural charm.''''


    Eldarion rolled his eyes, accustomed to his friend’s crude thoughts:


    ''''You do realize this isn’t a pleasure trip, right? We’re heading into dangerous territory to help people, not to disgrace the honor of the army.''''


    But Calador was hard to stop:


    ''''Why disgrace? On the contrary, I’ll help repopulate their lands. That’s pure charity!''''


    A nearby elf, his face flushed from drink, loudly supported Calador:


    ''''Exactly! Someone’s got to restore the population!''''


    Everyone around burst into laughter. Eldarion merely sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, but said nothing. His friend, as always, was the center of attention. However, the laughter faded into silence when another elf rose from the circle. Tall and stately, he stood out with his appearance and demeanor. This was Gimlor, a warrior with aristocratic bearing. His gleaming armor reflected the firelight, and his gaze exuded confidence.


    Gimlor raised his goblet, and all eyes turned to him. His voice, resonant and penetrating, carried across the circle:


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ''''I want to say that I’m proud to be here with you, brothers. Trials lie ahead, but I know that with people like you, they’ll be easier to overcome. I wish each of us to return home with honor, with success, so that our names will be remembered in this kingdom. And let’s not forget each other, so that in the future, no matter how life unfolds, we can achieve power and wealth together!''''


    An elf sitting nearby, Elric, who could barely hold his goblet, shouted loudly:


    ''''Hey, Gimlor, are you planning a coup? Ha-ha!''''


    The joke caused a slight stir; even the guards standing nearby grew alert. But Gimlor didn’t falter. He turned to Elric with a smile and replied loudly:


    ''''I’m only planning to flip your bed, Elric. With your snoring, that’ll be a great victory!''''


    This remark sparked another burst of laughter, and the tension immediately dissipated. The guards turned away, returning to their duties. Gimlor, pleased with the effect, added:


    ''''Let’s drink to honor and courage!''''


    Everyone raised their goblets, clinked them together, and took a large sip.


    <hr>


    Four hours later, the bonfire began to die down, and most of the elves had gone to sleep. However, Eldarion, Calador, Gimlor, and a few of his friends remained by the flames. The atmosphere was quiet and almost intimate. Eldarion, gazing at the slowly dying fire, broke the silence:


    ''''What’s your dream? Each of you.''''


    One of Gimlor’s friends was the first to answer:


    ''''I want to build a house. A big, spacious one, so my children can run around while I work in my forge.''''


    Another elf smiled:


    ''''I want to move to one of the city-states. Live peacefully, far from all this politics and war.''''


    A third elf thought for a moment, then said:


    ''''To travel the world. I’ve always dreamed of seeing the desert lands beyond the kingdom.''''


    When it was Gimlor’s turn, he raised his eyes and spoke softly:


    ''''I want to reach the pinnacle of power. I want to know the truth about the Day of the Bloody Sun. My heart tells me there’s something unclean about that story. My parents, who were not insignificant in the kingdom, heard rumors that don’t align with what we’ve been told. I must find out what really happened.''''


    A heavy silence followed his words. Everyone around the fire exchanged glances, unsure of what to say. Gimlor lowered his gaze, realizing his words had created tension. But Calador quickly intervened to lighten the mood:


    ''''I heard the whole planet is run by greedy halflings. A bum in an alley told me that.''''


    Laughter instantly dispelled the tension. Even Gimlor smiled, shaking his head. Calador added:


    ''''But you know, I like your dream. If you reach the top, don’t forget about me. I want to become a screen star or own the best brothels in the capital. We agreed: we stick together.''''


    Gimlor smirked:


    ''''You, Calador, are a slippery one. But I must admit, you’re an interesting conversationalist.''''


    Eldarion looked at them and, when it was his turn, said quietly:


    ''''My dream is simple. I want to help people. That’s all.''''


    The others nodded. There was no hidden meaning or ambition in Eldarion’s words, but everyone respected him for the purity of his intentions. Gimlor looked up at the stars and said calmly:


    ''''It’s time for us to sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day.''''


    Eldarion nodded but added:


    ''''You go ahead. I’ll sit here a little longer. Goodnight, friends.''''


    The others wished him goodnight and dispersed. Eldarion remained alone. He sat by the dying fire, gazing at the glowing embers, and pondered the future. His thoughts were deep but calm, like the night that enveloped the elven camp.