《The Tale of Adireal: Innocence Lost》


 Prologue: A Death in the Night

    Smoke rose from a nearby battlefield, buffeted by the wind. The village had been poor to begin with, though being behind enemy lines for almost a month had failed to improve their situation. Those who could flee towards the capital had done so months ago; those who were left did their best to remain hidden. The fields had already been destroyed and the food was almost gone. A single dirt road wound its way through the small town.


    Small rickety buildings stood alongside the dirt road, property of the local peasantry. Many were broken down, or ill-maintained at best. Crumbling stonework, rotting wood, and broken glass were abundant. At the end of the lane resided a windmill, it¡¯s arms torn and broken. Like many of the surrounding buildings it practically lay in ruins, paint needing replaced long ago and the doors and shutters barely hanging onto their hinges. The front door creaked in the blowing wind as a babe began to wail in its cradle.


    An old man, long since confined to the last bed in the house, had roused the babe with one of his wet, wracking coughing fits. The family¡¯s other beds had been sold for food and medicine, things that seemed to be luxuries since the children''s parents died. There were no table nor chairs, though the family had kept the cradle for the babe and some kitchenwares.


    Their father perished during a skirmish with the menfolk invaders; their mother lost her life shortly after childbirth. The doctor reluctantly provided essence of tralvah berries for the babe; the tralvah plant had been rare before the war started and was almost impossible to find now. The juice of the berries could be mixed with water to nourish sickly elveen, though the doctor warned the baby would always be stunted and temperamental. The family had been millers and had hardly saved any funds for emergencies like this and were fortunate for the charity. What little they had saved had gone toward their father''s sword and armor, shortly before the menfolk crossed the borders into their lands. The pegs on the wall that held the armaments had been both empty and dusty for years.


    A young elve, hardly past his thirtieth year, was slicing potatoes and onions on a cutting board. He was making the only dish his mother had taught him before she died: Potato soup. Sometimes, the old man could drink the broth; those were the good nights. Most nights were filled with coughing and wailing.


    The boy finished slicing the onions, and his eyes were still stinging as he started to peel the potatoes. He was trying to wipe away a  tear from his eye when his hand slipped. The knife cut into his fingertip and slipped to the ground; blood trickled from the wound. He slumped to the floor, defeated, abandoned. He began to weep; deep gut-wrenching sobs tore away from his lips, fat tears streaked down his face. The young elve''s sobs drowned out the other noises, leaving him unaware of his surroundings.


    The elve failed to notice that the wind had died down. The front door had quit creaking and remained completely closed for the first time in a week. He was also oblivious to how dark the room had become; even though the shutters were still open only a few scarce rays of light came in. Something moved within the darkness, quietly watching the boy. It was only when it spoke that the elve noticed.


    "Always with the tears, Daryl. My offer still stands, I can take you away from all of this."


    The shadows coalesced into a form that stretched from the ground to the tip of the rafters, well over twelve feet tall. The being was bedecked by claws and fangs, a half dozen tentacles and a tail. Rather than skin, it was covered in scales and fur. Foot-long spines jutted out from between the scales, dripping some sort of noxious, ichorous substance. The young elve gazed at the beast and shook his head, without a trace of fear, before wiping at the tears on his face. He sniffled and blew his nose on his sleeve before speaking.


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    "I tole you ta go ''way."


    The beast chuckled slightly and sat down on the floor. He paused for a few moments in silence and used the tip of his claws to draw patterns and pictures in the floor. It glanced to the young elve, who sat with his arms crossed and his nose wrinkled, and smiled again as it spoke.


    "DARYL. I''m just here to help. I can take you away from this,¡± the beast gestured about the room for emphasis. ¡°I can make sure you''re always fed and there will never be a need for these tears again."


    Almost as if on cue, the old man started into another fit. The coughs sounded wet and his body pitched back and forth. The babe, who had just started to settle down, wailed with a newfound intensity. The young elve clenched his fists and shook his head violently, tears sliding down his cheeks once more. The creature waited, its smile broadening across its shadowy lips.


    Some time passed before Daryl wiped at his eyes once more and peered at the beast. The light outside had faded to dusk. Daryl took a deep breath to steady himself before replying,  "Wha-what do I have to do?"


    The smile upon the creature''s face widened again, showing off its mismatched teeth and fangs. Its tail lashed out, and in the near darkness was almost impossible to follow even though it was easily four times as thick as the young elve¡¯s arm. As it hit the ground, tiles crunched and shattered while something slid across the floor. It glittered from the lingering light cast by the window, and skittered to a stop at Daryl¡¯s feet. Small and metallic, its tip was still stained with potato juice and blood even after rolling in the dust on the floor.


    "I''m sure you will think of something, Daryl. You always struck me as a clever boy."


    Daryl picked the knife up and stared at it in silence. The beast waited, the only motion it made was a slight flicking of its tail, back and forth across the floor. Eventually, Daryl blew his nose into the elbow of his sleeve, and shakily rose to his feet. The old man''s breath rasped, his fit finally over. The babe¡¯s cries grew quieter and more plaintive; it was past time for his meal.  Daryl''s hand gripped the blade tightly, and his knuckles faded to white.


    The beast''s tongue lolled from its mouth as Daryl lurched towards the bed. The old elve stared toward the ceiling, his face etched with pain and exertion from his fit. As Daryl raised the knife, his grandfather watched without a hint of emotion. Tears streaked down Daryl¡¯s cheeks again, though instead of sobbing Daryl only mouthed the words "I''m sorry," as he lifted the blade. The old man shook his head in a sickly, slow motion. Daryl closed his eyes and turned his face away as the blade descended.


    Daryl felt the blade bite into flesh as the old man started coughing again. Something sounded different this time though, as if the old man were gargling. The babe wailed again, startled by the noise. Daryl brought the blade down again and again until the old man was silent; his arm, face and clothes had become soaked in blood. He wasn''t sure how many times he stabbed the old man, though his arm and hand now ached.


    Daryl sat and looked over the old man''s still form, gently stroking his grandfather¡¯s hand. He sat for a long while and wept.  Eventually, the tears dried and Daryl felt a hand clasp his shoulder.


    ¡°Ah, Daryl, I knew you would think of something. Shall we take our leave of this wretched place?"


    Daryl wiped his nose on his sleeve, accidentally smearing more blood across his face in the process. He looked over to the wailing infant and hesitated.


    "Ah yes, that thing. Why don''t we let nature take it''s course, and take care of more important things. You look hungry, Daryl. Why don''t we get you that food . . . Unless you would rather stay?"


    Daryl shook his head. The door unlatched, and opened without assistance, as the pair left the house without a backward glance. The shadow beast slid his arm around Daryl''s shoulders, and allowed itself a small smile.

 Chapter 1: Birthday Wishes

    "Hey, HEY! Come on sleepy head, it''s your birthday. Or did you forget?"


    A large winged woman stood over a small bed, her hands poised on her hips. A pair of claws reached out of the mass of pillows and blankets, stretching for the ceiling. The claws, and the arms attached, had golden scales covering any indication of flesh. A young man pulled himself up and grinned.


    "I didn''t forget Ysbella! I''m forty-five today!"


    "And yet you still act as if you are in your twenties . . ." The seraphim smiled impishly as the young man threw a pillow her way. "Your father made time to have breakfast with you. You shouldn''t keep him waiting."


    "Argus is waiting? He''s always busy with people! I''ll be down in a minute!" The young man tossed his blankets off and pulled the bed¡¯s curtains to the side before hopping to the floor. He grinned at the seraphim and spread a single set of wings, stretching his entire body. He turned and bowed to the angel. "Thank you Lady Ysbella, I am indebted to your foresight and good nature."


    Ysbella chuckled and inclined her head. "Maybe you are growing up Adireal. Be sure you wear something nice today."


    "Nice like good clothes or nice like court clothes?" The young elve wrinkled his scaled nose in disgust. "I could stand good clothes for a while, but I wanted to do something fun today!"


    "Court clothes. Your grandfather has divined that today is an opportune time to crown your brother as the heir to the throne." Ysbella moved towards Adireal''s changing room, opening the last of three armoires, and began to search through his fine clothing.


    ¡°No.¡±


    Ysbella looked over her shoulder at him, pausing her search for a moment. ¡°I¡¯m sorry? What exactly are you disagreeing with?¡±


    Adireal walked over to the window and looked out. ¡°It is nice out today. There is barely a breeze, the sun is out. I want a flying lesson today, and maybe spend some time in the woods.¡± He turned towards her, fists clenched and shook his head. ¡°I wanna do something FUN today! Grandpa Ranvaas ALWAYS does something to ruin my days!¡±


    The angel turned back towards the armoire, hiding her face from the boy. ¡°Adireal, we cannot change the will of the Gods. Ranvaas, as the eldest and wisest elve, merely reports their desires to us. The nobles have been summoned and will arrive later today.¡±


    The young elve walked back to his bed and began to remove his shirt. ¡°It seems like too much of a coincidence that they always do what he wants.¡±


    Ysbella paused again, though she did not turn to look at him. ¡°What is that supposed to mean?¡±


    Adireal kicked a post on his bed, shunting the entire bed slightly, and muttered, "Ranvaas is an ass."


    "Adireal!"


    Adireal stomped his foot. "Well he is. He talks crazy stuff all the time, he always has his smelly friend nearby and he always avoids me. Whenever he has to see me, he talks to me like I''m a slave."


    Ysbella sighed. "Ranvaas is old Adireal. He sleeps for two weeks at a time and when he wakes he is very busy."


    "And cranky."


    Ysbella inclined her head and sighed. "Yes Adireal, and cranky."


    Adireal walked over to the changing room and examined the clothes Ysbella had selected. "Uck. Too frilly. Will this be all day?"


    Ysbella nodded. "That''s why Argus is waiting. And Ranvaas does care for you Adireal; he just has a hard time showing it."


    "He hasn''t been to a single function involving me in over thirty years. He needs to sleep, he needs to work, or just talk to the Gods, or whatever. He always manages to be awake for Adonis though."


    Ysbella sighed again and shrugged her shoulders. "Your brother will be King one day. Ranvaas is watching over him and making sure things go smoothly. This reign will be important, for both of you really. Ever since the menfolk declared war on your kingdom, times have been troubled."


    The young elve''s shoulders slumped as he considered her words. "Do we have to fight them? What did we do to the Tillites anyhow?"


    "It appears so. They claim they want to destroy all of us. They hate magic and feel we are unnatural.¡± She sighed slightly. ¡°Let us speak of other things today though, for today is a day for happiness."


    Adireal took a new set of clothes into the changing room. Clothing rustled for a moment and Adireal called out in a hushed tone. "Y-Ysbella?"


    "Does it not fit?" Ysbella could hear fidgeting noises from the other side of the door.


    "No, it''s not that. Um. I had that dream again last night."


    Ysbella stood silent and waited.


    "It was the one with the boy and the baby. Even with all the other horrible things that happen in it, I always end up wondering if the baby died. I never get to see what happens."


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    "It always surprises me what a tender heart you have Adireal. I''m sure that if your dream has a happy ending, the baby wound up doing fine."


    Adireal emerged from the room, still tugging things into place. "But it wasn''t a happy dream. Why would it have a happy ending?"


    Ysbella deftly tightened and tied up the Adireal¡¯s doublet. Sewn with silver and gold thread, the doublet displayed a grove of birch trees on a fall day. The golden thread used for the leaves caught the light nicely, and the silver for the birch trees also shone brightly.


    "Well, one can always hope." She offered a jacket to the boy. "Your father is waiting Adireal. You should hurry."


    Adireal gave Ysbella a somber nod, still lost in thought, and walked towards the door. He turned and ran back to the Seraphim. She looked down in surprise as he threw his arms around her and squeezed tightly.


    "Thanks Ysbella. I''m sure I will see you soon."


    Ysbella smiled as Adireal let go of her and ran for the door. Ornate and made from stones mined deep under Grimhorn Keep, the door had been a gift from the Wind Chisel Dorves for Adireal¡¯s twenty-fifth birthday. He had broken more than a half-dozen of the densest wood doors the elves could make. This door stood ten foot tall and was so stout most of the elveen servants required a second elve to help pull it open, yet Adireal pushed the door open and close with a single hand. The door thudded behind him and he turned to the hallway that would lead down to the main hall.


    Adireal hurried along, though the court clothes made it hard to run. Allowances had been made for his wings, yet it was far too difficult to get the fabric to stretch enough for the purposes of flight. So Adireal jogged down the hallways, dodging servants as he went. When he took corners he let his claws idly drag across the stone, a bad habit he developed when he was younger. The marks left in the wall irritated several of the high ranking servants, and made Argus shake his head, but Adireal did it anyway. It infuriated Ranvaas, who believed that everything in the castle belonged to him. That was more then enough of a reason to continue.


    Down the stairs Adireal went, passing from the Royal Quarters, through the living area and now heading down to the main hall. This was a back way, the servants way really, and Adireal used it frequently rather than take the long way about. It was another thing that pissed Ranvaas off. Made him shout about propriety and decency and how the end of times were coming.


    The stairs exited to a hallway lying between the kitchen, the main hall and the dining area. Adireal''s ears pricked as he heard something from the dining area. Many of the servants had found out the hard way that his hearing was far more acute than theirs. It was easy enough to make out the conversation; even the cooks in the kitchen were likely to hear the yelling from the dining area. Old, cranky-ass yelling.


    "--it is not a toy Argus! It is not a god forsaken toy! It is a weapon and should be treated as such. This--this is why we are losing this war. You are far too busy eating to even entertain the thought of helping with something productive. What should Adonis think? This is rightfully his day after all!"


    Adireal crept closer to the dining entry way. He was closer to the tables then he would have been coming through the main hall. He poked his head around the corner and watched his father and grandfather go at it.


    His father was sitting in his dining spot at the head of the table, dressed in his semi-formal robes. Green and flowing, decorated with images of leaves and animals, it was the sort of clothing for religious days. Argus had yet to develop grey hairs, even though he was slightly over three-hundred years. He had managed to develop a bit of a pot-belly; the elves knew that their king was quite fond of his food and drink.


    Ranvaas was quite stark in comparison. Thin, almost to the point of looking starved, he hardly took any time for anything other than his magic experiments and his duties to the gods. He always wore exceedingly formal and detailed clothing; it took the servants quite some time to prepare him when he awoke. Today he wore one of his favorite outfits: seventeen separate pieces, four layers, woven from the silk of a rare caterpillar who lived in terrain near the menfolk. The making of the suit had employed over a dozen workers for almost a month and one of the nobles had presented it to Ranvaas in a small ceremony.


    Argus held a hand up, motioning for the elder elve¡¯s silence. "Ranvaas, this is still Adireal''s birthday. I will respect and honor both my sons today, but for right now I am going to enjoy a little bit of time with my youngest. I would imagine that Ysbella has already prepared him--¡±


    Adireal peered on as the hall door swung open and a third figure shuffled into the room. It was hard to mistake this elve, for he was Ranvaas¡¯s right hand. Shriveled by elveen standards, and a hunchback as well, he not only had a problem moving about but he also had a problem with bathing. Esventin was his name, and he clearly enjoyed his role as Ranvaas¡¯s toady. Like Ranvaas, no one knew exactly how old he was. He slept little, which was beyond peculiar for his age, and was very prideful. Anything he heard would surely be reported to Ranvaas as quickly as possible.


    His hands flailed as he hobbled into the room. ¡°Master, master,¡± he puffed between breaths, Lord Ranvaas!¡± He passed the first ten feet of table, obviously in great distress. ¡°Lord Ranvaas,¡± he shouted again as he approached the table. Once he finally reached the pair, he leaned against the table for support, practically choking from the exertion. ¡°Master, mas-¡± he tugged on Ranvaas¡¯s sleeve and peered across the table, noticing Argus for the first time. ¡°Y-y-your L-Luh-Lordship,¡± he stuttered with a slight nod. He glanced only briefly at Argus before going back to the matter at hand. ¡°Master! The-the lords! The ladies! They are here!¡±


    Ranvaas¡¯s fist slammed into the table as he sneered at Argus. ¡°Good. Maybe that will set things into motion. You can have twenty minutes of playtime Argus. After that I am bringing in the family leaders. Be prepared, your Lordship.¡± With a sneer still plastered across his face, Ranvaas turned to leave, pausing to speak over his shoulder for just a moment. ¡°Remember, Argus, which of the children is the important one.¡±


    With that, Ranvaas strode away, confident and arrogant as always. Esventin gave a slight nod to his king before shuffling off behind his master. Ranvaas waited for Esventin to open the hall door and strode partially through before turning again. ¡°Eighteen minutes Argus. If the Beast doesn¡¯t show, I certainly hope you enjoy the time to reflect on what is right and proper.¡± In his rage, Ranvaas grasped the ring on the door in a firm two-handed grip and slammed the door shut by himself.


    Adireal poked his head out from behind the corner. His father looked disappointed. ¡°Father? I understand you wanted to see me?¡±


    Argus perked up and peered about, first towards the main hall, then along the sides of the room taking extra time to eye around the tapestry. It would not have been the first time Adireal had hidden in plain sight. Finally, he glanced over to the servant¡¯s hall. The elder elve tsk tsk tsk¡¯d at his son and waved him over.


    ¡°I assume you heard most of that? No point in me pretending otherwise. Looks like we haven¡¯t as much time as I had hoped.¡±


    Adireal stared at the ground as he approached his father¡¯s seat. He nodded with a soft and sad look upon his face, though he didn¡¯t say a word. No matter what Ysbella had said it was clear: Ranvaas hated him with a passion. ¡°I¡¯m sorry father, I wish I had been up sooner. Maybe you should go get--¡±


    ¡°Adireal, look at me.¡± Adireal¡¯s head pulled up from its slump and he met his father¡¯s eyes. ¡°Adireal, I¡¯m still King here. Ranvaas can cajole and threaten all he wants, but we both know he would hate to risk losing face by disrupting a private royal meal. He will wait, at least for a little while. Still, we have little time to ourselves. Let us enjoy it.¡±


    Adireal spirits lifted, and he smiled before racing over to his spot. Being the youngest son, he was allowed to sit in the fourth spot facing the eastern wall. The King sat at the head of the table, with the Queen or the Consort and then lady Ysbella and then the King¡¯s children facing the eastern wall. Facing the western wall was the Crowned Prince, Ranvaas in this case, then typically his wife or consort, and then their children. Esventin took the place of any family Ranvaas would acknowledge, and between the two even mealtime was stressful.


    Argus shook his head. ¡°Forget that nonsense. I want to look at you today; it is your forty-fifth birthday and you are soon to be an adult. Come, let me see what an Elve you have grown to be.¡±


    Adireal grabbed his chair with an even broader smile. The backs of the chairs stood six feet tall and each chair was one solid piece of wood. Moving them was a chore at the best of times for the servants, but Adireal managed the task quickly.


    For almost thirty minutes the two talked, Argus asking about Adireal¡¯s studies and Adireal asking about the kingdom. Argus never gave straight answers regarding the kingdom nor the war; at best his replies were along the lines of, ¡°When you are more learned in the ways of the world we may discuss such things,¡± or, ¡°Your lessons will answer that for you soon enough.¡±


    Finally, Ysbella cracked the main hall door open and slipped her head in. ¡°Argus,¡± she whispered, ¡°They are waiting for you.¡±


    The King rose and clasped his son¡¯s shoulder. ¡°It seems the times for happiness are over already. The matters of the realm call me away too soon, son.¡± Adireal nodded, tears forming in his eyes. ¡°Now, none of that. We will do this again soon. It was good for my soul; it is not often that I am able to see my son in such a frank manner. Maybe we should have Adonis also attend next time,¡± Argus asked with a wink.


    ¡°Yes father, I think all of us would enjoy that.¡±


    ¡°Then it¡¯s settled. I will make time for a private dinner at the end of this week. The next few days will be filled with feasting and duty-filled pleasantries, so there won¡¯t be much time for anything. I shall see you tonight, Adireal.¡±


    Adireal nodded to his father and nibbled on the last of his pastries.


    Argus¡¯s face clouded over with a stern look. ¡°And Adireal?¡±


    ¡°Yes father?¡±


    ¡°Stay out of trouble. Today would not be the best day for an adventure.¡±


    With that, Argus leaned down and embraced Adireal. ¡°Be well,¡± he whispered.


    Adireal grasped him tightly. ¡°Thank you father. This was a wonderful gift. I will see you at the ceremonies.¡±


    With a heavy sigh, Argus stood and walked toward the main hall. Ysbella opened the door completely and held it for Argus. The King passed without a glance back, shouting greetings to those in the next room. Ysbella smiled at Adireal and nodded slightly before closing the door.

 Chapter 2: Killers in the Court

    Adireal watched as the servants cleared the food and plates from the table. He was unsure of what to do; since today was the day that Adonis was named the Heir, most normal functions would be cancelled. It was more of a holiday than an official function, so most of the kingdom would be celebrating. He would have no classes, and certainly no sparring or weapon training. Ranvaas would be hovering over Adonis, so it was unlikely that his brother would be available for anything the old wretch did not approve of. It would seem that, for a while at least, he was left to his own devices.


    Adireal nodded to the the servants as he rose from the table. Soon they would be filling these halls with food and decorations for the banquet. He idly wandered through the castle, avoiding the main hall and other places officials and royalty were sure to gather. He paused for a moment outside the chapel. Many commoners would be visiting their shrines and temples today to offer prayers to the gods who protected the Elveen for a bright and prosperous reign, and a successful closing to the war.


    Praying for the war to end would be troubling though. Of the four gods who created the Elveen and shaped the lands of Albast, only two remained loyal to them. Laltier was their Father. He made the forms of the Elveen people after his brother Niltuil created the flora and fauna of Albast. The other two gods, Pintil and Lipiteal, were noble thousands of years ago, but had long since fallen into wickedness. Pintil had been the defender of the Elveen; now he was at eternal war with them. While Laltier designed the plants and creatures in Albast, it was Lipiteal who had breathed the very essence of life into Laltier''s creations, including the first Elves. Over time, something changed within Lipiteal, and his body rotted away; he only loved dead things now. They called him the Lord of Hunger.


    For the war to truly end, and not just with the menfolk that plagued the Elves, the Elveen would have to destroy a part of themselves. Even now, so long after their betrayal, the priests believed that the Fallen still heard Elveen prayers from within these chapels and shrines, though any blessings they granted were twisted and cruel.


    Adireal mulled over what to pray for, and was glad there was almost no one there. Since this chapel lay inside the castle, few people came to use it. The acolytes were preparing for the religious parts of today¡¯s ceremony, loading herbs into censors, reciting holy chants, and other such things. Adireal''s ears twitched as he heard something out of place. Glancing about he saw nothing; finally looking up he noticed something black in the rafters. A crow, or perhaps a raven, had built a nest in the chapel.


    Usually, crowning a Heir was a once a lifetime occurrence, and with Ranvaas hounding everyone, Adireal could only assume that it would have to be beyond perfect. He would have to report the bird to someone, but for now he would just offer his prayers to the Gods. The priests who were working on preparations avoided Adireal as he approached the altar.


    The altar was covered with a green cloth, symbolizing the forest from which the Elves came. Scattered across its surface were red berries and white candles, which symbolize the land that was made for the Elves and their lives which slowly flickered away. At the center of the altar lay an unlit brazier with piles of parchment scraps, symbolizing the trees of the forest. A small table to the side held quills, and a mortar and pestle. The mortar was stained red from previous offerings.


    Adireal took one of the small candles from atop the altar and lit the brazier, thanking Laltier for the life he had been given. He took a handful of berries and placed them into the mortar, quickly grinding them into a soupy paste, thanking Niltuil for his home and nourishment. He set the pestle down and took up a piece of parchment and the quill. Quickly he wrote out his prayer.


    ¡°Laltier, Niltuil, thank you both for the life I have been given. I pray to you that I may take care of my family, as my family has taken care of me.


    Adireal Darksbane¡±


    He folded the parchment piece in half and threw it into the fire. An acolyte approached and smiled at the prince. Adireal nodded toward the acolyte; he always felt uncomfortable talking to them. Their long robes and deep hoods obscured most of their features, making it hard to tell whether they were Sons or Daughters of the Forest god. The acolyte chanted while waving their hands in the motions of complex runes. Adireal bowed and shuffled away. He glanced back several times, watching the flames flicker and eventually die, releasing the smoke that would carry his prayer to the gods. Had Adireal watched a moment longer he would have seen a raven hop out of its nest and fly through the smoke after him.


    The halls of the castle were still empty; most of the servants were working in the main hall and the dining area. A young man was polishing the floor with a rag. Adireal smiled and nodded to him as he passed by. With nothing else to do, Adireal reluctantly returned to his room. The ceremony was still a few hours off, and he really didn¡¯t want to do anything that might prove disastrous.


    His room had been cleaned while he was downstairs. The bed was made and the clothes he had left out were put away. He walked over to his small bookshelf and selected something to read at random. It turned out to be one of his favorites about the Drakkan Wars, when the Elveen armies pushed the Drakkans out of Albast. He lay down on the bed and began to read. A short time later he drifted off to sleep.


    With sleep came dreams. Monsters and menfolk roamed the countryside, killing villagers and burning homesteads. They were led by a thin, lanky person. It looked male, though its race was hard to determine; he was pale and scarred and his throat bore a pulsing jet-black mass. Tendrils of this mass wound its way through his face and down into his chest. An Elveen soldier rushed the diseased man, thrusting a spear towards the black mass. The diseased man lifted a large hammer, made of solid stone and longer than four feet in length, and smashed the soldier apart with a single blow.


    The focus of the dream shifted and suddenly Adireal could see a squat Gnomish figure leading another army. He rode on the shoulders of a giant metal man. The gnome looked gaunt and pale; even worse than the man with the hammer. His skin stretched tightly over his bones. Behind him was a howling mob of what may have been Elves at some point. Some were missing limbs and flesh, others had obvious fangs and claws. They leapt upon villagers, ripping their throats out and devouring their flesh. Soldier¡¯s spears pierced their bodies, to no avail. The two armies surged towards each other, screaming, howling.


    Adireal awoke with a start. He was out of breath and covered in sweat. The bedsheets were torn apart, most likely by his claws. The sun was much lower in the sky. As he peered at the light coming through his window he realized something.


    ¡°Shit,¡± he cried, leaping from the bed. ¡°I¡¯m late!¡±


    He rushed down the hallway and debated which path to take.


    ¡°I¡¯d save time going the servants way, but Ranvaas, and maybe dad, would kill me! Shit, I better head the normal way.¡±


    He barely kept from running, which was fortunate. The first corner he rounded he slammed straight into Ysbella. The eight foot angel was solidly built; Adireal bounced off of her as if he had run into a wall.


    ¡°Where have you been?¡± she asked. She looked incredulous and irritated.


    ¡°M-my room. I was reading, being good an-and I fell asleep. I just woke up and-¡±


    Ysbella sighed and offered Adireal a hand up. ¡°Come on. They are running behind anyways. Ranvaas had a fit over some of the decorations, said they failed to be legible enough.¡± Pulling Adireal to his feet, Ysbella dusted him off as she examined him. ¡°Well. No ripped clothing. No stains. You¡¯ve done well enough after all, Adireal. Let us head down.¡±


    Adireal nodded and fell in behind the Seraphim, thankful to have avoided being reprimanded. When they reached the main hall the crowds parted for them, allowing quick access to the meeting hall where the Naming would take place. Silently, Adireal followed Ysbella, afraid he may yet get a scolding or offend someone here. It was now long after the nobility had arrived and this room was mainly filled with commoners. Several cheered as they went by and Adireal felt more than one hand pat his back or his shoulder.


    The meeting hall had fourteen tables, one for each noble family and one for the royal family. Sadly, three tables lay empty. Two noble houses had been destroyed by the menfolk. The other was lost to a monster attack, and some whispered that it had been Pintil¡¯s doing. To get to the tables, Adireal and Ysbella had to pass the commons area. It was filled with benches so as to squeeze more people in. Some folk were weeping, though Adireal could not tell if it were for joy or for the reminder of those who had been lost. Many folk were laughing, shouting and cheering. Several people waved at Adireal, though few were so bold as to touch him. Ranvaas watched the proceedings from the Royal table, and the icy glare he wore could have cooled a roaring fire.


    Adireal waved back to the commoners, clasped a few proffered hands, and as he passed by the noble families he took a little time to greet each of them. Ysbella stood back a short distance and allowed her charge some privacy while he talked. Adireal already knew most of the people. He had even played with some of their children during other royal events, while the adults had taken care of stately affairs.


    He greeted the first table with a bow, and a kiss to the Lady¡¯s proffered hand. Lady Alaisa dressed simply in a flowing emerald gown; her Soulstone and both her and her husbands rings were the only jewelry that she bore. She and her four children represented House Torfel; Lady Alaisa had been widowed when her husband died fighting undead the year before. Lusre and his wife Daussil were at the next table. They represented House Miah, which bordered the lands of Krillith the Wise, the only human lead nation which did not hate the Elveen. Ghaleerin sat at the third table alone; as of yet he was unmarried, and when asked he only mentioned that he intended to remain that way. He represented House Joulot. Young Lord Caldemdian was at the fourth table, alone as well. Both his parents died in a mysterious fire two and a half years prior. He lead House Tallavaun.


    Not everyone was happy to see Adireal. The Elve at the fifth table refused to even make eye contact. His name was Lord Vallofia. He was good friends with Ranvaas, practically another stooge like Esventin. He ruled House Daelrech, bordering the Dorven lands. Adireal greeted him out of politeness; at least one of them was capable of doing their duties. Ysbella gave Vallofia a cold stare as they passed, though it seemed that the Lord could care less. His attention was tuned to Ranvaas¡¯s smile. Smirking, he muttered, ¡°That¡¯s right. Take the beast away, Angelkin.¡±


    Adireal gritted his teeth and had to fight to keep his claws sheathed. It was not the first time something like this had happened. Fortunately though, no one else was quite so rude. He already knew which of the older Elves would not want to touch him. His scales disgusted more than a few of the nobility, so he did not offer to shake their hands. The greetings continued for some time, inquiring as to people¡¯s health and how the year had gone. Finally, Adireal managed to get to the royal table.


    He was seated across from Ranvaas and Esventin, and next to Ysbella. His brother and his father were absent, which was to be expected. His brother should almost be done getting blessed, and his father would likely be reciting his speeches one last time. Ranvaas gave him another cold stare, accompanied with a sneer.


    ¡°The,¡± Ranvaas gritted his teeth and spat out the next word as if it were a curse, ¡°Boy is late, Ysbella. You are his keeper. I had assumed you could manage such a task. Do we need to find you some help?¡±


    Ysbella sniffed and stared back at Ranvaas, bereft of any emotion. ¡°Had your men but checked his room, Prince Ranvaas, they would certainly have found him. He had been studying history and lost track of time.¡±


    Ranvaas¡¯s attention snapped back to Adireal. ¡°Is this true boy? Did you manage to do something right for once? Who were you reading of? Which era were you stu--¡± Ranvaas stopped mid sentence when he noticed the frightened look Adireal gave him. ¡°You were reading about the Draakan again.¡± Adireal glanced down at the floor, hiding his embarrassment. ¡°Your preoccupation with the creatures is disturbing. They were horrendous to our people. Betrayers and vile murderers. It often surprises me at how well you are accepted.¡± Ranvaas sighed and stared off into the crowd. ¡°At least you managed to not ruin anything today. I am thankful for that.¡±


    Adireal poked his head up and looked at his grandfather. Ysbella also gave him an odd look.


    Ranvaas shrugged and explained. ¡°Yes, well, do not let the praise go to your head. Today is a happy day and I suppose even the least of us deserve some happiness.¡± The elder Elve gave one of his rare smiles and shrugged once more. ¡°Things appear to be going quite well and this pleases me.¡±


    Adireal nodded his head in acceptance; it was hardly praise but if Ranvaas was promising to be civil, Adireal would certainly enjoy it while it lasted. Adireal glanced across the table. Ranvaas was focused on the crowd rather than staring at Adireal. Esventin refused to meet his gaze. ¡°For once,¡± Adireal thought, ¡°This may actually be a good party.¡±


    A few minutes passed and Argus came into the room. He nodded and waved, shook the occasional hand and came up to the the royal table.


    Ranvaas turned his head away from Argus, clearly displeased. ¡°It¡¯s a shame how you act with the common folk,¡± Ranvaas sniffed as he spoke. ¡°When I ruled, I was respected, not merely liked.¡±


    Argus¡¯s smile drooped for a second, but came back full force with his reply. ¡°It is a shame that you do not know what it is to be liked, old Elve. Maybe one day you could know that pleasure. Ah, but when we pass our stones on it won¡¯t be long until our deaths, will it? Much quicker for your own, since you are what? Two thousand, twenty-five hundred years old?¡±


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    Adireal quickly resumed staring at the floor. The peacefulness surely would not last after a comment like that! Adireal was dumbfounded. His father had never spoken to Ranvaas like that before.


    The old Elve stroked his beard. ¡°Perhaps. I find pleasure in enough other things though, Argus. It pleases me to see my plans, and the needs of the people, fulfilled. Hopefully your son will rule far better than yourself.¡±


    Argus laughed. ¡°For once, Grandfather, we agree. I hope that as well.¡±


    Suddenly the musicians started playing. It was time.


    Everyone stood when Adonis appeared in the doorway. He was the spitting image of Argus, he even wore a lesser version of their father¡¯s garb; almost a military dress uniform, though adorned with many regal accoutrements. Adonis, who had turned fifty-five this year, stood tall and proud. Barring misfortune, everyone in the nation had known that Argus¡¯s first son would inherit the throne. Adireal tapped the table lost in thought for a moment. It would not be much longer before he himself was named the Crowned Prince, and he would swear the holy oath to protect his brother for life.


    As Adonis marched into the room, the commoners bowed their heads in reverence. He strode through the commoner¡¯s ranks and passed the noble tables. Each family fell to one knee and bowed their heads to show their soon-to-be king deference. Finally, Adonis made his way to their father. Argus smiled down to his son, and bowed slightly.


    ¡°I, Argus Darksbane, Lord of the Elveen people, King of the Lost Woods, seek the Elve known as Adonis Darksbane. Are you he?¡±


    Adonis knelt and bowed his head before his father. ¡°I am the one known as Adonis Darksbane, your Lordship. I have responded to your summons and ask how my most humble self may serve you.¡±


    ¡°I have watched you grow from a child into an Elve worthy of this land. Tell me, young Adonis, in the years to come what would you see happening to our lands and people?¡±


    ¡°Lord Darksbane, beyond anything I would want to see this nation¡¯s enemies driven from our lands, divided and defeated. Barring that, I would want to keep them from harming our land, our people any farther.¡±


    ¡°Would do this for glory?¡±


    ¡°No, my Lord.¡±


    ¡°Would you do this for the power that war brings?¡±


    ¡°No, my Lord.¡±


    ¡°Why, then, would you seek to further war with our enemies?¡±


    ¡°For peace, my lord. The peace and safety of our people.¡±


    Argus bowed his head; he looked tired, and, above everything, Adireal noticed for the first time that his father looked old. His body didn¡¯t age much, thanks to the power of the Kingstone, but he looked haggard, worn.


    ¡°My time for this world, young Darksbane, grows nigh.¡± Argus reached into his robe and slowly pulled a sheathed sword out. Falling to one knee, he held the blade out in front of him, balanced between both his hands. ¡°I would have a defender of our people who is firm and just, and yet still kind, take my place. Adonis Darksbane, I have chosen you to succeed me when the time comes. What say you?¡±


    Adonis reached out and gently took the blade with both hands. ¡°I will defend this land to my dying breath, my Lord.¡±


    ¡°Rise then, Lord Adonis Darksbane. When you have reached the age of sixty, and become a full Elve of the realm, I shall pass my crown to you. The next five years of your life will be harrowing; I hope you meet them with as much grace and dignity as you have shown me today.¡± Tears rolled down Argus¡¯s cheeks as he rose.


    Priests and acolytes rushed forward, censors lit, chanting prayers. The head priests of Niltuil and Laltier quickly took the blade from Adonis and fastened it to his belt. They then used juice from the berries kept in the chapel to paint runes on Adonis¡¯s face and hands, signifying purity of spirit and action. It took more than ten minutes of rituals, performed by ten clergy-members, before Adonis was prepared for the next part of the ceremony.


    Argus nodded solemnly, having long since composed himself. ¡°From now on, it shall be you who sits by my side, to learn of the people of our nation. You shall be included in the matters of the realm, and you shall serve me as if you were my right hand. Come, Lord Adonis, and sit next to your king.¡±


    Argus and his heir walked to the table and sat down. The first part of the ceremony was over, the Naming had been completed. Now it was time for the banquet. Adireal looked about him, and almost everyone was happy. Esventin looked nervous, as always, as if something were about to go drastically wrong. Ranvaas kept scanning the crowd, yet he wore one of the largest smiles in the room. As the royal family rose to depart to the dining hall, a loud clatter sounded on the far side of the room.


    The hall quieted as Elves looked about. Adireal spotted the problem quickly; a raven of some sorts had made its way into the hall. He laughed and pointed it out to his family. ¡°Look, even the birds have come to give praise to Ado-um, Lord Adonis.¡± Ysbella¡¯s face turned grave as she rose. The bird had perched atop a suit of displayed armor, and had somehow managed to push the helm off. It ca-cawed, almost as if it were laughing, and bounced back and forth from one foot to the other.


    Ysbella approached the bird as the commoners rose and left the room, though all of the nobility stayed to watch. ¡°Go, and bring us none of your ill-fortune today. Take your leave.¡±


    Adireal glanced about again. Everyone, save Ranvaas, looked alarmed or at least perturbed. For some reason, the old Elve looked happier then ever. The bird hopped off the armor and fluttered down to the helm. It hopped about until it was looking at the Seraphim, then with a flick of its tail feathers it defecated on the helm.


    ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± Ysbella snorted, ¡°Leave.¡±


    Again, the bird took to wing, its raucous laughter echoing in the hall. ¡°Ca-caw! Ca-caaaaw! Caw caw caw!¡± Quickly, it darted through one of the windows and out into the courtyard.


    Several of the nobles exchanged worried glances as they rose from their tables. Mutedly, the group headed out into the main hall and then into the dining hall. Servants had already laid out food of all sorts. Fresh fruits and berries, roasted boar, roasted goose, an herbed salad containing some of the rarest plants from the forest. Honeyed mead was served at room temperature, while fine wines were served chilled by magical means.


    There was a mainly filled with desserts and sweets, kept almost separate from other groups. Piled high with a variety of pastries, custards, pies, and other sweets, this was table was mainly prepared for the local Rakkins, rather than being a proper dessert spread. Rakkins typically came up to an elve''s waist and their fur was always the same shade of grey, with dark splotches around their eyes and tails.


    Generally they held the temperament of an elve in their twenties; too young to understand social niceties and grace. The small animal folk loved sweet foods, and the Elveen nobility had learned long ago that it was easier to keep the creatures full than to deal with their displeasure. Their wrath tended to be more mischievous than malicious, though often they did not know when to pull their punches.


    Everyone ate, yet the crowd was still subdued. Even the little Rakkins were unusually quiet. While the adults quietly talked about trivial things such as the weather and whom was marrying whom this year, Adireal took a chance to whisper with Ysbella.


    ¡°Ysbella, what happened? Why is everyone so sad all of a sudden?¡±


    The Seraphim pursed her lips. She had no need to eat, yet had picked an array of fruits to sample. So far they were mainly untouched. ¡°It was the raven, Adireal. Do you know what a raven symbolizes?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s, um, a carrion eater. It eats dead things?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°It is a symbol of Death, and is commonly associated with War. Neither of whom are welcome here today.¡±


    Adireal thought for a moment. ¡°Are you saying it could have been a messenger for Lipiteal or Pintil?¡±


    Ysbella nodded. ¡°You have been listening during your lectures after all. Yes, that is exactly what I am saying.¡±


    Adireal poked at his food and thought to himself for some time. His appetite had faded, and, for once, a single plate lasted him an entire meal. He drank little of the mead; the alcohol had no effect upon him and he discovered that he had no taste for the beverage. He drank several glasses of a sweet berry wine, which he found appealing, and had a few mouthfuls of the boar. Soon enough, the meal was over.


    The royal family moved into the throne room. A second, smaller, throne had been placed next to Argus¡¯s throne. Adonis would literally sit at Argus¡¯s right hand. Ranvaas took his place to the left of the king, while Ysbella stood a short ways behind. Normally, Adireal and Adonis would sit a short ways away; for today though, Adireal was forced to sit next to Esventin.


    After the royal family had a few moments to prepare, the noble families filed in. Once they were seated, the commoners were allowed in. The final part of the day had begun, and the next several hours would be filled with those who were present swearing loyalty to their future king. Each noble family came and knelt before Argus, and knelt again before Adonis, reciting ancient pledges and prayers. Each family took almost fifteen minutes; the process went on for two-and-a-half hours.


    The sun had already set and servants lit the torches and tapers in the halls. The last part of the ceremony had begun; now the commoners would bring gifts and well-wishes to their king-in-training. This part of the ceremony took up to three days, depending on how many Elves wished to participate.


    The petitioners could be seperated into four broad groups. The first were people who brought goods and wares. Owners of vineyards brought their finest bottles of wine. Many peasants brought cloth objects; there were a great deal of woolen scarves and shirts. Those with enough skill embroidered the objects with the nation¡¯s emblem, a giant tree embedded with hundreds of emeralds. One little Elveen girl gave Adonis her favorite doll.


    Those who smithed brought special pieces they had forged for the holiday; knives, shields, small trinkets, and jewelry. As far as implements of war went, the most impressive gift came from the Dorven ambassador. Of the four Dorven clans, the Wind Chisels were the artisans, the Razor Claws performed militaristic duties, the Eternal Seekers sought out lore and hidden artifacts to the far reaches of Albast, and the Wardens of the Essence kept the balance between mortals and nature. The clans had come together to make a suit of armor for the new Lord¡¯s gift. The armor was composed of an old alloy whose recipe was kept by the Seekers, which had to be cooled in exotic oils to maintain the metal¡¯s property. The Wardens retrieved the plants and minerals needed to make the oils, while the Wind Chisel clan forged the armor. The design itself came from one of the Razor Claw¡¯s head armorers. The armor was a deep blue, the color of the sky on a cloudless day, or perhaps the color of the deepest waters of the ocean. It was made of a material old Dorven Drakkan hunters had used; azentam was said to protect against the elements as well as magic.


    Though nothing else was as fancy as the Dorven armor, the rest of the gifts quickly piled up next to the thrones. The Rakkan tribe even brought something. Their chief was an old widower; he presented his wife¡¯s old hair combs to Adonis. Made from tortoise shell they looked well-maintained, and Chief Razzletail claimed they were a family heirloom. With a smile the chief chuckled as he presented the gift, telling Adonis, ¡°This will be very, very handy for you one day! Keep it safe, keep it clean. For your future love, or perhaps your future daughter!¡± The rest of the Rakkin watched in rapt attention; it was always hard to tell when a Rakkin was playing a prank of some kind, even if the rest appeared to hold the situation in reverence.


    The second group of petitioners were those who offered prayers. Many prayed and wished for the end of the war. Some wished for a long reign filled with happiness and hope. A few echoed Razzletail¡¯s sentiments and wished for an early marriage and heirs to the throne. They beseeched the gods for hundreds of favors, crushing berries and burning prayer paper after prayer paper. Between constantly clearing ashes and fetching more berries and holy paper, the acolytes had to work with a fervored pace.


    The third group were those who tried to entertain Lord Adonis. Some told stories, and others told jokes. Some sang or played instruments. A few danced. One troupe asked for some time during the next day¡¯s activities to perform a play. Often these ended up being the lengthiest petitions.


    The last group offered services. The Dorven ambassador hailed from the Razor Claw clan; on top of the gift of the armor, she offered to train Adonis in strategy and warfare along with personal combat. Some mages offered him private schooling at the Royal Academy of Magic. Ranvaas himself offered to tutor Prince Adonis so that he might become a perfect regent, and ¡°hopefully be far superior to some of those who had come before recent rulers.¡±


    It didn¡¯t take long for Adireal to grow bored. Stuck in a corner with a smelly boor, Adireal¡¯s only respite was when some of the entertainers were actually amusing. When they failed to amuse he took to watching his family. Argus always took such things in stride. He offered to arrange schooling or apprenticeships for a few of the folk. Adonis mainly looked uncomfortable. Having lived in the shadow of his father for so long, it was unusual to have so much attention piled upon him. More than one eligible maiden suggested, or in a few cases practically demanded, his courtship. Adonis could only manage to blush and shake his head before stammering out an apology. Ysbella remained composed and indifferent as always; having served the Darksbane family for more than eight-thousand years, and having lived longer than even that, gave one a different perspective, Adireal supposed.


    Finally, he watched his Grandfather. Ranvaas¡¯s good mood was coming to an end, as was evident by his faltering smile. His face eventually grew from sour and turned to an impatient scowl. He examined each petitioner with a look Adireal knew well; a callous stare that measured their worth, and the worth of their boons. The old elve¡¯s fingers tapped upon the table and he continuously checked the crowd.


    Some time passed and Adireal began to feel drowsy. He began to slowly nod off, his head tucked between his folded arms, when something caught his attention. A person strode through the crowd, slipping past this elve, sliding between another two, and so forth, quickly cutting through the line. Oddly enough, no one seemed to mind. Adireal tried to watch him, though after a moment he was forced to wince in pain and look away. Every time Adireal glanced at the petitioner, his head hurt a little more. Adireal leaned up off his arms on the table and shook his head to try and clear it. He looked to his family, but it seemed as if no one noticed the unusual activity. He did manage to catch Ranvaas and Esventin giving each other an unusual look.


    Turning his focus back to the petitioner, he peered again. Yes, with a bit of concentration, Adireal could tell that this rude guest was of menfolk, not of the Elveen. He tried to stand, to point out the man, but it was as if someone was squeezing him harshly. He could not move, nor take a deep breath.


    The man strode to the front of the line, his chest thrust forward and his head held high. He looked about in disdain as he awaited his turn, while some juggler performed. Quietly the man unsheathed a knife. Adireal struggled for breath; his lungs felt as if they were on fire. The juggler eventually finished and the man stepped forward.


    ¡°My Lord Adonis, if it pleases you, I would love to be able to show you some of my craft. I have studied magic for quite some time and wish to put on a short display.¡±


    No one noticed that this was a man speaking. Adireal could see everyone¡¯s attention turn to focus on this supposed magician. Though, as Adireal struggled for breath it struck him: This man being a magician made perfect sense and certainly explained what was happening.


    Adonis, looking bored, waved his hand. ¡°Certainly, good sir, you have my permission to display your craft.¡±


    The man lifted his knife and the tip glowed brightly. ¡°Well then, my Lords, observe the wand and how it moves and flows. Watch as I pool my power, and let it spread and grow!¡± The audience gasped and applauded at something Adireal could not see. His chair pushed back as he barely managed to get to his feet.


    ¡°See the terrible Draakan, whose mate Delin Darksbane slew so long ago, rear his ugly head and obliterate you all with his magical powers!¡±


    The crowd shrieked and jumped, pointing to the ceiling. Many yelled about the roof ripping open, and more than a few dived under their seats. Still, Adireal could not see or hear anything except for the man with the knife. The magician progressed towards the thrones, less than six paces away now. Adireal managed a step forward, and then another.


    The man practically screamed now as he waved his arms. ¡°FEEL THE SHEER TERROR STRIKE YOU AS THE FATHER OF DRAAKANS ROARS IN DEFIANCE!¡± He spun to face the crowd, with his arms thrown wide. Peasants and nobles alike continued to scream, and many started to flee the hall. Laughing, the man turned to face Adonis, standing less than three paces away now. Adireal could barely move his feet, yet he had a little bit of momentum on his side now. Esventin had stood up at this point, and pointed to Adireal and shouted, ¡°M-Master! The Beast, he is loose! He will ruin everything!¡±


    The magician shifted the grip on his knife and raised his arm over his head. The royals were mesmerized by something, their eyes locked onto the glowing tip. ¡°And now, Lord Adonis, I give you my true gift. Sleep well.¡± Adireal¡¯s legs screamed in agony as he forced the last few steps. The man must have noticed something moving from the corner of his eye. He smirked and plunged the knife down.


    Whatever had taken hold of Adireal seemed broken. His clothing ripped as he extended his wings, flapping them once for an extra bit of momentum. He finally caught his breath and screamed, ¡°I won¡¯t let you hurt my brother!¡± The royals sitting near the thrones also seemed to have shaken whatever had possessed them; Argus and Adonis gasped and tried to move, still sitting upon their thrones. Ysbella rushed forward, far too late to be of any help. Ranvaas no longer looked amused, and barely drew in enough breath to scream out in a frightened pitch, ¡°Guards! The Beast, he-he has gone mad! Detain him! STOP HIM!¡±


    Adireal collided with the magician¡¯s hand and he felt the blade sink into his shoulder, easily piercing his scaled flesh. The young Elve screamed in pain and lashed out at the man¡¯s face. Claws bit into flesh, then bone, ripping the magician¡¯s jaw from his face and slashing his throat. The man fell to the floor, gurgling and writhing, blood spraying everywhere while his jaw skittered across the ground several feet away.


    The guards stationed outside the hall had finally pushed their way in. Those who were stationed inside had either been busy helping the masses or cowering in fear. Seeing the blood by the throne, the newcomers pushed their way through what was left of the crowd.


    ¡°Th-the Beast, he attacked this poor Elve,¡± screamed Ranvaas. ¡°Get him away from the King and his Heir! TAKE HIM TO THE DUNGEONS IMMEDIATELY!¡±


    Adireal slumped to the floor, gasping for breath and groaning loudly. Ysbella and Argus reached him at about the same time, long before the guards arrived.


    Argus fell to his knees and grabbed the young Elve by his shoulders. ¡°Adireal, my son, wh-what madness has struck you--¡±


    It was hard for Adireal to focus, but Ysbella stood out to him. Almost always stoic, it was rare to see her show much emotion. As she pushed her way to the throne though, her face was contorted in borderline rage. She grabbed hold of the Argus by his royal vestments, lifting him into the air with one hand, and flung him several feet back. He landed with a resounding ¡°THUMP,'''' and she turned to Adireal as she spoke. ¡°Respectfully Argus, sometimes you are a damnable fool.¡± She stared at the approaching guards and shook her head. All but five guards halted in their tracks; those who were brave enough to still approach avoided her and went to examine the magician instead.


    Ysbella gently rolled the prince over. Adireal¡¯s scales, and what skin he had, had lost considerable color, and his eyes had dilated. The injury wasn¡¯t the worst that Adireal had ever suffered, yet it bled with an unusual ferocity. The Seraphim ripped the clothing around the wound, allowing her better access, and chanted slowly in Malachim. Ysbella shook in irritation; the wound failed to react to the magic.


    Ysbella withdrew the knife from Adireal¡¯s shoulder and flung it into the ground, right between Argus¡¯s feet. ¡°Would you quit being useless, your Highness, and call for the healers? I believe your son, on top of being stabbed while saving the Heir, has been poisoned.¡±


    Adireal¡¯s hand blindly grasped the air before him, his eyes trying to focus and failing. ¡°Y-Ys- . . . beeeella . . . Izzat you?¡± He labored for breath and tears tracked down his cheeks.


    She clasped his hand and drew it to her face. ¡°I¡¯m here. It will be fine Adireal, just stay with me.¡±


    ¡°Ysssssss . . . I luff . . . you . . .¡± His head fell to the side, and his body lay still.


    Ysbella held him close as the King screamed for his healers.

 Chapter 3: Life, But At What Cost?

    Slowly, the city faded away into forest as the raven flapped its wings. It flew for some time; it took four long hours before it found the spot. Smoke billowed up from a battlefield''s carnage as trees and carcasses burned together.


    Over a hundred corpses lay on the ground. Some of them were men, dressed in metal armor adorned with the symbol of Til. The majority were Elveen, dressed in silks, leather, and chain. The raven landed near a pile of the Elveen; there were twenty or so corpses stacked together, all with slashed throats and spikes through their hearts. Their stagnant blood formed a fly filled pool, and the bodies had grown bloated and maggot-ridden.


    Tillites never took prisoners.


    "Ca-caw! CA-CAW!" The raven called out, pecking one body after another. "Caaaaaw ca-caw!"


    Slowly, the bodies began to move, flesh flowing and writhing, shaking maggots loose and the bloated corpses squelched as gases were released. The stack of bodies reformed itself, skin stretching across twisting and breaking bones, bodies melding together until they created a rough archway. Arms and legs dangled from the structure as the bird hopped toward it. It paused long enough to dip its beak into the pool of blood.


    "Caaaaaa-CAAAAAAAW!"


    The semi-liquid pool quivered and then sludged upward. As it oozed up the fleshy archway, a few globules dripped and plopped to the ground. Soon the oozing gunk completely covered the opening of the arch. The raven extended both its wings and flapped furiously.


    "Caw-ca-ca-CAW!"


    The archway and dripping gunk undulated and pulsated in a chaotic rhythm. A glow emanated from the blood, a light red at first, and grew stronger until it shone bright crimson. The raven took to the air, flying through the archway. After a bloop and a short gurgle, the raven disappeared from sight. The blood fell to the ground, bubbling and hissing, as flesh melted from bone. The pile ignited in a green tinted fire consuming everything, even the bones. After a moment, all that remained was ash.


    The instant the raven entered the portal, it was engulfed in the thick and clinging liquid. Almost impossible to move in, the raven still flapped its wings, trying to swim through the ocean of rotten blood. It floundered, kept far from the surface by an unseen torrent, and after a short while no longer had the energy to struggle.


    In a dark room sat a small basin, filled with the same brackish blood. The surface had lain still for quite some time, several months at least. Ripples formed, disrupting the placid surface, and then turned to bubbles. After a moment, the raven bobbed to the top of the basin, long since drowned. It lay in the darkness for some time. The ripples, the bubbles, and even the ravens bobbing all eventually ceased; time seemed to have little meaning here.


    Eventually, a tall, gaunt figure shuffled through the darkness. It was dressed in tattered robes that bordered on rags. Most of its body was damaged; it had no nose and large chunks of flesh were missing. It paused and sniffed the air, adjusting its course toward the basin. Its hands were giant, well over four foot in width, and easily scooped the bird up. It rolled the raven back and forth, examining it, before speaking.


    "AH, GRIMBEAK, YOU HAVE RETURNED. WHAT DID YOU FIND FOR YOUR MASTER?"


    The raven''s eyes bulged open and its body began convulsing. The figure started to massage the bird between two of its fingers, paying special attention to the chest and stomach. The raven''s beak clacked open and close as it lay twitching. Soon smoke began to pour out from its beak and eyes, and the bird''s body began to deflate as if the smoke was the only thing within its body.


    The giant waited expectantly.


    Soon a small cloud had formed; none of the smoke had dissipated while the figure waited. The cloud began to shift and morph, changing itself until it formed an image of a young, scaled and winged elve. The figure stared at the image in silence, taking in every detail. The cloud shifted again, forming an image of a small prayer paper.


    The figure stroked Grimbeak even after its body quit expelling smoke. Finally, he spoke: "PROTECT HIS FAMILY? HOW QUAINT. I DO THINK I LIKE THIS ONE.¡± The figure squinted at the replication of the paper. ¡±ANOTHER DARKSBANE. WELL CHOSEN, GRIMBEAK; THEY ARE ALWAYS ENJOYABLE. PRAY TELL, WHERE IS THIS DARKSBANE NOW?" The cloud shifted again, forming an image of a seraph cradling the limp form of the boy. The figure sneered, pustules on its face burst and drained and the hole where its nose once stood gaped wider. ¡°DEAD? I THINK NOT. AFTER ALL, GRIMBEAK, THEY ARE MORE FUN TO PLAY WITH WHILE THEY LIVE, WHILE THEY MAKE THEIR OWN CHOICES. HE WILL BE MINE, BUT NOT TODAY.¡±


    The smoke slowly settled over the bird as the figure reached back to the basin. It dipped its hand into the rotten blood and swirled the liquid. Once, twice, thrice its hand circled the edge of the basin until, finally, it lifted its arm out. Its cupped hand carefully carried a small amount of the liquid towards its face. The figure set Grimbeak down on the basin¡¯s edge and clasped both hands together and blew into them, taking deep breaths and releasing the air slowly.


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    While the figure continued its process, the smoke pushed its way back into the bird¡¯s body. Slowly the body inflated again, first the stomach and then the chest. Soon the raven was on its feet and gingerly flapping its wings and hopping about. It fluttered up and landed upon the figure¡¯s shoulder, flicking its tail-feathers smartly as it waited. The figure unclasped its hands and peered at the results of its labor.


    A dozen small, reddish crystals lay in its palm. Gingerly it poked and prodded at each one, checking for some indistinguishable characteristic. Some of the crystals it picked up and rolled between its fingers; some it pushed to the side without a second glance. Eventually it selected one and tossed the rejects back into the basin. Lifting the crystal up, it gestured to the raven.


    The bird danced back and forth on the figure¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Caw! Ca-ca-caw caaaw,¡± Grimbeak cried, flapping its wings as it called to its master. It rubbed its beak against its master¡¯s fingers; each finger dwarfed the raven in comparison. Quickly, it snatched the crystal into its beak and cocked its head, waiting for instruction.


    The figure paused long enough to stroke the bird¡¯s head. Satisfied, the bird hopped onto its master¡¯s finger, as its wings fluttered to keep balance. ¡°I WANT YOU TO TAKE THIS TO HIM, AS YOU HAVE THE OTHERS BEFORE. I WILL OPEN A PORTAL OUTSIDE OF THE CASTLE; THE REST WILL BE YOUR DOING.¡±


    Grimbeak bobbed its head and took to wing. The figure dipped a finger into the basin and began chanting. The words were old and powerful, spoken in a language only known to immortals. Their effect was immediate, as the liquid frothed and sputtered and shone with the same crimson light the portal held before. Grimbeak flew upwards before falling into an unbreakable dive. Liquid sprayed as the bird hit the basin¡¯s surface, droplets steaming into nothingness long before hitting the ground.


    Grimbeak emerged from a circle of stones, each etched with hundreds of runes, forgotten inside a dense bramble thicket. The speed it had gained on the other side of the portal had not diminished. Though it required several quick dodges and rolls, Grimbeak nimbly evaded the thorns and burst out into a clearing. The castle lay almost a mile away from the portal.


    Grimbeak caught a wind gust and took to the sky. It would take a few moments to reach the castle. As Grimbeak approached, it was apparent the capital was in mourning. Black cloth hung everywhere; even the castle''s flags had been replaced with the Withered Elm, the national symbol of mourning. The bird flew to the window near the chapel it had spotted the boy at before. No long lines of people waited, though a few priests muttered prayers.


    Silently Grimbeak hopped back and forth on the ledge. After some consideration, it took to wing again, sticking to the shadows. Through the back halls and up stairs flew the bird. Soon, it landed near a solid stone door. The door had been left open a crack, and though no mourners lined this hall, Grimbeak could hear the sounds of sobbing. Quickly and quietly the raven hopped to the opening, poking its head through the gap. The seraph lay over the bed, clutching a little doll and weeping; the child was not here either.


    Grimbeak retreated back into the hall. The raven did not fear the seraph; there was nothing she could do that the Master could not repair. What Grimbeak feared was that she would delay or even ruin the mission. It knew that the Master would brook no such incompetence; there would be no forgiveness. Grimbeak flitted to a window where a quick escape was possible. When the raven was satisfied that its incursion went unnoticed, it resumed its search once more.


    It was a short flight to the main hall. Finally Grimbeak could see the mourners; the hall was packed with peasants. The banquet tables had been replaced with a lone, long table covered with an open coffin. King Argus¡¯s sat on a simple chair; his face was tear-streaked and etched with new creases and wrinkles. Lord Adonis stood by his side, hands clasped behind his back, his jaw clenched. Neither of the elves met the eyes of those who spoke to them. Ranvaas was nowhere to be seen, nor was Esventin.


    Grimbeak flew out of the nearest window and circled around to a window within the banquet hall. Landing on the stone sill, the raven peered down. The new vantage point allowed it to see directly into the coffin. All it contained was a charcoal sketch of the young prince. The elves had developed a tradition out of necessity: Whenever possible they burnt the dead to insure that Lipiteal could not raise them as His minions. Grimbeak knew where to find the Prince now; if its beak had not held the tiny crystal, the raven would have burst out in raucous laughter.


    Taking to wing once more, Grimbeak flew to the infirmary. The boy¡¯s body would have to be prepared for the cremation, his organs would have to be removed. The shutters to the infirmary were closed. This hardly stopped the raven; Grimbeak flew to the nearest hallway. The guards stationed there paid Grimbeak no heed, not noticing the raven¡¯s entrance. The door they guarded was partially opened, allowing them to hear if someone, or something, attempted to defile the corpse. It was a simple task to glide into the room over their heads, as both looked slightly hung-over from the earlier festivities.


    With the shutters drawn, the room was in near darkness. This also failed to impede the bird. Grimbeak landed next to a bundled object on an examination table. Gently flapping its wings, the raven hooked its claws into the cloth, pulling it to the side. An ashen colored shoulder appeared, scales dully glinting in the faint light. Grimbeak let that section of cloth drop to the floor. Quickly the raven hooked the other section of cloth, this time exposing the boy¡¯s throat and head.


    Grimbeak landed on the boy¡¯s shoulder and nudged the closed mouth with its beak. The boy¡¯s muscles had long since locked up; his mouth refused to open. Grimbeak clawed at the boy¡¯s face in desperation. The Master would not be thwarted. After three tries the claws latched onto some scales on the boy''s chin. The raven extended its wings for balance and pulled with all of its might. The jaw slowly extended; Grimbeak took the opportunity and shoved its beak into the boy¡¯s mouth. Opening wide, Grimbeak let the crystal drop in. Shifting positions, Grimbeak withdrew its beak and landed on Adireal¡¯s throat. The raven slowly massaged the area for a few moments. Soon, color and warmth began to return to the flesh and the Prince¡¯s chest began to rise and fall, albeit quite laboriously.


    Grimbeak had no opportunity to escape before the nurse came in. Carrying an armload of tools, she gasped and dropped them when she spotted the raven.


    ¡°Get ¡®way from the Prince, ye bastard animal,¡± she hissed.


    Grimbeak retracted its wings and stared straight at the woman. ¡°The Prince lives. Go and get the seraph; she shall care for him now.¡± The voice was harsh and grating, carrying some otherworldly tone to it. ¡°You shall not remember me. The Prince lives. Go. NOW.¡±


    Grimbeak flew from Adireal and out the door, leaving the nurse shocked. The guards rushed in as, yet again, the bird flew over their heads. The nurse felt Adireal¡¯s face and cheeks as the guards peered about.


    ¡°Wha¡¯s that noise, Illayna? Ye coulda¡¯ woke the dead.¡±


    The nurse looked up at them, noticing them for the first time. The color had drained from her face and she could barely stammer out a reply.


    ¡°I-I, th- I, g-go get th- Lady, Lady Ysbella! Get Lady Ysbella! It¡¯s a miracle! The Prince lives!¡±


    Far above the castle Grimbeak laughed in exultation.


    ¡°Ca-ca-ca-ca-CAAAW! Ca-ca-ca-ca-CAAAW!¡±


    * * * * * * *


    In a quiet, darkened room, a figure watched the scene unfold. The brackish blood in its basin held the image for quite some time. Eventually the figure broke the silence as it mused to itself.


    ¡°A MIRACLE INDEED. PRAISES BE TO THE GODS.¡±

 Chapter 4: A Servants Duty

    Adireal examined the book and notes on his table. "Essence of the mana-drought lily," he muttered. A vibrant, orange and red flower was pictured on one page; a map highlighting growing regions was on the other. The scattered notes referred to the plants origins and uses.


    The lily was grown on the other side of the world, in the far off Endrahnt Confederacy. A group of five states led by family houses, their government was not entirely unlike the Elveen nation. The poison made from mana-drought lilies was only one of many horrible, dangerous, and horribly expensive exports the Confederacy made. Its effects were immediate and long-lasting: Total disruption of mana within a person''s body.


    It was an alchemical breed, something nature had never intended, and the poison typically was exported to the much closer mage-nation of Facsora. Adireal vaguely remembered that magical ability determined your social status in Facsora, so it made sense that the poison was always in high-demand. Humans always fell to bickering, and as a people they were constantly trying to increase their rank and status.


    Adireal peered at the image again, and shook his head. The cost to have had the poison brought here had to have been astronomical.


    Adireal snapped the book shut, before tossing it down on to the table. With a sigh, he gently flopped down into his bed. He propped his arm with his pillows, trying to keep his shoulder comfortable. "Bored," Adireal muttered. "Bored, bored, bored, BORED!" Talking to himself was becoming a new thing.


    It had already been two weeks since the Naming and Ysbella STILL wouldn''t let him out of his room. He had all of his study materials, his history books, and whatever learning materials his father and Ysbella felt were necessary. He was to spend as much time in bed as possible, and as much time resting as possible. It precluded him from anything exciting. Anything FUN.


    His thoughts turned frequently to the assassination, and Adireal had to wonder--who had sent the mage? Who had the means and the money for such an endeavor? The humans to the south called themselves the Empire of Til, and they hated all things magical. They were a likely candidate, except that it had been a mage. The Kingdom of Faost was west of the Eternal Woods and they typically kept to themselves. Though they didn''t hate magic, and the Elveen were not currently warring with the Faostians, their military had been growing in number and the postings along the border were rapidly increasing. The land that both human nations occupied had been "liberated" from his own people. He winced and massaged his temples; this was not the sort of history he liked reading about. The majority of Elveen history had been about hunting darkness, destroying monsters, and victory over evil. Whenever he had to hear about modern history or current events, Adireal could only feel sadness.


    Sighing again, Adireal turned his mind to another painful topic, one that he found himself often contemplating in his copius free time. Who had visited him after the assassination attempt while he was bed-bound? He had fleeting memories of people crowding around him and his name being called, but that had to have been right after the assassination. Then, he had memories of Ysbella holding him; and after that? Nothing. Ysbella had told him that he had walked along the lands of death for some time, and for three days they thought him dead.


    By most accounts there should have been some memory of the experience. At least, that was what happened in the stories Adireal read.


    He rubbed a claw on his bedpost gently, carving small chunks of wood out; Adireal had been so bored that he started to replicate a picture from one of his history books. The scene was an old painting of the King¡¯s castle overlooking the Forgotten Woods, and although it wasn''t very good, it passed the time, and helped clear his mind.


    Shaking his head, Adireal gathered his thoughts and tried to focus on his memories. Most people saw a light, or floated in darkness, or met their ancestors. For Adireal there was nothing between a faint memory of Ysbella holding him before falling into darkness, and another of her crying over him when he awoke. He almost felt robbed; it would have been wonderful to have met Darksbanes of legend, like Delin the Drakkan Slayer, or Gerald the Kinslayer. It would have been even better to have met his mother.


    Adireal grunted and swung his claws at his bedpost, rending the image with long furrows. A half dozen tears squeezed out from his eyes as he grunted and doubled over. His wounded shoulder still ached, and as much as he hated to admit it, it was probably best that he was confined. ¡°This has to have been my worst birthday ever,¡± moaned Adireal. He slid off the bed, careful not to move his arm again, and shuffled over to his chair facing the window. He already knew better than to try and stretch his wings; he made that mistake on his second day locked in his room, and the pain drove him into unconsciousness.


    Ysbella had been in to see him daily, and often several times a day. She changed his bandages and reapplied the poultices; in fact, she was the one who found him on the floor after he had passed out from pain. The poison kept her from mending the wound, even with her considerable power. Adireal was grateful Ysbella checked on him throughout the day, especially since more often than not she was the only person who visited. Sometimes servants brought food by; they always quickly left. Adireal felt abandoned. Worse yet, the boredom was doing a better job of killing him than the poison.


    Even while occupied with staring out his window, he was attentive enough to hear his door push open. He could hear them struggle with its weight, so it couldn''t be Ysbella. That meant could only mean it was a servant.


    It was already after lunch, and Ysbella had been here recently enough. Besides, Adireal was in no mood to deal with people who weren''t going to talk to him or look him in the eye. Slouching into his chair, Adireal muttered to his visitor. ¡°My bandage got changed an hour or so ago. It doesn¡¯t need to be changed yet. Can¡¯t I just--¡±


    ¡°THE HEIR HAS COME TO PAY A VISIT TO THE YOUNG PRINCE OF THE FORGOTTEN WOODS! PLEASE RISE AND SHOW LORD ADONIS THE RESPECT HE DESERVES!¡±


    Adireal stumbled to his feet, gasping when he bumped his arm against the chair. Clutching his shoulder, Adireal turned in time to see the two guards bow and step aside from the door, allowing Adonis, The Heir, to enter. Something was different; Adonis was dressed in fine silks rather than his normal clothing. Immaculate, standing straight as a board, his fineries shimmered and caught the light from the lone window. As Adonis glanced about the room, turning his nose up and sniffing indignantly, Adireal realized that the clothing was far from the only thing to have changed.


    ¡°Sammal, when next we meet with Lady Ysbella, remind me that we must discuss how the future Crowned Prince lives. His lifestyle reflects upon myself, and, to a much greater extent, the whole of our people. Such drab accommodations denote his lack of care for himself, and quite possibly for our people at large.¡± Adonis glanced at Adireal and sighed. ¡°His apparel is appalling. Though I forgive him for his personal appearance, his lack of manners and presence is far harder to cope with.¡±


    ¡°A-Adon-my my Lord,¡± Adireal stammered, ¡°I-it is a pleasure to see you bro-¡±


    The Heir hissed and growled a reply. ¡°There is no pleasure in this visit, Adireal. I am serving my duty here today, visiting the . . . man . . . who saved my life. You should understand though, that saving me was a task that any lowly servant would have been grateful to fulfill for their true King. Even if I am still only the Heir as of yet.¡± Adonis spoke with his mouth pulled into a snarl; his eyes locked with Adireal¡¯s and shone with an intensity that Adonis had not possessed weeks ago.


    Adireal looked at his brother, slack-jawed, unable to find any words to speak.


    ¡°In fact, We have far more important matters to attend to. Especially considering that you fail to acknowledge your station and show me the adoration I deserve. I shall bid you good day, though I find the pleasantry hard to say sincerely.¡± Adonis looked away, sniffing slightly as he waved his hand to dismiss Adireal. ¡°Sammal, B¡¯narei; attend me.¡±


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    The two guards bowed to their master and rushed to the hall to guarantee their master¡¯s safety. Adireal still gaped, unsure if he was angry or saddened by his brother¡¯s display. He fought to keep his claws sheathed, digging his fingers into his arms to hide them in case his anger bested him. ¡°Adonis--¡±


    Adonis was mid stride, walking for the door when Adireal called to him. He spun on his heel, took a step towards his brother, and slammed his fist into Adireal¡¯s cheekbone. Adireal stumbled for a moment, catching himself with his wounded arm. Gasping in pain, he dug his claws into the stone floor and wall to help regain his balance; Adonis stood with a smirk and his hand poised on his hip.


    ¡°It would do you well to remember that I am your master now, Adireal. The title of Heir is a farce; soon enough I will be King. You will address me as Lord Adonis, or your Lordship and your flagrant disrespect shall not be tolerated. Next time I will have you lashed, perhaps even publicly. That way, at least, you would serve as a reminder that no one is above my station. Do you understand?¡±


    Adireal lurched to his feet, refusing to look at his brother.


    ¡°I asked if you understood me. Are you truly as much of a beast as it is said?¡±


    Adireal dug his claws into his thighs and growled back to Adonis. ¡°I understand, your Lordship.¡±


    ¡°Excellent. If our Grandfather were not so busy, I would ask him to counsel you on your behaviour. You could stand some proper tutelage, rather than the drivel that ostentatious fairy teaches you. Good day to you, my loyal servant. I shall call upon you when I find that I have need of you.¡± Again Adonis turned on his heel, and strode out the door.


    The guards quickly began to close Adireal¡¯s chamber door, though, like many of the servants, they struggled to pull it closed. Before the door thudded into its frame, Adireal could hear whispering in the hall.


    ¡°Grandfather, did I do well?¡±


    Adireal could hear Ranvaas chuckle before whispering back. ¡°You will make a fine king one day, Adonis. Strong of hand and heart; exactly what our people need. Your father could have done much--¡±


    Behind the closed door, Adireal unclenched his hands and stumbled towards his wash basin to rinse the blood from his claws and thighs. The water slowly turned a reddish hue as he rinsed his washrag. Adireal lifted his gaze to the mirror, grunting at what he saw. His eyes were red, and the skin under the scales covering his cheek had already begun to swell. Adireal gingerly brushed one cheek, and then the other, as he stared into the mirror.


    ¡°I hate him,¡± Adireal sobbed, as his tears began to fall into the basin.


    * * * * * * *


    ¡°Adireal. Adireal! You should be in bed! What are you doing over--WHY ARE YOU COVERED IN BLOOD?¡±


    Adireal grunted and shook his head. His right eye had swollen shut and his left was puffy from the tears he had shed.


    ¡°It¡¯s nuffin¡¯,¡± Adireal mumbled. His tongue was like a piece of cloth in his mouth, and almost as functional. He stepped backwards and slid to the floor as his legs buckled under his full weight. He fell onto his right side, slamming his shoulder into the ground and pain seared throughout the entirety of his body; not only did his shoulder and thighs burn, his eye and temple throbbed, pulsing with wave after wave of pain.


    The world spun as Adireal attempted to push himself up. He felt a hand clasp his back and steady his body. Ysbella had bent over and was examining him more closely.


    ¡°Unnnngh. . .¡± the angel muttered. ¡°You have torn your shoulder open again. This is going to add weeks to the healing process; what happened to your face and legs? Did you pass out in the basin and hit your eye? How did--¡±


    ¡°IT¡¯S NUFFIN¡¯!¡± Adireal¡¯s face contorted from the pain, his voice raising to a loud growl.


    The angel snorted. ¡°Yes, Adireal; I can see that it is nothing. Blood on the floor, in the basin, soaking your clothes. I know you have survived worse wounds, however your body is weak right now.¡± She scooped Adireal up with her free arm and carried him over to the bed. ¡°I suppose I will get to work on the stitches.¡±


    As she lay him upon his mattress, Adireal bit his lip and stared at the stone wall. He could hear her gather her healing tools; metal clanked upon metal and the scent of pungent herbs wafted in the air. She always kept medical supplies in a cabinet, ever since he tried to sneak out and fly on his own. After falling into the forest and impaling his shoulder upon a large branch, Ysbella made sure that she could treat his injuries wherever she went.


    She gave him a drink of water and then went to work. He felt cold metal press against his bare flesh as Ysbella cut away the blood soaked cloth. Contrary to what many of the servants believed, the entirety of his body was not scaled; the scales covered his face and throat, forearms and hands, his legs below his knees along with his feet, and his chest and back. Adireal''s upper arms, sides, belly and thighs were all flesh.


    Ysbella sloshed water from a bowl onto some of the cloth, allowing her to easily peel it away from the skin it had dried to. The wet cloth made a flopping sound as it landed on the stone and Adireal held his breath and dug his claws into his bedding.


    "Found the wound. Pretty small this time thankfully, but my magic still can not heal it. Let me wash away the caked blood and I will stitch it . . . Wait."


    Adireal expelled his breath, knowing Ysbella had figured out what caused his wounds. He heard a rustling; the angel had flexed her wings. Adireal had heard that sound a million times, at least, and it meant Ysbella was angry, or disappointed. Adireal grunted as she scrubbed his thigh harshly.


    "As I thought. Five wounds."


    Ysbella made a small cut into his other pant leg, and, without soaking it, ripped the cloth away. She took hair, and possibly a small amount of skin, with the bloody cloth, causing Adireal to grunt again. She scrubbed his left thigh harder than his right; without having let the dried blood soak first, it was far harder to clean. She worked in silence, something Adireal was slightly thankful for. He continued to face the wall, though he squeezed his eyes shut. After several moments of scrubbing, he heard the small brush hit the floor.


    ¡°The wounds are bleeding again,¡± Ysbella said in a calm, detached voice. ¡°Do you want me to try and stitch them, or would you prefer the iron?¡±


    Adireal gritted his teeth and quickly answered, otherwise she would decide for him. ¡°Stitches--please. No need for us,¡± he took a deep breath and gritted his teeth, ¡°to smell burnt flesh today.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡±


    He felt the needle prick his flesh and began to slow his breathing. Forcing himself to relax helped with the pain, to an extent.


    ¡°Hold still,¡± Ysbella muttered, gripping his leg tightly. ¡°Continue to breathe but quit moving your leg or, by the Gods, I will heat up the iron and take care of this the quick way.¡±


    Adireal tried to lay still and keep his leg relaxed; it took all of his focus. Soon enough he felt a hand shaking his hip. He had zoned out for a moment, and when he rolled over, Ysbella seemed madder than before.


    ¡°--said, are you listening to me?¡±


    Adireal looked up and nodded. ¡°Sorry, I was a bit focused and--¡±


    ¡°I asked, ¡®Why did you hurt yourself?¡¯ The poison keeps your body from functioning properly; your wounds don¡¯t heal, your blood is slow to clot, you bruise easily. By the Gods, if you didn¡¯t have Drakkan blood coursing through veins you would have died when Adonis was Named, not merely go comatose for three days. If I hadn¡¯t found you passed out in your room, again, you might have died. Is that what you want, Adireal?¡±


    ¡°N-no, but you don¡¯t un-,¡± Adireal stuttered in response, his claws digging deeper into the bed. This was it, she had taken care of him and it was time for her ire.


    ¡°What possessed you then? Is this some new game?¡±


    Tears formed in his eyes. ¡°A-Adon-um, his Lordsh-ship came and he t-talked to me and--¡±


    Ysbella began to toss her tools back into her bag, each one clanging as it struck stone through the cloth or pinged off of another tool. ¡°You should be happy that Adonis visited you, not try to blame him for this. Frankly, I think we need to--¡±


    Adireal thrashed in the bed, throwing his head back and forth, tears flowing down his cheeks as he yelled out his reply. ¡°HE HIT ME!¡± Sobbing, Adireal gasped and struggled to finish telling her about the visit. ¡°H-he told me wh-what a failure I was and how ugly I was and then he a-and Ranvaas laughed about it in the hall.¡± Adireal grabbed her arm and pulled himself to it and sobbed louder. ¡°I-I wanted to hit him back so hard Ys, b-but I put my claws where th-they couldn¡¯t hurt him. ¡®Ca-cause if I hit him,¡± Adireal lifted his head and looked into her eyes and whispered, ¡°If I hit him, I would have killed him like that other man.¡±


    Ysbella ran a hand through his hair and sighed. She softly caressed his cheek and lifted his chin up, studying his face. Gently, she touched the swelling around his eye.


    ¡°I thought you had struck your face on the washbasin. Adonis did this to you?¡±


    Adireal bit his lip and nodded in affirmation.


    Ysbella peered towards the door and then leaned in close to Adireal. ¡°I-I will have to think about this.¡± She leaned over and kissed his forehead. ¡°Let me change your poultice and you can get some rest.¡±


    Both paused for a moment when a loud grumbling sound erupted.


    ¡°Ysbella, I, um, I am kind of hungry. I think I must have missed dinner?¡±


    Ysbella smiled at Adireal. ¡°I will get you something to eat soon then, my prince.¡± She pulled her herb satchel out again, along with a mortar and pestle, and began to grind a variety of herbs. With a few short pours of water, the dry mix quickly became a noxious paste. Adireal knew from experience that though this stuff smelled horrible, it would dull his pain and promote his healing.


    Ysbella paused as she smeared the concoction onto a new bandage. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I was so gruff with you.¡± Adireal noticed that she had turned away from him so he could not see her face; she must have forgotten how sharp his eyesight was though. Silvery streaks caught the faint moonlight from the window as they fell toward the floor. ¡°I will talk with your father about this.¡±


    ¡°Do you think that will help Ys?¡±


    The angel shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know Adireal, but I must be careful. There are rules regarding my presence, and I must obey them. However, I do not wish to sit idly by while something like this happens. Remember Adireal,¡± Ysbella turned towards him and took his hands, ¡°Remember that Adonis will be King. It is your job to protect him as his Crowned Prince, though not just physically. And Adireal?¡±


    ¡°Yes Ysbe--,¡± Adireal¡¯s reply was cut short by another loud rumbling. Ysbella let his hand slip from hers and laughed.


    ¡°Oh, oh my little Prince. . . I will go get you your food now, okay?¡±


    Adireal nodded and watched as she turned and walked towards the door.


    ¡°And Adireal?¡± Ysbella¡¯s voice dropped to a hushed whisper as she stopped a stride-length from the door. ¡°I was afraid I lost you once already. P-please, don¡¯t leave me yet. I want to hold on to you as long as I can.¡± Turning, she wiped a tear from her eye and grinned. ¡°So. I believe they had goose for dinner tonight, if that is acceptable? Maybe cheeses and fruits?¡±


    Adireal simply nodded, too shocked to speak.


    Ysbella closed the door softly behind her, the only other person in the castle besides Adireal who could accomplish the task by themselves, and Adireal could hear her faint whisper in the hall.


    ¡°I warned the fool not to let that bastard near his child.¡±

 Interlude: Dreams

    Adireal rolled out of bed, claws clicking against the stone floor. Belly still full from dinner, he stretched and sighed contentedly. He had nodded off for some time and the room was dark; it didn''t slow him down much. He COULD light the braziers, but he had always found his nightvision superior to other Elves. He could make his way around easily enough, and his bladder would appreciate him saving time.


    Quickly finishing his business, Adireal makes his way to the wash basin. After cleaning his hands, he scoops a handful of water onto his face. Peering into the mirror, Adireal grabs one of his many hand towels. Wiping off, he glances into the mirror again, turning his head back and forth watching how the moonlight shines on his golden scales.


    Adireal''s breath catches as he notices a patch of scales that have turned grey. Hands shaking, he lights the lamp next to the washstand. Gingerly touching the patch of scales, a few fall off into the basin.


    Ting.


    Ting.


    TING-TING-TING-TING!


    As his fingers rub over the scales, they begin shedding quickly. Adireal takes a deep breath as he watches the grey patch grow in the mirror. "No, no, no no! There must be something! A-anything, something, I can do!" Looking up to the cabinets over the washstand, he fumbles to pull the medical cabinet open. As he pulls Ysbella''s medical supplies out, he reaches into the basin, trying to fish some of the scales out. The water feels wrong. . . Thick, and warm.


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    Looking down, Adireal gasps. "B-blood? Wha-How?" Suddenly, it feels as if a hot brand had been shoved into his shoulder; Adireal sobs as blood blossoms across his tunic and he can see that a steady stream of blood has been draining down his arm and into the basin.


    The logical part of his mind told him that he COULDN''T bleed enough to overfill the basin . . . That something was wrong. Pain exploded across his face, driving any attempt at logic away. Adireal attempted to scream, but whatever invisible force had grasped his jaw effectively reduced him to loud whimpers. The greyness covered Adireal''s face, and he could feel bones break, and flesh rip. He gurgles in agony as his jaw rips free, stumbling backwards when his jaw falls into the basin, spraying blood everywhere.


    Adireal watches his jaw bob in the basin for a moment, feeling a warm wetness leak down his front. Clutching his face, he looks up into the mirror, afraid of what might be there. Instead of his own visage, Adireal saw the jawless assassin staring back at him.


    "Just like me . . . Not fair! NOT FAIR!" It gurgled at him, but Adireal could understand every word. "Dead like me! LIKE ME! Why did YOU return?" The corpse reached toward Adireal, pushing through the mirror''s surface. "Give it to me! Give it all back! GIVE ME BACK EVERYTHING YOU STOLE!"


    Gurgling on his own blood, Adireal tries to scream. Blood sprays across the floor and washstand, and Adireal clutches his throat. The human''s cold hands encompass his own as it screams, "GIVE ME MY LIFE BACK!" Its fingers squeeze his throat with an unnatural force.


    Adireal''s own scream finally pierces the air. Pushing against the body, he forces the corpse into the mirror. With an agonizing swing, Adireal shatters the mirror into hundreds of pieces.


    Gasping for breath, Adireal rolled out of bed, his claws clicking against the stone floor. Walking to the basin, his hands shake as he lights the nearby lamp. Peering into the mirror, he gingerly touches his face. Everything shines gold, everything is where it should be.


    Scooping up a handful of water to splash his face, Adireal pauses a moment. Everything is clean; the water is clear. Adireal grunts, letting the water fall back to the basin. Grabbing the stand, he flings it into the wall. Wood crunches, and pottery shatters as the young Elve''s breath quickens. Eyes darting around the room, he quietly makes his way to the corner of his room; the spot between his bed and the wall, where the bedframe hid him from view. Sitting down, Adireal clutches his knees to his chest and begins to weep.


    And the young Elve sobs himself back to sleep.

 Chapter 5: A Full Recovery

    Adireal pulled the curtains back on his window, took a deep breath of the fresh air, and shouted, "Six weeks! Six long, boring, weeks but now I am free!"


    The time had gone by slowly since his last ¡°incident,¡± and finally Adireal was rewarded for his patience. He checked his clothes again, straightening the collar, and strode out of his room with cane in hand. The hallway beyond would be easy to traverse, but that wasn''t the biggest problem facing Adireal today. The forty or so steps from his floor to the ground level would, once again, be a thorn in Adireals side. He was pretty sure he could handle going down the stairs, though Ysbella had warned him that it may be quite painful for the first few days. His body felt weak; too much time in bed had left him feeling tired no matter the time of day. She would have preferred to be there for his "first steps," as she put it, but she was off taking care of . . . things.


    Adireal really didn''t know WHAT she did when she went away. She was technically like a . . . Adireal paused to think for a moment, and scratched his chin . . . A living Saint? A manifestation of the God''s will? Adireal did remember that she was a high ranking angel, some order of Seraph. Her six-wings represented her status; half-angels and lesser angels only have two wings. As they grow in power and responsibilities, more wings manifest. Ysbella once told him that the most powerful angel that had stepped onto this world had eight wings, though he had been gone for quite some time. Part of Ysbella''s duties required her to look after the Elveen people, though she had many other things she oversaw, and lots of rules she had to follow. She never talked about those duties though; likely, Adireal thought, the ongoing war was as much a burden to her as to his father.


    So today was a day when Ysbella was taking care of those OTHER things. That didn''t matter though, because today, Adireal would take care of his own business. He could show everyone that he was becoming an adult, and he would attend breakfast, and he would attend church services, though it was still mid-week and not a day for gathering at the temple. Regardless, prayers, thanks, and a blessing were in order. Most of all though, he would go outside. The world had looked so far away through his window, and he had felt so forlorn, that he felt a walk amongst the town surrounding the castle would do his spirits good.


    The stairs were far more of a trial than Adireal had anticipated. Adireal had to take two breaks on the way down, forcing himself to take slow, careful steps. His legs ached, especially around his stitches, and he almost fell halfway down. For his first time out in over a month though, it went well enough. He made the tail end of breakfast, missing the fruits and pastries, making it in time for the meat, eggs and wine.


    The eating hall ended up being disappointingly quiet. Argus was attending another war council, and Adonis was either spending time with Ranvaas or one of his cronies. To add to Adireals unease, the servants refused to look at him; his food was brought in silence, save for the occasional "M''lord." The tables did have the families of the visiting nobles, some who nodded or forced smiles and at least acknowledged his presence. Even so, he was often the last person served when the attendants passed through. Regardless, this small piece of freedom bolstered his spirits. The sun shone through the high windows, warming Adireal''s body while he sat.


    Argus not being present was not unusual; it was rare for the King to have time for such civilities. As long as Adireal could remember, his father was meeting with generals in regards to the latest battle, or with his ministers to brainstorm how to help the displaced peasantry whose lands were lost to the humans. That is part of why Adireal hated reading "recent" Elveen history; the Elves main strategy seemed to involve retreat and relocation. The humans bred like insects, making up for their short lives. The Elveen lived almost three times as long, in ideal situations, but humans could bear several children in the hundred years they were graced with. Elveen families would be lucky for one or two children in that time. Needless to say, though they had once ruled the entire continent, the Elveen now ruled only a third of that, and the humans kept on taking more.


    Sighing, Adireal looked around and motioned to one of the servers. She was a slight girl, with long, golden hair. Her name was Liliaana, and she had always been kind to him. At first, it seemed that she did not notice him. After the third time he motioned for her, Adireal managed to make eye contact. Lilianna flushed slightly and clutched her serving tray to her chest as she walked towards his seat. She let her eyes drop to the floor, and bit her lip.


    ¡°M-m¡¯lord. Have I d-done something wrong?¡±


    Adireal¡¯s eye ridges furrowed. ¡°It¡¯s still Adireal, Lilianna. I am hardly a lord yet, and my crowning as Prince is years off.¡± His voice dropped to a whisper. ¡°What is wrong with everyone? They all seem so . . dour?¡±


    The woman gripped her serving tray tighter. ¡°Lord Adonis has made some . . . Changes. He feels we will serve the Crown better if we show the nobles more respect. While your father was never big on this sort of thing . . .¡± She turned her head and took a deep breath. ¡°Artyn was the first to make a mistake. The castle staff were called into the grounds. They-they flogged him, to unconsciousness.¡± Lilianna bit her lip and gently shook her head. ¡°We aren¡¯t to speak of it; I should say no more.¡±


    Adireal rubbed his cheek and looked off into the distance. ¡°Yes . . . My brother and I had a similar discussion. Where is he? Did he leave already?¡±


    Lilianna shook her head again. ¡°His Lordship takes meals in his private chambers now. He dedicates his time studying that which Prince Ranvaas has assigned him.¡±


    ¡°Lilianna.¡±


    She looked at Adireal and immediately cast her eyes downward again.


    Adireal ran a hand through his hair and sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll try to make this right. I don¡¯t know how, but it will get better.¡±


    Lilianna lifted her head slightly, still not meeting Adireal¡¯s eyes, and gave a slight smile. She mouthed the words, ¡°Thank you,¡± and curtsied. ¡°I should get back to work M¡¯lord. Unless, you need me for something else?¡±


    Adireal shook his head and pushed his plate away. ¡°I think I have had my fill. Please tell everyone that breakfast was good. Be safe Lilianna.¡±


    She curtsied again and and began to scoop up Adireal¡¯s dishes as he stood to leave. Walking the main halls was much easier than the trip to the dining area, and in short order he had made his way to the chapel. There were far fewer priests today than his last visit, since no holiday was taking place. Adireal made this a quick trip; he said his prayers and penned out one of the customary requests to the Gods. Visiting the chapel today moreover revolved around the fact that he had been unable to attend services for over a month and it would have been in poor taste to not visit at his earliest convenience. Adireal did not want to embarrass his father or Ysbella.


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    The priests smiled and nodded to each other. It was a different atmosphere than with the servants; here, Adireal was greeted with smiles all around. A priest quickly attended him, thanking him for his loyal services to the people and the gods, and got materials together to help him prepare his prayer sheet. As Adireal began crushing his berries, mixing them into ink, more than a dozen priests and priestesses surrounded him.


    The eldest priest bowed to him, and spoke. "Young prince, we are most gracious! So young, and already you serve the Crown and the Gods with all your will and might!" The gathered priests nodded in affirmation. "We have kept you in our thoughts and prayers, and have eagerly awaited your return to us! We are gladdened that our prayers have finally been answered, and await your future deeds!"


    Adireal looked between them, the Brothers and Sisters of the Wood, and was met with rapt attention. Intense focus; adoration, perhaps? It was a different weird feeling than when Elves shunned him. "Um, right. Right. Glad to serve, uh, and keep my bro-uh, Lord Adonis, alive. Right. I-uh, I should finish my prayers?" The priests and priestesses bowed their heads, with a chorus of comments like, "So devout," "So pious," "So dutiful," and the like, and made room for him. Adireal released a deep breath that he hadn''t realized he was holding, and began to pen his prayer.


    "Laltier, the Father of our Woods, walk beside me both day and night.


    Guide me, with your hand, from wrong and into right.


    Protect me in darkness, as you protect me in the light,


    I''m forever yours, so keep me in your sight.


    Niltuil, the Warden of the Woods, thank you for my health,


    Thank you for tending to me as you would tend to the very trees.


    Thank you for reminding me that my well-being is more important than wealth,


    Thank you both for the blessings granted to me.


    Adireal Darksbane"


    The main priest took Adireal''s prayer paper, and lit it in their main brazier. A few more pleasantries and soon enough, Adireal had earned his respite. The walk to the courtyard was short, and Adireal hurried as much as he could; since he was leaving through a side gate, there was only a small amount of traffic. It was no longer early spring, and the sun shone on his scales, warming him deeply. The birds that Adireal could see and hear flitted about; some in the trees, others looking for food. Adireal paused in the archway to watch them, grimacing as he flexed his wings slightly. There would be no flying for him for quite some time.


    The people passing through the gate mainly consisted of workers hauling things in and out. As Adireal watched a bird fly off into the distance, he noticed that a hand-cart had paused, waiting for him to exit the acrhway. Glancing about, he saw that all the traffic had stopped, the waiting Elveen staring at the ground in front of them. Adireal grimaced before letting out a short sigh. There was plenty of room to pass him, and it seemed odd that the workers would wait on him. Was there some new story about him that had them worked up? Did the rumors of him being nothing more than a pet monster become even more widespread since he killed the assassin?


    Putting on his best smile, he straightened his tunic and began to stride forward. Nodding at both lines and the guards he said, ¡°Sorry. Nice day out, and I was just enjoying the sun. I¡¯ll be on my way.¡±


    The people he passed stood almost completely still. Some bobbed their heads and muttered a reply, some merely refused to meet his eyes. No one recoiled from him as he walked by, which had happened to Adireal occasionally. Honestly, it was what Adireal had expected. The guards came to attention as he passed, and he gave them a quick wave. They refused to relax their posture until after he had walked by and was nearly around a corner. Adireal sighed as he walked, and watched as everyone resumed their activities.


    Shaking his head, he continued on into the city.


    It had been a while since Adireal had entered the town. Even before the assassination attempt, Adireal spent most of his time within the castle. Much of his time was spent in classes with Ysbella, and a little time was with weapon training . . . Though Ysbella had never approved of Adireal learning to fight. Something about him being too young, though many pages started training far younger than he. Adireal planned to push for more training soon, with official knights instead of exercises from his books.


    He felt like he deserved it, and had proven himself capable.


    He wandered without purpose, quickly learning to ignore those who showed him "respect." Adireal delighted in the chaos of the city; the noise, the movement, the colors! These were all things that he was missing within the castle walls. Even the smells lifted his spirits, with Adireal being able to discern foods cooking in the market, unwashed bodies of laborers passing by, perfumes and spices for sale . . . And the animal shit left from the horses and other beasts of burden. Cleaners passed through the city streets frequently, but to Adireal, the smell of shit just seemed to . . . linger.


    Something Adireal had never noticed though, was how run-down the city was. Though, upon consideration, run-down was perhaps not the right term. Looking around, he couldn''t quite put a finger on any one thing, but the city-folk certainly did not live like the castle-folk. At home, everything had to be PERFECT. Clothes always arranged perfect, food always served perfect, speech always impeccably perfect. Here, people existed and it seemed to Adireal that they just didn''t have time for perfection. Merchants were far too busy hawking their wares to apply a fresh coat of paint to their buildings, laborers were far too busy working to straighten their clothes and freshen up. Adireal couldn''t help but feel that maybe the castle-folk could learn from this. More things could get done in the castle if they spent less time arguing over perfection and perfect solutions, and just FINISHED projects.


    Shaking his head again, he came to a small square where some sort of event was being held. Signs were plastered on the buildings, and behind a makeshift stage, displaying the letters "NHI". One large banner above the stage proclaimed that everyone should "Join the New Home Initiative today!" Adireal watched for a while, since all the merchant stands were closed here anyways, and listened as the speakers droned on about ending the war, and saving the Elveen people. The speakers were all dressed much finer than the people they were speaking to, and Adireal could smeel the strong stench of heavy perfume on them. They were likley well-off merchants, or low-end politicians.


    The best dressed one took his turn on the stage. "Fellow Elveen, my good Elves. I wish to reiterate what my colleagues have already stated; it is far past time for the Crown to step down! This war has drug on for far, FAR, too long, and our people have suffered greatly for it. It is time for us to take our best, our brightest, and our most capable folk and establish a safe place for our people. The New Home Initiative will replace the failing Royal family, and institute a cabal of Grand Mages, Great Sages, and other powerful individuals to build an impenetrable metropolis, an insurmountable kingdom, and protect the Elveen people as a whole, not just those they feel as "important." Are we not all Elveen? ARE WE NOT ALL IMPORTANT?"


    Adireal leaned into a wall, trying to will himself into invisibility. No good would come of him being here. At best, it certainly would not be taken as him "staying out of trouble," if anything were to happen. As he quickly turned to leave, Adireal could hear someone moving quickly behind him. An Elve was rushing into the square, and even as he moved, they slammed into him. Bouncing off of him, the woman paused to catch her breath, and then began to admonish him.


    "You should certainly watch where you are going! I am very busy, and running behind, and you should know that my fath--OH!" She paused again and looked him up and down. Bowing her head quickly, she curtsied, and resumed speaking. "M-my Lord, ahh, my Prince! Please forgive my insolence! I had not thought that one such as YOU would be in attendance here . . ."


    Adireal looked about hurredly, before placing a hand over her mouth. "Shhhhh . . . I was just passing through, and wanted to see what was going on. I had no idea that these folk were talking about . . ." Adireal looked around again and lowered his tone, "Insurrection."


    The woman flinched slightly when he placed his hand on her, but listened to him quietly. After a moment, she pulled his hand off and looked up to him. "My Prince, they do not speak of insurrection, nor of violence. That would be devastating to our people. No, my father and his colleagues only want what is best for Elveenkind; safety, prosperity, and a future we can all embrace." She looked around as well, and tugged on his hand so he had to step closer to her. "We could go somewhere . . . Private . . . and discuss this, my Prince. Having someone like you on our side would be . . . very beneficial."


    Adireal''s breath caught in his throat. All he could focus on was her warmth in his hand, and how close she was to him. She . . . wanted to talk to him? Not run away? Dumbly, he nodded yes.


    "My name is Villandra," she said, gripping his hand tighter. "And I know just the place to go to, my Prince."

 Interlude: New Beginnings

    "Come along, Daryl. We have a long distance to cover, and I don''t relish dealing with all the people out here."


    Daryl followed behind the shadowy monster, still keeping a bit of distance. It had been about a week since he had left home and . . . Well, he just didn''t trust the monster. He tried his best to hide from everyone, saying things like, "Well, you''re my only friend here, Daryl," or "It would be bad for both of us if word got out that I was here." On top of him just acting CREEPY, Ma had always said that if what you are doing is honest, you shouldn''t have to hide it from anyone.


    Ma also said she''d never leave. So much for that.


    The monster had made good on his promise to Daryl though, and Daryl went to bed with a full belly every night. It took quite a bit of scrounging the first few nights, but they managed. The monster had introduced himself as Ghyzx at their first dinner, and that had been a nice night. Though there had been a group of soldiers marching through town, Ghyzx had found an abandoned house and they snuck by unnoticed. Daryl slept in a bed for the first time in FOREVER, and dinner had been some canned vegetables from the basement, while dessert was old crackers coated in berry jam. Plain foods, but better than soup. Especially the jam. Daryl had slathered the crackers with it, and ate it quickly. Sloppily. When he washed up, the jam coating his face and hands reminded him of the home he just left. . .


    Daryl had washed up quickly. He didn''t need to think about THAT ever again. Especially since there was more jam waiting for breakfast.


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    The monster, or whatever he was, had helped Daryl gather supplies in the morning. The soldiers had all gone, and Ghyzx said they would leave soon too. Before they left his home town though, collecting some things was in order. Searching for things went amazingly quick. Ghyzx would stand by a house''s door, and his shadow would slide in through the cracks. After a minute or two of waiting, the monster could tell Daryl if anything worthwhile was in the house and where to find it. Sometimes there was screaming from inside the houses . . . Those tended to be the houses with the most stuff in them.


    "What''s makin'' all the noise in dem houses, Mister Ghyzx?" Daryl asked when there were thumps and crashes accompanying the screams.


    The monster would only smile and reply, "My supplies, little one. Neither of us shall go hungry on this journey."


    Each house was clean enough; they looked better than his own and he never found any trace of the people that lived in them. Daryl bit his lip, and considered. He KNEW there were other people in their town, and although the noises could just be Ghyzx''s shadow parts searching for things. . .


    It took a bit of courage, but after several houses he had to ask, "What keeps me from bein'' supplies like dem den?"


    Ghyzx cocked his head to the side, as if reconsidering Daryl. "My clever, CLEVER boy. How do I explain this? YOU and I have an accord, a promise that would cost me dearly if I broke it." One of the monster''s shadowy tentacles traced up Daryl''s throat, coming to rest on his cheek. "Don''t worry, little one. I am taking you to a feast beyond your imagination! It will be . . . Out. Of. This. WORLD."


    Daryl''s stomach rumbled, and Ghyzx laughed. It was a scary sort of laugh, and just another reason Daryl couldn''t trust the monster completely.


    The monster winked and continued, "You just have so much POTENTIAL, I couldn''t let anything silly like a war hurt you. So don''t worry, Daryl," Ghyzx said as he turned away. "I promised you I would get you away from this, and I promise you a feast you couldn''t imagine! So much food, it will take you quite some time to eat it all up!"


    Daryl thought for a moment and responded, "Well, if food''s involved, I ''spose wese better make dis quick!"


    Ghyzx laughed, and another scream broke the silence of the town.


    Daryl shook his head, and clenched his jaw; for all that food, he could put up with this. "''Sides," he mumbled, "Just think of all dem snacks on da way . . ."

 Chapter 6: Pride and Politics

    Villandra pulled Adireal along, making their way through the gathered crowd. Adireal stumbled along behind her, dodging folk as well as he could, keeping his cane from hitting people they passed.


    "Where are we going," Adireal asked. "I, um, I can''t move too fast and probably will have to rest soon."


    Villandra stopped for a moment, pulling him under the sign of a shop, and giggled. "Don''t worry, my Prince! We are going to one of the restaurants my family owns. Plenty of opportunity to rest and . . . Discuss our future."


    Adireal looked her over briefly; she wore an expensive looking silken dress, and smelled pleasantly of flowers. Even as he caught his breath, his face split into a frown and he quietly replied. ". . . Our future?"


    She pulled on his hand again, and began leading them deeper into the city. "Of course," she giggled again. "The future of Elveen-kind!"


    Adireal took a deep breath, and followed the best he could. Normally, he would be able to outpace the woman, even with his lack of strength, but his lack of coordination hampered him severely. It was unlikely he would hurt himself, but he could not risk hurting any of the townsfolk. As they paused at another corner, Adireal caught his breath again and asked, "So . . . Um, you see . . . Huh, you see yourself as a big part of . . . the people''s future?"


    As she turned to him, clasping both of her hands around his, her eyes sparkled. "Of course! My family is from the people, and understand the common-folks needs far better than," she looked at Adireal, stopping midsentence, and coughed. "I mean," she started again, "We are not isolated from the commoners as . . . people of your station tend to be, and have observed . . . situations and consequences of the decisions of our leaders that may have . . . not been obvious to them." Taking a deep breath herself, she closed her eyes, scrunched her nose, and continued. "It takes people who are close to the heart of a matter, in order to solve it. Many of us feel as if the Clan Leaders and the Royal House have drifted too far . . ." Villandra had opened her eyes at this point and saw that she had Adireal''s attention. "Wha-What is that look for?"


    "It sounds like you practice that speech a lot," Adireal said, watching her curiously. Folks in the castle rarely got so animated in a discussion . . . In fact, some of the etiquette training Adireal had revolved around keeping an impassive face, regardless of what the discussion centered around.


    "Oh, I do, thank you for noticing--hey! What is that supposed to mean?" Villandra''s face quickly shifted from prideful pleasure to irritation.


    "Well, you looked like you were concentrating hard, trying to remember what to say. Though I do think that you believe what you are saying . . ." Adireal looked behind them, vaguely in the direction they had come. He could still hear the announcer at the gathering, though the voices of the crowd had diminished greatly. "Just like I think the people back there believed what they were saying . . . But I could tell you that my family all believe that they are doing what is best for everyone too . . ."


    The Elveen woman dropped his hands, balled her own into fists, and put them on her hips. "And what are you? Some sort of magical lie detector?"


    "No . . ." Adireal replied, "But people tend to . . . act certain ways when they lie. Have a certain look. Say certain things. ''I only wish you the best, M''lord.'' ''The Gods surely favor you, Adireal.'' ''It is always a pleasure.''"


    Villandra paused a moment, then cocked her head. "Hm. Well then, how about, ''I''m hungry. I don''t mind missing my father''s announcements,''" she paused and looked around quickly before continuing in a quieter voice, "''Though my father will CERTAINLY yell at me later for it . . . And I don''t mind spending the afternoon with you.'' How does that sound My Pri--um . . . " Villandra''s gaze shifted for a moment before she looked him in the eye. "Would it be too bold to simply call you Adireal?"


    Adireal could feel his pulse quicken again, and he glanced around once more. Though a few people were looking at them, no one should be within hearing range. At least, probably not, Adireal figured. Leaning in close, his snout almost to her ear, he whispered to her, "I, uh, certainly don''t mind. However, uh, Villandra, there are those at court who would likely have you whipped . . . publicly . . ."


    Letting her fists drop, Villandra shifted her weight from one foot to another, and distractedly chewed on her lip. "You see . . . Ah, Adireal, this is what I am talking about. What sort of life is it if I have to be worried about the authorities coming to take me into custody and whipping me for simply not calling you, ''My Prince?'' We are a society seemingly stuck in a perpetual war with the menfolk, and it has taxed us for far too long. Should we not focus on defending our people, not subjugating them?"


    With another long look at the commoners going on with their daily lives, Adireal came to a decision. He nodded to Villandra. "Lead on," he whispered, "And I will do what I can."


    *****


    After a long afternoon of eating and chatting, Adireal was on his way back to the castle. Even as Adireal approached the gate, he could see half a dozen figures waiting. "The guards are gone," he muttered. "Those are . . . Royal Knights. Fuck." It was possible that they weren''t there for him. Possible, but unlikely. It would take an order from someone in the royal family to get these knights to do something so menial as guard the gates. Adireal knew from past experience that if they were looking for him, they would be at every entrance and gate; the last time he had angered his Grandfather enough to be forcefully sought out, there were guards waiting inside his bedchambers, just in case he managed to fly up to his window. Gritting his teeth, Adireal finished approaching the gate.


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    "My Lord!" The group''s leader called out, raising a fist to signal the other knights. "Prince Ranvaas has requested you to attend him, posthaste. We have been assigned to accompany you, in order to accommodate his Lordship''s wishes." Though his face was hidden by his helm, Adireal could hear the strain in his voice. The other five knights quickly surrounded him, and Adireal glanced at each impassively.


    ''Fuck,'' Adireal thought to himself. Keeping his face and voice as neutral as possible, he nodded. "Sir Derris; I thank you for your attentiveness to his Lordship''s wishes. May all who serve the Crown have your grace and poise." The knight sighed in relief; Adireal had long been known to run from such encounters. They didn''t need to know that he was exhausted, though they likely knew that he couldn''t run even if he wanted to. Tapping his cane against the ground twice, he nodded to the knight. "Lead on."


    They took him into the castle, staying on the bottom floor. This was something Adireal could be thankful for; the stairs would be his last task for the day. He was fully prepared to rest in bed after heading up them. Passing several meeting rooms, the group finally came to a stop in front of one of the smaller rooms. Four guards were posted outside, and one of them nodded to Sir Derris as they approached.


    "He give ya much grief ''is time, Derris?"


    Sighing loudly, Adireal''s escort shook his head. "No, sir. Lord Adireal was a perfect gentleman today."


    The guard laughed loudly. "Well, certainly a welcome first! He''s prolly just too tired from bein'' a ''gentleman'' to ''is lady friend! Never thought I''d see the day when the lad discovered what to do wif ''is--"


    A muffled voice from within the chambered called out. Since Adireal couldn''t make out the words, he was sure no one else could either. However, the knights guarding the door immediately stood ramrod straight, and the door began to open. Esventin, the manservant of Ranvaas, pulled the thick door open. Amazingly, no one gagged at the manservant''s smell; anyone besides Ranvaas''s personal servant would be demoted for such bad hygiene. Looking past the portly Elve, Adireal could see Adonis and their Grandfather sitting in the back of the room, next to a wall sized map and surrounded by piles of papers.


    Esventin bowed, and motioned the group forward. Adireal and the knights approached as Ranvaas began to speak.


    "I said, ''Even if he is Lord Tamnin''s son, and the surviving member of his house, it would be a shame if we had to flog him like a commoner for having a loose tongue. Worse still, if we had to confiscate his familial holdings after we liberate them from the enemy, because he no longer held enough esteem within our court.'' That certainly would be a shame, wouldn''t it, Sir Farvis?"


    To his credit, the knight at the door didn''t so much as flinch.


    "Yes, your Lordship. Thank you for your consideration, your Lordship!"


    "Bah." Ranvaas motioned with his hand. "Thank you, Sir Derris. I appreciate the alacrity you accomplished your task with. Kindly take Sir Farvis and . . . remind him what happens when such foulness of mouths go unchecked. Hmm?"


    Sir Derris nodded, and bowed. "Yes your Lordship. It will happen at once."


    Ranvaas looked to the rest of the group. "Those of you who are unneeded are dismissed. Adireal, you may approach us."


    The knights quickly exited the room, and Adireal could hear the soft thump of Esventin closing the door behind them.


    Adireal had listened to the tapping of his cane all day as he walked. At no point had sounded as loud to him as this instant. With his head lowered, Adireal approached the table. "I have come as requested, Grandfather. How may I serve the Crown today?"


    Adireal could see his brother turn from him as he made a sound of disgust. "''How may I serve the Crown,'' he says. Where was that consideration when you were off with your little tart today, Adireal?"


    Looking up, he could see both his Grandfather''s stony expression, and the hatred playing out over Adonis''s face.


    "While we work away here, the first thing you do once you are able to walk again is chase down some merchant''s daughter for a dalliance? How disgusting are you, Adireal? How much did it cost the Crown?"


    Confused, Adireal looked between them. "Um, it was free? It, uh, wasn''t as good as what I could get here at the palace, but I wouldn''t call it disgusting."


    Adonis stopped for a moment, staring at Adireal in shock. "Not . . . as good . . . as you get here? How often . . . do you get ''it'' here, Adireal?"


    Adireal shrugged, noting Ranvaas''s amusement at the conversation. ''Perhaps this is only mildly bad,'' he thought to himself. "About . . . as often as everyone else? Though sometimes I sneak a little on the side? The ladies never seem to mind much, there is always plenty to go around."


    Adonis''s jaw dropped. "A . . . Little on the side?"


    Ranvaas''s smirk turned into a sneer. "He''s talking about food, Adonis."


    Adireal quickly nodded. "Of course. Villandra and I had lunch . . . what did you think I was talking about?"


    Adonis took a deep breath. "I, uh, I thought--"


    Still keeping his face as impassive as possible, Adireal nodded. "Yes, she provided lunch so long as I would listen to her petition. We sat together in her family restaurant, and discussed politics. It was . . . interesting to hear things from the view of a more . . . common viewpoint."


    Adonis''s confusion quickly faded to thoughtfulness, before switching back to anger. Sighing, he shook his head. "You really aren''t that much of a fool, are you, Adireal? Who would WANT to be next to you? In PUBLIC, no less. She was using you. Using you to cause problems for people who are actually important. Using you to cause rumors that peasants can cling to instead of listening and obeying the wise words of those that the Gods have CHOSEN to guide them. You do know that her family is leading a movement to break away from our nation? When they do, they will be poised to become one of the new ruling noble families. This was NOTHING but pure political BLISS for her and her family!"


    Adireal thought back to his afternoon . . . How close Villandra stayed to him, how she always talked badly about his family. Hanging his head in shame, he felt a warmth enter his cheeks, though the scales on his face could not show it. He had never thought someone would pretend to like him; there had never been a need for anything like that in the castle. He squeezed his eyes shut as he thought of Liliaana and the clergy-members, and the other folk who treated him nicely. Were they pretending too?


    "Are you even paying attention?" Adonis slammed his hand into the table, looking for a reaction. When Adireal flinched, he resumed his tirade. "I knew it. I KNEW IT. You fell for it completely! Adireal, have you no more sense than a randy animal? Are you so much of a beast that we should chain you down--"


    "Do not be so harsh on him, your Highness." At Ranvaas¡¯s interjection, the room fills with silence.


    "G-Grandfather," Adonis stutters in reply.


    "Honestly. One day out from his bed rest and he presents us with a . . . Unique, err, opportunity. I had heard there was a growing voice within the lower classes, but I had not imagined it had become something like this. Adireal has discovered it, and given us an avenue to address it."


    Even as Adireal''s head pops up, looking between them with relief, his brother looks between them, slack-jawed and confused. "R-really, Grandfather? So you will meet them? Can we help the masses?"


    "Pah!" Ranvaas snorted at Adireal. "His Lordship is correct, you are still a fool. Albiet, a useful fool in this instance. Come, Lord Adonis, we must prepare invitations for this Villandra and family. We should discuss the terms we will address . . . And my Lord, I am thinking of a ''suitable'' topic that you may well enjoy; something perfect for someone showing so much interest in our little Adireal . . ."


    Esventin rushes over to offer Ranvaas an arm to steady himself with as he stands, and quietly pushes his chair back under the table afterwards. Adonis quickly follows suit, still looking between Ranvaas and Adireal in shock.


    Ranvaas pauses briefly as his manservant opens the door. "Come child," he called over his shoulder, "I sleep soon, and I wish to have plans in motion for when I awake next week."


    Adonis finally turns his back to Adireal, and rushes after his mentor. "Yes Grandfather; I am ready."

 Not a chapter :/

    Hello!


    Sorry for the long pause here. I was hoping to have this done by end of January, obviously that hasn''t happened.


    My computer died in October, which was inconvenient. One of my friends was letting me use their system to write on the weekends, until theirs died in November. Then one of my cats dumped water on my notes, destroying them.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    2021 was nothing if not problematic.


    So, I have a new system. I also got promoted at work and am looking at more OT, so I don''t know how much time I will have to write.


    I intend to get this done. Not really sure if anyone is really waiting for more, but thank you to everyone who has read up to this point.