Year 3633, the Sixth Age, the first day of Spring

The new year had started off in grand fashion in Port Na’brath. Despite the conflict among the Lords the commoners had set up magnificent celebrations. As well as it being the new year it was also the festival of New Life which celebrated birth and rebirth as well as the Spring growth and the receding of the harsh Winter and long nights.

All the main streets of the city were festooned with different coloured paper lanterns. Each made into a different shape and some even in the shapes of flowers or trees. Streamers hung from balconies, street lights were adorned with flowers, and small stages were beautifully set up around the city streets where musicians played jolly tunes which people danced and laughed to. Tables and stalls of foods were also around the place selling unusual treats and delicious morsels.

Groups of people paraded through the street, dancing, singing, playing instruments and tossing flowers to the gathered crowd. Each group was dressed up magnificently and portrayed a certain theme. Splendidly decorated carriages joined the groups parading, also resembling a certain theme of the night and festival. One carriage was adorned with flowers and riding in it were half naked women who were heavily pregnant to resemble birth. Some were filled to the brim with vegetables, another with gathered produce, and all were covered in wild flowers. It was a joyous night in the Port and everyone one was singing, dancing, feasting and generally enjoying themselves and forgetting their troubles.

Fairris was also in the streets of the Land of Lords enjoying the night with Jar’nesh and Ty’far. It had not taken Fairris long to heal from the wounds that she had sustained whilst breaking into the Merchant Bank with the Thieves Guild and she had quickly returned to Lord Varrintine to see what was the next step. But when she had arrived, and for a while now, Lord Varrintine told her and her companions to just wait and let Lord Cardonian’s revenue dry up and force him to take more drastic measures to eliminate the house of Varrintine. So although Fairris was enjoying herself amid the festival of New Life, she remained wary of everything around her.

It brought a smile to Fairris’s face to see her Nevārancien companions enjoying themselves as well. Jar’nesh and Ty’far watched the parade with wide eyes and smiles on their faces, and they always made a point to stop at the food stands and try each of the strange sweets and lollies.

“Do you have similar celebrations in Nevārance?” Fairris asked as they walked through the coloured streets.

“Not really,” Jar’nesh shook her head, “We might celebrate the new year a little, but that is it really.”

“In the Arena Tournaments is where most of the celebrations happen,” Ty’far added.

Fairris cocked her head to the side, “What are they?”

“The fighting championships,” replied Ty’far, “Warriors and fighters from all over Kor’vir enter the tournament to decide who is the greatest of them. Anyone can enter, but if you are not any good you would be destroyed.”

“Not literally of course,” Jar’nesh cut in, “Killing is not allowed, although it has happened on occasion.”

The sound of festive music interrupted their conversation as they passed a stage were two individuals battled musically with fiddles. One would play a merry jig before the other would try and best it with a tune of their own. The crowd was enjoying the battle and cheering after each skillful riff.

“So what happens in this tournament?” Fairris asked curiously as they moved away from the stage.

“Basically it begins with qualifying rounds,” Ty’far replied, “At this point it is only hand to hand combat and the loser is eliminated, and the winner progresses to the next stage.”

“And this is a big celebration?” Fairris gave her companions a quizzical look.

“The fighting arena complex is huge,” Ty’far spread her arms wide, “As big as the Land of Lords probably. It has many different stadiums where people come to watch the fights. You have to pick which fight you want to see because hundreds of people participate in the tournament and fights have to run simultaneously. The qualifying rounds are not much to see, but once you get into the last fifty participants things really heat up. Those fights are run separately and everyone wants to watch those.

“Once the last fifty start it is no longer only hand to hand combat, three rounds are introduced and consist of unarmed combat, sword, and spear or staff. The arena they fight in also changes from a simple square mat for them to fight on to set ups with rocks with pools of water, city ruins, thick grassy hills, sandy beaches, or a mixture of all of them. And the combat space is not small either; I am talking of sets ups that are sometimes as big as Cardonian Square.”

“I once saw a fight where each combatant had chosen a space that gave them an advantage and they both refused to move from it to engage their opponent,” Jar’nesh remarked and Fairris shook her head in wonderment.

“There are also mock battles between groups of ten,” Ty’far continued, “But they are merely for spectacle and have no influence on the tournament.”

“Unless one of the warriors in the running for the championship joins the mock battle and is wounded,” Jar’nesh added, “I remember seeing the favourite to win the championship being purposely killed in the mock battle, so not many do it anymore.”

“Personally I enjoy the demonstrations that the Brothers do occasionally,” Ty’far said grabbing Fairris’s interested, “Although the Brothers were never allowed to participate in the actual championships they did a sort of mini championship between them.”

“Which of the Brothers usually won?” Fairris asked curiously.

“Your Lieut always won,” Jar’nesh said with a smile, “I have never seen him beaten.”

Fairris smiled widely, for some reason that knowledge brought her great joy.

“Have either of you entered the tournament?” Fairris asked, and both Jar’nesh and Ty’far nodded.

“Of course,” Jar’nesh replied, “It is a good test of skill. But I have never moved passed the qualifying rounds. Ty’far got to the last fifty once.”

“Twice actually. Get it right,” Ty’far was quick to correct her friend and they all laughed. 

The three of them continued to walk among the festivities and enjoy the clear night. It was still quite cool and a chill wind blew in from the sea, but it seemed as if the grips of Winter had already let go of the land.

At midnight the remaining Magi and students from the Guild made a display of magickal fireworks in the night sky. They were some of the finest that Fairris had ever seen, bursting in vivid colours and raining down like snow. Some of the fireworks burst into flocks of birds that flew about the buildings or groups butterflies that fluttered about the spectator’s heads.

It was soon near on dawn and the sky above the highlands east of the city was beginning to go pale blue, marking the coming of Inüer. But the celebrations had hardly subdued, although they did seem less vigorous to Fairris’s tied eye.

Fairris was sipping on a mug of hot chocolate that she and her companions had just bought from a stall when she noticed a group of ruff looking individuals giving her a more than passing glance.

Subtly Fairris pointed them out to Jar’nesh and Ty’far who nodded and directed her attention to and another group at the other end of the street.

“Trouble?” Ty’far asked Fairris and Jar’nesh quietly.

“Well, it is not a celebration without a good fight at the end,” Jar’nesh smiled.

“I think this will be more than a simple brawl,” Fairris remarked as many more ruffians started to fill the street.

The vendor that sold them the drinks also noticed the situation and grabbed his lockbox before quickly heading down the street which was now empty apart from the dozen or so ruffians wearing all black. But as he passed by one woman, she quickly grabbed the vendor and slit his throat. The man’s lockbox fell to the ground and spilled open, gold and silver coins sprayed across the ground but none moved to collect the coins and they continued to move toward Fairris and her friends.

“They have weapons,” Jar’nesh remarked, “You think Cardonian learnt who we have been working for and employed them?”

“I don’t think so,” Fairris replied as the thugs moved closer.

Fairris looked curiously about the street and to the thugs. It seemed to her they did not appear as your average mercenary. These men and women were hardened fighters with fierce eyes and skilled sword arms. Motion on the roof of one of the buildings caught Fairris’s eye and she saw several archers positioning themselves.

“I see what this is,” Ty’far remarked loudly, “This lot are the ones that had been killing the squads of the Grey Company.”

Fairris nodded slightly as she too remembered the letter that had come from the High King of the Nevāranciens, warning about the Grey Company being targeted by an unknown organisation.

Jar’nesh smirked, “They should have quit while they still had a chance.”

“The last three of the Grey Company we met were cocky too,” said a tall darked haired man as he moved towards them. “I took this sword from his dead hands.”

The rugged man drew forth a black metal sword and smiled nastily.

“You have no need for ours then,” Ty’far replied sarcastically as she too drew her blade.

“And who are you anyway?” Jar’nesh asked, “At least introduce yourself when you approach a lady. How is she to know if she will like you if you have no name and she knows nothing about you?”

The man smirked, “I am Hardin, of The Black Rangers,” the man bowed slightly, “May I introduce you each to your deaths?”

A sly smile came to Jar’nesh’s face, “No.”

“Too bad, you will meet it anyway,” Hardin replied and turned to the dozen others of The Black Rangers, “Kill them.”

Fairris’s gunblades were in her hands in seconds and she aimed them at the archers on the roofs just in time to see several bolts flying towards her face. It was too late to dive aside, too late to think about deflecting them.

The arrows suddenly shattered upon an unseen barrier before Fairris’s eyes and burst into a rain of pink sparkles. Not stopping to regard her good fortune Fairris shot a stream of magickal bullets towards the archers. The bullets blasted apart a few of them and sent the others diving for cover. But then the rest of The Black Rangers were upon them.

Quickly Fairris moved into a defensive formation with Jar’nesh and Ty’far their backs touching before they stepped ahead to face the first of the rangers. Fairris defended well against several swing from the two rangers before stepping backwards until she felt the bodies of Jar’nes and Ty’far. As soon as she felt them Fairris darted ahead again and attacked the two rangers.

It was simple strategy, one that Jar’nesh and Ty’far had shown her, and was designed to prevent enemies from getting in behind them or crowding and overwhelming them.

Three times Fairris moved back and forward, felling one of the rangers on the third time. But the next time she touched the back of her friends the three of them rotated so they would be facing new attackers.

Fairris darted ahead and twisting under one axe swing and slicing the leg of another ranger. As she quick stepped back she saw the archers launching another volley at them, but miraculously these arrows also shattered on an unseen barrier.

Fairris’s turned again with Jar’nes and Ty’far, cutting open the neck of one of the rangers in the process. But despite their skillfulness there were still near on a dozen of The Black Rangers moving to attack them.

This time as Fairris stepped back she sent a barrage of magickal bullets into the line of rangers. The first in the two died instantly and several others fell screaming, but it did little to lessen the number.

Suddenly the archers went flying from the roof tops from the force of a wave of water which crushed them into another group of rangers.

“With me,” Ty’far yelled.

Using the surprising distraction Ty’far dashed ahead at the rangers and Fairris and Jar’nesh were close on her heels. With Fairris close behind, Ty’far cut a strong line into the rangers. Their attack was sudden and vicious and as Fairris moved with her companions she sliced apart all in her path, limbs fell and blood splattered the road. As they broke out the back of the ranger’s line, leaving a bloody wake behind them, a small tornado of deep blue water crashed into the other side of The Black Rangers, throwing them into the buildings and ripping them apart.

So sudden and ferocious was the magickal attack and the surge by Ty’far that most of the rangers now lay dead or severely wounded. With her back to the wall of a house Fairris looked at the path of carnage they had cut through the rangers, and it was then she saw who had been casting the devastating spells.

Up the street a little ways Valianna stood confidently, a mace crafted from Fog in her hand. Hardin also noticed the young girl, and anger came swiftly to his features.

“You,” Hardin grabbed the ranger closest to him, “Kill the girl.”

The other man looked hesitant, “She is a magicks wielder.”

“I don’t care if she is one of The Five,” Hardin roared back, “Kill her. There can be no witnesses.”

The other man nodded and motioned for three others to join him.

“Valianna,” Fairris screamed out, “Get out of here. Run!”

Desperation guided Fairris movements then and she broke away from Jar’nesh and Ty’far and raced for Valianna.

The first ranger in her way fell as Fairris performed a jumping pirouette, slapping aside the ranger’s sword and getting behind him, her gunblade severing his spine. Although, she had suffered gash along her leg, but it was a minor wound to receive if it meant reaching Valianna in time. Again Fairris spun under another ranger’s sword, slashing a hamstring and leaving the woman screaming in pain. Again she was wounded, this time across her shoulders. Fairris could hear Jar’nesh and Ty’far engaged in their own fight as they tried to follow her and Fairris hoped that they would be fine.

Fairris darted to the right as another sword dived for her and cutting her on her hip. A she moved her gunblade slashed the sword wielder’s face and dropped him to the ground.

Fairris came upon the last of the rangers in her line and saw the four that had gone after Valianna. To her despair Valianna had not run, and the young Magi stood frozen as the rangers moved in on her.

Fairris need to get to Valianna quickly but her last opponent had a good defence. Fairris rushed forward her gunblades moving like lightning as they slashed and stabbed at the ranger. But the woman collected all Fairris’s attacks with her shield and countered skilfully with a Nevārancien blade.

Angrily Fairris sent a barrage of blows for the ranger’s head, which were blocked by the shield, before Fairris quickly cut low. But the attack was stopped by the woman’s sword and the shield slammed into Fairris’s arm.

The blow caused Fairris to stumble backwards and then the ranger was upon her, sword slicing for her head and stabbing holes in her defence. Fairris felt the pain as several strikes cut into her skin and drew lines of blood.

Suddenly the ranger’s shield swung for Fairris’s head. Somehow Fairris managed to duck under the swing and she stabbed ahead with a gunblade. The tip of her blade sunk deep into the woman’s chest and the ranger slumped onto Fairris.

Quickly Fairris twisted away from the dead ranger and moved to help Valianna. But she skidded to a stop as she saw the four attackers suddenly burst apart with hundreds of tiny holes shooting through their bodies. The rangers slumped to the ground, dead, and Fairris looked to Valianna in surprise.

Valianna half smiled at Fairris before her Fog mace vanished and she too fell to the ground. Fairris was there in a flash and helped Valianna into a sitting position. A trickle of blood ran from Valianna’s nose and she smiled weakly at Fairris.

“Too many. Spells at once,” Valianna said softly, her features pale and her skin clammy, “You can die. From that.”

Thankfully the battle was over by now and Jar’nesh and Ty’far jogged over to Fairris who held Valianna, they too baring many minor wounds.

“You are shivering,” Fairris said, her voice filled with worry, “I think I have a healing potion in my pouch.”

“Useless,” Valianna said as her teeth began to chatter, “Potions. Don’t work. Anymore. I’ll be. Fine. Just need. To rest. Have you got. Water?”

Jar’nesh was quick to pull her flask from her belt and help Valianna drink from it.

“What will your father say when he learns of this?” Fairris tried to laugh and Valianna smiled.

“Father sent me. To find you,” replied Valianna, already seeming better. “He said. Lord Cardonian is making his move soon. And for you. To return to the house. As soon as possible.”

“Can you walk Valianna?” Ty’far asked pleasantly and offered a hand to the young Magi.

Valianna accepted the help up and nodded, “I’ll be fine in a bit.”

With Fairris’s help Valianna began to walk unsteadily with them as they moved from the blood covered and corpse filled street. Fairris glanced back at the carnage with concern and some of The Black Rangers were still alive and groaning. Fairris knew that this mysterious vendetta that the rangers had against the Grey Company would not end here, but she had other things to concern herself with at that moment.

By now it was dawn and Inüer was just poking above the mountains to the east. Valianna seemed to be walking fine at last as they made their way back to the Varrintine estate, but she had drained Jar’nesh’s flask completely and had begun on Ty’far’s water bottle.

“Look,” Jar’nesh pointed as they came around a street corner.

From their position the cliff top where the estates of the ruling Lords were built was in view, and rising into the clear morning was black smoke.

“Looks like Cardonian has already made his move,” Ty’far remarked grimly.

“That’s not near my house though,” Valianna said in surprise and concern.

“Let’s go,” Fairris said and headed off quickly, the others following close behind.

Luck was with them for they came across a city carriage that was drawn by a strong horse. As soon as they climbed aboard the driver flicked his reins and the horse sped away with powerful strides that clattered loudly on the paved streets. Very soon they were moving through the estates of the Lords and towards the pillar of smoke.

“It has to be house Zanzier,” Valianna said with worry, “Only recently has the marriage between my brother Vheord and Lady Alorren been arranged.”

The carriage pulled up at the broken gates and the four of them jumped out, Fairris in the lead. The loose stone driveway was not long and soon the smoking house of Lord Zanzier loomed before them. Many of people were hurrying about the front and looking with fear and despair at the smoke coming from the windows. Thankfully the fire was already out and Fairris spotted many from Varrintine’s household helping the Zanziers. Valianna’s brothers were also there and Fairris saw Vheord consoling a crying Alorren.

Lord Varrintine then came from the house, his clothes and face covered in ash and in his hands he had a small glass orb, which he pocketed. Spotting Fairris and her companions Lord Varrintine quickly came over to them, shaking his head.

“Are you alright Valianna?” Lord Varrintine asked curiously as he looked at his daughter.

“No,” Valianna said emphatically, “What happened here?”

“That is not what I am referring to,” Lord Varrintine was quick to reply, “You look pale, and exhausted.”

“Lord Zanzier’s house is burning,” Valianna tried to divert her father’s attention again.

“Don’t lie to me child,” Lord Varrintine said sternly.

Valianna sighed and looked into her father’s eye, “I am alright father. I helped Fairris, Jar’nesh and Ty’far out of some trouble is all.”

“Know your limits, Valianna,” Lord Varrintine said emphatically, “How many times have I told you children?”

“What happened here Lord Varrintine?” Jar’nesh cut in, “You sent your daughter to tell us that Cardonian might make his move soon. But it seems he already has.”

Lord Varrintine nodded grimly and spoke softly, “It seems that Cardonian was not happy with Lord Zanzier agreeing to the marriage between my son and his daughter. Such marriages have a profound effect on ones allegiances. Sadly Lord Zanzier is dead, as well as his wife.”

Valianna gasped and covered her mouth as tears began to well in her eyes.

“Cardonian has made a mistake in his anger,” Lord Varrintine continued, even more quietly, “His actions here will bring his downfall. But he will act more irraticaly and desperately, which is why I need you three to remain close.”

Fairris nodded in agreement, as did Jar’nesh and Ty’far.

“With blood being spilt on the festival of New Life it does not bode well for the coming year,” Lord Varrintine said darkly and turned back to the smoldering mansion. 

Fairris nodded subtly and looked to sky, agreeing with Lord Varrintine’s prediction.

**************************************************

Kil’dar sat cross-legged on a rock along a high pass above the city of Lancer. Although Spring had begun the air was cold and a light snow danced on the wind before coming to rest in Kil’dar’s steel grey hair.

Annoyingly to Kil’dar the High King Gar’lin had commanded that he return to Lancer and stop consorting with the High Commission in Pentra. Kil’dar had to obey his King’s command, though it irritated him no end. Gar’lin had also demanded that he stop messing about with the High Commission and put his thoughts towards discovering who, or what had been killing the squads of the Grey Company. It did not need much thought though, for Kil’dar already knew it was the recently formed Black Rangers attacking the Grey Company. But he had not bothered to inform Gar’lin, any reason to stop the High King commanding that they return to Nevārance was a good one, in Kil’dar’s mind.

Kil’dar drew in a deep breath and very slowly he began to release it, his eyes looking out across the city of Lancer but not seeing it.

Last night the Elder Races within the city had set about celebrating the new year and the festival of New Birth. The usually bleak buildings were decorated colourfully and music played throughout the night. Drink and joy was everywhere and most of the Nevāranciens joined in the celebrations. Gar’lin, though, had been furious about his warriors celebrating and had called Kil’dar from the festivities to vent his anger and curse Essinendeür and its people.

Kil’dar had tried to make Gar’lin see the celebrations as an enjoyable thing, but the High King had not wanted to hear it.

It had become apparent to Kil’dar that Gar’lin was quickly losing touch with his warriors. Day after day Kil’dar had watched how the warriors from Nevārance slowly began to enjoy themselves more in the company of the elves and dwarves, and how Gar’lin quickly resented it all the more. Friendships had formed between the warriors and the Elder Races and Kil’dar noticed some lovers, even though Gar’lin had forbid it. But it was a good thing in Kil’dar’s mind and he was glad that his people were starting to see the beauty and joy that this land had to offer and no longer saw it as a place to conquer and use up its natural resources while enslaving its natives.

It also annoyed Kil’dar that Gar’in was keeping him here in Lancer and preventing him from his plans with the High Commission. He had discovered that the Grey Company Squad he had sent to Port Na’brath had not in fact killed Lord Varrintine as he had instructed. It was of little consequence though for the feud between Cardonian and Varrintine had erupted none the less, but he had made a mental note to have a serious word with Jar’nesh and Ty’far about it.

The point of igniting the house war was to drive the commoners further into the protective arms of the United Concord, who were working for the High Commission. Of the little word he heard from other places in Essinendüer it seemed that the United Concord were succeeding in Issia, Sparren and Pentra. Kil’dar did wonder what would happen when those in the United Concrod realised the amount of power and control they had, but he would just have to deal with that when and if it happened.

Kil’dar drew in another deep breath and again very slowly breathed out. But his breath came in a sudden blast as Nanil slapped him over the back of the head. 

“Too quick,” the small Wood Elf scolded, “Your breathing needs to be much slower.”

“I am breathing as slow as I can,” Kil’dar snapped back angrily.

“You’re the one who wanted to see if you could learn magicks, m’Lord,” Nanil replied and shrugged, “I am just showing you how to do it. But if you think you know best.”

“All I have been doing is breathing,” Kil’dar replied irritably, “How many lessons have we had now? Too many to just be breathing that’s how many.”

“You are practicing Synergy,” Nanil said authoritatively, “You must fall into a meditative state and focus on the Fog and its magicks. Once in that meditative state you need to practice the exercise of Deviation, as I have explained. By practicing these exercises you will see if you can connect to the Fog and its magicks, as I have explained.”

Kil’dar sighed and took a deep breath and slowly let it out again. It was hard for him to let his mind drift into a meditative state, always it was calculating and planning, running scenarios to see how they might play out. This was the reason he did not sleep that much, for there was so much to know, so much information out there in the world for him to understand.

But that was the trick, Kil’dar realised. As he thought about his plans and desires and how he would go about achieving them he became unaware of the time slipping by. Before he realised he was doing the exercise of Deviation and setting his mind to several different tasks at once and completely being absorbed in all of them simultaneously.  

Then Kil’dar blinked for the first time in what seemed like hours and again he saw the city of Lancer before him. Now the snow had stopped falling and the day seemed lighter. He suddenly sucked in a deep breath and his mouth felt dry as did his eyes and his stomach grumbled for some food. A slight smile came to Kil’dar’s face as he realised that many hours must have passed by as he had been meditating.

But his smile disappeared as Nanil slapped him over the back of the head again.

“That was not long enough,” the Wood Elf said, now sitting on the rock beside him.

“How long was it?” Kil’dar asked curiously as he drank from a flask of water.

“Barely half an hour,” Nanil shrugged, “You should be doing six hours minimum a day if you ever want to find a connection to the Fog.”

“Any way I could speed up the process?” Kil’dar asked dryly.

“I could find some Fog clouds for you to meditate in and practice the art of Ethience and Exo-Convulsion,” Nanil looked thoughtful, “But that might be dangerous.”

“I am open to new things,” Kil’dar smiled.

“Shame your King isn’t,” Nanil replied and scratched her ear.

Like many times before Kil’dar’s eyes lingered on the Wood Elf’s ears. Most Wood Elf’s ears were long and delicate and pointed, but Nanil’s had been cut off rather roughly. Kil’dar had always been hesitant to ask her how that had happened, but he was very curious about it.

“What did happen to your ears, Nanil?” Kil’dar finally decided to ask, “Ever since I saved you in the tavern of Pentra I have been curious.”

Kil’dar could see Nanil’s eye go hard as he asked the question and her lips became thin. Kil’dar held his breath, wondering if he had asked his companion too soon before he knew her well enough.

But Nanil sighed and the anger left her face, “You hardly saved me in that tavern,” she changed the subject. “I had my magicks.”

“You were blind drunk,” Kil’dar smirked, “You could barely even cast the most simple of spells.”

“That is still more then you can sober,” the Wood Elf smiled back, “Come on, keep practicing.”

“Nanil,” Kil’dar said cautiously, “You still did not. . .”

“I know,” the elf interrupted, “Perhaps I will tell you one day. But today you are meditating. Now get to it.”

Kil’dar nodded, “Very well,” he said and returned to his slow breathing and letting his thoughts absorb him completely.

This time he lasted about an hour before he became exhausted, and by then it was time to return to the city and lie to Gar’lin that he had been looking for the people responsible for attacking the Grey Company. Or listen quietly as the High King yelled and cursed Essinendeür and his warriors who were starting to like it here.

With a stretch of his back Kil’dar began to walk down the narrow path along the side of the mountain that led to the road into Lancer.

The gates were guarded well and the warriors nodded to Kil’dar as he walked into the city. With Nanil beside him he headed to the castle that was built into the side of the cliff face of a tall grey peak. The castle halls were uncomfortably warm as he moved through the corridors and to the High King’s private study. Gar’lin was waiting for him at his desk as Kil’dar entered and scowled, as he noticed the company Kil’dar had come in.

“Tell your servant to wait outside,” Gar’lin demanded, and Kil’dar heard Nanil curse quietly.

“Nanil is no one’s servant,” Kil’dar replied seriously, “And I cannot command her to do anything. I am sure she will if you ask it of her though.”

Gar’lin clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes dangerously.

“Leave us elf,” Gar’lin demanded, “I have business with Kil’dar not you, and your weakling kind.”

Kil’dar heard Nanil again quietly say some things in elven, but she left and slammed the door behind her.

“You should train her better,” Gar’lin said to Kil’dar, “If only I could force them all out of the city.”

“You could,” Kil’dar remarked dryly as he sat comfortably down in the seat in front of Gar’lin’s desk. “I must confess though, I find it interesting your dislike for the Elder Races when you allowed a Blood Elf to join the Grey Company.”

“I only let her join because she was able to defeat five of my warriors without using any magicks,” Gar’lin was quick to say, “It would have been embarrassing to our people if I refused her. But do not mistake that small respect I had for that one elf as condonement to allow relations between our races.”

“How come none others have been allowed to join then?” Kil’dar asked curiously.

“None others have been able to defeat five warriors without magicks,” Gar’lin replied simply.

“But I did not ask you here to talk about such things,” Gar’lin was quick to say, “We have more important things to deal with, like these attacks on our people. What have you learned Kil’dar? I do hope you have been looking.”

“Of course,” Kil’dar smiled, “But our enemy is cunning, secretive, and leave no witnesses.”

“Sounds like you,” Gar’lin replied seriously and Kil’dar laughed.

“But I would know better than going against the greatest warriors in land,” Kil’dar smiled.

“We Wyner will not be cowed like this,” Gar’lin shouted angrily and slammed his fist into the table, “Damn it Kil’dar we will destroy them before we return home.”

Kil’dar nodded, “I will double my efforts.”

“Don’t leave yet,” Gar’lin said as Kil’dar began to rise from his seat, “There are other problems I wish to discuss with you.”

“Of course my Liege,” Kil’dar nodded and sat back down, “What troubles you?”

“There is discontent within our ranks,” Gar’lin said seriously, “They make friends with the lesser races here in the city and there is talk that they want to stay in this disgusting land and not return to Nevārance. Can you believe this treachery, this malcontent within our culture, racial purity and military dominance? Can you believe that one of my Wyner asked consent to have relations with one of the lesser races?”

“Did you consent?” Kil’dar asked curiously, but he knew the answer.

“Of course not,” Gar’lin roared, “And just now I received word that the young fool has challenged my right to High King. After I am done here I will go and kill him, and hopefully the rest of them will realise their foolishness.”

“I don’t see there is much to be done, my Liege,” Kil’dar replied, “And even less that I can do.”

“You are leading the example with your elf friend, Kil’dar,” Gar’lin growled, “You will no longer be seen with her, and you will go about my ranks telling my warriors to desist there friendships with the weaklings. Understand?”

“I do not see how that would work,” Kil’dar said slowly as he gathered his thoughts, “They all have free will and can choose their own paths. Our words and commands will only make them more secretive about their friendships, which will create more dissent in the ranks. The only way to move past this is promote such friendships and unions. And don’t forget how you let that elf into our ranks.”

“You are a fool Kil’dar,” Gar’lin snapped, “An idealistic fool. I do not want the blood of the Wyner to be diluted by lesser races, our determination, skill, strength, and discipline will not be diluted. This is my command, the command of your King, desist association with that elf and command our warriors to do likewise. If your elf can defeat five of my warriors then I will allow her into the Grey Company and she will be treated like any other warrior. But until that happens, such friendships are not condusive to our situation. So end it. Now are you coming to see me kill the traitor or not?”

Kil’dar smiled slightly and followed Gar’lin from the room.

Nanil was waiting for Kil’dar, but she stepped aside and quietly walked behind Kil’dar as the High King scowled at her. Gar’lin strode determinedly from the castle and out into the courtyard where all of the warriors had gathered in a large circle. Confidently Gar’lin walked into the circle to meet the young warrior who had challenged his rulership. No pleasantries or customary greetings were exchanged and the two drew their swords.

Both Gar’lin and the challenger had traditional black metal blades, but it was clear from just comparing the two by eye that Gar’lin’s was better made. It was also clear from the way they each took up their stance that Gar’lin was more experienced, and more confident.

Kil’dar’s eyes widened as he recognised the beautiful long sword that Gar’lin was holding. The blade had once belonged to the forth of the Brothers, Na’uor, or Number Four, was its name but had to be terminated. And it seemed that Gar’lin was quick to make a claim to the masterfully crafted blade from a Zodiarc stone.

Kil’dar’s eyes sparkled with admiration to the craftsmanship of the weapon and he looked closer at the weapon. The pommel was carved into the likeness of an eagle, and the hilt like wings spread in flight, and at the center of the crosspiece was set a beautiful Anther crystal.

Taking up the traditional duellist stance with the blade of their swords touching in front of them they waited for the other to strike. Gar’lin stared down the challenger his body tense and ready to snap into action. All was quiet as the two combatants glared at each other and the wind swirled up the snow that had again begun to fall.

The challenger faltered under the stare off and lunged ahead, his blade diving for Gar’lin’s neck. So quick was Gar’lin’s counter that none realised what had happened until the challenger fell to his knee trying to stop the blood gushing from his neck. Quicker than most could think possible Gar’lin had deflected the challengers stab and stepped ahead as his sword flashed across the challenger’s throat.

As the warrior knelt, dying, Gar’lin wiped his sword on the warrior’s shoulder and sheathed his blade as he turned away.

It seemed to Kil’dar that the gathered warriors appeared disappointed by the result of the challenge and quietly they left the courtyard. Two warriors moved to collect the body of their friend, but Gar’lin stopped them.

“Do not burn him,” Gar’lin commanded, “Put him on a spike at the centre of the town so all remember who their King is.”

The two warriors nodded stiffly and obeyed, but Kil’dar could see the hate and defiance in their eyes.

“Can you believe such a low class warrior would challenge me, and think he would win?” Gar’lin scoffed as he came over to Kil’dar.

“The Programmable Biotic Entities on your brain stem helped then?” Kil’dar replied, his face expressionless.

Gar’lin studying Kil’dar closely before replying.

“They have increased my stamina, reflexes and recovery so I can train longer and harder, yes,” Gar’lin replied, seeming to not quite understand Kil’dar’s meaning.

Kil’dar nodded slowly and changed the subject, “What is the word from Metrā?”

The High King looked away from Kil’dar and to the two warriors who were carrying their fallen brethren from the courtyard.

“The rebels in Syn’is have grown in number,” Gar’lin replied, “They have pushed our forces back to the city of Cir’ben, all else is theirs including The Table, Gen’ther, Tel’en and Tol’men. There is also word that our own lands are not sound, rumours have been heard that Mol’tev and Bel’tar’en are plotting to rise up against my rule in Kor’vir, again.”

The High King turned his gaze completely on Kil’dar, “Don’t you see? This is why we need to return home, Kil’dar. Vipers are stirring within our own lands; we cannot delay in this foul country. Find the ones responsible for the attacks on our people, and do it quickly.”

With that Gar’lin moved past Kil’dar and back into the castle, leaving him alone in the courtyard with Nanil.

“And get rid of your servant,” Gar’lin yelled just before his disappeared into the halls.

Kil’dar sighed and shook his head as he looked to the gentle snowflakes that were falling through the breeze.

“They will revolt, if Gar’lin keeps this up,” Nanil remarked as she stood beside Kil’dar, “Making a spectacle of his own warriors, it’s disgusting.”

“Indeed,” Kil’dar nodded, “I think it is time that you and I get to work again.”An excited smile came to Nanil’s pretty face and she nodded in agreement.