Ch.26

A group of men and women had gathered on the steps of a grand home, their faces etched with worry. The man sitting down looked particularly concerned, his wife next to him holding his hand tightly. They were waiting for news about their son, who had not returned home in over a day.

"It's been too long. I must go out and search for him," He said, clenching his fist and tapping his knee anxiously.

"Have you asked the lord for help?" One of the men standing in the snow asked. "Surely he will listen to your plea."

The worried father shook his head. "I couldn't. He's surely busy, and for me to..." He rattled his brain for the word, struggling as he was still not completely used to common. "I... I forget the word."

"The lord may not seem like it, but he is gracious. If we inform him, surely he will come up with a solution, as he always does." Another man said.

The worried father's wife clung to her husband's shoulder, tears streaming down her face. "I fear the worst for our son. Please, ask the lord for help."

The men made their way to the lord's residence, a somewhat magnificent castle that was still under construction. The entrance was a cold and slick stone platform with pillars lining the sides that towered over the group like trees.

Erik, the lord's right-hand man, was busy chiseling away at another pillar near the center when the group approached him. The worried father fell to his knees and pleaded, "My lord... My son! He was tasked with exploring the outer reaches over a day ago, and he has yet to return. He has never been away from home this long, and I worry for him."

Erik continued to chisel away at the stone, not bothering to look at the man as he tapped away. "Your son is Orgrak Chile." He said matter-of-factly.

The father was surprised to learn that Erik knew his son's name. "Y-Yes... My lord."

"If your son has yet to return, then he is probably wounded, trapped, lost, or dead. The dead cannot return, but the lost can be saved." Erik said, blowing away the dust and wiping away the design in the stone he was chiseling. "Prepare food and water. If he is still alive, he will need it. Also, prepare rope, a dog, and an item with his scent. Hurry now. We will leave immediately."

The group rushed off to gather the items while Erik continued to chisel away. Within an hour, six men, including Erik, were on the other side of the mountain, following a wolf whose nose was planted against the ground in search of the scent.

The terrain was rough and unforgiving, but the group pressed on, their determination fueled by the thought of finding the lost son. After a few hours of tracking, they came across something that made their hearts sink. The body was already frozen stiff. The other men looked away with frowns, while the father dropped down to the body with unsteady breathing. He broke down crying, taking his son's corpse into his arms. As the father grieved, Erik stepped off to the side, looking down the forest, past the trunks of the trees. Suddenly, the grieving father roared, howling to the sky in agony. Erik smacked him, shutting him up and grabbing him by the collar.

"Be quiet." He said firmly. "Your son is dead, and as his father, you have a responsibility to bear the burden of his death. Bury your emotions until you bury your son's corpse."

The gravity of his tone was interrupted by a sudden whistling sound as an arrow flew toward him. With remarkable dexterity, he caught it with his bare hand and broke it like a twig, his eyes locked on the assailant arming his bow with another arrow from his quiver.

"Go!" He ordered as he pushed the wolf off into the direction they had come from.

The men scrambled to grab hold of the body and followed him as he caught another arrow in his grasp. The attackers, hooded in black cloaks and light leather, chased after them. Their faces were obscured by masks, revealing only their eerie, purple eyes. They were neither man nor orcs; they were something else entirely.

Three agile figures sprinted through the forest, two wielding bows and the other a wooden staff. One of them shouted something in a foreign language, causing Erik's ear to twitch with recognition. He realized it was Elvish.

As one of the attackers leapt from the forest, Erik ambushed him, easily subduing him without a struggle. He dragged the hostage out into the open to show the others, who aimed their weapons at him.

("Kill him!") The female captive's voice carried a note of desperation.

("I wouldn't do that if I were you.") Erik threatened them in Elvish, holding a dagger to her throat.

The two attackers hesitated.

("He's Telvanian, yet he speaks Elvish.") The one on the right remarked.

("Elvish, not Drowvish. Your dialect is terrible, Telvanian.") Said the one on the left.

Erik then revealed the captive's true identity by pulling off her hood, exposing her white hair, dark skin, and pointed ears.

("Dark elves.")

("And you are no barbarian, Telvanian. How dare you trespass here, and from whom did you learn to speak from?")

("I am not Telvanian, and this is a misunderstanding. I had not known this was your territory. My men were simply exploring.")

("Your men are barbarians?")

("They are orcs. Some are even goblins, though they look similar enough.")

The elf raised his staff and bared his teeth. ("Enough of this!") He growled. ("Release her!")

("Lower your weapons first.") He calmy barked back.

Hesitantly and begrudgingly, they lowered their weapons to the ground. It was only when their weapons scraped their fingertips in letting go, that he too, lowered his dagger and pushed away his hostage to them.

They grabbed hold of her, maintaining that spiteful look at him. They cursed at him in their tongue, a word Erik did not know, but could guess had a certain meaning.

("I do not wish to be hostile with you. I only wanted to explore the unknown terrain around my territory, hence the scout, who was brutally killed. For diplomacy's sake, perhaps I could speak to a leader and be given an explanation as to why one of my men was killed.")

Erik spoke calmly and reasonably as he could, but the response he was given in return was less than ideal.

("You are in no place to speak to an elder. As for why your, scout, was killed, he was trespassing. It is as simple as that. You too, are trespassing, and you dared to use one of our own as a shield")

The moment their knees bent to lower themselves and to reach for their weapons the thought to use force and to take the three as hostages, but being as paranoid as he was, he considered every outcome and found doing so could be too damaging. His eyes, those cold, sapphire blue eyes, that often looked as if they were looking through whoever he lay his gaze upon, aloof and bored, but now, they smoldered with bitter anger that belied his otherwise stoic expression.

He knew what was to come, but he acted quickly in response before their fingertips could even graze the wood and leather of their weapons.

("Gold.") He quickly said.

The next moment, the three picked up their weapons, but rather than preparing to attack, they gently lifted them up, and calmly stood and looked at him.

("Gold?") The still-masked archer asked, her eyes locked on his through the gap between her hood and mask.

("Yes. We have gold, as well as iron and copper. We wish to trade, and we had hoped to happen upon another province willing to trade.")

After a brief exchange of whispers between the three, in which the hooded archer continued to stare at him from afar, they returned to give him an answer; it being the hooded archer to speak for the three.

("I will return with you to your village. If it is proven that you are not lying, then I will escort you to Vash'ra, and you may speak with our elders. If I do not return by the next day, my companions will inform the elders, and I am sure you can piece together what will happen.")

("Of course.")