57 Interlude: Land of the Elves

"Avallac'h." Eridin droned from atop his throne.

The Elf King donned a far more regal appearance while at court than while out raiding, but maintained small articles of cruelty and brutality on his person as if unable to fully quell his violent side even amidst high society.

Although a high society increasingly filled with his barbaric henchmen where once stood only graceful and regal. Even when Shiadhal ascended to queen consort she did not fill the court with such loathsome individuals despite rising from similar position. Avallac'h saw the general discomfort from the more genteel and typical courtiers, those who worked with Viceroy Ga'els unaccustomed to the presence of their king.

"Tell me Avallac'h, what has transpired on your travels through the world the Elder Blood has fled to." Eridin's broken glass voice grated the smaller elf's pointy ears.

The feather cloaked mage bowed his head and addressed the king with a placid countenance, "My liege, I have determined that Cirilla's time on that world is very limited. It is dying, not of the White Frost, but from the actions of those who live upon it. The earth is scorched, the waters poisoned, the air filthy. All by the hands of the natives. I hastened this demise with a few spells. Soon Cirilla will leave that death world and we can begin the chase anew."

Eridin's face, akin to something carved of ice, showed neither satisfaction nor dissatisfaction with Avallac'h's announcement. Instead he stared at the man for an uncomfortable amount of time that compounded the inherent unease felt by those held under his gaze.

"Caranthir informed me of your meeting with the Elder Blood. The confrontation with her champion." Eridin informed the smaller elf who felt his stomach sink into his boots and his balls rise into his throat.

The sight of the Golden Child - whose extraordinary manipulation of time and space originated from Avallac'h's own eugenics program - filled the old elf with rage. To have been spied on by his own foster child - a reckless ass who owed everything to him - without him even suspecting it, twisted his guts as they wallowed in his boots.

"The navigators have begun a ritual to lock access to this dimension." Eredin announced, "Tir Na Lia shall not suffer for your failures. But this ritual shall not commence until after your banishment. You, Avallac'h, shall wander the planes until such a time as you have delivered unto us allies capable of felling Cirilla's champion. At such a time you shall signal to Caranthir, and should the champion fall, you shall be allowed to return to our side."

A pair of heavy hands clamped down on Avallac'h's arms and he turned his head to see Eredin's chief goon, Imerlith, grinning down at him. Hot shame filled him as the giant elf dragged him away in the sight of his long time peers. Only the hot anger drove it away as he beheld the smug face of Caranthir.

"I am not happy closing us off." the Golden Child announced, "But slamming the door shut in your face… almost worth it."

The prodigy navigator casually opened a portal that Imerlith unceremoniously tossed him through.

"Try not to die too quickly." the bald giant smirked, "It would be a shame for you to miss out on even an ounce of suffering."

The portal closed and Avallac'h rose from the ground, dusting his robes off while contemplating his next course. No matter where he wandered one thing was for certain.

He'd kill Juan D. Welles.

No matter what.

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This chapter was a brief reminder that I can in fact write beautiful prose when I'm not focused on pure entertainment. Juan now has his very own Angstrom Levi, just way less smart and way less ugly and way less powerful.

I think the next chapter will be a pure fun sequel interlude Send in the Juan's: the Re-Juan-ening.

You can support me and my family at ko - fi . com.