"Ranger, get up, we're here." Said a cockney sailor voice. Tytus felt his knee being tapped. He opened his eyes to the sunlight pouring through the window. He rubbed his tired eyes with his index finger and thumb.

"Did you hear what I said, ranger? We're here."

"Yes, yes...I heard you. Thank you." Said Tytus, sitting up in his hammock. He stretched his aching back and twisted his neck. The sailor had gone above deck, nudging the feet of other sleeping members.

Cristomir sat up and stretched in his own hammock.

"I honestly can't believe we're in Jorden. It seems so...unreal."

"Yes...but nothing is without a price." Said Tytus, rather grimly.

Cristomir nodded sullenly in agreement. "They will not be forgotten, Tytus. None of them. Not Edwin, not Darius, Not Gallador....not even....not even Danticus."

Tytus nodded. "You're right. Gods above, how long has it been?"

"Five days," said Miles, who had been listening to their conversation.

"Well, we're home now, and that's all that matters. Let's get off this ship, I feel a little sick." Said Tytus.

"What about the elves?" Said Cristomir, grabbing his arm.

"Damn...I near forgot about them..." Said Tytus.

Cristomir looked around the storage for anything of use. He pulled two long sheets from a trunk.

"These...we'll wrap them up in these."

Tytus nodded in approval. "Good idea." He took the sheets from Cristomir and went to where Aryanne and Valyn were sleeping. He shook the twins awake.

"We're here..." He said.

They rubbed their bleary, tired eyes and both grudgingly sat up.

"Are we in the place you speak of?" Asked Valyn.

"We are indeed. Here, put these one. Make sure you cover your ears. We don't want any superstitious citizens getting antsy." Said Tytus, tossing them the sheets.

The elves awkwardly handled them, wrapping the sheets around their slender frames. Tytus help adjust the makeshift hood to make sure their ears would not be exposed.

"There...ready to go?" Tytus asked everyone. They all nodded. "Okay then. Lets go."

He led them to the hatch that led to the deck. The sailors were unloading and transporting their claimed sea life from their ship to awaiting merchants. Tytus was overwhelmingly happy to see the familiar docks again. Sailors, merchants, fishermen, teenage loves all wandered around the bay, unknowingly welcoming them home. They stepped down the big ramp that led to the wooden dock.

"Where should we go first?" Said Cristomir.

"The king. We need to speak with him immediately, all of us." Responded Tytus.

*****

Joras had concluded his memorial speech a day and a half ago, much to his reluctance. Part of him still believed the expedition team was alive. But by word of Whitelocke, the only survivor, claimed them dead. He had no choice but to swallow the terrible truth. He again sipped his goblet of wine. His wife had scolded him about his constant drinking that started once he found out the news of the expedition. It seemed like he always had a goblet in his hand, his wife had told him. She wasn't lying either. In just the few hours of the morning, he already felt a buzz most would feel during a night at the tavern. For the sake of his better judgement, he pushed his goblet out of his reach. He sighed and sat back in the centerpiece of the King's refuge that was his chair.

A knock was heard from his door. He grunted in a frustrated manner.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Rangers are here to speak with you."

"Can it wait?" He asked.

"Believe me, my king." Said a man as he came through the door, to Joras' shock.

"You won't want to wait." Said Tytus Baronstone.

Joras stood from his chair, near paralyzed from the surprise.

"Baronstone...you're...you're alive!"

"Indeed."

Joras stared at what he feared to be an apparition. Maybe the wine had gone to his head. Behind him was that squadron member, Vallyrian. Next to him was the scholar they went to fetch from Valdor. Cristomir Stormwell was among them as well. The rest, a young, shaggy haired blonde young man and two hooded figures, he didn't recognize. His head was filled with so many questions.

"But I thought you were...Whitelocke had said you were-"

"Dead? So he would tell it. It was a lie. He abandoned us after everything went to shit." Said Tytus.

"Where are the rest? Where is Gallador, Edwin?" Demanded Joras.

"Unfortunately...they are dead."

Any hope of seeing is childhood friend had officially been lost. He had a small shred of hope that Gallador Thornshield was in fact alive...but Tytus had confirmed otherwise.

"Well then...I suppose this makes you Arch Ranger." Said Joras.

"So it would seem." Said Tytus.

"So...what the bloody hell was in that castle?" Asked Joras.

"Monsters...the Scrag...but that's not what's important..." he turned to the hooded figure in the back. "Aryanne, Valyn," he flicked upwards with his neck, "Please step forward."

The elves did so. They both stood stood next to Tytus, sandwiching him.

"My liege...this is Aryanne and Valyn. We found them inside the castle." Tytus paused before continuing. "They are...elves."

Joras cocked his head and raised his eyebrow. He chuckled. "Elves? What?" He nervously chuckled. "Are you...are you jesting? What the hell do you mean you found...elves?!"

"It was difficult for me to believe at first too," Tytus started.

"For all of us," Jazmyn chimed in.

"Aye...for all of us. You can take off your hoods now," Tytus told the twins. They did so, and their long ears sprouted out from their black as night hair. " But we fought and bled to make sure they got here safely. Many died to make sure they would see no harm."

Joras stood in disbelief. Living, breathing elves stood before him in his refuge. Like so many other people in Sylvetria, he was told the legends and myths and stories of the people. To see them before him, clear as day, was nothing he could have ever imagined.

"Well...if they are what you say...what do you want me to do with them?"

"Keep them safe. That's all we can ask for," said Jazmyn.

Tytus slowly nodded in agreement. "We lost too much for them just to die here. We promised their uncle they would be safe here...that you were a fair and just king. Please don't prove us wrong."

Joras stared at them with cautious eyes. He knew the elves were able to use magic...he knew they were dangerous. What if they put the group under some spell....but then again...what if they didn't.

"Well...Sir Baronstone...I'm afraid I can't guarantee their safety...I'm not the only king in Sylvetria and...I...I have to do what satisfies the people."

"But the people don't know what the elves are capable of. They aren't just capable of spewing fire and casting ice...they were compassionate, they wanted to learn about us and the world. They were not alive during the time of Jorik. They just wanted a life outside of that castle...we promised their uncle that much."

"That's all well and good, but...I can't shove them down the throats of the citizens of Jorden...I'll need time, Tytus."

"That is a given, my king. Just...keep them safe."

"Who is this uncle you speak of?" Joras asked.

Tytus opted not to tell Joras of Tyren's and Gallador's conflict. The last thing he needed was joras seeking revenge for his friend. "He was the caretaker of the two young elves here. He was actually alive during Jorik's time. We promised him his children would not receive harm."

Joras was thinking of many things at once. A plan, another speech, buying all of them dinner tonight. But if it is true, and all the lost members died to save these elves, then he would honor their final request.

"Alright...no harm will come to them. I think it will be best to keep them a secret from the people. I don't know how they will react and...it could be...well...catastrophic. Right now...take them to the honorary guest quarters. I'll speak with them later."

"Miles, Jazmyn, take them there please. Ask the guards for directions." Commanded Tytus.

They did as they asked. Gabrielen left with them, leaving only the king and Cristomir and Tytus.

When all members had left, Joras sighed deeply. "Tytus...what were you thinking?" Joras asked him, surprising Tytus.

"My king, I'm confused, I thought you-"

"I only said those things because the bloody elves were standing right there! By the Gods, I'm just a man, ranger! How am I supposed to protect two goddamn elves! What if someone finds out? What if someone tries to kill them or me or my family!" He desired the taste of wine. "Not to mention it was my bloody ancestor who killed them all in the first place!"

"Listen...Joras," said Tytus, overstepping his boundaries. "You are a man...but you're a king! Yes, there are three others, but they're men! They're humans! And humans are capable of more than we know! Joras...we need to atone for what we've done to the elves. Hell, we killed every last one of them!"

"He's right, your grace," said Cristomir. "My cousin, the man who saved your life, who gave you another day to reign, died believing these elves, people he had come to know, would be safe under your rule. He died believing that."

Joras stared at them both, trying to read their faces. They were true in their conviction. He sighed. "Fine...I'll think of something. You men just....get some rest. You sure as hell earned it."

Tytus and Cristomir smiled. " Thank you, your grace," said Tytus.

"What happened to Joras?" The king asked with a raised eyebrow. There was a mix of jest and firmness in his voice.

Tytus smiled apologetically. "My apologies."

"Ugh, I don't really care...now, go on," Said Joras, waving towards the door. "Get out of here. I'll speak with you later."

Tytus and Cristomir bowed. "Later, your grace."

"Oh, and Tytus," said Joras.

Tytus turned to face him. "Yes, your grace?"

"I'll have Whitelocke's head before nightfall.

Tytus smiled. "That won't be necessary," said Tytus. "Allow me to handle this one." They left and took deep breaths outside the refuge.

"It's odd to think we're here now," said Cristomir.

"Indeed. I much prefer this castle," he put his hand on Cristomir's shoulder. "Go and see Jenna. I'll go and pay a visit to our old friend."

Cristomir nodded. "Gods...I can't wait to see here again,"

"I bet. Now, go." Said Tytus, waving him off.

As they departed, Cristomir called after him. "Tytus..."

Tytus faced him and raised his eyebrow.

"Show no mercy."

Tytus nodded boldly and left. His knuckles would know the blood of a Whitelocke.

*****

(Thanks for reading, and I'd love to know what you think! Sound off in the comments! Your feedback is always appreciated!)