Prince Agner II had been hunched over his command table for hours, reading over the letter he had received earlier that day from a messenger. It was marked confidential, for eyes of the king only. He wasn't the king, but he might as well have been. There wasn't a way in the abyss his demented father could hold his eyes open long enough to read the words of the letter. If Joras Freemane believed the contents of the letter to be so severe that only the King may know of them, it was a matter not to be taken lightly. He read the words over and over again. The words restoration, peace, redemption ran through the entirety of the letter. But it was one word that made him shiver more than anything the north could hurl at him. The word he had known all of his life, the word that was synonymous to monster: Elf.

Joras had one. Well, two. One male and one female. The letter read that he had them safe and locked away, wanting the input from the other kingdoms. And what was he to expect? For the kings to welcome the elves with open arms and make all bad things good? It wouldn't happen. Imagining the wars and battles that would follow made Prince Agner sick to his stomach.

The end of the letter was an ultimatum. Either to accept the elves or reject them. A blue flag for acceptance, a red flag for rejection. Apparently, he wasn't the only monarch to make this decision. Arnland had raised a red flag and Valdor had yet to raise one. Jorden was blue. He would be a deciding factor.

A knock on his door had interrupted his thought. "Enter," he said.

Nolan Whitelocke presented himself, his black cape lined with blonde lion fur flowing behind him. His hair was a platinum color and his eyes were a soulless black, contrary to his son's piercing blue eyes. His face had shown signs of aging, evident of his deep crows feet, and his sword, Lockette, hung from his waist. He approached the table and placed his palms flat on the surface.

"Why have you summoned me?" He asked.

"Read this," said the prince, shoving the letter in his face.

Nolan whisked the letter out of the prince's hand. He held the paper in front of him and his eyes darted back and forth, reading the words carefully. His expression remained as steel as he read the the letter, his emotions hidden. He tossed the letter back on the table and shook his head.

"Is this a joke? Elves? Where did you get this letter from?" He asked, his voice unforgiving, as it always was.

"The seal is authentic. This was sent from Joras himself. What he speaks of is true, he would not lie about such a thing. He's a Freemane."

"Because every word that comes out of his mouth is the golden truth?"

"He is an honorable man, not a deceitful one."

Nolan shook his head in defeat. "Fine. A fair point." He picked the letter up from the table, skimming through it once more.

"If what Joras speaks of is true...if elves walk the land again, then the choice is clear. We raise the red flag."

"The choice is for my father to make, Nolan."

Nolan scoffed. "The king doesn't even know he's the king, his mind is long gone, you think he can make a decision such as this?"

"Be it as it may, I do not wish to war. Marching on Jorden is foolish."

"I control Jorden," said Nolan, as if it were a matter of fact.

"They have your son, Nolan."

"Yes, and they can keep him. I've just taken a new, younger wife, she'll give me sons far more capable and honorable." He said, his tone cold as the lands that bore him.

"Well I happen to have two sons I care deeply for, Nolan, and one day, one of them will be king. If this war is to happen, I can't guarantee him that future." Agner stopped, cut off by his frustration. "By the Gods, Nolan, your son isn't following the path you did and now he's no longer you son?"

"Don't speak another word of Siegfried."

"Why not, Nolan?"

"He's a jouster! No better than a lowly drunken bard. The only difference is he comes home with my gold in his pockets. He's not a damn warrior, like me, my father, or his father before him. Tell me what happens when I pass, and he, my only living heir, pisses away my legacy and my fortunes in some whorehouse? I will not have it. He thinks life is a game and he's the only one playing it." Throughout his speech, Nolan kept the stern, cold demeanor about him, something he was famous for. Never raising his voice or becoming too emotional. He was cold as ice.

"And the answer is to declare war on Jorden?"

"Siegfried and this conflict are not relevant to each other. We declare war on Jorden so we may honor the memory of the first men, which Joras is currently shitting on."

"Joras is a living descendant of the king of those first men!"

Both men sat silent in the heat of their passion. The only noise heard was Prince Agner's heavy breath.

"Declaring war on Jorden is foolish. We may as well be fighting against Valdor. I doubt the home of the Nazorian College would raise a red flag. You know their tactics and their reputation. I hate those sneaky bastards. I do not wish to have my throat cut while I'm having dinner," said Agner.

"Arnland has raised a red flag. We will have them on our side. They are a mighty, noble force."

"Yes, and Jorden is the ancestral home of Sylvetria, and they have one of largest armies in the Four Kingdoms. No decision is that clear, or better than another."

"Do you underestimate the might of our own army? Of our Thanes? The north raises the harshest of men. You and I are a testament to that. The midlands alone are nearly as big as Valdor itself! I'd take five of our own soldiers over fifty Valdorian assassin's for any battle, no matter the scale."

"The scale of this particular battle will be unimaginable, Nolan. The deaths will be numerous. This isn't over a simple grab for land. This is over the apparent survival of elves. Elves, Nolan. Our wicked ancestors. There must be a different way to settle this besides war."

"You really think that? Do you think we can settle this over a warm lunch in a cozy tavern? No. We must do so on the bloody battlefield."

"Enough, Nolan!" said the prince, taking a tone with Nolan he seldom did. He left his position at his table and paced about his room, rubbing his hands through his short, peppered brown hair. He sat in the chair resting in the middle of the large table. Nolan stood where he was, frozen as a statue.

"Could you guarantee a victory if we raised a red flag? Could you ensure my son's and my own safety?" Said the prince, resting his head on his hand.

"You know damn well I could," said Nolan. Agner found it strange his expression was almost permanent, not changing once during the entire conversation, like stone. "Agner...you know this is the right decision. We can help Joras see that. We can avoid the impending deaths of this war, but," He said, preparing his counterpoint. "We must show them our allegiance to the first men by raising the red flag."

Agner had given into his argument. "You're right, Nolan," he sighed. " You're always right."

Nolan smiled sharply and nodded. "War doesn't determine who's right, Agner...it determines who will be left. And I will be one of them. I knew you'd come to reason. Summon me later when you are ready to raise the flag. We must also call a Meeting of the Twelve. No doubt your Thanes would like to know why you call upon their banners." 

As Nolan made ready for his exit, Agner called him back in. "Nolan."

"Yes?" He said, his blonde eyebrow raised.

"This letter was not the only letter to have come in. Your son sent you one as well."

Nolan grumbled to himself. "Probably begging for money since he spent all his on a whore. Throw it in the fire," he said, waving his hand over towards the burning fireplace.

Agner scowled. "Read the damn letter Nolan. He's your son."

"Gods...fine, give it to me if it will shut you up," said the bitter man. He ripped the letter from the prince's hand and slid it into his robes. "Is that all?"

Agner nodded. Nolan returned the favor and left his chambers. His presence managed to linger even after he was away. Agner sat back in his commanding chair. He sighed and picked up the discarded letter again, reading through it for the hundredth time. In all his years as ruler of Farrenhelm, since his father's condition worsened, never has a situation of this caliber come to his attention. It was not an easy decision, not in the slightest. From a drawer in his desk, he took a rolled piece of parchment and laid it flat on his desk. He drew his quill from it's inkpot and placed it on his paper, and began writing.

I, Prince Agner II Callahan, Regent of Farrenhelm, issue the raising of the crimson flag in the impending time of a coming war. My allegiances lie with Arnland upon the issue regarding Elven specimen. Extinction. In event of my death, or my fathers, Thane Nolan Whitelocke will serve as regent until my son, Agner III Callahan, comes of age.

Signed,

Prince Agner II Callahan of Farenhelm. 1000 A.M.

He dried the ink, rolled the letter back to the state he found it, wrapped a blue and gray ribbon around it, and stamped his seal, a snowbear surrounded by ice and two axes.

"Guard!" He shouted, hoping his voice had reached the guard stationed outside his door. The door went slightly ajar as a young man poked his small head through.

"My prince?" He asked.

"Take this document to Thane Cullen. Tell him to raise the red flag. Also, call the banners. There will be a meeting of the twelve."

The guard nodded sullenly, accepting the rolled document from the prince's's hand. "Yes sir. It shall be done."

The guard left urgently with the letter. Agner went back to his table. He sat in his chair and did not move, imagining the war that will come and the lives it will take. What is Joras thinking? Why is this even an option, to save the elves? It would've been a lot easier to have just killed them. But that's not the case.

Farrenhelm will survive this war, but the elves will not.

*****

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