Valyn had torn up the room he and his sister were assigned to stay in, fascinated with everything he could touch and feel. Gabrielen was assigned to stay there too, and as to why, no one knew. Clothes, contents of the drawers and anything else he could find were all over the floor, bed and any other space not yet covered by articles of whatever. He held a book in his hand, studying it. It was not like the books of Valadel, those ones were torn and decayed. These books were fresh and the pages were crisp.

"What are these markings?" He asked Gabrielen, pointing to unfamiliar symbols on the pages.

"Those are words." Said Gabrielen, holding in his laughter. He knew the elves would not be familiar with any of the new world items. It was endearing to see them learn.

Facing the window and silently resting in an armchair was Aryanne. Her eyes were fixed on nothing and her face was a blank canvas, much to Valyn's annoyance. She hadn't said a word since the castle and hardly answered to anything asked of her. Valyn was bothered by her selfish actions. Did she not know he lost an uncle too? What happened to all of her fantasies and wonders about this place, the place the men called Jorden? She had never once acted like this, even when she would disappear for hours on end when they were younger, despite Tyren not telling her to.

"Aryanne, what do you think of all this? Sure, we're still in a castle, but at least it's one without cursed ones." Valyn asked.

Aryanne didn't move or even acknowledge her brother. She stared aimlessly out the decorated window.

Valyn frowned. "Aryanne...I asked you a question."

She shifted a little bit in her chair but kept her gazed focused on nothing. "It's all fine and good." She said monotonically.

Valyn frustratedly furrowed his brow. "Allmother smite me, what is wrong with you! Why are you acting so selfish?"

Again, Aryanne didn't respond. "Aryanne, answer me!" Valyn cried.

Aryanne glared at him from where she sat. "Why! Why do I have to answer you!"

Valyn threw up his hands. "Why not!? We are both in this situation, we both lost our uncle, we BOTH are the last of our kind! Could you talk to me and stop acting like a pouty little bitch?!"

Aryanne rose from her chair and quickly walked to Valyn. She planted a slap on his face, creating an unpleasant sound, one that made Gabrielen wince. Valyn quickly responded by pushing her away from him and freezing her feet to the ground. Aryanne wriggled around, trying to break her feet free. She hated when he did that. She answered by shooting a blinding light at him, causing his vision to become white.

"Ah!" Valyn yelled.

Gabrielen kept his distance. It was one thing when siblings fought. It was another when these siblings had supernatural powers that could kill you. But he felt it in his best judgement to step in.

"Hey, stop it, the both of you!" He said, coming between the emotionally fueled twin elves. Valyn held his palm flat against his eyes and Aryanne stood frozen in place, literally.

"Aryanne...your brothers right. I understand you're hurting, but so is he. I couldn't imagine being in either of your positions, but fighting won't help it. Aryanne, if you want to talk, we're both here for you. But, Valyn," he said, arguing the other side, "if she's not ready to talk...she's not ready. Give her space."

"She's had plenty of space! If she'd stop act-"

"Valyn, dammit, I'm trying to help you, okay? Just...agree, please?" Said Gabrielen.

The young elvor snorted. "Fine..."

"Thank you. Now please...let's just go back to admiring books and figure out a way to get Aryanne chiseled out of the ice."

"Here, just..." Valyn started. He stopped talking as to let his actions take over. The ice cracked and fell apart, by Valyn's will. Aryanne yanked her feet out.

"Thank you..." She said quietly.

"Yeah," Said Valyn. He and his sister had grown so far apart since the arrival of the men. He wish she was back to her normal self. "So...is there anything you want to talk about?"

Aryanne shook her head. "Not right now...maybe another time." She walked back over to the chair and went back to staring out the window. Valyn rolled his eyes but left her alone. He just got his vision back and didn't want it gone again so soon.

Aryanne propped herself in the chair, thinking of nothing and yet everything at the same time. Her mind was in turmoil, emotions conflicting with each other. Anger, remorse, betrayal, all these feelings created a battlefield of emotion. She didn't necessarily feel depressed or upset, but more so, to be frank, pissed. She wished she had gone with the party when they assaulted the Scrag, but her uncle, her stupid uncle, refused. He could be alive and with them if he had just accepted Aryanne for what she was capable of. If anything, she was more than capable. She knew it, Valyn knew it, but somehow, he didn't. He still saw that frightened young girl that she used to be. And it cost him.

A question she couldn't rid herself of was something she perhaps felt the deepest guilt for. Why did she feel more grief for Danticus? Why is it that her uncle, this man she knew for hundreds of years that cared for her and fought for her as his own daughter, was overshadowed by a man she had not known for five days? A man! The people uncle had described as bloodthirsty, war hungry beasts. Why did she feel more for him? She didn't love him.

Well, she thought she didn't. How could she have? It wasn't the same type of love she felt for her uncle and brother. It was different. It was a new type of love she had never felt. And when she kissed him, that was the way she felt she should express it...like becoming one. It bothered her, all these emotions. It was new to her, almost as foreign as the men that rescued her. Maybe rescue was too strong a term, as she's still locked up in some castle. But as Valyn said, at least there aren't any cursed ones. But what was the man who the men had called king going to do with them? What were his intentions?

Was he going to cut them open and take a gander at what made them function? Put them on display for the world to see? Use them as weapons of battle? Or maybe just set them free? She wasn't sure of any outcome, but she would adapt to any given to her.

There was a knock on the door. A guard from outside peeked his head in. "You have been summoned by the king." He said, flicking his neck to the outside.

Gabrielen and Valyn stood. Aryanne remained in her chair.

"Aryanne...we need to go." Said Gabrielen.

She stood, a little reluctantly, but stood nonetheless. She blew past by Valyn and Gabrielen and out to the hallway. Valyn and Gabrielen awkwardly followed behind her. Four guards escorted them to where they had been summoned, two in the front and two in the back. They didn't look at or even speak to the elves. They're eyes didn't move and their steps didn't change pace at all. Finally, after blindly walking through multiple hallways and corridors, they came to a large, rectangular courtroom.

It was empty, save for the king and the others. They sat in the center of the room, hunkered over a circular table at the center. They were surrounded by empty benches usually filled with a heated crowd. But only the gentle murmurings of the king and his subjects were heard. The guards brought the trio to the center of the room and left, shutting the doors loudly behind them and took guard position outside. Aryanne, Valyn and Gabrielen approached the awaiting members at the circular table. The king looked up from the diagrams and pieces of paper that dressed the table.

"Welcome," he said, "have a seat."

The three took their requested seats and looked around at the other members. Tytus and Cristomir sat next to the king, to his right. The other side, Miles and Jazmyn sat. They all looked thoughtful and contemplative.

"We are discussing our plan of action right now." Said Tytus. "We're trying to figure out what's best for you, for all three of you."

Gabrielen looked at Tytus, confused. "Why am I being thrown in with the elves?"

"Because you are half elven and that makes you just as rare, maybe even rare the elves. Since there's only one of you, that is." Tytus looked over to Valyn and Aryanne, and eyed them up and down. "Though I suppose we could make more of you..."

Gabrielen and the elves ignored the comment. "Tytus, I grew up a man, just because I have elven blood doesn't make me any different from you or anyone else at this table."

"Except for that it does. You're, what, forty when you clearly resemble a young adult? Jazmyn told us."

"Well, I-"

"Listen, Gabrielen, we don't know what you're capable of and neither do you. It'd be best for all of us if you'd hear us out, okay?" Said Tytus.

Gabrielen sighed. "Fine."

"Good. Now that that's settled, lets discuss business. My liege?" Said Tytus, giving Joras the reins of the conversation.

"Thank you, Arch Ranger. As you elves hopefully know, I will do my best as king to ensure you will remain safe and free of harm. The guards who escorted you here are the only others outside this room who know of you. They are members of my Kingsguard and are some of the most loyal men in all of Sylvetria. They will die for you, if that may be the case. Every member has taken an oath to not speak to anyone of your existence, unless they wish imprisonment." He paused and let the elves and half elf absorb the information. "Now that's been established, we can continue. Here on this table," He said, placing his finger on a large document filled with drawings and words. "Is what needs to be done to ensure you may have a future. I will personally send letters to the other king's, asking for their approval. Should they accept, it will bring us closer to our goal. If they refuse...we may go to war."

He let the words sink in to the other members of the table, letting them know what they were in for.

"I will publicly tell the people of Jorden of your existence. I will not lie to you, I fear their response. It may be hostile, it may be benevolent. Either way, you will have the greatest protection throughout Sylvetria guarding you. Though, you must understand what the common people think of elves. They believe them to be evil creatures from under their beds. You must understand this and you must accept it so we may get past it. But from what Tytus and the rest here have told me, that is not true at all. But once you and the people can accept these facts, only then can we truly start pushing forward. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Aryanne and Valyn nodded, as did Gabrielen.

"Good. Does anyone else have anything to say?"

Jazmyn leaned forward. "I do, your grace. I have actually collaborated with the Queen of Valdor, presenting her with information of my finds and studies. If you would so grant, I would like to personally tell her of the elves myself. I believe she may be more open to the idea if an old acquaintance tells her of the news."

Joras slowly nodded. "You may do so, but not without my presence. I will send members of my squadron with you."

"I volunteer." Said Miles.

Joras raised his eyebrows. "Do you?"

"Not only do I know you and your beliefs, my king, but I also know the elves. I can speak for both and know the subject well."

"A fine point, Sir Vallyrian. You have my permission to accompany Scribe Kallarya. You may leave tomorrow."

"Thank you, your grace." Said Jazmyn. She smiled contently and sat back in her chair.

"As for the west, Cristomir?" Said Joras, calling him.

"My liege?" He responded.

"You are betrothed to Gallador's daughter, no?"

"That is correct."

"Good, very good, actually. You and Jenna may have some pull there, as the Thornshields are known lords of Arnland. If I'm not mistaken, their patron, Lionel, was recently appointed advisor of the king. See what you can do."

"Of course, my king."

"Good, good...that only leaves the north."

"There may be trouble there." Said Tytus.

"Aye...the north are a strict, traditional people. Agner won't like this," said Joras. "I'll have to personally deal with him myself. Wait, Tytus," An idea popped into the King's head. "Please tell me you didn't kill that Whitelocke bastard."

Tytus smiled, and cracked his fingers with his thumbs. "I don't believe I did."

Joras nodded. "Good, good. We can use him as collateral if Agner gets too hot on his throne. Nolan Whitelocke could talk him out of anything if his heir's life depended on it."

"I doubt it. The shadow king has no love for his son." Said Miles.

Gabrielen was unfamiliar with the term. "Shadow king?"

Miles stared at him quizzically. "You've been alive for eighty years, said you were from the north, and yet don't know the shadow king?"

"Miles..." Tytus said, subtly scolding him. He turned back to Gabrielen. "Many people believe Nolan Whitelock to truly be in charge of Farenhelm, operating in the shadows, hence, the shadow king. Some say King Agner is just an old puppet king controlled by Nolan, and his son the prince. But either way, it could be true or his influence is just that damn high."

"But why is his influence so high?" Said Gabrielen, pushing for answers.

"You don't know much of the Whitelockes do you?" Asked Cristomir, rhetorically. "Well, the Whitelocke patriarch is a war monger-"

"Was." Corrected Joras.

"Was...a war monger. He was said to be the most brilliant general to ever hail from the north, and that's quite the compliment. It is said along one of his war paths, he found a mine, a mine of pure silver, blessed by the Gods to never run dry. Well, that last part is speculation-"

"I prefer the term bullshit." Chipped in Miles.

"Whatever you may call it. But the point is, it's been in use for twenty years, and it's hasn't run dry. That's why he's so damn rich."

Gabrielen nodded, absorbing the information. He never had the education the children of lords received. His mother and grandfather felt stories from the time before were more important and more interesting. In light of recent events, he found himself agreeing with them.

"His grasp is inescapable. The man is as cold as the winds up there and twice as deadly." Said Joras. "He's been funding almost everything you could imagine in Jorden. He supplies my armies with weapons, my stables with horses and my people with food."

"And that's a bad thing?" Said Valyn, finally voicing his thoughts.

"Despite the kind exterior, yes, it is bad. His influence in Jorden is high. It pains me to say it, but the man practically controls half the city. It only fuels his ego, knowing he has the ancestral city of men under his control. I wish I could free my city from him, but that would only cause chaos, and there will be plenty of that later." Joras concluded.

"All we can do is do our best to avoid it." Said Tytus.

"Indeed. Guards!" Joras shouted. The door open and all four armor clad men came hastily through the door, quick to obey their king's orders.

"Escort the elves back to their quarters please. We'll finish the details later." Said the king.

Aryanne, her twin, and Gabrielen stood, falling in between the heavy guards. They marched away through the doors, leaving to their refuge.

Joras sat back down with the remaining informal council. "I will not lie to you...this is not going to end well."

Tytus nodded. "I know, my king. But I will do my best to make sure it does."

Joras nodded. "Thank you, ranger."

"Of course." He cleared his throat and stood, and nodded to Cristomir, who returned the gesture. "My king, if we are no longer needed, I would request our leave."

Joras waved his hand. "Granted."

Tytus and Cristomir bowed, and left, walking side by side silently to the doors. Jazmyn and Miles, no longer feeling needed as well, stood and bid their farewells and left quickly behind them.

"Sir Vallyrian!" Called Joras after the sole surviving member of his expeditionary squadron.

"My king?" He said, turning from the doors to face his king.

"May I speak with you?" He asked.

"Of course." Miles walked back over and took a seat with some distance between him and the king. He rested both his forearms on the table.

"The Field Squadron, as I am so sure you know, has taken quite a blow. I lost three members, including my leader and trusted friend. You were his acting second in command. By right of contract, that establishes you leader," he paused and massaged his wrists. "But it does so under, well...extraordinary conditions. I will not have you take command unless you feel you could handle the position. You heard what was discussed at this table, you know very well the circumstances and situations you may face later down the path. It will be a time of war. Do I have a leader for my squadron who can suffer these duties?"

Miles nodded. "You do, sir," he said, doing his best to reassure the doubtful king.

Joras nodded back. "Good. Prepare for the ceremony tomorrow."

"Yes sir."

"Right then. You're excused."

Miles stood and crossed his arm over his chest, saluting the king. He walked awkwardly, trying not to let his elation show through his movements.

As he left, Joras felt a sense of uncertainty. He trusted Vallyrian. Tytus had told him of his actions at the castle. He had confidently told him of the bravery Miles exuberantly displayed within the castle following the deaths of their leaders. He sighed.

Gods damn you, Gallador...

He missed and was in desperate need of his friends counsel. It was now that he felt he needed the late Arch Rangers advice more than ever. How did he let himself perish? Gallador wasn't careless, he was the best damn fighter Joras had ever seen, and he wouldn't allow himself to be placed in such a compromising situation. It frustrated it him that he didn't know how his good friend had died. He deserved that much.

Hopefully, his friend has found peace in the afterlife.

*****

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