((Just to give fair warning because this is a prequel-esque sort of story there are going to be a lot of ocs and this chapter deals mainly with some of them. In fact a good portion of the story will involve them. Yes a few of them will be female and yes some of them will interact with Nuada. Let it be known however that I dislike a Mary/Larry Sue as much as the next person and have tried to keep it out of the story.))

Lord Parlan pulled his horse to a halt as it crested the hill. A sense of foreboding sent a tingling sensation down his arms when he saw the line of crackling bonfires in front of the forest. Nothing stirred in the dark cottages skirting the keep. Was Morven mad? He turned to the captain of the twenty odd men behind him. "When we get in there you are to find my daughter and get her out immediately. Do not stop until you are Parlan land, do you understand?"

"Yes my lord. Do you want a detail to go with you?"

"I will take five, the rest of you are to get Rhoswen and leave."

"Yes my lord." The captain bowed in the saddle.

Once inside the keep Parlan and his small group quickly split off from the others as he made his way to Lord Morven's chambers. Families and their belongings crowded the lower level of the central hall. Their faces looked up at him in hope as he climbed the stairs. Damn Fools. The guards outside Lord Morven's personal chamber blocked the door when they saw him approach.

Parlan squared his broad shoulders and narrowed his hazel eyes. "Let me through," his voice held just enough of menace mixed with command that the guardsmen balked for a moment before remembering their orders.

"Only you are allowed in, my lord."

"Fine." Parlan's men fidgeted. He knew they did not like the idea of him heading into a possibly hostile situation alone but it had to be done. Morven needed to know he was facing this fight alone. "Wait here. I will be out shortly."

Parlan entered to find Morven dining alone at a table groaning under the weight of various haunches of roasted meat and fresh baked bread. Grease from a large turkey leg ran down the corpulent man's face and beard. He only stopped gnawing on the meat to take a draft from the enormous flagon sitting at his elbow.

Parlan was thoroughly disgusted. His eyes searched for something else to look at. His back stiffened when he saw the empty box standing in the corner. The golden tree of Bethmora was unmistakable as it glinted in the fire light. It was worse than he thought. He needed to leave now.

Morven took another swig of wine and belched. "So Parlan you've brought my reinforcements?" His bloodshot eyes narrowed, "That was not two hundred men I heard coming into the keep just now." He wiped his pudgy grease laden hands on the table cloth.

"I'll not send my men to be slaughtered for an unjust cause. You and the king are mad if you think you can goad Bethmora and then have others do your dying for you. Defend yourselves."

"You choose to believe in fairy tales rather than follow the orders of your king?" he asked in reproach. He pushed his portly body back from the table, food tumbled from his lap as he stood. "Need I remind you that your loyalty is already in question?"

"Need I remind you of the terms of the treaty our grandfathers signed? A treaty that Balor did not have to offer since he could have easily destroyed every last family of the nobility?"

Morven waved him off. "That was almost a hundred years ago. We are not our grandfathers," his voice turned threatening, "We would not make their mistakes."

"No you make new ones," his words received only a disinterested wave. He wanted to shake the man but he doubted it would help. "I will not share in this folly. You choose to blindly follow Gilroy. I do not pity you your fate. Me and mine will have no part in it." Parlan turned to leave. Before his hand could grasp the door pull an elfin sword sprouted from his chest. Parlan gasped in pain as Morven gave the sword a cruel twist.

He leaned over the dying man's shoulder and smiled in his ear. "No it is you who should be pitied. You who choose the constraints of the past over the opportunities of the present. You could have expanded your lands tenfold but instead you choose your allegiance to your dead wife's people." He sneered, "Well now you can join her." He left the blade in the man's back stepped over his body. Out in the hall his men had made short work of the soldiers.

"Captain see that Parlan's daughter is still secured in her room," a lecherous smile spread across his face. "She will be having an extended stay with us." The captain nodded and went to see it done. Morven smiled down at the leaking corpse in satisfaction. Parlan had always been the self righteous type, never willing to even bend the rules. He had been a favorite of the old king but now both were dead and King Gilroy had a rather different opinion on the flexibility of rules. His smug smile continued until he heard the horn blasts from the tower. One for warning. Two for false alarm. His eyes popped open in disbelief at the third. They were under attack.