XIII
The fading light of the afternoon was filtering through the bare trees as King Setanta stood on the boundaries of Oakenbough's orchards. A crisp breeze stirred the branches ever so slightly, a herald from the west of the coming winter. The chill wind nipped at Setanta's nose and sensitive pointed ears, reminding him of just how close winter was to the elven forest.
The orchards of Oakenbough, much like the city itself, were hidden in the forest. Tall oaks and thick pines hid the apple and pear trees of the elves, growing over the smaller fruit trees. They were grown randomly instead of in the lines of human farmers, further hiding the presence of civilization. The elves of Argent had long ago learned to live in harmony with nature whenever they could, and the light appetites of elves compared to the other races helped them live on less.
The sound of crunching leaves made the king turn, forgetting the grove as he found his guest striding towards him. Libor Bloody Fist was far larger when viewed from the ground; the hulking orc was as physically imposing as a bear, a full head or more taller and far broader than even the sturdiest elf. Even without his weapons the orcish chieftain appeared as a force to be reckoned with, his fierce amber eyes appraising the far smaller monarch as he advanced on Setanta. For a long moment the chieftain waited for his host to say something, but Setanta remained silent as he appraised the brute.
"Will you still understand me?" the orc finally asked. Setanta nodded.
"I will," the king affirmed. "Lord Caradoc's spells will likely hold for the rest of the day."
Libor nodded, his eyes watching the king with suspicion. Behind him, maybe twenty yards away, two of Teirtu's most capable warriors stood at the ready, but if the orc before him decided to strike violently, Setanta was uncertain if they would be able to stop him in time.
"Why have you brought me here?" Libor finally asked.
"I wanted to speak to you," Setanta answered. "Without the others."
Libor nodded, his distrust still obvious in his tone. He glanced back over his shoulder at the pair of guards.
"I trust that you will remain peaceful as long as we do not attack you," the king explained. "Others, however, do not. My guard is a concession to their concerns."
"You said you wished to speak to me alone," Libor pointed out. Setanta nodded.
"And they will come no closer, and not interfere as long as you do not grow violent," the king replied smoothly. "One of your kind has already grown violent over concerns within your own tribe, while another has shown unhealthy interest in an elf barely out of her adolescence. You have shown restraint, chieftain, but not enough to trust you all."
Libor growled under his breath, his hands balling into fists. Behind the orc, one of Setanta's guards silently reached for his sword.
"No true orc has need of others to fight his battles," Libor stated.
"That may be," Setanta conceded, "but I am no orc, as you can plainly see."
Libor's face remained stoic, but the growl died away and the chieftain's hands relaxed. The elven guard's hand dropped away from his sword just as silently.
"If you will not help us, then we must leave," Libor stated. "I have not come here to discuss anything else."
"Perhaps," Setanta said with a nod, "but you are still here for the night at the very least. Let us discuss why I should help you find a spear that you all but tell me will result in my people's destruction."
Libor paused for a long moment. Perhaps he finally understood the absurdity of his request.
"It is ours by right," the chieftain finally said.
"Is it not ours by right?" Setanta inquired. "After all, we won it in battle, by your very words. And your way is to take by force, is it not?"
"You are no orc," Libor said. Setanta smiled at the attempt to reverse his logic.
"Again, you are correct," the king said. "But you are an orc. And here you are, trying to negotiate with me."
"Because… you are no orc," Libor said. It was difficult, Setanta could tell, but the chieftain was trying to think laterally.
"Why do you want the spear, Libor Bloody Fist?" the king asked.
"To unite my people," Libor said. The simple question energized the orc, as Setanta assumed it would. Like many braggarts, Libor thrilled to speak of his people and his deeds. "To forge an empire for my orcs, one that would put to shame the flat heads of Trzebin and the Unscarred. To have all that the flat heads and unscarred have, and more."
"The unscarred," Setanta echoed. "Us?"
"All who cower rather than fight," Libor clarified. "There is no greater glory than victory in battle, no better way to meet the One Eye than to die in glorious battle."
"And yet, you want what we have," Setanta pointed out. "We are the unscarred, the ones that are beneath you, correct? Why would you want what your inferiors have?"
Libor studied him for a long moment, suspicion welling up in his eyes.
"You are trying to trick me," the chieftain assumed. Setanta shook his head.
"No," Setanta countered. He started through the orchard, Libor following cautiously behind. "General Teirtu and many of my other advisors would tell me that orcs are single minded and stupid. That all they can do is attack each other and everyone around them. I want to know why you have decided to be different. Your very appearance here, speaking with me rather than trying to gut me, means there is something more to you, and possibly your people. I want to know who you are, Libor Bloody Fist. I want to know why you have decided to talk to me. You could have torn the Khairathi Mountains apart, defeating other orcs and the humans of Tourant, but you are here, speaking to an elf, your most hated of enemies."
"I must have Krvavi Puet to unite the orcs," Libor said.
"Why not just fight?" Setanta pressed. Libor paused.
"I… it would not… not help me," the chieftain stuttered.
"You must find a peaceful solution," Setanta assumed.
"No!" Libor snapped, trying to defend his paradoxical beliefs. Behind them, the two guards tensed at the sudden outburst, but the king did not even flinch. Libor also seemed to realize his error, and calmed himself. "Possessing Krvavi Puet will prove that I am chosen by the One Eye to lead my people," the chieftain explained.
"And will they all accept that?" Setanta inquired, knowing what passed for politics in the orcish tribes. Libor growled.
"They will accept that, or they will die," Libor stated. "My strength and fury is what makes me the chosen of the One Eye. None will stand before me."
"And then what?" Setanta asked. Libor narrowed his eyes.
"Then we make glorious war on all," the chieftain answered, equal parts proud and wistful. "We will show all what it is to be an orc, the greatest warriors in the world."
"And when you have defeated all of us, what then?" Setanta asked. "What will you do when there is no one left to attack?"
Libor paused for a long moment. For as much as orcs talked about their battle prowess, none thought to ask what would happen if their savage dreams finally came true. The king waited, but Libor had no words for him.
"Perhaps war is not the end all," Setanta put in, breaking the silence. Libor grew angry once more, but remained silent. "Perhaps there is something more to life than killing."
Libor remained silent. The chieftain was obviously perturbed by the elf's words, but he did not fly into a rage as Setanta had half expected of him. Taking a chance, the king pressed the issue.
"What are you truly after, Libor Bloody Fist?" Setanta inquired.
"The spear of the One Eye," Libor said. Setanta shook his head.
"The spear is only a way to make other orcs see what you want," the monarch corrected him. "What is it that you seek?"
Libor glared at the elf for a long moment.
"To lead my people," the chieftain finally said. "To glorify the One Eye as he should."
Libor paused again, considering his words.
"In Trzebin, I am told they have a grand cathedral to their god, Hextor," he continued. "The god of flat heads and unscarred is glorified in this great cathedral. The One Eye has only Predrag's shrine in Bij… in our home. We, who are strongest, are mocked by the flat heads. The unscarred fear us, but not as they do hobgoblins. This cannot be."
"Perhaps fear is not what you should ask for," King Setanta tried. Libor looked to him. "Fear lasts only as long as you are able to hurt someone. Respect, however… that lasts far longer, and does far more good.
"You think it is good to be respected, not feared," Libor concluded. Setanta nodded. "Respected for strength?"
"Well… perhaps," the king agreed. "But… strength can be more than just skewering one's enemies."
"Strength can be found in… crafting the weapons needed," Libor tried. Setanta gave a half shrug.
"That… I suppose could be," the monarch said. "But perhaps a truer strength could be found in not killing."
Libor studied him for a long moment, his broad, porcine face unreadable. Those amber eyes seemed to be trying to deduce something from the king's stance. As the length of the silence grew, Setanta tried once more.
"Long ago, before the human nations, the elves that lived here were not my ancestors," the monarch began. "We came from the east, from coastal lands. Why, I cannot say, for the reasons have been lost to time. But when we came here, we tried not to fight the wild elves that were already within the boundaries of Argent. We are their rulers, yes, but not because we killed them. We tried to live with them, and we taught each other different ways, different ideas. Now… now we are one."
Libor considered the information, his expression still puzzled.
"You defeated them, but did not kill them," the orc concluded.
"Well… there… there were skirmishes, to be truthful," Setanta admitted. Even now, so long after the high elves had come to Argent, he felt a pang of guilt. "But we… we did not wish to battle," the king added hastily, hoping that his words were not taken the wrong way. "We ended the hostilities as quickly as we could. And we have lived in peace, for the most part, ever since."
Libor remained silent and watchful again, his amber eyes locked on the king before him. Setanta could only hope he could understand; that war was not necessary, was not a thing to be glorified. Finally, the huge orc nodded curtly.
"Perhaps," the chieftain said slowly. The orc looked to the sun then as it disappeared in the west. "I will see to my orcs," Libor said. "I will think on your words."
King Setanta watched Libor as he strode back through the orchards to Oakenbough, uncertain if he had made things better or worse.
"At least we are not expected to hunt while we are here."
Suljo smirked, but said nothing to answer Zdeno as the huge orc looked over the food that had been delivered to them. A dozen or so apples, some trout likely taken right from the river outside their door, and crystal clear water in a large clay jug was their dinner; hardly appetizing for most orcs, who would have preferred venison or boar to the fish and apples. Suljo took one of the green fruits and took a bite from it, enjoying the tart taste for a long moment.
"No ale, no mead, just water," Vratislav complained. He looked over the food with barely concealed distaste. "No meat. No wonder these elves are so small."
"You can always have some of the salted venison, if you choose," Suljo offered, taking one of the fish for himself. He poured a large cup of water, and settled into his seat on one of the benches around their modest table. Zdeno pried himself out of the bed that he had occupied, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table and dragging a trout to him.
"I thought the elves make wine," Vratislav said, pouring himself a cup. "It would be poor substitute for ale, but it would be better than just water."
"They don't trust us, Vratislav the Boy," Zivadin said, a broad, unfriendly grin on his face as he leaned against the wall next to the door. "They think we will go on a drunken rampage if we take too much drink."
"It is you they don't trust, lunatic," Vratislav countered, glaring at the larger orc. "Desiring a child, one that a true orc would break before he had his pleasure from her."
"Perhaps the pleasure is in the breaking," Zivadin stated. "Did you think of that? Or is it true, that the orcs of the Bloody Fist are denied their rightful plunder?"
"You can keep that plunder," Zdeno said nonchalantly, speaking before Vratislav could continue the argument. "My wives are plunder enough. And my sons… if they were to play with a half breed, I would have a mewling wife and a broken child to deal with. No, Zivadin, you keep your playthings. Female orcs are bad enough without adding human or elven females to the mix."
Zivadin laughed at the remark, but before he could counter the berserker Libor returned to the lodge, pushing aside the curtain and snatching an apple from the table.
"You may take my seat, chieftain," Vratislav said, standing quickly. Libor waved him off irritably, taking a large bite from the apple. For a moment silence reigned over the lodge.
"The elf had nothing good to say," Suljo concluded, watching the chieftain's face as he spoke. Libor looked to him, opened his mouth, but returned to chewing before he said anything.
"Perhaps now it's time to favor spear and axe over words," Zdeno assumed, smiling at the thought of combat. "And not a moment too soon. I have grown bored of talk."
"Suljo," Libor said. The scout looked to him, but the chieftain's answer was nothing more than to step back through the curtained doorway. Zdeno's good mood ended as he looked after his leader. Without anything to say to the apparent summons, Suljo shrugged, wiped the scraps of fish from his studded leather tunic, and followed Libor out of the shelter.
"Again he turns to that scout for counsel," Suljo heard as he ducked out of the lodge. He put it out of his mind as he watched Libor slowly walking to the edge of the river, his breath steaming up in the light of the moon as he studied the water. Slowly Suljo followed him, a single glance over his shoulder confirming that Zdeno was not watching at the door.
"The elf had nothing good to say," Suljo repeated, joining the chieftain by the water's edge. Across the water, the scout could see Kinain, bundled in his cloak and resting in the lowest branches of an oak, well hidden and, more importantly, out of earshot. Libor's eyes remained fixed on the water.
"These elves are not like us," the chieftain finally declared. Suljo could not hold back a chuckle.
"A fact that we were only just discussing with the exile," the scout explained lightly. Libor did not seem to share his mirth.
"He speaks of winning without fighting," the chieftain continued. He looked around at the trees and the last of the elves above them, making their way to their homes in the branches of the trees. "The king says his people are not from here, and that they… conquered other elves, that were already here."
"I have noticed differences," Suljo said. "Hair color especially, but other things as well. Clothing, weapons, and the like."
"What does this mean?" Libor asked. Suljo considered the question for a long moment.
"They have… defeated another tribe," the scout finally tried. "Like your victory over the Cold Spear, perhaps. Perhaps this is a better way? To preserve strength?"
"Is this what they believe?" Libor asked, finally turning to the scout. "Is he telling me that we are to conquer them, but leave them whole?"
"I do not think the elves wish to be conquered at all," Suljo replied. Libor nodded, looking back to the river.
"But if they were, they would prefer this… the way they conquered their own?" the chieftain assumed. "Without blood? As we… I took the Cold Spear?"
Suljo shrugged.
"As I said," the scout started, "they do not wish to be conquered in any way."
Libor nodded again, his eyes unfocused. Across the river, Kinain shifted in his tree, no doubt cold in the growing winds of winter.
"They will not help us," the chieftain said at last. It was no question.
"That… is possible," Suljo said. Libor nodded, the weariness evident in his profile.
"Predrag warned me that it would not be easy," he said quietly. "I thought to come and ask, and they would answer."
"Perhaps they… will see some value in helping us," Suljo tried. It was a weak attempt, at best; no elf would give an orc a weapon which he fully intended to use against them. Libor shook his head fretfully.
"I must find another way," the chieftain said. "But I cannot offer them this peace they desire. It is not the One Eye's way."
"You could lie to them," Suljo suggested, though the idea sat ill in his own mind. "Offer them peace, and then make war on them later."
"Flat heads and unscarred lie," Libor said. "Not me."
"As I had thought," Suljo said. For a long moment the two remained silent.
"Perhaps Zdeno could fight their champion for the spear," Libor said, though he sounded less than confident in the idea.
"Their Teirtu would jump at the idea," Suljo said. "The others… I don't know."
Libor sighed deeply, shaking his head again.
"It cannot end this way," he said.
"Perhaps it will not," Suljo said. "Come inside and eat. We can do nothing until the sun rises again. Perhaps the One Eye will see us, and send some help."
It had been a long day, that much was certain. He would be happy when he was finally able to return to his family.
"I would have thought you of all people would have been a help."
That, of course, would have to wait for just a short time longer.
"I had expected you sooner, Bricriu," Teirtu said, gazing off the highest walkway that spanned the River Embléz between the King's Oak and the pair of similarly large oaks that dominated the west bank of the river. Beneath him, the water churned by, bubbling in the rising moonlight or beginning to form delicate crusts of ice on the rocky banks.
"One threat from a druid and you turn tail and run," Bricriu continued, ignoring the general's greeting. "That isn't the Teirtu I know."
"The council seems bent on letting the orcs go," Teirtu noted, still leaning over the thin railing of the walkway. He took a moment, enjoying the cold night. Above him, clouds began to move in from the west; winter was coming early this year. Perhaps it would swallow the orcs before they could find their silly spear.
"And we have to make them see!" Bricriu protested. "They'll let this Libor go, and he will come back to destroy us for not being foolish enough to help him!"
"That is possible," Teirtu agreed, his voice distant. He studied the current below him for a long moment.
"We have both fought orcs before," Bricriu said when the general remained silent. "We both know that they are dangerous opponents. Maybe they're better than goblins. At least we always know what to expect from orcs, and how to fight them. But we can't let them go free to come back with more of their kind!"
Teirtu continued to gaze into the river in silence. For so long he had dedicated his life to defending Argent from any threat. The humans of Tourant and Mardan, the dwarves of Arnheim, the goblins of Trzebin, and the orcs of the southern Khairathis. He could never admit to anyone that he at least respected the orcs for their straightforward attitude. Goblins, humans, even dwarves would lie, creeping into lands the elves held and stealing what they could behind curtains of false friendship. The orcs would kill, plunder, and rape. But somehow, he found them slightly less disgusting. If nothing else, they were too stupid to be devious.
It made his idea both more brilliant and repugnant at the same time.
"No, we cannot," the general agreed, finally looking up from the water. His tone was even, low, almost conspiratorial. Bricriu was an expert warrior and one of the best rangers in all of Argent, but he was notoriously slow to pick up on the nuances of intrigue. It was the bane of most of the so called "wild" elves of Argent, those that had inhabited Argent before even the silvery haired "high" elves that now ruled. Teirtu had been one of the few of his sylvan kind to move to a position of power; many of his jet haired kin lived away from Oakenbough, leaving the affairs of state, as King Setanta and Lord Caradoc called it, to their noble brethren. Bricriu, for his part, studied the general for a long moment, curiosity overcoming his hostility.
"You… have some kind of plan?" the ranger deduced. Teirtu finally stood up straight, turning fully to his companion.
"There are orcs to the northwest," the general said. "This is true?"
"Orcs… no, I don't…" Bricriu hesitated, thinking.
"Far to the northwest," Teirtu clarified. "In the mountains."
"Yes… yes, I remember now," Bricriu said. "They live underground, in the lower mountains. Shunned even by their own kind."
"The Rotfeast," Teirtu concluded. "They are a threat to your home, Arras."
"Yes," Bricriu said. "Though we have not seen them in some decades. Perhaps they have died out."
"Perhaps our friend Libor Bloody fist could be certain of that for us," Teirtu suggested. Bricriu narrowed his eyes.
"You mean to send him on an errand for us?" the ranger asked. Teirtu shook his head.
"Krvavi Puet is an orcish weapon," Teirtu pointed out. "Who is to say that one tribe of orcs or another took it back?"
"Is… is this true?" Bricriu asked, confused. Teirtu smiled faintly in the moonlight.
"Bricriu, you are one of the best scouts I know," the general said. "Probably even better than Fife was. But you have no head for intrigue."
"The curse of our kind," Bricriu said sarcastically. "I do not play these games, Teirtu. You know that."
"You will this time, if you wish to see Libor Bloody Fist perish on the spear of another orc," Teirtu countered. "Standing in that council, I knew that the others would not understand what we know. No orc will hold a peace treaty. No orc will submit to a life without warfare. But Setanta, he may believe that they might, under this Libor. Valtaya clings to some notion that we should be better than them, likely because of our past disagreements. Her father, court jester that he is, will back her up to compromise between her and me. No, Bricriu, we will not be allowed to just kill them. But if we plant the seed that these Rotfeast orcs have the spear… you know that any orc considers another orc to be his most worthy adversary."
"Have Libor and the Rotfeast kill each other," Bricriu concluded.
"And the Bloody Fist tribe may fall into chaos as well, without their leader," Teirtu added. "All gains for Argent."
"And how will we make Libor think the Rotfeast have this spear?" Bricriu inquired. "If Lord Caradoc or King Setanta say they do not know where the spear is, how will we convince the orcs to try looking there?"
"We convince Caradoc that the spear is there," Teirtu answered.
"Have him lie?" Bricriu said. Teirtu nodded.
"For the sake of Argent."
"I was hoping to talk to you."
"To… me?" Valtaya asked, stunned. "My… my liege, you… to me?"
"Well, yes," Setanta reiterated, smiling at the young druid's surprise. "You are a member of my council, no less than Teirtu or your father."
"I… am beginning to see that," Valtaya said, regaining her composure. "I am honored that you would consider me."
"You have a unique perspective on this situation, I should think," Setanta began, looking down from the tallest walkways of the King's Tree to the elves below. The great oaks of the elven capitol were still clinging stubbornly to their dead leaves, providing some cover to the dwellings below. "You have a background in both arcane magic and druidic lore, you have traveled the western forests and the scar as well, and you are younger than anyone else in the council. That is more important than anything else."
"I somehow doubt that," Valtaya said. She smiled slightly, a not quite embarrassed gesture. "Even Druce told me the wisdom of age."
"I don't doubt that," Setanta agreed. He paused for a long moment; a faint cloud of sorrow had come over the young druid. "We all miss him, Valtaya. Cabrach is capable, wise, and strong, but I know the bond you shared with Druce."
Valtaya nodded, wiping a tear from her eye.
"He was as much a father to me as Lord Caradoc," the druid said. She sniffled, then stood upright and forced her grief behind her. "I am sorry, my liege. You asked for my… my counsel."
Setanta smiled, looking back over Oakenbough.
"What do you think of our guests?" he inquired simply. Valtaya hesitated.
"They… are not my favorite people," the druid replied.
"Did Druce teach you to guard your answers so carefully?" Setanta asked. "Or is that from your father?"
"I… apologize," Valtaya said. She followed the king's line of sight down through the trees, but her gaze settled quickly on the wisp of smoke coming from the small lodge where the orcs had been quartered. "I do not trust them," she finally said. "My father thinks me naïve, Teirtu thinks me weak, but I can plainly see the threat of these orcs."
"And what is their threat?" Setanta pressed. Valtaya turned to him, searching for something in his eyes.
"They are orcs," she said. "They are not our friends."
"This is true," Setanta agreed. He looked back down to the base of the great oak. "So we should kill them?"
"No!" Valtaya countered quickly. She took a moment, trying to calm herself before continuing. "We cannot simply butcher them here, as Teirtu would have us do. He does not understand, to do so makes us no better than them, no better than the humans or the dwarves or… or our other enemies."
"Other enemies?" Setanta inquired. Valtaya watched him, suspicious.
"The drow," she said. "The dark elves that I have seen with my own eyes. They exist, my liege. They are the ones behind the fire, not these orcs!"
Setanta nodded slowly.
"General Teirtu tells me it was hobgoblins," the king said. "Others say it was these very orcs. After all, they were found in the scar."
"I was there!" Valtaya exclaimed. "They crippled me! I will always limp because of Cadwared! But all I am told is that they cannot exist, because then we would be made to look weak! But if we murder guests that we have invited to our very homes, how much better are we than our so called fabled enemies? We may as well join them in their caves!"
"And this is what you fear," Setanta concluded. "You have seen the absolute worst that our kind can be."
"I… my liege, I can only offer you this," Valtaya said, looking away. "Turn them away. Return them to their mountains. Help them, if you think this Libor Bloody Fist deserves it. But… do not make us that which we will not even speak of. They are evil… you cannot imagine…"
Valtaya trailed off, the pains of her ordeal overtaking her. She turned away from the king, bracing herself on the railing of the walkway. Setanta took a step closer to her, resting a hand on her shoulder to comfort her.
"They are long since vanished, back into their tunnels," Setanta said. Valtaya shook her head as she turned back to her king.
"I… I do not fear them because of what they could do to me," the druid explained. "I fear them because Teirtu is closer to them than he is to me. He would have us kill all who entered our forest, would deny the good that the humans did in aiding us. He would butcher dwarves, elves, orcs and goblins without care for what they have or have not done. How many of us think this way?"
Setanta said nothing for a long moment, considering the young druid's words. She was right, though it was tough to admit, even to himself. Teirtu was not the only elf with a thirst for blood. How many of his rangers and scouts had killed before they had even asked the intentions of those that stumbled into Argent's borders? How many times had Tourant or Mardan, or even Arnheim, been rebuffed by the elven councils before they could even present terms of peace or agreements? The thoughts were troubling to him, but for the moment he would have to concentrate on the Bloody Fist and his orcs.
"I understand your fears, Valtaya," Setanta said. "But suppose we let these orcs go free, whether we help them or not, and then they return with more of their kind. Would we not simply feed Teirtu's fears?"
"We…" Valtaya paused, knowing the truth behind it. If Libor and his orcs returned to make war on Argent, the general would only feel justified in his call for their deaths. The young druid, however, shook her head. "We must let them go. We cannot murder in cold blood. It makes us no better than the orcs, or worse, the drow."
Setanta nodded.
"I will speak with some of the others," he said. "But I feel your counsel is the one I shall take."
Battle was far easier. All one had to do was charge, and let momentum do the rest. He had no idea what he would face, however, as the door to Setanta's pet wizard's home opened. For a moment Lord Caradoc stared blankly at the armored elf in front of him, but then blinked and remembered his courtesies.
"General Teirtu," the wizard said, equal parts surprised and hostile. "To what do I owe this honor? Especially at this hour of the night?"
"I would speak with you on matters of some urgency," Teirtu replied, keeping any enmity from his voice. "If you would permit me to enter?"
Caradoc studied the armored elf in his doorway for a moment, but finally moved aside.
"Come in," the wizard said. Teirtu gave a stiff nod, then stepped inside.
The interior of Caradoc's home seemed far larger than the outside would have indicated. On the far end of the foyer, a small staircase spiraled up to a huge loft, partially grown from the great oak and partially constructed of planks so well shaped and placed that the artificial additions were barely noticeable from the outside. A second staircase wound down to a level below them, but in the light of the moon that came in through the windows set high in the roof nothing could be seen beyond a few feet. Teirtu paused in the entryway for a long moment, drinking in his surroundings. He had known Caradoc for well over a century, but had never set foot inside his home.
"I am quite busy," Caradoc prompted. Teirtu dragged his eyes away from the cushioned sofas in the foyer.
"Searching for clues as to the whereabouts of Krvavi Puet?" the general inquired. The wizard narrowed his eyes.
"It might be," he answered, suspicious. Teirtu nodded, clasping his hands behind his back. Slowly the general started into the foyer, his attention drawn to a majestic statue of an elf holding a long bow, carved from a solid block of cherry.
"And how does that search proceed?" he asked, studying the carving for a long moment.
"Slowly," Caradoc replied. "Tediously. And I have many more hours of research ahead of me."
"I was never all that fond of books," Teirtu confessed. "I suppose it is not in the wild blood to read so much as you."
"We have never been friends, Teirtu," Caradoc said. "Do not treat me like a fool. You are here for a purpose."
"Do you think you'll find this Krvavi Puet?" Teirtu inquired.
"Your reasons, Teirtu," Caradoc stated. Teirtu nodded, folding his arms across his mithril breastplate.
"What do you think of our guests?" the general inquired.
"I think they are beasts," Caradoc answered, a note of impatience in his voice.
"As do I," Teirtu said. "A thing we can agree upon, then."
"Yes, we have found common ground," Caradoc agreed.
"Perhaps we can also agree that we should strike them down, while we have the chance," Teirtu pressed. Caradoc shook his head, a cold smirk beginning to form.
"I should have known," the wizard said. "What is it you wish, Teirtu? Should I fireball them, or simply cast a charm to provoke them to battle?"
"I doubt a charm would be needed," Teirtu said.
"Either way, you will not have it," Caradoc said, answering his own question. "The orcs are under the king's protection, and I doubt he will like us trying to goad them into a fight."
Teirtu studied the wizard for a long moment.
"Yes," he admitted. "Your daughter has seen to that."
"And she is right," Caradoc added, somewhat reluctantly.
"You do not agree with the Lady Valtaya?" Teirtu inquired.
"She is right," Caradoc said again. "We have brought these orcs here, under our protection. To kill them now…"
"Would seem uncivilized," Teirtu finished. Caradoc sighed.
"We cannot invite them in, and then kill them," the wizard stated. Teirtu nodded, frowning as he turned back to the cherry wood statue.
"Who is this again?" he queried. Caradoc looked up.
"Corellon Larethian," the wizard replied. "Father of the elves, protector of elvenkind."
"Would he let the orcs go?" Teirtu asked.
"You don't believe in him," Caradoc pointed out, evading the question. Teirtu smiled.
"What if there was a way to make this Libor useful to us?" the general inquired. "What if Libor Bloody Fist could help Corellon Larethian protect elvenkind?"
"What do you mean?" Caradoc asked, growing suspicious. Teirtu examined the intricate carving closely, nodding in appreciation at the craftsmanship.
"To the northwest, there are other orcs," the general explained as he regarded the carving. "They are called the Rotfeast Orcs. Shunned even by their own kind, they live in caves under the jagged peaks, and from time to time they threaten the boundaries of Argent. Bricriu says he has not seen them for some time, but with any who dwell below ground, they could simply be hiding, waiting for a time to strike."
"And what would Libor Bloody Fist do to help us with these Rotfeast orcs?" Caradoc asked.
"Why, he would attack them, of course," Teirtu explained. "He would strike them down in their caves, all for his precious Krvavi Puet."
"And then we would give him his spear?" Caradoc asked. "Even if we don't have it?"
"He would travel to the Rotfeast thinking that they have the spear," Teirtu clarified. "For your tireless research has turned up some evidence that the spear might just be with those orcs, locked away beneath the mountains."
"I have turned up some evidence?" Caradoc repeated. "You would have me lie to the king?"
"I would have you see what you will in what you can find," Teirtu amended. "I would have you think of what your Corellon Larethian would do to keep the forest of Argent and its elves safe from the orcs howling on the boundaries. If Libor and the Rotfeast destroy each other, it only strengthens Argent! You must see that!"
"It is still a lie!" Caradoc retorted. "What if Libor finds no spear, and returns to us?"
"The hope, of course, is that he does not return," Teirtu explained. Caradoc's face darkened.
"Lie to the king yourself," the wizard said.
"It would not be believable from me," Teirtu pointed out. "You are the researcher, Caradoc. Not me."
"Get out," Caradoc ordered. Teirtu examined the wizard for a long moment. "Get out, Teirtu. Now."
"Think on my words, Caradoc," the general said, finally turning to the door. "Think on them well. It would be a shame if Argent burned because you did not protect them. What would your Corellon think of that?"