In the Family
After returning to Endataurëo you are at something of a loss. You have completed all your tasks for the week, at least until Merrill returns from visiting her clan. Solas departed earlier in the week and Xandar said he would be helping Ranger with.
While you wander through the halls, trying to think of something to occupy your time, you hear a quiet question.
"Teacher? Can I talk to you?"
In surprise, you turn to Xandar and ask, "I thought you were with Ranger? Is something wrong? Why have you returned alone?
It takes Xandar a moment to realise what you have said, but when he does he blushes.
"I maybe might have snuck away while he was arguing with the guy we met in Denerim. I, it's just. I need to ask you a question." He says.
"You should never fear to do so. What is it you wish to know?" You reply.
Xandar looks around nervously and ducks into a nearby room. "In here teacher!"
More amused than annoyed at his antics, you follow the young human into the alcove.
Your indulgent smile begins to wane as you wait for Xandar to speak, and he merely shuffles awkwardly in place. "Very well, Xandar. We are safely beyond earshot of the others. Tell me, what is it you wish to discuss?"
"Are you sure. I mean, maybe this was a bad idea. I should go." Xandar babbles.
You reach out an arm to block his path. "If that is truly your desire, I shall not stop you, yet if it is fear that drives you, then I shall not permit you to depart without explaining what it is you fear."
Xandar looks at the door, then back to you. He wrings his hands in silence.
A familiar itch in the back of your skull pushes at you. "Please Xandar, what is the matter? I will help, you know I will."
Xandar looks at you in the eye, then nods.
"So, I wanted to begin by saying that I really appreciate that you haven't been asking lots of questions about my past." Xandar begins slowly.
"If there is one thing I understand, it is having a past you do not wish to discuss." You reply comfortingly. "If you feel as though you owe me a full explanation, I assure you that is not so. Simply name that which scares you and it will be enough."
Xandar smiles wanly at you. "Thanks, um if it's alright I'd rather still not talk about it. What I actually wanted to ask you about is, well, you know how Merrill and Ranger visited my mother?"
You nod. "I was informed of the visit and its outcome."
"Well, I heard about it too, and I'm kind of worried. I just, I wasn't expecting her to be so, I don't know, hurt. I want to go visit her, just make sure that she's alright and that she hasn't been replaced by a giant frog wearing her skin like a robe." Xandar explains hesitantly.
Momentarily taken aback by the gruesome and bizarre imagery he used; you are silent for a while. Once you are once more emotionally stable, you quickly decide that you have nothing better to spend your time on at the moment.
"I see no reason why we cannot visit your mother. I am always in favour of family overcoming their differences." You inform your student. "We will need to walk unfortunately, Orudómë is exhausted and all the horses are in use."
It is a sign of how nervous the young man is that he does not celebrate or make any of his strange gestures. He merely nods and departs to prepare for the journey.
Walking through the forest is a time consuming affair. It was late in the day when the two of you departed, and you spend the night camping. It is fortunate that both Xandar and you have extensive experience with doing so, especially in this forest.
Far from your road and other buildings the shadows beneath the trees deepen, and behind every trunk it seems as though some evil lurks. The atmosphere is oppressive and that is before one considers the physical dangers that lurk in the woods.
Despite such pressures, the trip is altogether boring. You are more than capable of keeping yourself and Xandar safe from any attack, and few of the more mystical threats dare brave the might of the Noldor.
You arrive at the Elfsmarch chantry, and Xandar pauses, clearly gathering his nerves. While he does so, you decide on how you intend to approach this meeting. You are not quite sure what the exact tension here is, but you know it is present.
Your first instinct is to allow things to play out until they cross a certain threshold. It is far too easy to insert oneself into private matters and make them worse, even with the best of intentions. Yet, as Xandar continues to hesitate staring at the door in trepidation, you realise that a more active role is needed here.
"Xandar. I will go in and announce us, as well as informing your mother of your presence. You have until I emerge to compose yourself enough for this conversation." You inform the human.
Xandar starts, eyes darting to you as he fidgets nervously. "I don't know teacher. Maybe this was a bad idea, we should try again another time."
"It will not be easier." You warn him. "In fact, if you give up now, after coming so far, it will be noticeably harder the second time."
Xandar pauses, face twisting with indecision. "I don't know."
You allow a pause, waiting for the human to make a decision. When none is forthcoming, you decide to make one for him.
"I am going now." You inform the apostate.
If he had called out to you, you would have stopped. If at any point he had said that it was too much too soon, you would not have continued. But nothing of the sort happens, and you knock sharply on the door.
The door creaks open, the plump woman with brown hair that Merrill had described stands there.
"Yes dearie, how can the Maker's servants assist you." She greets cheerfully.
You don your most disarming smile, and reply. "Greetings honoured Sister, I am Nelyafinwë. One of my students recently came to consult with a Sister Summer, and she indicated a desire to meet the man who recommended her."
"Oh my, and that's you, is it?" The woman replies, blushing fiercely. "I was expecting someone more, scholarly I suppose."
"You do me far too much honour." You reply, noting that humans may be more vulnerable to your best smile than you thought. "I am merely an escort, unfortunately the man in question is painfully shy. Might I speak to Sister Summer as an introduction? To help them both."
The Sister is nodding even before you finish speaking.
"Oh yes." She gushes. "How kind of you sir knight. Please, come in, I'll show the scholar the dining room and get tea started. This is just the sort of thing the poor dearie needs right now."
"On that we are agreed." You reply truthfully.
Unlike the Sister though, you doubt it will be pleasant.
Sister Summer has the look of a woman who has lost all that mattered in her life. She hides her initial fear when she answers her door to find you well, but you still see it.
Using a gentler and more calming smile this time, you ask, "Sister Summer? I have brought the scholar who recommended you to Merrill, my student who visited you recently."
Your words cause the young woman to relax somewhat. She manages a wan smile at you.
"You have my thanks, sir knight." She replies. "I'll be glad to speak to a learned man in my field."
She seems so hopeful it is almost enough to make you not say the next part. "I am afraid it will not be as pleasant a conversation as you hope. Correct me if I am wrong, but do you have a son named Xandar?"
The Sister's body goes rigid, but she nods briefly. You continue before the renewed fear in her eyes can turn to panic.
"Xandar has recently become one of my students, and it was he who recommended your expertise to Merrill. He has come here, knowing who you are, to speak to you." You explain gently.
The Sister breathes heavily for a few moments but manages to get herself under control.
"Ok. Thank you for warning me." She whispers. "You said he's your student, are you with the Circle? The Templars?"
You shake your head. "I am not, but I have been vetted by them to instruct your son in magic, there is no need for fear."
"Can… can I have a moment?" The Sister asks.
You wait for a time as the woman gathers herself. Eventually, she nods to you, and walks towards the dining room.
When the two of you enter there are twin gasps from mother and son, followed by an awkward silence.
Xandar finally breaks the silence. "Sis… Mo… Summer."
"You.. you can call me mother. If you want. I don't want to act like…" the Sister trails off.
Silence stretches out, until you speak. "Perhaps it would be best if we all call each other by our names for now. Titles can wait until later."
Judging from the flinch on Summer's part, it had been an inopportune time to intervene, but it does break the silence enough for the rotund Sister to interject.
"Summer. Are you certain…" She begins.
"It's fine Bella." Summer interrupts. "Xandar is currently in official care. And… and I owe him a conversation."
The other woman looks as though she still wants to intervene, but she does nothing. Silence stretches out again, until Summer breaks it.
"Xandar, I'm sorry." She says quietly, looking at her hands.
"You're sorry?" Xandar asks quietly, tone unusually venomous. "You're sorry? Well, I guess that makes everything better then!"
"I know it doesn't make up for what happened, but it's not like I can do anything else at this point." Sister Summer responds defensively.
"If you're so sorry then why do it in the first place! I trusted you! I loved you! And you betrayed me and now you're sorry? At least have the decency to stick to a position!" Xandar screams at the Sister.
"What do you want from me?" The woman responds furiously. "Do you think I've been happy knowing my son has vanished into the night, that I haven't worried myself sick about what might have happened to you! Do you think I don't care about you at all!"
"If you care so much you have a terrible way of showing it!" Xandar yells back at her.
"Enough!" You bellow.
As loud as the two humans had been getting, neither have the ability to drown out the sounds of battle. Your voice sees all three humans in the room flinching back and falling silent.
"This kind of emotion driven lashing out at each other solves nothing." You continue sternly in the ensuing silence. "Take a moment and do not speak until you can do so civilly."
The silence stretches on for several moments, then several minutes and you finally realise you have made a mistake. The two humans have not calmed down and are glaring at each other, their anger festering away despite the silence you enforced.
Given it was your fault that the silence began, it falls to you to step in to repair the damage you have, if not caused, facilitated.
"Xandar. Why are we here?" You ask calmly. "What did you hope to accomplish with this conversation."
Xandar's eyes flick to you, and you can see his thoughts beginning to turn away from the anger and hurt.
"I don't know." He says, almost plaintively.
"You wished to come here, surely there must have been some reason." You observe.
"I, well, I just want things to go back to the way they used to be." He says quietly, mournfully.
You feel a stab of real grief for his plight, that is not a feeling you are unfamiliar with.
"Often in life we find ourselves wishing that we might turn back the hourglass, to return to elder days when the world was right." You grip his shoulder comfortingly and speak consolingly. "None of can do so, time flows but one way and we must flow with it. Not even the Eldar are changeless. Given that what you want is beyond reach, what is acceptable?"
Xandar holds your gaze for a long while, eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"I just want to know why." He whispers quietly.
You turn to face Sister Summer, ready to extend to her any necessary assistance, but she has shaken her own anger off. A complex mixture of emotion has taken its place: hurt, guilt, shame, relief and affection all wrestle for control of her expression.
"Are you feeling calmer now?" You ask her.
When you receive a nod from the human woman you turn back to Xandar. "I understand that you likely feel hurt and justified in your anger, but there was no need to reject Sister Summer's apology so cruelly, I'd like you to apologise for yelling."
For a moment, as anger and hurt flash across Xandar's face, you fear you have made another mistake, but Xandar instead turns to his mother.
"I apologise for raising my voice." He says stiffly.
"I understand." Summer replies with an awkward smile. "I shouldn't have yelled either."
You sense the silence about to descend once more, so you prompt the two humans. "Xandar, I believe you had something to ask Sister Summer."
Xandar nods, swallowing. "Why?"
"Why what?" Sister Summer asks.
"Why any of it?" Xandar replies, voice choking. "Why didn't you tell me? Why hide me only to change your mind? Why did you turn me in? Why didn't you say anything when…"
"I didn't mean to hurt you." The blonde woman replies quietly. "I was scared, I didn't know what to do. We agreed it was easier if you were just treated like another orphan. I had to go on a secluded retreat, then pretend I just found you before I came back. I tried to schedule as much time with you as possible, but I couldn't look like I was favouring you."
The chantry Sister swallows and looks down at her hands. "At first it was fine, I could pretend I didn't notice anything, a few of your father's friends watched you just in case so you were safe. But the dreams kept coming, you kept getting stronger. I thought you'd be safer in the Circle, even if it meant I couldn't see you anymore."
"You told the Templars!" Xandar exclaims.
You place a hand on his shoulder and give him a warning look. The young man subsides, and fortunately Sister Summer does not take his words personally.
"I told my Mother Superior. I confessed everything to her, I didn't expect her to send for the Seekers. I didn't expect them to start discussing Tranquility. I couldn't say anything, and then you were gone." The Sister finishes
"Forgive my interruption." You stets when you are certain the tale is finished. "Who are the Seekers?"
"They're the Divine's enforcers. They report directly to Val Royeux and they have incredibly broad powers over others in the Chantry. They do the wet works necessary to keep the Chantry in line." Xandar explains in his usual manner.
You turn to Sister Summer for confirmation.
"They're more a counterbalance to the Templar order, but the essentials are true." She says weakly.
A thought occurs to you. "Do they hunt down mages?"
"Very dangerous apostates sometimes, but their main business is keeping the Templars honest." Sister Bella interjects. "An untrained mage outside the Circle's more common than most think. It'd be weird if they showed up for him."
You feel a certainty creep into your heart. The Knight-Commander recused himself due to a 'personal relationship', the anti-Templar secret police investigating Xandar, his father's 'friends' being qualified to watch a young mage.
"If it is not too personal a question, what was Xandar's father's name?" You ask Summer.
"Greagoir." The woman whispers.
After that revelation you have little to do. With the truth now revealed, much of what transpires is a tentative reconnection between mother and son. It is awkward and fumbling, but you find there is little need to step in to protect either.
After you are satisfied that you can leave, you step out to see about that tea you were promised. The other Sister, Bella you think her name was, follows you after you.
"I'm glad you brought him around sir Nelyafinwë, poor girl was worrying her heart out. I was worried at first, but I think it's for the best." She says as you search for some wood for the stove.
"I aim to assist my students in any way they need." You reply bent more than double too fit in the storeroom. "Sometimes that is rescuing them from a demon, sometimes it is helping them reconnect with family."
"Very responsible of you." Bella giggles. "You know you're in the wrong cupboard, right?"
Any who claim you swore like a sailor after hitting your head in surprise is a liar. Sister Bella's clear amusement as you exited did not help your foul mood.
All things eventually end, and after the tea is consumed, it is time for you and Xandar to return home.
"Thank you, teacher." Xandar says as you ride back.
"Think nothing of it." You reply. "I am pleased you could reconnect with your mother."
"Yeah." Xandar says quietly. "Do you think…"
"Xandar, how many times must I tell you to ask a question if you have one. I detest thoughts left unfinished." You tell him.
"Can I meet my father too?" He asks.
"Another day." You inform him. "I cannot make the trip without warning."
"But eventually?" He presses.
"We will see." You reply.
The Dark Tower
Your other tasks for the week are now complete, you arrive back at Endataurëo to find Merrill waiting for you.
"Ready to brave the tower in the Beyond?" The Dalish asks you.
With a nod, you reply. "I have some last minutes checks to complete but once those are done, I will be. Are you?"
Merrill returns your nod. You bid farewell to Xandar and make sure that your staff knows that you will be out. It is unclear how long entering and exploring this tower will take, so you take great care to check that there is nothing that will require you attention.
Merrill grabs your arm, and you weave your working and step into the Beyond. From the shadow of Endataurëo the two of you retrace your steps from last week. The riddle spirit from your last visit remains an obstacle, but Merrill seems to have gotten used to his strange riddles and only requires a single attempt to secure passage.
Sliding down the strange frozen cream substance the nearby mountain is made of this time, you come to the dark fortress that still emanates its call. You stand beyond its dry moat, looking at the curtain wall.
The outermost bastion is a curious sight. The black stone is smooth as glass and has no obvious joins. Others might assume they are simply well hidden, but you have seen enough works of the Valar to recognise when something has been created as a whole piece.
Despite your expectations there are no arrow slits nor crenelations, in truth you wonder how a defender might fight from such a wall, to you it seems impossible. Stranger still is the lack of obvious towers, though you can see their tips jutting above the top of the wall.
Out of curiosity you cautiously extend your senses, ready to yank them back from any attack at a moment's notice. They confirm for you what your knowledge of seigecraft was already suggesting. This is no true fortress, but rather a construct of magic and will. That you see a fortress is more metaphor born of the Beyond than anything else.
Given the way the towers are facing in this metaphor, you would guess it is not designed to keep intruders out but keep its occupant within.
"Be careful, Merrill." You inform your student quietly. "This fortress seems more a magical prison of some nature. That it is the source of this call makes me wonder if we have perhaps stumbled upon a trap, long laid unsprung."
Merrill looks at the towering wall, then back to you and swallows nervously. "Suddenly this seems a lot less like a fun adventure."
"Having second thoughts?" You ask, more to be certain she is committed than from any doubts about her will.
"None." Merrill replies immediately. "I will however take a bit to examine it and see if I can spot anything."
You are dimly aware of Merrill's spells that examine the construct before you, yet as with most such things your knowledge of her art is far too weak to tell you what is happening. For a time, you watch as Merrill glows and extends tendrils of magic about.
Eventually she drops her arms and her glow and shrugs. "I can't tell much you don't already know. I'm pretty sure that it's some kind of seal or barrier, definitely designed to catch something inside. I can rule out it being a spirit's domain, I recognise some of its principles, but the skill in its making is beyond any I have ever seen."
"I see, then we have no choice but to proceed as carefully as we can." You state. "Let us cross the moat."
With great care the two of you probe the ditch for hidden traps or tricks. There seems to be nothing, so with great care you cross the wide and deep trench. On the other side the both of you release a sigh of relief.
"The moat must serve as a boundary circle to contain and anchor the spell." Merrill observes.
You shrug, ignorant of such matters and willing to take her word on the matter. "Then our first obstacle will be the wall."
Merrill nods. "Do we go through the gate? I think I saw a portcullis and a drawbridge, so I don't like our chances."
"A gate is a weakness in a wall, but as a result it usually has the highest concentration of defences." You note. "Personally, I would prefer to scale the wall."
"Can we do that safely? We'd need a way to get down the other side too." Merrill objects. "Besides, scale it with what?"
"Are we not in the Beyond? A rope or ladder is never more than a short working away." You remind her.
Merrill falls silent, examining the wall in more detail.
Eventually she speaks. "There is one other option, I could try to dismantle the spell."
"Is that not dangerous? You yourself said that you would not contest a spirit in its workings, besides which what if you release whatever is interred?" You ask.
"Well, I wouldn't want to do it without preparation, but we have all the time in the world to prepare. And maybe something's trapped in there, or maybe it is a trap. If I dismantle it and it is a trap then we don't need to risk anything." Merrill points out.
"Yet, if something dangerous lies within you will free it." You counter.
Merrill bites her lip. "You decide. You're the one most experienced in adventures into other worlds. I'll follow your lead"
As tempting as the gate is, being both a natural weak point and the most audacious option, caution wins out and the two of you prepare to climb the walls.
"Can you make a rope?" You ask Merrill.
"Maybe, um do we really need one though?" Merrill asks. "I mean, the wall's sort of a metaphor right? More an indication of a magical barrier than a physical one."
She raises an excellent point; one you consider at length. In a battle of wills expressed through metaphor would it be better to have a magic rope or not? There are arguments either way, but in the end the old saying 'one who leaves with all they want, travels home'1 decides the matter.
"Make one just in case, it cannot possibly hurt." You instruct her.
Merrill nods, but then pauses. "Why aren't you making one? Your magic's probably better for this kind of direct contest."
"For a number of reasons." You reply patiently. "Firstly, because I do not yet understand the interaction between my magic and the 'mana' of this land. Secondly, your understanding of this working is likely greater than mine, giving a higher chance of success. Finally, my strength is far less easily replenished, and I would save it for a time of need."
Merrill nods in understanding and begins to cast with her staff. Soon a translucent rope of vaguely purple energy stretches up the side of the wall. Cautiously you wrap you hand around it and pull. When the rope holds you dare to swing your full weight on the construct. Still, it holds.
You look to Merrill and nod. The two of you begin your ascent.
Merrill's warnings prove true almost immediately. Some will beyond your own sets itself against you, though it seems caught off guard and yet to marshal its full might. Your weight seems to double, the wall beneath your feet grows slick, and they slide about without purchase.
Yet, your faith in Merrill's workings and your own strength carries you on. Trusting your whole weight to her rope, you haul yourself ever higher, hand over hand.
'You can't do it.' The wall seems to whisper. 'Your arms aren't strong enough.'
In response you laugh. "I have held my weight atop a mountain peak, suspended by only one wrist. I have twice the strength I need in my arms. Your words mean nothing. Begone!"
Below you, Merrill fairs far worse. Her arms tremble with the effort of lifting herself, but between her determination and her grip on the walls, she manages. She even seems to have some way of making the rope itself aid her.
When the wall grows slick, she manages a time, though her pace slows rapidly. Halfway up the wall, even as you laugh at the voice, she stops.
The elf's face is pale and her arms tremble with strain. Whatever she is hearing seems to deal hammer blows to her spirit. With every passing moment she weakens until, at last, she falls.
You do not hesitate. You gather the rope around yourself and swing out, falling towards your student. Since you do not try to slow your fall while she does, you gain on her swiftly.
Finally, you catch up to her, reaching out to grasp onto her with one arm. For a moment you fear that you will lose her, then Merrill's arms snake around your shoulders, and you grasp the rope once more.
With a sudden jerk both of you swing out away from the wall. Your arms scream at the demands you make of them, but you are deaf to their cries. With all the grace you possess, you gain control of the swing and your legs strike the wall first, absorbing the force.
A heartbeat passes, then Merrill speaks. "You're a lot stronger than you look."
Climbing with her on you takes all your focus, so you do not respond.
Eventually you reach the other side of the wall. Merrill has been awkwardly apologising for accidentally insulting you, but you are too tired to address that now. As you gather yourself, you observe the courtyard.
Where the wall seemed largely physical, here the mystical nature of the defences could not be clearer. The large lifelike statues of giant wolves seem ready to leap from their pedestals, and there is a sense of impending danger even to your physical senses.
To your spiritual senses the entire courtyard is blazing with power. There are obvious snares concealing subtle workings. An enchantment to confuse the sense of direction is combined with a working that turns walls into acid. If this truly is a prison, what on Arda could it be for?
"Over the wall and into the killing field." You observe tiredly. "I should not be surprised, yet somehow I am."
Merrill smiles wanly. "Really, any prison or fortress would have stronger defences past the walls. Just in case."
"I did admit that I should not be surprised, did I not?" You reply, slightly defensive. "But in truth I meant more in the sense that I should be used to the cruelty of fate. Naturally after I expend much of my strength, the next obstacle will demand yet more of it."
"What are you thinking?" Merrill asks. "There's so much going on that I barely understand what's involved. I might be able to do something, but it'd take time."
"Well, I would create a working akin to a battering ram and simply smash through the majority of the defences." You admit. "However, I am cautious to do so when I do not know what is imprisoned within."
"I don't think that would work anyway; this is pretty powerful." Merrill observes.
"Great power concentrated into a very small front will penetrate defences when greater power spread out would fail." You remind Merrill. "It is the principle behind blades, and it is how the Noldor challenged the might of the Balrogs."
"Be that as it may, since you are not going to do so, we should focus on what we're actually doing." Merrill replies. "Which brings us to the question of what are we going to do."
"Do spells have the ability to discern and target specific individuals?" You ask. "If they do, is there a way to designate ourselves as non-targets?"
Merrill opens her mouth, clearly prepared for a denial, then she pauses and begins to think. She turns her gaze onto the weavings within the courtyard.
"Maybe." She says slowly. "Most spells are pretty simple, create a thing and throw it. Those don't care about targets or anything. This isn't that. It's a lot more like enchantment, and there are enchantments that only work on certain targets."
"Can you discern how it works?" You ask.
"I can try." Merrill says.
Never one to leave someone to do something that you could assist with, you extend your senses to try and understand what is happening within the courtyard. Almost immediately you are overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of what is happening.
Always before when you have observed a spell, it has been either something simple or something that has a central thread of logic you understand. This is another matter entirely. Whoever has wrought these spells has done so with an expert hand.
You know just enough of the craft to recognise something you cannot understand, yet not enough to even begin to understand how you could assist Merrill. Fortunately, you have other talents to put to use.
You scout out areas of high density of 'Mana' as Solas claimed it was called. Though the nature of the working might elude you, it should ensure that you have some idea of how to pass through the courtyard if Merrill is unable to figure out a way through.
While you are being less than useful, Merrill seems to have been inspired. At first, she merely did the same thing you had, extending her senses and examining the working before her. Perhaps because of her nature, her senses are more attuned to the workings of the Beyond and as such she stumbles across something she recognises.
"Wait! I've seen this before!" She cries happily. "I know what that is, I think I saw it in the Veil."
Unaware of what she is seeing you can only do your best to follow along as she mutters to herself.
"Hang on, that doesn't look like. Oh it's an exclusion principle, ok so that means."
In other words, you are completely lost, and only Merrill's tone enables you to realise that whatever she is learning it is positive.
"I think Solas mentioned something like this, something about how the touch of the soul upon the Beyond is unique to every individual. It has something to do with spirits." Merrill continues muttering.
You settle down to watch for any ambush or attack as Merrill begins to work out the spells. It takes some time, though within the Beyond it is impossible to tell how long, but eventually she finishes.
A bright green glow coalesces around Merrills hands, before running up her staff and then settling on the both of you like a cloud of mist.
"Alright, I think that should mask us as just a part of the background of the Beyond. It might not work, but it should be enough." Merrill pants, looking drained.
"I am impressed, it sounded as if you were pulling together a great deal of knowledge." You praise her.
Merrill flushes. "Well, it helps that I've been helping people get through the Veil recently. It's given me a lot of experience with what Solas calls 'soul tags'."
"You spoke to Solas about travelling through the Veil?" You ask her.
"Only theoretically!" Merrill protests as she runs her hand through one of the defences. "Looks like it worked, let's go."
"When we get back, we will be discussing a concept called 'discretion." You assure your student.
The defences let you pass without challenge. You walk through what appears to be a castle, admiring the décor and the excellent design, you suspect that it was based on a true fortification, since there are many features designed to account for physical laws simply not present in the Beyond.
Eventually you come to the highest point of the central tower. The final door is of black iron with blue veins of lightly singing crystal laced through it. Merrill and you share one last look, before you open the door to reveal what lies within.
The room is dominated by an enormous mirror, from the floor to the ceiling, decorated with golden scrollwork. A bright red rug is spread beneath a luxurious four poster bed. A roaring fire dominates a second wall, while what appears to be a window opens not onto a balcony but to a forge.
Within the forge an elf works. Large muscles, even by the standards of the atani, can be clearly seen on his bare arms. A leather apron covers his front and his black hair is tied back carelessly.
"No! It's all wrong!" The elf roars, throwing something to the ground where it smashes into a thousand pieces, "Where is that damnable Wolf? How does he keep hiding from me?"
The elf notices you, how you are not quite sure, but he suddenly straightens up and smooths his hair back.
"Ah, the anomaly. Excellent. I've been expecting you." He says, raising his head imperiously. "I am June, Lord of Crafts. I will honour you by allowing you to introduce yourself."
To your shame it takes Merrill's gasp to connect the name with its importance. Your eyes narrow as you stare at the Elven 'god'.
1 Quén man autëa ó illi mernës, lelyëa már- equivalent to saying 'better to have and not need than the alternative'
