Yes, I know another absence. I have 5 chapters for y'all though, hope this is enough. Now to answer a question thrown at me:
Stoffel497: Yes I will be uploading what is up of To Move Forward. Much to my, and presumably many others, dissapointment, it was never finished though. Now as far as my own story...I'm not sure. Lately I've been having inspirations to write again. Still of The Inheritance Cycle, but much darker, with my own twisted mind put to work over it.
Now, not to promote my own work, but I do like to write. Once I get the money to purchase a laptop (I've been keeping updates through my phone) I will be writing again. What I wish to write though is very dark, M-rating will not be enough. If you enjoy such things, stick around for the next couple months you'll see it pop up.
Enough with my rambling, my sincerest apologies.
~NitexXxMare
It is 01/01/2012! And I've decided to post this chapter anyways. I didn't feel the need to with hold it from you all. And my god my story is getting really long. I hope I can finish it by the 75th chapter or so. But I'm just hoping. Anyways Happy Reading!
Eragon heaved a breath as he stood from his cot. Though Arya had just left a day ago, it felt like a century since he'd last seen her. His body ached and he felt on the verge of collapsing from fever. But what ailed him most was the constant ache in his head that desired for the blood thirst of battle and the pain that it brought. The seal in his right eye was fading as the days went by and rapidly for he was constantly surrounded by pain and blood thirst, especially from the humans and dwarves towards the Urgals. He feared that one day he might lose control of himself and immerse himself in the blood shed the spirit desired so.
He wasn't going to hold it off anymore, he'd decided last night that he would enlist his servants' help. Tiredly reaching out for Rosalie's mind, he found her in the southern side of the Varden's camp with Angela. Immediately, the barriers to her mind lowered, my lord.
Rosalie, he tried to keep his thoughts together, I need you and the others to come to my tent.
Now?
Yes, this is the best time; he struggled for a moment, the spirit enticed by Rosalie's strong mind. Please.
We shall be there, Rosalie's response was solid for he had never used courteous words with her or any of his other servants. She must have realized the urgency of the situation at hand; he thought his mind tired and wary despite it only being morning. Saphira who was out hunting with Eridor to calm the upset dragon was too far to hear his conversation and Arya was nowhere to be seen, making this an opportune moment.
He wiped at his brow, feeling sweat accumulate on his face and he shivered again, though there was no chill. Barely fifteen minutes passed before the flap to his tent was pushed aside and his servants filed in. They stood before him, somber and ready, as if preparing to face battle. He glanced up at them. They had all served him for a good few years, Rosalie having been by his side the longest and he knew that what he would ask of them would cause them a tremendous amount of pain.
He gestured for them to sit, and they did each on a stool he had prepared for them while he sat on his cot. Taking a moment to observe them, Eragon felt a slight warmth envelope him as he thought of their unswerving loyalty the past years. His eyes landed on Rosalie first, she was dressed in clothing akin to a man. She wore a tunic clinched at the waist by a belt and instead of a skirt she wore leggings. It was a masculine look but she made it rather feminine. Beside her sat Desdemona, garbed the same way as Rosalie, she had forgone dresses since the battle and said that it made fighting too hard for her. And while Rosalie's hair was braided, Desdemona's flowed down her back pin straight. Bard was at attention where he sat beside Desdemona, his blond hair showing streaks from constantly being out in the sun, and Eragon could tell that he was sporting a stubble on his chin and cheeks. Beside him sat Finny, quiet and solemn unlike his usual energetic self. The two men were dressed accordingly, tunics and breeches. And as Eragon stared at them, he smiled slightly knowing that they seemed like ordinary people when they were the most unique one could ever find.
After a while, he spoke, murmuring words in the ancient language. "Atra nosu waise vardo fra eld hornya," he did not want anyone to chance upon what he was about to tell his servants. If anything, their expression grew more somber for they knew that what he wanted to say was not to be taken lightly.
He took a deep breath, before meeting their gaze with his, "Please forgive my sudden urgency, but there was a matter I wanted to discuss with you."
"My lord," it was Rosalie who spoke, "Perhaps this can wait? You're ill and need to rest."
He shook his head, "I'm not ill, not physically anyway," said Eragon, he wiped his hands on his cot, they were sweaty. "And this matter cannot wait any longer. Promise that you will not tell any else of what I shall tell you unless I give you my permission."
"We promise," they murmured in the ancient language. Eragon nodded, though he knew that they would babble about it in the first place. Their verbal promise put his mind at ease.
Rubbing his temple, he searched for a place to start. "I'm losing my mind," Eragon said eventually unable to speak of it with tact. But he was sure that they would prefer him to be blunt. "Everyday, I'm finding myself sinking into madness. I've been getting strong urges to rip asunder everything I set my eyes on, to drench myself in blood, and to kill needlessly. It's been growing harder and harder for me to resist temptation."
Their expressions were drawn in concern and they looked ready to bombard him with questions, but he held up his hand. Seeing it, they remained silent, allowing him to continue. "I should start from the beginning to help you all to understand," said Eragon. "When I hired you all into my service, I wasn't myself. I was half of who I am. I had only half a soul and half a heart at that time."
Confusion spread on Finny's expression. Bard looked ready to attack something. Desdemona was frowning, her hands clenched and Rosalie seemed to grow pale as if sick. "When Saphira had hatched for me, Galbatorix was able to take half of my soul and replace it with a spirit. And ever since, I had to visit Uru'baen to have enchantments cast on the spirit to keep it from rebelling."
"It's our fault," said Rosalie weakly. "We made you leave the Empire. That's why you're. . . "
She stopped unable to continue, but Eragon shook his head at their expressions of regret. "No, you all made the right choice. My mother is happy and reunited with Murtagh and Brom. Saphira is happy for she'd found a companion in Thorn and a mate in Eridor. I'm happy…though I may not show it. I don't regret leaving the Empire, not for a moment nor do I blame you all."
"Is there a cure?" Finny asked in a quiet voice that lacked his usual happiness and joy.
Eragon sighed, "The only way to cure me is to retrieve the other half of my soul and heart, but I do not delude myself in thinking that there is enough time for me to take it from Galbatorix."
"Then take our souls," he blinked when he heard the suggestion coming from Desdemona. He stared at her. "If it can save you, then I'll gladly give it, my lord."
"No," his lips drew into a thin line. "I would never do what Galbatorix did to me to any of you. I would rather die."
Though his statement seemed to touch them, it was far from comforting them of his fate. "Then what is it that you've called us here for my lord?" asked Rosalie, her green eyes bright. "It isn't merely to tell us about your condition, is it?"
She always was the brightest one out of them, Eragon thought as he glanced at her. Next to Desdemona that was. He coughed slightly feeling a shiver run down his spine. "I have a boon to ask of you all," Eragon said feeling a sudden depression settle over him as he thought of what he was about to ask and their reactions. "I cannot guarantee that I can control the spirit in my body any longer. And when I become completely engulfed in his madness, I would no doubt cause mayhem wherever I go." He stopped, taking in a deep breath.
The four of them waited patiently, not minding his sudden silence.
"When that happens," said Eragon ignoring the sick feeling in his stomach. "I want you four to stop me." His eyes jumped from one to the other to judge their reaction.
Rosalie was staring at him as if he had died, her eyes wide and her lips parted like she was about to cry. Desdemona was trying to stop the shaking in her legs as she sat there. Bard held his head in his hands. And Finny's expression was one of grief, so strong that Eragon had to glance away. They had reacted just as he had expected.
"No, never!" Rosalie cried standing as her anger seemed to wash over her and she was unable to sit calmly anymore. "I could never lift my blade against you, my lord. Just as you can never take one of our souls."
"Yes, I would rather cut off my own hands before I do you any harm," agreed Desdemona but she didn't stand as did Rosalie but stared at him with her piercing violet eyes.
"You hired us to protect your mother," Bard was also standing his arms crossed as he scowled. "And we'd extended that protection to you. No one is going to attempt what it is that you are asking. Not I nor Rosalie, Desdemona, and Finny."
"If we did, Saphira would never forgive us. Lady Selena would fall ill from grief," said Finny quietly as he too stood, refusing to sit. "Lady Arya would be pained beyond anything."
Though he had thought of what the younger boy was saying, to hear it repeated made his heart ache considerably. He did not want to see his mother's reaction if she were to find out that he was going crazy. He did not want to think of Saphira's grief when she found out about his request. And he certainly did not want to think of Arya's own pain after they'd just found one another. "That's why I'm asking you four, because I know they will understand your actions for you've followed me diligently and they know that you would rather die for me than see to it that I fall in battle."
None of them replied but remained silent and resolute in their answers. "The four of you can do it; I know you can for when you work together. You are a force to be reckoned with and you're the only ones who I could ask this of. I know you will not begrudge me." He slid off of his cot and went on both knees before them. "Do this last favor for me…please."
He did not want to resort to this for he knew it would cause them an insurmountable amount of pain to see their lord before them in such a state. And he was right for hands tugged at him to stand but he refused. "Promise me, you will do it," said Eragon quietly.
They stared at him, their throats convulsing and the areas around their eyes tight. It was Rosalie who caved first, for she had known him the longest and understood the depth of what he was asking of them. "I promise," her lips trembled. "When the time comes, I promise to stop you, my lord."
"Rosalie!" exclaimed Bard. "You can't—"
"I don't want to!" she cried, her voice pained and then she began to cry. Her tears startled him, like it had when Arya had cried. He felt lost and didn't know what to do like he did now. "It's not fair to anyone but we can't let that demon in him to roam free with his body and tarnish his name."
Their resolve swayed at her panic and distress before Finny spoke, "I promise as well." And he too cried. Eragon glanced at Desdemona and Bard who were frozen trying to combat the situation. After a while they too promised him. Relieved, Eragon stood, Desdemona had turned her back to him to hide her own tears and Bard refused to cry, his eyes bright.
"Thank you," he whispered. "What you've promised me means much."
Rosalie hastily wiped at her tears, "I—" her voice trembled. She coughed before speaking again, this time stronger. "Angela needs me to go—to go and replace Lady Nasuada's bandages." She hurriedly left the tent as if unable to bear being in his presence anymore.
"I should go check on Lady Selena," said Desdemona refusing to turn and face him. She too left.
"I have to train the troops with Sir Brom," Bard soon followed, leaving Finny who was wiping his tears on the sleeves of his tunic, however short they were. Eragon observed, seeing how young he truly was at the moment.
"I'm going to go help build the battering rams," and with that he too had left.
Eragon watched them leave, feeling a sadness overwhelm him. He did not want to cause them any pain but it seemed inevitable for they were the only ones he could turn to. Sighing, he resumed sitting on his cot. How was Arya faring? He thought. He gripped his hand to keep it from trembling; he did not want to think of leaving her or Saphira and his mother. But it was a fate that he'd come to accept. He blinked feeling his eyes itch. That was right, Eragon thought as he heard Arya's voice echo in his mind.
I understood then that the true agony of war isn't being wounded yourself; it's having to watch those you care about being hurt.
He thought he had come to understand that reasoning too, but it wasn't until he saw the immense expressions of pain on his servants' faces did the thought finally hit home. He folded his hands together and brought it to his lips as he closed his eyes. Life was always too painful for him to bear at times.
As he sat there and thought, a sudden commotion in the north caught his attention. Eragon stood, feeling slightly better than he did when he woke and strapped his sword to his hip. Exiting his tent, he made for the direction in the north, nodding to those who hailed him on his way. What was causing such a ruckus? His acute hearing picked up on cheers and shouts. As he neared the direction, he could see Nasuada and Elva standing at the northern entrance of the camp beside her roan charger. His eyes narrowed, he could pick out Angela and Rosalie amongst them as well as her six guards.
And she was speaking it seemed to a dozen elves. Those must be the spellcasters that Islanzadi had sent to guard Murtagh, Eragon thought. He had declined the idea of being guarded and the Queen also thought that he as well as Arya was capable of fending for themselves. While Murtagh being unknowledgeable about most things needed the extra protection. As he approached, Elva turned to him with a questioning face as her eyes darted from Rosalie to him with slight distaste and great curiosity. The young girl, Eragon had come to realize, came to grow attached to his servant and she must have felt her pain at the moment.
Eragon came up behind Nasuada, "My lady," he murmured.
She turned to him; her eyes took in his pale countenance before she nodded. Eragon moved to stand at her right hand and Rosalie stepped to stand beside him, her eyes were clear but he could still see the redness of her tears from earlier. His frowned, displeased at himself. Nasuada turned back to the elves, and she spoke with the lead elf who resembled a wolf to his surprise. How odd. When Nasuada had asked for his compliance in allowing one of her men to read his mind, Eragon could see the displeasure the wolf-elf, Blodhgarm show in his bearings.
"For the most part, the trees of Du Weldenvarden have needles, not leaves. Test us if you must, but I warn you, whomever, you assign the task should take great care he does not delve too deeply into our minds, else he may find himself stripped of his reason. It is perilous for morals to wander among out thoughts; they can easily become lost and be unable to return to their bodies. Nor are our secrets available for general inspection."
Eragon understood that through Blodhgarm's polite warning that the elf would destroy anyone who ventured into forbidden territory. Nasuada turned to him, "Eragon, are you feeling well enough to do so?" she asked.
He was about to step forward before Rosalie gripped his arm, she stepping before him. "Allow me to do so, my lady. His lordship needs rest and truth be told, he should be resting."
Angela nodded her head in approval as did Nasuada. He glanced at Rosalie but she refused to stare at him and instead stepped forward towards the elf, who regarded her with an expression akin to interest. He would be surprised, Eragon thought, to realize that Rosalie was not like mortal women but she was as strong and swift as an elf despite her appearance. She closed her eyes and stood still before Blodhgarm as she searched through his mind. After a moment, she opened her eyes and turned to Nasuada with a slight smile, "He is indeed who he claims to be, my lady."
Pleased, Nasuada said, "Very well. Proceed." Rosalie stepped before each elf, searching their thoughts and proclaiming them to be who they were until she was done. Eragon watched her, it did not pain or harm Rosalie in any way when she searched the elves' minds, she did so like she was pouring tea or playing the harp, with ease. Done with the very last of them, she glided back to Eragon, taking her place behind him again. Eragon glanced down at her. Rosalie smiled to show that she was indeed unharmed. Satisfied, Eragon turned back to the proceedings.
He glanced towards Nasuada as she bent down to listen to what Elva had to say. Eragon frowned, why was that? He felt Rosalie nudge him slightly, beckoning with her fingers. He would have preferred for her to contact him using his mind but he feared that if anyone touched his consciousness in the state that it was they could seriously injure themselves. He bent slightly for her to whisper in his ear, "Do you smell his aroma?"
"No," he murmured back, barely moving his lips.
"It is most pleasant, or at least to those who can smell it which seems to be females," she whispered wryly. "Nasuada is attracted to his smell; it makes it hard for her to concentrate on diplomacy and politics at the moment."
His frown deepened as he regarded his liege lord who had regained her composure. "Why aren't you affected?"
"Because I have wards against magical influence and also, I find his aroma a bit too strong for my nose," she pulled away, subconsciously rubbing her nose as she did so. Eragon raised a brow but did not comment on it but instead returned his gaze to Nasuada and Blodhgarm. Then to his surprise the elves burst out into laughter at Nasuada's rather serious response. All around birds began to burst into song and the sound of the mirth seemed to make everyone else giddy. He continued to frown. Then when they fell silent, gloom began to set in over them all.
There were three roars overhead, causing Eragon to glance upwards; Saphira, Thorn, and Eridor were rapidly descending on the camp, their scales causing a mirage of colors to fall across the camp. From within the camp, Eragon saw King Orrin and his company riding towards them. It was going to be a rather messy situation. "Rosalie," Eragon murmured, tired.
"Yes, my lord?"
"Make sure that the women do not corner Blodhgarm for I'm afraid that they will tear him apart if what you speak is true."
"Of course," though her expression was still strained, she said her reply with a tint of humor.
The next day, Eragon had instituted a strict regime of training with his servants as the dragons watched on the side and beside them stood the elves also interested in watching. Though he was uncomfortable with their presence, he knew that they would prefer to stay by the dragons' side and it seemed to put them at ease.
He grunted when Rosalie had managed to slip through his defense while he was busy parrying a blow to the head by Finny. She brought the pommel of her sword to his chest and knocked him to the ground, dancing backwards as she did so. They were doing well, Eragon thought. Out of the five rounds they fought together, they had managed to defeat him three times.
Is this really necessary? Saphira asked from where she laid on the side of the training field. Fighting four to one seems hardly fair.
I have to train to be a better fighter, said Eragon with a grimace as he stood. Sitting around on my behind will not help me accomplish anything.
You're already strong enough as it is, she said.
There is always room for perfection, he grinned slightly, you should give it a try, you look like you've gained some weight.
She huffed, indignant at his statement, it's only because Eridor insist that I eat enough for two dragons. If Arya handed you food that she'd cooked then you wouldn't turn it down. She paused then added, that's something you should learn.
What?
Never mention a woman's weight when you are speaking to them, it's plain rude.
I believe you are quite beautiful Saphira, he said it sincerely which seemed to please her. She was, Eragon thought, rather vain. Even though she couldn't help it. Ever since he had enlisted his servants' help, he made a resolution to be out and about despite the feeling of illness he constantly harbored. And he didn't want to sadden Saphira by remained holed up in his tent forever.
In truth, the lessons he had with his servants wasn't to better his own skills but theirs. When the time came for them to…fulfill their promise to him, they had to be at their utmost. Rosalie glanced at him, "Are we to continue my lord?"
Eragon nodded. The four of them took their places. It was a good strategy, Eragon thought as he observed them. Bard stood behind them a fifty yards, he did not fight but instead guided them as they fought Eragon. Being a strategist, he maneuvered them into positions that benefited them the most and he provided them the extra energy in case they tired. Then Finny was the head of their attacks, he would charge Eragon and whatever opening he created, Rosalie and Desdemona would swoop in to take advantage of it.
Finny charged, prepared, Eragon easily retreated, flipping backwards. He saw Desdemona coming towards his right and twisted his leg. She brought up her sword to parry the attack but the strength of his kick send her skidding backwards. Rosalie slid underneath him mid flip, bringing up her elbow, he reached out and gripped her shoulders before flipping the opposite way. Landing on his feet, he turned in time to parry Rosalie's blow. She pulled back as Desdemona charged and it was an onslaught from the two women, their movements swift and powerful. Finny often accompanied them in their attacks but his brute strength if not applied correctly could do them harm. His heart pulsed in his chest and red clouded his mind.
Eragon stumbled allowing Rosalie's elbow to make contact with his chest sending him flying to the ground in a daze. A breath escaped him as bright red and purples spots blinked before his eyes. Eragon, are you feeling unwell?
No, I was just distracted.
Even so, it's time to call an end to this, you're injuring yourself with every practice, said Saphira forcefully. There's no need to continue.
Rosalie and Desdemona's concerned faces hovered over him, he blinked again. "My lord," it was Desdemona who spoke. "You need to rest and eat, practicing when you're sleep deprived and hungry won't do you good."
"Yes, there's always tomorrow for us to continue and if it pleases you, will even practice with the elves," suggested Rosalie. Eragon nodded, before tiredly standing.
Rosalie and Desdemona had sheathed their swords. Eragon searched for his which Rosalie held out to him. He took it from her and sheathed it himself. "If you don't mind, Bard will gladly cook up something for you to eat."
He nodded, food sounded like a pleasant idea at the moment. When he gave them his consent, excitement coursed through them as they led him to his mother's tent where they wanted to throw a family dinner. After what they had promised him, it was the least he could do.
I believe that the elves might know your father, Eragon.
He turned to Saphira as she walked behind him, Eridor and Thorn following and behind them were the elves. Is that so?
Yes, for all of them have fought in battles against the Forsworn during the fall of the Riders. They might have fought besides Brom for he was bent on revenge for his slain dragon.
You may be right in that aspect.
Of course I am right, said Saphira as she swung her tail from side to side, hitting Eridor by accident in the snout. The dragon snapped at her but not threateningly. Oops.
Eragon chuckled at her as they walked through the tent and Rosalie had promised him, every female that seemed to linger over Blodhgarm's presence was sent in the opposite direction. I've never seen so many females infatuated with one person, even if it is an elf.
Saphira snorted, if your mate was anything to go by, then you should've known that this would be the result with more of her people about. Do you not notice the stares the women receive? It is unnerving to see a whole battalion entranced by their beauty.
It is beyond my power if a warrior decides to approach any of the elven women, said Eragon. But if one dares to approach Arya…that is a different matter entirely.
Oh? Is this jealousy that I'm hearing from you Eragon?
No, merely a statement.
I find that hard to believe.
You would understand if there was another female competing for Eridor's attention.
She sniffed, unperturbed by his statement. They rounded the corner and his parents' tent came into sight. Lounging outside like she often did with her feet propped up on a stool was his mother as she sat leisurely in a padded armchair. Her right hand was rubbing her swollen belly. His father sat beside her on a three legged stool reading a rather thick book.
They glanced up at their approach, his mother made to stand but Rosalie immediately said otherwise, "No my lady, you are in no condition to overexert yourself. Rest while we do the work."
"You all spoil me so," his mother said with a smile as she relaxed into her seat.
"On accounts of his lordship and from our own desire to see you relax and happy," said Desdemona as she snapped her fingers and with a quick word in the ancient language, the campfire came to life, crackling. "Bard prepare dinner, Finny set the table."
They nodded, bounding in every which way.
His father had closed the book he was reading and stood, surprise etched on his face as he saw Blodhgarm. The elf and his companions approached Brom seemingly at ease with him. To his surprise, they greeted him first. They respect your father, said Saphira. After all, he had created the Varden, slew three of the Forsworn and managed to aggravate his enemies for the better part of the century.
"It has been quite some time since we've last met Blodhgarm," said Brom with a slight smile.
"It has, you seem much better than we you'd departed for the Varden two decades ago," said Blodhgarm.
"Aye, that I am," he glanced at the other elves addressing all of them by name which impressed Eragon. He had not known that his father was highly respected amongst the elves before. It was just another thing he'd learned. "You are the spellcasters sent to guard Murtagh?" They nodded. "He will be in the best of hands, then."
"You honor us so," Eragon took a seat that Finny had prepared for him as Rosalie and Desdemona stood over his mother, worriedly checking her health and condition. Blodhgarm motioned to his mother, "Is she your wife?"
Eragon glanced at his father, he and his mother had never been properly married before which they did not seem to care for. After a moment, Brom nodded, gruffly saying, "Yes, she is my wife in every aspect of the word and more so."
"May we?" the elf was staring at Brom but Eragon could tell that the question was directed towards him. Eragon shrugged, he didn't mind his mother getting to meet the elves. They were, after all, going to guard one of her sons. He approached her, silently and gracefully, the sheen of fur on his body shining in the sunlight. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Selena. We've longed wanted to see the mother of two of our riders and the beloved of the bane of the Forsworn."
His mother regarded them with caution for a moment before bestowing upon them a smile, "The pleasure is well met, fair elf. May I ask for your name and your companions?"
"I am Blodhgarm," and as one the elves introduced themselves to his mother. They seemed, he thought, very cautious about his mother as to not disrupt her condition. The women had asked, very politely, to touch his mother's belly and often enough they whispered a few words in the ancient language to it as if sensing the child within her. They were as happy for his mother as she was which surprised him. But then again, elves praised children far more than anything else. And from what Arya had told him, very few children have been blessed to the elves as of late. Then a wave of confusion swept over him. If he and Arya did kill Galbatorix and lived long enough to see the building of a new order…would she want to have children?
Saphira who was connected to his thoughts began to laugh, the rumbles in her chest shaking the ground and often times she would release a jet of flames from her jaws. A valid question indeed, little one.
He ignored her teasing but the question confused him for a greater part of the time he waited for his servants to prepared dinner. And when they were done, another wave of confusion swept over him as they energetically invited the elves to the table. Well, more like forced them to sit and dine Eragon thought as the four of them shepherded everyone to the table. His mother was very enrapt by the elves and soon enough a polite but yet long conversation sprung up between his parents and the elves. They spoke of history, of magic, and of many other topics that he did not bother to listen for. Rosalie, being as smart as she was, had managed to start a word game with the elves that delighted them. She proved to be a rather formidable opponent for none could out speak her.
"You are very intelligent," said Blodhgarm after he managed to win a round.
She bestowed upon him a smile, "I would like to think of myself as intelligent," she poured Eragon a cup of tea. "But I manage; real brilliance is far from what I have to offer."
Eragon snorted as he took a sip of his favorite flavored tea, raspberry with a hint of honey. Rosalie blinked at him and turned to take a bite of a muffin before gesturing to one of the female elves. "If I am correct, it is your turn is it not, Invidia?"
She nodded and the game began anew. Eragon watched them not bothering to follow the word plays that involved oxymoron, paradoxes, and ironic twists. As he watched, his heart gave a loud thump in his chest causing him to blink in pain as his vision began to flash red. His grip on his fork tightened as he fought the urge to rip something with his hands.
His lapse did not go unnoticed by his servants. And though they were smiling politely with the elves, their eyes grew bright. The continued their conversations without pause but the slight change in their demeanor bespoke their true feelings.
You know what? I'm excited to keeping posting up chapters because the more I post, the closer we'll get towards the end of my Rewrite. Then I can start on the other Eragon project that I'm working on.