Battlecry: The First Story of Amon

by jonfwilleford

Story unfinished. Karl Josson joins the legendary guild where he meets a powerful Elf, after joining alliance they embark on a journey to overthrow the wicked slave trade and their leaders

Battlecry: The Tale of Amon

Book 1: Karl Josson

Prologue: History of Amon

In the beginning, the universe was an infinite, empty void, with nothing but the vastness of space and the twinkling of stars to break the silence. But within this emptiness, the gods themselves were born.

These divine beings came into existence from the chaos of creation, imbued with the power to shape and mold the universe as they saw fit. They roamed the vast expanse of space, creating galaxies and stars, planets and moons, and filling them with life of all kinds for eons of time.

But as the gods continued to create, they clashed and collided with one another, their immense powers tearing holes in the fabric of reality itself. From this collision, a new realm was born, leaving Galo alone, to watch over this new born reality.

THE ELVES

When the world of Amon was but a desert paradise, the Malamites arrived. These creatures, green as emerald, were entranced by the beauty of the arid landscape and quickly set to work building grandiose cities.

As they toiled, their eyes were drawn to the swirling galaxy above them, a celestial wonder known as Galo. She was a goddess of unparalleled beauty, with her kindness she granted the Malamites knowledge and magic beyond their wildest dreams.

With Galo's help, the Malamites became powerful. They subjected all other life on Amon and amassed temples filled with the secrets of creation, magic, and the history of the old gods. But as with all beings who amass too much power, the Malamites were corrupted by their own greed.

Driven mad with the lust for more knowledge and magic, they launched a full-scale war against Galo, the very being who had bestowed upon them such great gifts. The Malamites' magic was so potent that it threatened all life on Amon.

In a last, desperate attempt to rid the world of this darkness, Galo unleashed her final attack. She blasted into the world with rain, hard as stone, blazing with fire, and toxins that made the air unbreathable. The Malamites were unable to defend themselves from such an onslaught and were driven deep into the dunes and caves to seek refuge until the world outside was livable once more.

And so ended the reign of Galo, the celestial goddess who had once shone down upon Amon with such beauty and grace. The Malamites, too, were forever changed by their own greed and the destruction that had ensued. But the lessons of Galo's legacy lived on, a reminder of the dangers of unchecked power and the importance of balance in all things.

The Malamites emerged from their caves as a transformed race, now soft-skinned desert elves, after hundreds of years of hiding from the world outside.

The world outside was vastly different from what they remembered. The once expansive desert had given way to rolling hills, green grass, forests, and even new mountains. But despite the changes, the Malamites remained drawn to the desert.

They constructed the grand city of Ula'rae, a marvel of elven architecture, and inside, erected the Temple of Galo, which served as a vast library that housed the knowledge and artifacts of the old gods. The Council of Elders was appointed, and brave soldiers were commissioned to find lost artifacts and bring them to the temple so that any who wished could learn the truth about the goddess Galo.

However, the power within the temple was soon corrupted by members of the council, who convinced the other Elders that Galo intended for the powerful to hold her knowledge and enslave the less fortunate. The Slaves were tortured and subjected to dark, corrupting magic that turned them into Orcs, controlled by the Dark Elves who had seized control of the council.

A group of elves saw the corruption and fled to the northern hills, where they met with the dwarves hidden in the mountains, they rallied their strength and waged a brutal war against the Dark Elves and their Orc minions. With each fallen Orc, the elves knew they were killing their own people, and they knew they needed to find a way to reverse the spell that had been cast on their tortured kin.

The wisest, uncorrupted elves came together and created the Scroll of Madness, which held the power to reverse the spell and transform the Orcs back into Elves. The corrupted spell was locked away, and the Orcs were freed from their torment.

The people of Ula'rae overthrew the corrupt council and the Dark Elves, but the new generation of Elves were not the same as those they remembered from before. The Scroll of Madness was hidden away in the wilderness of Myrewood, under a large oak tree, and covered with branches and magic.

The new breed of Elves were drawn to the power within the wood but lacked the knowledge to find the Scroll of Madness. They eventually left Ula'rae and made their home in the Myrewood, where they lived among the power and magic, never realizing the history and secrets hidden within the forest.

In time, the new council of elders was to be appointed to govern over Ula'rae, creating a just and fair society that was admired by all who knew of it. The Elves of Ula'rae lived in peace and prosperity, with the knowledge and wisdom of the old gods guiding their actions and shaping their society.

THE DWARVES

In the frigid and unforgiving east, where icy winds howled and snow-covered peaks pierced the sky, lay a wonder beyond compare. It was Valfrost, the mountain city of the dwarves, where the courageous and cunning miners delved deep into the frozen earth to extract the rare and precious Darksteel.

For eons untold, the dwarves had toiled tirelessly in the heart of the hollowed-out peak, crafting ornate structures and grand columns that would leave any onlooker in awe. But the true marvel lay at the center of the city, where a wondrous cistern caught the cascading lava that flowed from the mountain's molten core, melding it with the tumbling waters of a nearby waterfall in a fiery dance of passion.

Yet it was not just their unmatched craftsmanship that made the dwarves of Valfrost a wonder to behold. They claimed to be the descendants of a long-dead god, one who had fallen from the heavens to become one with the mountain itself. And it was this connection to their ancestral deity that imbued them with a deep reverence for the earth, and a wisdom that surpassed the mere mortal knowledge of other races.

The dwarves of Valfrost were renowned for their exceptional skill in crafting weapons and armor from the rare and magical Darksteel. This extraordinary metal was renowned for its unparalleled durability and mystical properties, making it the ideal material for weapons and armor that could withstand the brutal conditions of the frozen wasteland.

The dwarves of Valfrost lived a peaceful existence, but their tranquility was constantly threatened by the vicious ice trolls and goblins that roamed the mountains. To defend themselves and their homes, they relied on their Darksteel weapons, which were forged with the utmost care and skill.

The war between the dwarves and the ice creatures was long and brutal, with various tribes causing division between the people. King Barathin led the house of Reiker and held the kingdom of Valfrost, while the fearless warrior Damion led the house of Overkin.

Despite the dwarves' valiant efforts, the trolls continued to invade their lands, causing widespread destruction and death. But hope emerged in the form of Barakin, the son of Barathin, who proved himself to be a true leader. He rallied the dwarves under one shield and inspired them to fight as one against their common enemy.

With Darksteel weapons in their hands and determination in their hearts, the dwarves marched forth to face the trolls and goblins in a battle that would determine their fate. The fighting was fierce and intense, with both sides suffering heavy losses. But Barakin's unwavering leadership and tactical prowess proved to be too much for the trolls and goblins to handle.

He rallied his troops with his father's fallen sword, inspiring them to fight with all their might and never give up. In the end, the dwarves emerged victorious, with Barakin standing tall amidst the ashes of the fallen city. His name became legend among the dwarves, and his legacy lived on as a symbol of unity, strength, and courage.

With the goblins driven back into the north, the dwarves could finally breathe a sigh of relief. But they knew that they could never let their guard down, for the threat of invasion always loomed on the horizon. They continued to hone their craft, perfecting the art of Darksteel forging, and standing ready to defend their homes and way of life against any who dared to threaten.

THE HUMANS

For as long as the humans could remember, they had sailed the oceans, living on small beaches and islands scattered throughout the vast expanse of water. But they longed for something more, a place to call home where they could farm the land, plant fields, and grow their own food. They dreamed of living on solid ground instead of constantly being tossed about by the waves.

So when they stumbled upon the northern shores of Amon, they were overjoyed. In the distance, they could see the beautiful city of Ula'rae, nestled deep in the desert, but to the north of the dunes lay rolling hills that stretched as far as the eye could see. In the east, they could just make out the snowy peaks of the mountains.

The humans eagerly parked their ships on the beach and set out to explore. As they traveled, they met the elves, who were intrigued by the newcomers from the waters. The elves welcomed the humans and shared their vast knowledge with them, teaching them about their culture and their religion, centered around the goddess Galo.

The humans quickly adopted the religion of Galo, finding comfort in the teachings of the elves. And as they settled into their new home on the rolling hills, they wanted to build something grand to show their appreciation for the knowledge and power of the elven people.

So they built the grand city of Pastorfest, a massive stone structure on the Wimborne hills. The city was a testament to the humans' hard work and dedication, but it also served as a symbol of their newfound relationship with the elves. Together, the humans and elves lived in peace, sharing their knowledge and cultures, and building a brighter future for all who lived in Amon.

Under the wise leadership of King Garrik, the humans of Pastorfest established the guild, a formidable force of soldiers dedicated to maintaining peace and order throughout the land. The guild welcomed any able-bodied warrior willing to serve, offering them training, camaraderie, and a sense of purpose.

Over time, the guild grew in strength and stature, and its halls became a symbol of the courage and dedication of its members. Through their tireless efforts, the guild warriors helped to keep the peace and protect the citizens of Pastorfest from those who would seek to harm them.

Aspiring warriors who joined the guild were trained in a variety of martial skills, from swordsmanship, archery, hand-to-hand combat and tactical strategy, while the elves excelled in mysticism and scholarship. They honed their abilities through rigorous training and regular drills, developing a keen sense of discipline and teamwork that served them well in battle.

The guild halls themselves were impressive structures, built with the same level of care and attention to detail as the rest of Pastorfest. They were a place of refuge for weary warriors, offering a warm meal, a comfortable bed, and the companionship of their fellow guild members.

Despite the challenges and dangers they faced, the guild warriors remained committed to their mission, serving as protectors of the people and guardians of the peace. Their bravery and sacrifice would be remembered for generations to come, a testament to the enduring power of unity and cooperation.

And such was the existence of Amon.

Chapter 1: Rise of a Hero

Seated beside the rain-speckled window, Karl found solace in the gentle dance of droplets cascading down the glass. Bathed in the warm glow of the flickering candle set in the middle of the table, he savored the soothing embrace of spiced mead as it caressed his palate.

Across the room, a crackling fire roared in the hearth, casting its enchanting light upon a crowd of revelers who swayed, laughed, and danced with unabashed joy. Their merriment filled the tavern, mingling harmoniously with the melodies of lively music.

Karl's gaze wandered outside, where the rain-soaked streets provided an impromptu stage for the unpredictable whims of fate. A man, clearly under the influence, stumbled unsteadily before gravity took hold, propelling him headlong into a horse trough. Laughter bubbled up within Karl, finding levity in the drunkard's misfortune, and he raised his tankard to his lips for another sip.

Just as the amusement settled in his chest, a waitress glided past him, her presence a gentle interruption. She leaned in to whisper softly, "Your bath awaits, sir." With a nod of gratitude, Karl settled his tab, leaving a generous tip, and gracefully made his way toward the beckoning haven of the bathing room.

As he soaked in the hot water, Karl's mind drifted to the reason for his journey. He knew the guild was searching for new recruits, and had wanted to join ever since his mother died, some four years ago.

It was a chance for him to finally make something of himself, to rise above the poor slave child of his past, and shine a light on the atrocities on the outside of the city.

He had spent the past four years working at his aunt and uncle's meadery in Colestrand, learning the craft, and honing his skills. But Karl knew that there was more to life than just making mead. He wanted to be a part of something bigger, to have a purpose and a sense of belonging.

The guild offered him that chance, and he was determined to seize it. He knew that the competition would be fierce, that there would be many challenges ahead. But he was confident in his abilities, and knew he had something to offer. After his bath Karl went straight to bed, Sleeping soundly on a soft mattress made of goose feathers.

The next morning Karl dressed in his best clothes, and headed out into the city. He stopped at a market and bought some fresh meat and cheese for lunch, and sat in a nearby park to eat.

As he sat there, he watched the people around him, marveling at the diversity of the city.

There were merchants and craftsmen, soldiers and scholars, all going about their business in their own unique way.

It was then that Karl realized that he belonged here, in this city, with these people. He felt a sense of excitement, knowing that his life was about to change in ways he could not even imagine.

After finishing his meal, Karl strode across the square towards the imposing Guild Hall that stood adjacent to King Hammond the Great's courtyard. As he approached the entrance, Karl couldn't help but smile at the magnificent statue of some long-dead king.

With a deep breath, Karl pushed open the wooden doors of the warriors' guild, his chest puffed out in nervous ambition. Inside, he was greeted by a stunning hall adorned with rich red and gold tapestries. Standing guard at the archway leading to the main hall were two men.

"Welcome to the guild. What is the purpose of your visit today, civilian?" one of the guards asked with a firm yet respectful tone. The second man shifted his gaze towards Karl, waiting for the large man's replay.

"My name is Karl Josson, and I seek to join the guild," replied Karl, standing tall while meeting the guard's stare.

"The registry is with Kaldonic, the headmaster. Go through the Hall of Trophies, and the first door on the left is his office. May fortune favor your endeavors," said the guard, pointing to the door at the other end of the hall.

As Karl stood at the entrance of the magnificent hall, he took a moment to survey the three hallways stretching out before him. The one in the middle, the guard had pointed towards, was indeed the longest, disappearing into the distance with an air of mystery. The walls of this central hallway were adorned with an impressive display of various animal heads, each meticulously mounted along the walls.

The mounted heads formed a gallery of the guild's past victories and the fierce battles its members had won. The collection was a testament to the warriors' prowess and courage, with each animal head symbolizing a unique conquest. Majestic deer, their antlers reaching towards the heavens, stood alongside fearsome wolf heads, their sharp teeth bared in silent defiance. Towering above them all, a massive dragon head loomed, a potent reminder of the guild's most legendary achievement.

As Karl ventured deeper into the hallway, he found himself walking in the company of both triumph and somber reflection. Each mounted head had a story to tell, and the air crackled with the energy of battles fought and won. Some tales were etched in glory, while others spoke of sacrifice and loss. The hunters who had secured these trophies had ventured into the untamed wilderness, risking life and limb to prove their worth as members of the guild.

"These trophies are incredible. I've never seen such a diverse collection," he said, stopping to examine a white cat with long fangs.

A stranger leaning against the doorframe of the Headmaster's office overheard Karl and chimed in. "It's a right of passage to achieve a spot in the Hall of Trophies," the stranger said, introducing himself as Shi'mir. "Are you a new recruit?"

Karl confirmed that he was hoping to speak with the Headmaster and join the guild. Shi'mir informed Karl that Kaldonic was on his way back from the library, where he had been studying magic.

"I hope I'm not intruding," said Karl.

"Not at all. Look, here comes the Headmaster now," replied Shi'mir, as Kaldonic approached them.

"Headmaster, I finished those transcripts you requested, I believe we have finished with the scrolls from the north," said Shi'mir as the headmaster approached the two standing in front of his door.

"Excellent work, Shi'mir," replied Kaldonic, smiling at his trusted companion. "Your dedication to our studies is truly commendable. Follow me, and we shall discuss further studies."

Karl stood back and watched as the two men exchanged pleasantries. He was nervous, but excited at the same time. Joining the guild had been his dream since he was a boy, and he had finally made it this far. He felt a sense of pride in himself for having come this far, and he was determined to make a name for himself within the guild.

"What is your business here?" said Kaldonic, turning and addressing Karl.

"My name is Karl Josson, sir," replied Karl, standing up straight and meeting Kaldonic's gaze. "I have journeyed far, and wish to join the guild to prove myself to the King."

"New recruits are always welcome to the guild," said Kaldonic, smiling warmly at Karl. "Join us in my office, and we shall get your paperwork in order."

Karl followed the two men into Kaldonic's office, feeling a sense of awe as he took in the surroundings. The walls were lined with shelves filled with books and scrolls, and there were intricate magical artifacts on display on every available surface.

"Shi'mir, first tell me of your findings in the halls of Valfrost?" said Kaldonic, settling into his chair and gesturing for the others to take a seat.

"It's people are fascinating," Shi'mir said excitedly, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "The scholars there mastered craftsmanship thousands of years ago. They seem to think the mountain is what created them back before even the Elves came from the ocean."

Karl listened intently as Shi'mir regaled them with stories of his travels, marveling at the wonders he had seen and the people he had met.

"The magic they possess seems to derive from the ore they use in their weaponry," Shi'mir continued, leaning forward in his seat. "It's wondrous."

"Fascinating," said Kaldonic, nodding thoughtfully. "It seems your short trip north was worthwhile. Did you learn any new magic yourself?"

"In fact, they showed me this incantation and a brew recipe that would increase one's strength," replied Shi'mir, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "I was planning to start practicing the brew this evening."

Kaldonic chuckled. "That is very intriguing, recruit. I look forward to sampling your experiment."

Karl sat back in his chair, feeling a sense of wonder and amazement at the knowledge and power these two men possessed. He knew that he had much to learn, but he was ready for the challenge. He was finally a part of the guild, and nothing would stop him from achieving greatness.

Kaldonic then turned his attention to Karl sitting next to Shi'mir

"So, Karl Josson, you wish to join our guild?" Kaldonic asked, looking at Karl over the rims of his glasses.

"Yes, sir," Karl replied, sitting up straight in his chair. "I have wanted to join for some time now. I believe that the guild offers me the chance to make a difference in this world."

Kaldonic nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed, the guild is an honorable profession. We serve the king and the people, and uphold justice and order throughout the kingdom. But it is not an easy path, and many fail to make the cut."

"I understand that, sir," Karl said earnestly. "But I am determined to succeed. I have worked hard to hone my skills and I believe that I have much to offer the guild."

"Very well," Kaldonic said, reaching for a stack of papers on his desk. "Let us begin the process of evaluating your application."

For the next hour, Karl filled out forms, answered questions, and underwent a thorough examination of his skills and abilities. Kaldonic scrutinized every detail of his application, asking probing questions and testing his knowledge of various subjects.

At the end of the evaluation, Kaldonic leaned back in his chair and regarded Karl thoughtfully.

"Well, Karl Josson, I must say that you have impressed me. Your skills are impressive, and your dedication to the guild is evident. I have decided to offer you a position as an apprentice in the guild."

Karl's heart leapt with joy. "Thank you, sir! I won't let you down."

"I have no doubt of that," Kaldonic said with a smile. "However, there is still much work to be done. You will need to undergo extensive training and testing before you can become a full-fledged member of the guild."

"I understand, sir," Karl said eagerly. "When do I start?"

"Tomorrow," Kaldonic said. "Report to the training grounds at dawn, and we will begin your training."

Karl stood up from his chair, feeling a sense of pride and purpose. "Thank you, sir. I won't disappoint you."

"I have no doubt of that," Kaldonic said, nodding his head. "Welcome to the guild, Karl Josson."

The Headmaster then dismissed the two recruits, and they both left his office.

Outside in the Hall of Trophies Shi'mir turns to Karl

"This is a joyful occasion Karl, We should celebrate!" Shi'mir said, as they left the Guild's office.

"I was thinking the same thing, Shi'mir," Karl replied with a smile. "The Inn I am staying at has fresh mead and a warm hearth. Care to join me, friend?" he asked.

"Great idea," said Shi'mir, nodding in agreement.

As Karl and Shi'mir entered the inn, the evening crowd had already arrived, and the sounds of laughter and chatter filled the air.

"Draw you another bath, sir?" the bartender asked as the two men approached the bar.

"Maybe in a little while. My friend here could use a warm glass of that mead you were serving last night," Karl said, ushering Shi'mir next to him at the bar. "Make it two, and these are on me," he added, flashing a friendly smile.

The bartender nodded and began pouring the mead, and soon two frothy tankards were set in front of Karl and Shi'mir.

"Tomorrow will be a true test, Karl, to see what you're made of," Shi'mir said, taking a sip of his drink.

"You have a strong drive to impress," remarked Shi'mir, observing Karl closely.

"Where I was raised, you had to work hard, Shi'mir. The canyons in the east are rough territory," Karl explained, finishing his drink in one large gulp and ordering another.

"You're falling behind, friend," he teased, noticing Shi'mir's slower pace.

Shi'mir chuckled and raised his tankard. "To the Guild's newest member, Karl Josson. May he serve and protect our city and the people within, Hoo-raa!" he toasted.

"Hoo-raa!" cried the crowd, lifting their own glasses in salute.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter and stories, with Karl and Shi'mir sharing tales of their travels and adventures. As the night wore on, Karl could feel the fatigue setting in, and he knew he needed to rest before the day ahead.

"Last drink, then I should get some rest. The morning will come soon," he said, downing the last of his mead.

"Very well, friend," Shi'mir replied, following suit. "May you sleep well and wake ready for the challenges ahead," he added, clapping Karl on the back before they parted ways for the night.

The dawn came soon, and with it rose the sun over the canyons, casting its beautiful rays of light on the cold stone of the city walls.

Karl arrived at the training grounds before anyone else, he walked around admiring the craftsmanship of the weaponry in the racks that lined the walls.

There was a dirt circle in the middle with a rope on its border that Karl stood inside of, and imagined the training he would perform.

The trainer was a very large man with fiery red hair, and long bead. And spoke with a deep thundering voice

"The training grounds are for guild members only" regarding Karl as he entered the training room

"I apologize sir, I was accepted into the guild yesterday, headmaster Kaldonic said I should meet him here at dawn" replied Karl, stepping out of the dirt ring on the floor.

"He mentioned the new recruit would be starting today" the trainer continued. "You must be Karl, Why are you not in uniform?" He inquired

"I have not received a uniform yet sir" Replied Karl

"Very well, then Follow me and we shall get yourself properly equipped" Said the trainer beckoning Karl to follow him.

Karl followed the trainer through the winding halls of the guild, passing various rooms filled with books and scrolls, and other training rooms where guild members practiced their combat skills. As they walked, the trainer introduced himself as Tordek, a veteran guild member who had been with the guild for over twenty years.

"So, Karl, what brings you to our guild?" Tordek asked, as they approached the armory.

"I wish to prove myself to the King and protect the people of Colestrand," Karl replied, his voice full of determination.

"Good answer," Tordek said, nodding approvingly. "But let me tell you, it's not an easy task. The guild is not just a place to train, it's a way of life. You must always be ready to defend the city, no matter the cost."

"I understand, sir," Karl said, his eyes shining with eagerness.

"Alright then, let's get you suited up," Tordek said, leading Karl into the armory. The room was filled with rows of gleaming armor, weapons of all shapes and sizes, and various other tools and equipment.

"Pick out whatever armor and weapons you need, and I'll make sure they're properly fitted and sharpened," Tordek said, gesturing to the racks of armor and weapons.

Karl walked through the rows of armor, admiring the craftsmanship of each piece. He eventually settled on a suit of light armor made of sturdy leather and a long sword with a sharp, silver blade.

As Tordek fitted Karl with his armor and sharpened his sword, he continued to impart wisdom about the guild and its ways.

"Remember, Karl, the guild is not just about fighting. We are scholars, artists, and craftsmen as well. To truly serve the city, you must be well-rounded and knowledgeable in many areas."

Karl nodded, taking in Tordek's words.

"Alright, Karl, you're all set. Head to the training grounds and wait for the others to arrive. Your training will begin shortly," Tordek said, clapping Karl on the back.

Karl left the armory, feeling a sense of excitement and anticipation for what lay ahead. He made his way back to the training grounds

As Karl waited for the others to arrive, he noticed Shi'mir walking towards the training grounds. They exchanged nods of acknowledgment and Karl smiled, happy to see a familiar face.

Shi'mir approached Karl and greeted him warmly, "Good morning, Karl. How did you sleep?"

"Very well, thank you," Karl replied. "And yourself?"

"I slept like a stone," Shi'mir said with a chuckle. "I am looking forward to our training today."

Karl nodded in agreement, feeling grateful for the company. As they waited for the others to arrive, they chatted about their backgrounds and where they grew up..

Shi'mir shared that he had always been interested in combat and protecting those who couldn't protect themselves. He had joined the guild hoping to hone his skills and serve the people of Pastorfest.

Karl admired Shi'mir's dedication and courage, and felt a growing bond between them. As they continued to talk, Karl couldn't help but feel that he had made a true friend in Shi'mir.

Eventually, the other guild members began to arrive and the training began in earnest. The days were filled with rigorous physical exercise, combat drills, and lessons on strategy and tactics.

Karl and Shi'mir found themselves partnered together often, and their bond grew stronger as they worked together to master the various techniques and skills taught by the guild trainers.

They pushed each other to their limits, always striving to improve and impress the other. And in their downtime, they explored the city of Pastorfest together, sharing stories and laughter over food and drink.

As the weeks turned into months, Karl felt grateful for the friendship he had found in Shi'mir. He knew that with his friend by his side, he could face any challenge that lay ahead.

One day after training, they were both surprised when Kaldonic invited them to his office.

"Karl, Shi'mir, I've been watching your progress closely, and I must say, I'm impressed," Kaldonic said, looking at them both with a proud smile.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Karl said, feeling a sense of pride and accomplishment.

"I have a special assignment for the two of you," Kaldonic continued. "I have received a request for two of our guild members to travel to the desert city of Ula'rae. The temple has finally accepted our request to copy the transcripts there."

"We're honored to be chosen, Headmaster," Shi'mir said, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

"I have no doubt that the two of you are up to the task," Kaldonic said, nodding. "I'm promoting you, Karl, to the rank of Officer in the Guild, you and Shi'mir will work together in advancing our knowledge, and assist the city in any way you can."

Karl and Shi'mir looked at each other in surprise, feeling a mix of pride and nervousness.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Karl said, bowing his head respectfully.

"We won't let you down," Shi'mir added, standing tall.

"Good luck to you both," Kaldonic said, waving them out of his office. "May the wind be at your back and the sun be on your face."

Karl and Shi'mir left the office, feeling a renewed sense of purpose and determination. They spent the next few days preparing for their journey to Ula'rae, to gather supplies for their Journey.

Chapter 2 : Tears of the Wood

The woods shiver as the flying creatures scatter in the air, and the sharp cry of a newborn child wails through the night.

"Tis a girl madam, tis very weak. Be gentle" as the small elf nurse wraps the child in a soft fur wrap and hands her to the exhausted mother.

Breathing heavily and thru exhaustion on her bed of pineneedles and dried grass, the mother swoons the baby in her arms. Caressing the dark hair covering the newborn's head.

"You shall be named "Lorin" after the wood in which you were born."

"Tis a good name, she will be a strong warrior, and seer." says the father in a deep voice and taking the newborn in his arms.

Talhon turns to face the ceremonial crowd gathered to witness the birthing ritual; then raises the child in the air for all to see.

The sudden movement startles the child and she began crying again.

"Give her to me" the mother gently insists, and Talhon turns back and rests the child back into her mothers arms.

"Rest now my love, gather your strength, our child will be blessed by the spirit of the wood." Talhon says, patting the soft brown hairs on the head of his loving partner as he begins to sing them both to sleep.

The seer then addresses the crowd in a sweet voice not to bother the resting mother and new born child she says

"The child is well, strong and healthy. She has been given the name "Lorin" of the wood.

We will see a bright and bountiful future with this one" she finished clasping her hands together in a prayer to the trees, then dismissing the crowd.

Lorin grew up in the lush woods that stretched to the west of the mighty mountains of Korath. From a young age, she showed remarkable agility and fearlessness, spending most of her days venturing through the trees and over the rocky terrain of the nearby mountain range. She would swing from the branches of tall trees, landing as gracefully as a fox on the stony ground below.

But there was one tree that held a special place in Lorin's heart - the tree in which she was born under. Almost every day, she would climb to the top of the tree and gaze out at the world beyond the woods. From her lofty perch, she could just make out the glimmering city in the south, beyond the hills and mountains that lay ahead.

Despite her love for adventure, Lorin's parents warned her of the dangers that lurked beyond the woods. They spoke of powerful elves and humans who lived on the edge of their territory and who were known to raid their settlements, pillaging what little they had and taking captives for their own pleasure and entertainment.

Lorin couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as she watched the humans who had built a small camp on the southern edge of the woods grow larger and larger. As they expanded, they began cutting down more and more trees, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. The once-thick woods that had been Lorin's playground were thinning out, and she knew that her people's way of life was in jeopardy.

One morning while out climbing trees and speaking with the various wood animals, Lorin noticed a face watching her through the underbrush. Deciding to play aloof, Lorin danced around seemingly unaware of the spy's presence near to her. Feeling it had gone on long enough, and not afraid or feeling in danger Lorin called out to the stranger.

"You're not very good at hiding. I know you're there." she said, staring directly at the eyes hidden near to her.

"I mean you no harm" a small voice called out of the brush.

"Then come out and face me!" Lorin replied.

A young elf stood up and came around the bush so that he could be seen, and said "I… I see you when you come here. Tis a beautiful area" the young man said

"Who are you?" Lorin demanded

"My name is Neville, I come from the village in the west near the cliffs"

"You are very talented" he continued stammering as if embarrassed he was found.

"I like to practice stealth. My father says I'll need to be proficient when I grow up!"

"Well you're not very good yet" Lorin replies, crossing her arms and giving Neville a look of frustration.

"I don't like being spied on" she said

"I'm sorry, there aren't many younglings in my village to spend time with, we are a small group of people." Neville said

"Well next time don't spy, not on me" Lorin said, resting her arms at her side and giving the embarrassed young elf a smile.

"Do you want to see something fascinating?" Lorin asked, perking up and her childlike energy springing her into action.

"Follow me!" she said as she leaped into the air, grasping a branch and hauling her nimble body up, and up to the top of the tree.

"Wait up! I'm coming." Neville replied, smiling as he leaped into the air, grabbing the first branch and awkwardly pulling himself up trying to reach Lorin.

Neville wasn't as nimble or as quick as Lorin, but he was strong, and could draw a large bow at a young age.

Finally reaching the top Neville was out of breath, and panting heavily.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Lorin asked excitedly.

Neville gazed out over the vast forest, the sea of green, broken by the occasional glint of a stream or pond. The bright sun hurt his eyes, but after they adjusted to the light he could see the beautiful hills rolling down south to yellow dunes and the glistening city beyond.

He took in the beauty and the excitement in Lorins voice as she bubbled with joy telling him the name of the city that she made up as she pointed towards the tall stone castle off to the west

"And the humans built that long ago" Lorin said

"What's that?" Neville said pointing towards the wood where he could see humans gathering near a small village

"That's my home" she boasted, then she noticed the humans.

"but… Who are they?" she whispered.

Leaping down from the top of the tree.

Lorin, and Neville crept up on the village she had called home now in a wreck, they watched as her people fought back, being taken captive by these human intruders on her wood.

"Be quiet so they don't hear us" Neville said "Follow me, and we will be safe. And we'll tell my elders what is happening."

Wiping a tear from her eyes, she burned with anger, watching her family, and friends being loaded into a wagon bared off and carried away.

"How far is your village?" Lorin Asked

"Not far, we should get home by nightfall" Neville said in response.

"Nightfall? But by then my family will be far away!" She contested, but there was no contest. Her family had been taken, so soon after she entered into this world, and now she could only watch as her family was carted away to be sold as slaves.

Neville led Lorin around her village, quietly and stealthily as not to be heard, Lorin thought to herself "Neville is more quiet than I assumed" and from there she gained great respect for her new friend.

When they finally reached the small village Neville took Lorin straight to his father to tell of all that was happening a short distance away.

"Kidnapped? In the Wood? Tis is dire news Neville. And Lorin, we are saddened by your loss. We will work together and find who has done this and put a stop to it at once." Ramhar said

"You will be safe with us young one, we will set an extra plate out and you have a place to sleep. I must first speak with the elders and put together a posse to find your people." Ramhar finished

Neville sat with Lorin and fixed her a warm dinner, they spoke about her home and the beauties that she's seen.

"What happened to your mother?" Lorin asked

"She died when I was born, The birthing pains were too much for her, she slept, and never woke" Neville replied with a solemn look on his face.

"I never knew her" he finished

"I'm sorry" was all Lorin could say.

That night Lorin had a dream of her parents, how loving they were to each other, and the bond they had. She dreamt of the meals her mother would make. When she woke in the morning her soft pillow was wet.

"You cried in your sleep. Father and I were worried, but chose not to wake you" Neville said, and sat a small breakfast plate next to her.

"Father has spoken with the elders. There's a party being rallied now. They will investigate the town near our woods and find out what happened to your parents." Neville said

"Can I come too?" she asked through sleepy eyes.

"No, you and Neville will stay here, we can't risk losing anymore people. We will return by the next sun's light." Ramhar said cutting into the conversation.

Ramhar was putting on a thick leather uniform over his normal rags they called clothes, donning a beautiful silver sword on his hip, and a longbow made of fine yellow wood he strapped over his shoulder.

"I am leaving now, let the forest guide us and not falter" he said and drew back the hide curtain covering the door and exited outside.

Neville showed Lorin around the village that day, trying to keep her mind occupied with the forest instead of letting her mind drift to her parents.

"These are the cliffs I was talking about." Neville said standing on the edge of a tall cliff that overlooked the ocean.

"It's amazing! I've never seen anything like it." Lorin replied.

"The sound of the water makes it easy to practice sneaking!" Neville continued. "See that squirrel over there? Watch this." He finished and disappeared into the tall brush that lined the edge of the forest.

Lorin stood there for a short time watching the squirrel, and the bush that Neville ducked into. She couldn't see him anymore, and the deafening sound of the waves crashing against the coastal cliff drowned out most sounds.

Staring intently at the squirrel, wondering what was going to happen, when suddenly with a "Thump" the squirrel was pinned to the ground with a force that killed the small animal instantly.

"Impressive Neville, but you could have done that from over here" Lorin shouted over the sound of the water.

"Yeah but I did it from here!" replied Neville, as he stood up from a bush that was not four feet from the animal.

Lorin jumped and clapped excitedly, for Neville was completely hidden and she was greatly impressed.

The next day When Ramhar returned with his party, Lorin and Neville were eagerly waiting..

"Your family isn't at Wimborne village, young one. We are sorry." Ramhar said with a grave expression on his face.

"We scouted the village, and the comings and goings were all the usual. The humans there have been peaceful so far. We assume your family was taken by humans in the east near "Stone Tower"" He finished.

The large stone structure in the east that lay at the base of the Mountain range was the capital city of Pasterfest, known only to the Wood Elves as Stone tower.

"How can you say the humans are "peaceful" when they took my family only two days ago!" Lorin cried, as she put her head in her hands and wept.

"We will find them, Lorin, I promise" Neville said in a soft voice, laying his hand on her back as she cried.

"You may stay with us for as long as you wish." Ramhar said

"When you wish to return to your home, we will guide you"

"I want to go now." Lorin said

"Let my people rest for today, we have journeyed long and hard, after we have a meal and needed sleep, we will take you to your home" He finished

Pulling Lorin by the arm, and with a "Thank you" Neville led Lorin back to his small hut.

"I can take you home today, I remember where it was, and it's still early. We can be back here before evening" Neville said

"Who said I was coming back here?" Lorin replied, already determined to go to her home anyway.

"I understand, Can we still hang out tho?" Neville said

"Of course silly, I really appreciate all that you have done for me. I just… I need to figure out what is left of my home first." she finished

"I'll take you there" Neville said, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her towards the edge of the village.

When Lorin and Neville reached her small village Lorin cried out "Is anyone here?" but no answer, they searched each house starting with her own trying to find signs of anyone left, but to no avail.

When suddenly arms wrap around Lorin, and for a brief second Lorin felt as if she was in her fathers strong arms, then suddenly terror, as she realized this man wasn't her father. She kicked and screamed as the man roughly hauled her off her feet, carrying her through the air.

"I got her" the man said

"She's a young one" another man said

"I bet this one will fetch a fine price" the first man replied

"Just get her to the horse, and tie her up" another man shouted

Still kicking and screaming "Let me go!" Lorin began to cry again, and her anger burned even hotter.

The man outmatched the small elf girl and not so gently tossed her on the ground next to some large horses the men rode, and began to tie her up.

Kicking at the man, Lorin managed to kick up a handful of dirt and toss it in the man's eyes, before earning herself a hard slap across the face, which sent hot fire thru the young girl's cheek, and her face grew hotter and hotter.

"She got a lot of fight in her, the men in Wiredeep will enjoy breaking that" the man said menacingly, as laughter broke out from the other two men.

Then just as Lorin had given up hope and was sinking into the dark thoughts of what was going to happen to her. The men began to yell, and scurry about. The man was finishing tying her and standing up when an arrow pierced into the tree next to where he was standing.

"They're shooting at us" the men cried as a flurry of arrows began raining over the men.

"Were out matched" one said

"Retreat you idiots" the other said as he leaped on his horse and rode off, the other two falling in line next to him.

Neville had heard the men, and before he could warn Lorin it was too late, they had taken her and tied her up, all while Neville hid under a table next to one of the huts, scared and crying he wept as his only friend was so brutally handled.

"Neville!" Ramhar yelled looking for his son

Ramhar found Neville curled up under the table weeping loudly, and full of shame for not doing anything to help his friend.

"Tis ok son, The humans are gone" Ramhar said, reaching out an arm for Neville to grab onto.

"We-where's Lorin?" The scared child asked

"Shes fine, They tied her up, but we got here before they took her" Ramhar replied

Still weeping, curling her knees to her chest, Lorin thought about the loss, and violation the humans had caused to the wood, to her people, to her parents, and to herself. She cried hard, in mourning for all that was taken from her.

Neville came up next to her, sitting on his knees, and offering a hand to brush the back of his friend who lay on the ground in tears.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Get away!" She screamed as Neville jumped back in surprise, his father catching him, "It's ok son, Let her grieve, She's lost so much."

"Make camp, We will mourn our people together" an elder elf said, "we shall feast on what they leave behind, and offer blessings to the wood"

The small band of elves quickly sat ceremonial torches around a single fire in the middle of the camp. They prepared a large feast in honor of the fallen, and danced ceremonial dances, told stories, and consoled each other in worship of the wood.

When Neville woke he couldn't find Lorin anywhere for Lorin wept under the tree she was born under until the sun rose. Frightened, Neville raised his father and began the search for Lorin. Upon finding Lorin the female elf said "Grief is love that has nowhere to go, My mother was taken by slavers when I was very young. Be thankful for the memories you still hold onto" and embraced the young elf in an endearing hug.

"Can you teach me to fight them?" Lorin asked, cheek pressed against the leather breastplate the older elf wore.

"We can teach you to be a Warrior." she replied.

Chapter 3: Journey South

Karl arrived at the stables just as the first rays of light were beginning to peek over the horizon. Shi'mir was already there, busy saddling his horse.

"Good morning," Karl greeted his traveling companion.

"Good morning," Shi'mir replied, not looking up from his task.

As Karl made his way to the horses, He saw a beautiful woman named Elsa tending to them. She was feeding them apples and brushing their manes with loving care.

"I apologize, my lady, but I must take this horse to Ula'rae, but I will care for him as if he were my own," Karl said, bowing slightly to Elsa.

Elsa giggled and replied, "These horses do not belong to me silly, I only care for them out of desire in my heart. These horses belong to the city guard, I just think they are beautiful."

Karl was struck dumbfounded by Elsa's beauty, and found himself at a loss for words. Her scent of lavender flowers was intoxicating, and he couldn't help but inhale deeply.

Shi'mir, noticing Karl's silence, spoke up. "We will take good care of these animals, my lady."

Elsa smiled at Shi'mir and turned her gaze back to Karl. "Please do, and you take care as well, soldier. It is dangerous along the roads, many bandits roam the lands these days."

Shi'mir rolled his eyes at the awkward encounter, and mounted his horse and rode away, "We will return safely, miss." Karl said, mounting his horse and following suit behind Shi'mir, taking one last glance at Elsa as he trotted away.

Catching up with Shi'mir and falling in line with his companion, Shi'mir couldn't resist teasing Karl about his flushed face. "Your face is as red as the desert sun, friend," he remarked playfully.

"I've never seen such a beautiful woman," Karl admitted, his voice tinged with awe.

"Perhaps you will meet again," Shi'mir suggested.

"Perhaps," Karl replied, taking one last look over his shoulder as the castle walls disappeared behind them.

As the duo rode on, the rhythmic sound of hooves on the cobbled road created a peaceful ambiance. Each of them lost in their own thoughts, the vastness of the landscape and the promise of the upcoming adventure occupying their minds. After a while, Shi'mir decided to break the comfortable silence, glancing at the position of the sun in the sky. "We should make it to Navi'dah by nightfall," he noted.

"Good, I could use a warm meal," Karl replied with a slight shiver. "This spring cold chills me to the bone."

"Me too, friend," Shi'mir agreed, adjusting his cloak to ward off the chilly breeze.

As they continued their journey, the hills seemed to stretch endlessly until they met the vast blue expanse of the ocean. Navi'dah, the oldest of the human cities, was a key landmark for travelers. The anticipation of the sights and sounds that awaited them brought excitement.

The afternoon sun began its descent over the hills, casting a serene atmosphere upon the landscape, and they knew they would reach the city soon.

The scent of saltwater mingled with the aroma of freshly cooked food filled the air, enticing them towards the heart of the city. The vibrant streets came into view, alive with the fuss of merchants, sailors, and travelers from all walks of life, creating a colorful tapestry of cultures and languages.

Shi'mir and Karl dismounted their horses, leaving them at a stable where they would be well cared for. With excitement and curiosity, they wandered through the streets of Navi'dah, the docks stretching out ahead of them like a maze of old planks. Karl's footsteps creaked along the weathered wood as they strolled, immersed in the vibrant atmosphere.

The docks were a hive of activity, with people of all types moving up and down, workers busying themselves to transport goods, and travelers preparing for their voyages. The docks also served as the main walkway for pedestrians, providing access to market stalls, various inns, and the heart of the city's commerce.

Among the many inns that lined the docks, one stood out, "The Gilled Hag Inn," Navi'dah's most renowned tavern. The thought of warm food and a place to rest after a long day's journey beckoned them towards its welcoming doors. As they stepped inside, the lively chatter and laughter of patrons filled the air, and the aroma of savory dishes enveloped them. Eager to satisfy their hunger and immerse themselves in the lively ambiance of the port city, Shi'mir and Karl found a cozy corner in the tavern and settled in for a memorable evening filled with tales, laughter, and the camaraderie that only a teeming port city could offer.

Karl's eyes wandered around the tavern, captivated by the impressive display of various fish and mounted amphibian jaws that adorned the walls. "I wonder if this place has any significance to the Guilds around the realm?" he pondered aloud, turning to Shi'mir for insight.

"Indeed, the guild here in Navi'dah holds influence and connections that can aid us in our endeavors," Shi'mir replied, observing the curious displays with equal intrigue.

As they settled into their seats, an immensely large woman approached their table, her presence causing the floor to rumble beneath her weight. In one hand, she skillfully balanced three tankards, sloshing with foamy brew. "The name's Franklyn," she boomed, "But my friends call me Frankie." her voice resonating through the tavern. With a practiced ease, she set the three mugs on the table.

"Welcome to The Gilled Hag Inn," Franklyn said with a warm smile. "I couldn't help but notice your interest in the displays. Each of those creatures has a tale behind it, and they serve as reminders of the guild's adventures and achievements over the years."

Her words piqued Karl's curiosity further. "Do tell us about one of the tales," he requested eagerly, his eyes gleaming with interest.

Franklyn's smile widened, pleased with the young man's enthusiasm. "Ah, you have an adventurer's spirit," she remarked. "One of the most renowned tales involves a daring expedition to the underwater caves of the Coral Isle, some 60 knots from here." She said, "But that can wait 'till later, You must be hungry." She continued.

"Torrez, whip up three plates of lemon-pepper fish." The woman bellowed through the establishment. Karl looked at Shi'mir in fear the delicate mounted trophies would fall off the wall.

As the tantalizing aroma of the fish began to waft through the air, Franklyn took a seat at their table. Her unapologetic, hearty demeanor was both amusing and endearing.

"First tell me of yourselves," She asked in a friendly manner, Picking up all three tankards sitting in front of her and taking a single large gulp from all three.

"We are journeying to Ula'rae on a mission from the Guild" Shi'mir confessed.

"Guild members!" She shouted, slapping her knee, which sent a shock through the table that made Karl's chair bounce.

"And how's old Kal up in Pastorfest? Has he learned any magic tricks yet?" she asked, her genuine interest shining through.

"He's as stubborn as ever, but determined nonetheless." Shi'mir said through a confused chuckle, joining in Franklyns merriment.

"He always was-" She began, but was quickly cut off by Torrez as he elegantly slung three plates in front of each guest at his table.

"Talk less now, dinner is served" Torrez said. Karl's mouth watered as he beheld the sight before him - freshly caught fish, deep-fried to perfection, resting on a bed of beautifully cut lemons.

"Its been a while since we've had fellow guild -mates in our humble hall" Torrez said standing next to Frankie.

Karl's jaw gaped as he suddenly realized that he had been sitting in the Navi'dah guild hall all along, speaking to the honored guild members stationed there. His initial misconception of grand guild buildings quickly dissipated, replaced with a newfound appreciation for the fellowship shared by guild members, regardless of the setting.

"Old Kal has been quite scarce these days," Frankie added.

"When we saw you two enter, and the sashes on your belts, we thought Kaldonic had sent you here to retire us," Torrez continued, a playful glint in his eye.

"Absolutely not," Karl responded. "No, we are on our way to Ula'rae to retrieve some ancient transcripts from the temple," he explained, realizing the confusion.

"Is that council finally allowing the guild to study their precious scrolls?" Frankie said sarcastically.

"We do hope this task will be the first step to building a real relationship between our people," Shi'mir replied, slightly taken aback by the brashness of Franklyn's comment.

"I mean no offense, brother," Frankie quickly added, recognizing that her words might have struck a sensitive chord with the elf.

Sensing Shi'mir's agitation, Karl quickly interjected, diverting the conversation to a less contentious topic. "Didn't you say you had a tale about that fish on the wall?" he asked, pointing towards the large figure mounted along the wall.

The fish took up nearly the entire wall, and was unlike anything Karl had seen before. "Ahh yes, The shark beast of Coral Isle," Franklyn began with a nostalgic smile. "That was when Kal had still been stationed here with us. We were in search of a relic said to be hidden in the underwater caves there, but it turns out, it was only that guy," she said, pointing a thumb towards the shark.

"Kal and I had just dived into the cave system when the thing nearly took my head off," she continued. "But Kal had seen it and wounded it enough to divert its attention on him. Luckily, Torrez here shot the thing with the harpoon at just the right time," she finished, with a nod towards her companion.

"The beast dragged me nearly a mile out to sea before she gave up," Torrez added, walking over and laying a hand on the large shark.

"That's amazing!" Karl exclaimed, sitting back in his chair, satisfied from his meal. "Kal's so old I thought he had helped build Pasterfest, he never mentioned anything about being stationed here."

Franklyn's laughter bellowed out in the tavern, sending another worrisome shockwave through the room. "He's a stubborn old bastard, that's for sure." she finally said. "But he earned his place there. He never was much of a sea-farer." She finished, as she picked up the tree tankards and took another sip. "How rude of me, Let me get you fellas a drink" She said, realizing the empty spaces where her guests' mugs should have been.

Franklyn quickly, more quickly than either Karl or Shi'mir thought possible, hurried herself to the bar, the tavern rumbling with every step, to get drinks for the two.

"So why did you join the guild? '' Frankie said to Shi'mir as she returned to the table and served each a tankard of ale.

"My people are very detail oriented, but that attention to detail often clouds their judgment." Shi'mir said as he too leaned back satisfied. "They lock themselves in their temples, and council buildings, but never explore the world outside, the cultures, the peoples, they all truly hold more knowledge than any library." He finished

"Very honorable young elf," Franklyn remarked. "The elves of the desert do have a vast expanse of knowledge in those libraries though" She added

Shi'mir felt a twinge of frustration at the underlying prejudice in Frankie's comment. "We, too, have always kept a meticulous record of our long histories," he replied curtly, reminding them of the depth of elvish knowledge.

"To each their own in search of knowledge, right?" Frankie responded, trying to diffuse any tension as she raised her tankard for a toast.

"What about you, Karl? Where did life lead you before the guild?" she asked, turning to the man sitting next to Shi'mir.

Karl took a moment to gather his thoughts before answering. "The guild offered me a home," he began. "My father was once a slave in Colestrand. He passed away when I was young, leaving my mother and me alone. Thankfully, my mother's brother took us in. They were kind, loving people who helped raise me. But about four years ago, my mother fell ill, and we didn't know what ailed her. She passed away soon after," he continued, his voice tinged with sadness. "I stayed around to help with my uncle's meadery, where I learned the craft, you see. But I yearned for more, for adventure and knowledge, so I set out for Pasterfest, and never looked back," he finished, taking a long sip from his tankard.

Franklyn nodded empathetically, understanding the path that had brought Karl to the guild. "The guild has a way of bringing people together, regardless of their backgrounds," she remarked, raising her tankard once more. "Here's to new beginnings and the unending pursuit of knowledge!"

Shi'mir and Karl clinked their tankards with Frankie's, their differences momentarily set aside as they toasted to their shared journey and the experiences that awaited them. In the warmth of the guild hall, surrounded by newfound friends, they felt a sense of belonging that only the guild could provide.

The next morning, Franklyn's heavy boot thumped against their door, jolting Shi'mir and Karl awake. Her voice echoed through the room as she called out, "Kaffee's ready! I'll leave it for ya here outside. Get it whilst it's hot." Her footsteps rumbled away, leaving the two travelers to rouse themselves from sleep.

Karl yawned and stretched, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "What time is it?" he mumbled, glancing towards the small window where the dim light of dawn filtered in.

Shi'mir was already on his feet, unfazed by the early hour. "The sun isn't even up yet," Karl remarked, his mind still foggy with drowsiness.

"It seems they are early risers here in Navi'dah," Shi'mir replied with a hint of amusement. "But Kaffee tea sounds pretty good right now."

The enticing promise of warm Kaffee tea pulled them both out of the room. They opened the door to find two large mugs waiting for them just outside. The aromatic scent of the brewed beverages filled the air, invigorating their senses.

As they sipped the comforting Kaffee tea, the world around them slowly awakened. The sounds of the bustling port city came to life, a symphony of activity and life that signaled the start of another adventurous day. With each sip, the warmth spread through their bodies, chasing away the last remnants of sleep.

"It's time to embrace the day," Shi'mir said with a smile, his eyes bright with anticipation. "Let's make our way to secure our steeds and head to Ula'rae. Our mission awaits."

Their path led them through the unforgiving desert, and each night they made camp under the vast expanse of stars that adorned the night sky. The desert seemed infinite, its rolling dunes giving way to flat wastelands, where no trees or bushes grew, and only elusive vermin scurried through the shifting sands.

Then, on the distant horizon, like a mirage of hope, the glorious city of Ula'rae emerged. It shone like a jewel in the heart of the desert, an oasis from the days of endless traveling. The towering stone walls rose up against the barren landscape, a symbol of the power and splendor the elves held over their domain. As they drew nearer to the city, the sight of Ula'rae filled them with awe and wonder, reaffirming their purpose and igniting a sense of excitement for the adventures that awaited within its walls.

Chapter 4: Ula'rae

As Karl and Shi'mir made their way through the busy streets, they couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The markets and stalls were strewn haphazardly, and the sight of elvish slaves caring for the horses in the stables made them both uncomfortable.

But as they approached the gates, their attention was drawn to an elf pushing a cart filled with potions. His eyes shone brightly, and his clothing was embroidered with green and white, matching his skin.

Before they could say anything, a guard stepped forward, blocking the man's path. "Halt!" he shouted, his voice booming over the noise of the crowd. "You there, filthy slave! Your kind doesn't belong in the city with us nobles!"

Karl bristled at the guard's words, ready to step forward and intervene, but Shi'mir held him back. "We must be cautious, Karl. Things are different here," he whispered.

But Karl couldn't hold back his frustration. "How can we stand by and watch this injustice?" he said, his voice rising. "We are a part of the guild, and it is our duty to protect all people, regardless of where we are."

The guard turned his attention to Karl, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. "You speak of justice, yet you do not understand how things work here. This man requires a permit to sell his wares in the city."

Karl wasn't convinced. "Is it truly necessary to treat him in such a manner? What harm is he causing by selling his potions?"

The guard sneered at Karl's words. "You have no idea the chaos that would ensue if we didn't have rules and regulations in place."

Shi'mir stepped forward, his tone measured and calm. "We understand the importance of rules, but we also believe in treating all people with respect and dignity. Is there no way to help this man obtain his permit?" He says flashing a small leather pouch that clanged with gold.

The guard hesitated for a moment, eyeing the two men warily, and the pouch of gold in Shamir's hand. Finally, he relented. "Very well, but make sure he gets his permit," he said, taking the pouch, and stepping aside to let the elf pass.

As the elf continued on his way, Shi'mir turned to Karl with a reassuring smile. "We may not be able to change the entire system overnight, but small acts of kindness can make a difference," he said.

Karl nodded, feeling grateful for his friend's wisdom. "You're right, Shi'mir. It's just hard to see the way some people are treated here," he said.

"I understand," said Shi'mir. "But let's focus on why we're here. We have important work to do for the guild."

Karl nodded, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. As they continued into the city.

"Hey, thank you" said the man with the cart. "My name is Elwood," he said as he began walking next to the two men, his cart clinking with the bottles inside.

"I'm an alchemist," Elwood said proudly as he walked up to Shi'mir. "I'm not a slave like the guards say." He said, with another 'Clink'

Shi'mir raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"The guards in the city won't let me sell my potions without a permit," Elwood explained, gesturing to the various bottles in his cart. "But the slaves on the outside of the city have no need for my potions, so I'm out here on the outskirts trying to make a living." Another 'Clink'

"What kind of potions do you barter in?" Shi'mir asked, stopping, his eyes glinting with curiosity.

Elwood smiled. "Well, mostly charm potions, some to ease one's pain, and-" He was interrupted by Shi'mir's sudden outburst.

"What is this?" Shi'mir said, picking up a small bottle from Elwood's cart and examining it closely.

"That's a special brew," Elwood said, taking the bottle from Shi'mir and holding it up to the light. "Made of Worm Oil and Sassafras. It's been known to grant one strength beyond measure."

Shi'mir's purple eyes grew wide. "This is marvelous! In all of my studies, I always thought only the Dwarves held the secret to strength potions." He prodded further, "Where on Amon did you find this recipe?"

"It's an old family recipe," Elwood replied, a hint of pride in his voice. "It dates back to the formation of the Old Council. My great grandfather was a renowned alchemist, and he had some connection to the royals."

Shi'mir looked impressed. "You have a powerful legacy, my friend."

Elwood smiled, pleased with the recognition.

"If you're interested, I can guide you through Ula'rae. I know the city inside and out, and I can show you the best places to find what you're looking for."

Shi'mir thought about the offer, "It's been a while since I've been here last, Karl." he said, looking at his friend. "Things seemed to have changed a lot."

"Do you know the way to the Temple?" Karl asked, looking at Elwood.

"Of course, it's not a long walk, and it's next to the City Office, so I can get my permit. Follow me" he said, turning his cart towards the city, bottles clinking along.

The group set off towards the city, leaving behind the chaotic markets of the outskirts. As they entered the city, Karl was struck by the stark contrast between the neat and organized shops that lined the busy streets. The buildings were tall and made of white stone, with intricate carvings and arches that spoke of a long and storied history.

Elwood led the two men towards their destination. The temple was an impressive structure with a large central courtyard surrounded by tall pillars.

"There's an Inn & Tavern called the Blue Horse a short walk that way should you need a bed, or drink, my friends" Elwood said, pointing further down the street they had been traveling down.

"I'll be a while, but once I get my permit, I will be selling over in the square, if you want to stop by." He said as he continued towards the stone building across the way marked T.R.A.(Taxation & Revenue Administration).

"We are grateful for your assistance" Shi'mir said, waiving as Elwood clinked away with his bottles.

As they made their way towards the temple, Shi'mir and Karl couldn't help but feel a sense of reverence for the ancient building. They entered through the large wooden doors, and the smell of incense hit them, filling their senses with a calming sensation.

Elves in fine white robes walked the aisles with incense burning on golden plates, hanging by a chain held in their hands.

As they walked down the aisle towards the head scholar, Shi'mir bowed respectfully, showing his admiration for the knowledge and wisdom that the temple held.

The head scholar smiled, acknowledging Shi'mir's respect.

"Greetings student," the head scholar said. "We have been expecting you to visit us here at the Temple of Ula'rae."

Shi'mir replied, "Galo blesses you, brother. The temple is as beautiful as Galo herself."

The head scholar chuckled at Shi'mir's compliment, "You are too kind. The scrolls your superiors have requested are found in the North-Eastern wing of the temple. Go up the stairs and through the second door on your right, and Brother Lakeer will show you the documents."

Shi'mir and Karl bowed respectfully, and made their way up the stairs, admiring the beautiful architecture that surrounded them. As they approached the door, they were greeted by Brother Lakeer, who stood behind a large desk, surrounded by stacks of ancient scrolls and tomes.

"Ah, you must be the scholars from the Guild," Brother Lakeer said, looking up from his work. "I have the documents you requested right here." Pointing towards the large stack of scrolls stacked neatly to the side.

Shi'mir and Karl approached the desk, and Brother Lakeer handed them a large leather-bound book. "Here is a list of each document in there for your convenience."

Shi'mir opened the book and scanned through its pages, his eyes widening in amazement at the knowledge contained within. He knew that this book would be a valuable asset to his research.

"Thank you, Brother Lakeer," Shi'mir said, closing the book and handing it back to the Elf. "Your help is greatly appreciated."

Brother Lakeer nodded in acknowledgement. "It is my pleasure to serve the scholars of the Guild. If you ever require any more assistance, please do not hesitate to ask."

Shi'mir and Karl bowed their heads in gratitude before making their way back down the stairs, the weight of the ancient knowledge they now carried heavy on their minds. As they exited the temple, Shi'mir turned to Karl.

"This will save us much time here, work that would take months now will go by in a week or so!" Shi'mir said, holding up the leather-bound book. "I wish they would have done this in Valfrost."

Karl nodded, his eyes wide with excitement. "Let's find the Blue Horse Inn that Elwood spoke of, We have a lot of work ahead of us."

Elwood made his way to the city office, and parked his cart outside.

Upon entering the wooden doors, he walked to the stone counter that the elvish clerk sat behind, who did not look pleased in the slightest with her job.

"What can I do for you?" she asked in a bored tone as Elwood approached.

"I require a permit to sell my potions, I'm lucky to have made it this far" Elwood replied with a chuckle, trying to pull a smile from the lady.

"A permit fee of two hundred gold per month is required. Is it a cart or a shop.?" She replied

"It's a cart." He replied, handing over a pouch of gold.

The lady took the gold, and stamped a piece of parchment, that would allow Elwood to sell his potions on the streets of Ula'rae.

Back outside Elwood let out a long sigh of relief. With the Permit in his hands, and a smile on his face, he lifted the handels to his cart, and clinked his way towards the market.

Eyeing a good spot to set up his stall, he was stopped by an Elf, who noticed the potions.

"Oh my, is that an Eel Eyes potion?" she said, looking at the bottle of purple liquid in the cart.

"Why, yes, ma'am, This is the Potion of Remembrance, a popular potion of my own recipe! It's been known to help with memory!" he said, picking up the bottle and holding it to the light.

"A Potion Maker!" She said, "How much is it?" she asked, as the two noticed a small crowd gathering around to gaze at the various bottles filled with colorful liquid.

"Only ten gold pieces" he replied, now smiling to the points of his ears. As he continued to sell all of the potions that remained in his little cart.

Karl and Sh'mir were checking in the barkeep, when Elwood came thru the doors, still grinning ear to ear, Waving his hand to the two, he approached them

"Salutations, gentlemen, This round is on me," he said approaching the table the two were sitting at, and dropped a heavy sack of gold. "Today was even more fantastic than I initially assumed. I sold all of my products!" he said.

"Wonderful news Elwood. Is your production going to be able to keep up?" replied Shi'mir, Taking a sip from his tankard.

"I will have to double down on production, if it is going to be this busy." He replied. "I may need to hire some brewmasters to help."

"A shop would be helpful in that regard." chimed in Karl.

"A shop?" replied Elwood, scratching his chin as if he was intrigued.

"I believe a shop would be great!" he said, picking up his tankard excitedly.

"It could really help you expand your business." Karl continued. "With a physical storefront, you could potentially attract new customers, who may not have known about your products otherwise." he finished, Picking up his tankard.

"And it would give you a place to store your ingredients, equipment, and finished product in one location.

"That is a good point, I haven't thought about that, I will definitely have to start looking for places." replied Elwood.

As the conversation continued, the three discussed various aspects of opening a shop, such as the costs involved, the types of equipment and materials needed, and the potential benefits and drawbacks. They also talked about the importance of marketing and advertising to attract customers to the shop.

Throughout the conversation, Elwood remained enthusiastic and open to the idea of opening a shop, and Karl and Shi'mir provided helpful insights and suggestions to help him make an informed decision. In the end, Elwood left the bar feeling inspired and motivated to take his business to the next level.

After a few rounds of drinks, the tavern filled with more patrons seeking solace, and the atmosphere grew livelier. Amidst the jovial conversations and clinking of glasses, an Elvish man of scholarly appearance made his entrance. Dressed in fine attire befitting his role, he was accompanied by two slaves who dutifully attended to their master, serving him drinks and partaking in the festivities themselves, under his approving gaze.

However, not all in the tavern shared the same tolerant disposition towards the presence of slaves. One particularly inebriated elf, his eyes clouded with prejudice, couldn't tear his gaze away from the servants who laughed and enjoyed the company of their master. His disapproving stare caught the attention of Karl, who grew increasingly wary of the situation.

As he continued to observe the disgruntled patron, one of the slaves inadvertently knocked over the drunk man's tankard, causing the contents to spill onto his lap. Seething with anger and in intoxicated bravado, the inebriated elf spouted out in slurred anger. "Stupiid sslave," as he slapped the slave to the ground. "Yourr kind shouldn't bee aloud in this esstablirshmient"

Witnessing the unjust act, Karl's temper flared, and he swiftly moved to intervene. With fiery anger in his eyes, he seized the drunk by his collar, hoisting him up in the air to confront his despicable behavior. "What gives you the right to patronize this man? Have you no respect?" Karl seethed, his voice dripping with contempt.

Shi'mir's voice of reason cut through the tension as he quietly spoke to Karl. "This is not how they deal with things in Ula'rae," he whispered, extending a helping hand to the fallen slave and assisting him to his feet. The wisdom in Shi'mir's words momentarily tempered Karl's rage, reminding him of the importance of maintaining peace and order.

Just as the situation teetered on the edge, a group of guards patrolling the area happened upon the commotion emanating from the tavern. The loud voices and scuffling drew their attention, prompting one of the guards to step forward and demand an explanation. "What's going on here?" he bellowed, his authoritative presence commanding attention.

The drunk, still chuckling at Karl's supposed foolishness, couldn't contain his delight, convinced that the tables had turned in his favor. "You're going to get it now," he jeered, a smug grin stretching across his face.

"This man," Karl began, his tone full of righteous anger, "used unwarranted force against another individual. As a member of the guild, I cannot stand idly by and allow such flagrant injustices to go unchecked."

"Release him immediately, 'Guild Member'," the guard warned, unsheathing his sword and directing it towards the two. Karl eyed the guard, but did not release the elf. "You're treading on thin ice." He warned as he pressed in towards Karl.

"Let him go, Karl, we will have to handle this with care" said Shi'mir, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder.

Karl reluctantly let go of the Elf, trying to save his character, as the drunk stumbled backwards into a nearby table, he knocked over tankards and caused a commotion. The guards quickly intervened, separating the two parties to assess the situation.

The scholar, who had been observing the altercation from his table, spoke up. "As a member of the Council of Elders, I demand that this matter be handled with the utmost care and respect for all parties involved. Violence and discrimination will not be tolerated in our city."

The guards nodded in agreement and began questioning the drunk and the slave, as well as Karl and Shi'mir, to get a better understanding of what had happened. After hearing all sides of the story, the guards concluded that the drunk had instigated the altercation and had used unnecessary force against the slave.

The drunk was promptly arrested and taken away, while the slave was given medical attention for his injuries. Karl and Shi'mir were praised for their quick thinking and bravery in standing up for what was right.

As the commotion died down and the bar returned to its usual buzz, Karl and Shi'mir reflected on the incident. "It's a shame that there are still those in our city who hold such backwards views," said Shi'mir.

Karl nodded in agreement. "But it's our duty as members of the guild to stand up against injustice and uphold the values of our community."

With a sense of pride and purpose, the two continued their evening, raising a toast to the fallen slave and the values they held dear.

A man sat in the corner and watched from the dark the interaction between the dunk and Karl. He recognised the two men from the market on the outskirts, earlier that morning.

He waited, and did not move until Karl and Shi'mir had gone to bed.

"The servant master will want to hear about this." he said to himself, as he grabbed his gear, and left the building.

Chapter 5: Wiredeep

Lakim rode through the vast expanse of the desert, his cloak billowing behind him as his horse kicked up clouds of sand. The moon hung high in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the barren landscape. As he rode on, the endless dunes gave way to the sight of trees in the distance, offering a welcome change of scenery.

Stopping to rest his horse by a spring, Lakim's thoughts turned to the information he had gathered about two guild members. His face twisted into a sinister grin as he contemplated the best way to sell this information to the notorious slave trader, Edgar. He knew that Edgar would be interested in any news that could threaten his control over the slave trade, and he was determined to turn a profit from the situation.

But Lakim's thoughts were not solely focused on profit. The sympathy the guild members had shown towards the suffering of slaves angered him. He wondered how he could use this to his advantage when he spoke to Edgar, to ensure that these two were dealt with accordingly.

As he continued on towards Wiredeep, the smell of the swamp grew stronger, and Lakim found himself turning up his nose in disgust. The city was a haven for thieves and bandits, a place where lawlessness reigned supreme. The buildings were rundown and dilapidated, covered in moss and vines that seemed to thrive in the damp and murky environment.

Despite the unsavory surroundings, Lakim pressed on towards the fighting ring, the hub of illegal activity in the city. As he made his way through the crowds of shady characters, he felt a sense of danger and excitement building within him. He knew that this was a place where fortunes were made and lost, where the wrong move could mean the end of everything.

But Lakim was no stranger to risk. He was a master of his craft, a skilled informant who knew how to navigate the seedy underbelly of society. And with his mind set on the prize, he stepped confidently next to the man he was there to meet

"I have information that may be of interest to you." Lakim said.

"What's your price?" Edgar said, not looking away from the fighting pit, where a round had just begun. Two slaves were forced to fight to the death, in a gladiatorial fashion.

"That depends on how serious you are about keeping this operation going." Lakim said, crossing his arms behind his back, and turning to the fight below.

One of the slaves had brutally slammed his fist into the nose of the other slave, blood spewed from his nose in a gory hail.

"State your news, mercenary" replied Edgar.

"In my recent visit to the city of Ula'rae, I witnessed Guild members from Pastorfest interfering with the trade."

"Humm…" Edgar grunted, shocked at the news, but showing no emotion. "Are you certain of this?" he asked

"I wouldnt be wasting my time in this shit hole if I wasn't!" Lakim spat back

Edgar's expression hardened at Lakim's words. He clenched his fists and stared at him with a cold gaze.

"This is serious news," he said, his voice low and menacing. "Meet me back here in two days' time. I must speak with the advisor on this."

Lakim could feel the tension in the air, and he knew better than to argue with Edgar when he was like this. As the fight below came to a bloody end, with one slave lying dead on the ground, Lakim nodded in agreement and stepped away from the fighting pit.

He knew that Edgar's plan would be well thought out and strategic, but he couldn't help but feel impatient. The Guild's interference in their trade was a serious matter, and Lakim was eager to take action.

As he made his way out of the city, Lakim couldn't shake the feeling that things were about to get a lot more dangerous in Wiredeep.

The grand palace halls echoed with the sound of Rowan's footsteps as he made his way towards his office, clutching a large stack of scrolls and parchments in his arms. A guard approached him, offering assistance with the documents.

"I'm quite capable, thank you," Rowan replied curtly, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "I have important matters to attend to and I would appreciate not being bothered."

The guard nodded respectfully and allowed Rowan to continue on his way. As he entered his office, Rowan deposited the scrolls onto his desk with a sigh of relief. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses and began to peruse the documents, his mind focused on the pressing issues at hand.

Suddenly, a loud knock interrupted his concentration. "Can't I have a moment of peace?" he grumbled, irritated at the interruption.

"Apologies, sir," the guard on the other side of the door responded. "But there is someone here to see you."

Rowan's annoyance deepened. He despised interruptions, especially when he was in the midst of important work. "Very well," he said begrudgingly. "Send them in."

Rowan's eyes widened with shock as his trusted companion, Edgar, entered the room. "What are you doing here?" Rowan hissed, his voice barely above a whisper. "The palace is full of guards. How stupid could you be?"

Edgar's expression was grave as he spoke. "I bring news that is of urgent importance, my lord. The guild has taken an interest in the slave trade. I fear they may be looking into our operation."

Rowan's heart sank. The slave trade was a lucrative business that had helped fund many of his endeavors. If the guild got wind of their involvement, it could spell disaster. "Shush, you fool," Rowan snapped. "Anyone could be listening right now. Meet me tonight at the river's edge by the old bridge. We should discuss this matter then."

Without another word, Edgar left the room. Rowan sat back in his chair, deep in thought. He knew that he had to act quickly if he wanted to protect his interests.

After a while of reading various documents containing the city's financial reports, and the influx of gold and silver throughout the kingdom, He couldn't help but smile at the "Other Expenses' ' category that was increasing month over month. He knew his plan with Edgar to build an empire on the slave trade was begining to take ground, and he was eager to be on his way to buy out the kingdom.

The time had slipped by, and suddenly another knock came from the door, "Sir, the king summons you to the court, it's time for the financial report" said the guard.

Rowan quickly composed himself and made his way to the court, joining the other nobles and advisors who had been summoned to present their reports to the king. As he took his seat, he couldn't help but feel a sense of nervous excitement. His plan with Edgar to expand the slave trade had the potential to make him even wealthier and more powerful than he already was.

The financial report was a long and tedious affair, with each noble presenting their numbers and projections for the upcoming year. Rowan waited patiently for his turn, rehearsing in his head what he would say when it came time to discuss the "Other Expenses" category.

Finally, it was his turn to speak. He stood up and confidently presented his report, emphasizing the success of his various business ventures and the increase in profits across the board. When he came to the "Other Expenses" category, he spoke briefly, but with a sly smile on his face

"As you can see, Your Majesty, our investment in certain... enterprises has been paying off quite handsomely," he said, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "I am confident that with continued support, we can build upon these successes and bring even greater prosperity to the kingdom."

The king nodded, seemingly impressed by Rowan's report. But as Rowan made his way back to his seat, he couldn't shake the feeling that trouble was brewing. The guild's interest in the slave trade was still weighing heavily on his mind, and he knew that he needed to act quickly if he wanted to protect his interests

After the nobles had presented their reports, the king spoke.

"Thank you my lords, and ladies, for your reports. It seems that the kingdom is in good financial health."

He then dismissed the crowd.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Rowan marched back to his office to think about the words Edgar had said. He knew that if the guild took an interest in the slave trade, that it would lead back to him, and the king would surely have his head.

"How credible is this information?" Rowan said in the dark of the night as he approached Edgar, Leaning against the bridge in the shadow.

"It comes at a high price, it seems the council has been giving the guild special attention"

"If what you say is true, then what is your idea to stop the guild from getting involved?" Asked Rowan.

"With this new shipment arriving soon, We will have more than enough gold to take care of two guild members." replied Edgar.

"Then take care of it by whatever means necessary." Rowan said, as he turned and crossed the bridge, leaving Pastorfest.

Karl and Shi'mir had been spending the entirety of the past eight days pouring over old scrolls in the musty library. Some of the scrolls were fascinating, detailing the history of the city, while others contained magic spells that Shi'mir would try out with impressive results.

Despite Shi'mir's magical abilities, both of them were getting tired of their tedious task, and Karl found himself daydreaming about the frothy mead back at the inn they were staying at.

Karl spoke up, breaking the silence in the library. "Shi'mir, we've spent all week here copying these scrolls, It's mind-numbingly boring." He picked up another scroll, scanned it, and sighed heavily. "Can't we have some adventure?"

Shi'mir replied, "But it's our duty as guild members. We must accomplish this task."

Karl continued to grumble but then noticed a particular piece of parchment that caught his attention. "What about this one?" he asked, pointing to it. "It mentions powerful magic in the dunes."

Shi'mir leaned over to take a closer look at the parchment. "That's intriguing," he said. "I've heard stories about powerful magic in the dunes before, but I've never had a chance to investigate."

Karl's eyes lit up with excitement. "Exactly! Let's go on an adventure and discover something new instead of just copying scrolls all day."

Shi'mir hesitated. "But we have a duty to the guild. We can't just abandon it to go on a whim."

Karl reassured him. "We won't abandon it. We are ahead of schedule, and can still fulfill our obligations and copy scrolls, but we can also explore and make new discoveries. Who knows what we might find?"

After a moment of thought, Shi'mir finally nodded in agreement. "Alright, let's do it. But we must finish our task in the library first."

"We can leave at first light." Karl said excitedly.

The two woke up early to venture into the desert, eager for adventure. The sand dunes stretched out before them, a seemingly endless sea of golden waves. As they journeyed east, they passed by ancient ruins, towering stone structures that bore the scars of a long-forgotten war.

But as their curiosity led them further, deeper into the heart of the desert. And after many long hours of searching, they finally stumbled upon the deserted city of Muun. As they entered, a strange magical presence could be felt, one that sent shivers down their spines.

The city had been abandoned for years, its once-great buildings now crumbling and decayed. The dark energies of the forgotten war still lingered, casting an ominous shadow over everything in sight. Even the wildlife refused to enter this desolate and forbidding place.

Karl couldn't help but feel uneasy as they made their way through the empty streets, his handkerchief pressed tightly to his face to keep out the dust. But Shi'mir was undeterred, his eyes scanning the ruins for any sign of their destination.

Finally, Karl pointed down a nearby street. "The library should be just down there," he said, his voice muffled by the cloth.

They rode down the street without a word, towards the library. It was decaying and the entrance had been crumbled to bits, with no way of getting in.

They searched around and found a small opening on the nearby wall. Dismounting, they entered the library.

The vast columns, now crumbling, and nature had blown sand through the roof that had caved in, covering most of the large burned shelves that once contained vast knowledge, now lost to time.

The two dug through the sands searching for any manuscript that may have been left behind, but only in vain.

As Karl and Shi'mir searched through the ruins of the library, their disappointment grew with each passing moment. They had hoped to uncover some hidden knowledge or forgotten magic, but all they found were empty, decayed shelves and dusty piles of sand.

Karl kicked at a pile of debris in frustration, sending a cloud of dust into the air. "This is a waste of time," he muttered.

Shi'mir looked up from the broken remains of a table, his eyes scanning the room. "Wait, what's that?" he exclaimed, pointing to a small, barely visible scrap of parchment peeking out from beneath a pile of rubble.

They rushed over to investigate, and with careful hands, they uncovered the scrap, gently brushing away the sand. To their amazement, the scrap turned out to be a torn page from a spell book, with instructions for a powerful incantation that neither of them had ever seen before.

Excitement surged through Karl and Shi'mir as they studied the page, eager to try out the spell. They had come to the library in search of knowledge, and even though they hadn't found much, the discovery of this spell made the journey worth it.

With the spell safely tucked away in their belongings they turned towards the opening in which they entered.

There stood Lakim, arms crossed, and leaning against the opening.

"Its interesting members of the guild would venture into the forbidden city." He said, shaking his head. "I would have thought at least the Elves would know that." he said, taking a step towards the two.

"This place is not forbidden" Replied Shi'mir, "Who are you?"

"Some could call me a… Protector… others, they don't live to form an opinion."

"We come in peace, friend." Karl said one hand up towards the stranger, the other on the hilt of his sword.

"I don't" Lakim said, as he leaped towards Karl, pulling a dagger from his belt.

Lakim's dagger flashed through the air towards Karl, who deftly parried it with his sword. With a quick step forward, Karl swung his sword at Lakim's chest, but Lakim dodged to the side and countered with a swift kick to Karl's ribs.

Karl grunted in pain, but managed to stay on his feet. He swung his sword again, but Lakim sidestepped and sliced his own dagger across Karl's arm, drawing blood.

Shi'mir, seeing his friend in trouble, chanted an incantation and sent a blast of fire towards Lakim. Lakim darted to the side, evading the flames, and threw a knife at Shi'mir, who barely managed to deflect it with his staff.

Karl and Lakim engaged in a fierce sword fight, each taking turns attacking and defending. Sparks flew as their swords clashed again and again, sending dust and sand into the air.

Lakim managed to land a blow on Karl's shoulder, but Karl retaliated with a powerful strike that cut through Lakim's shirt and drew a thin line of blood across his chest.

Shi'mir, meanwhile, continued to hurl bolts of fire at Lakim, but he used the pillars and bookshelves for cover, darting in and out of the shadows to avoid the blasts.

As the fight wore on, Karl and Shi'mir began to tire. Lakim, however, seemed to be growing stronger, fueled by his hatred, and years of training.

With a final burst of energy, Lakim lunged at Karl, who managed to deflect the attack with his sword. Lakim stumbled, and Karl took advantage of the opportunity to strike.

With a quick movement, Karl thrust his sword towards Lakim's heart, but he was too fast. He ducked to the side and delivered a powerful shoulder to Karl's back, sending him crashing into a nearby bookshelf.

Shi'mir unleashed a torrent of fire at Lakim, but he dodged and weaved; he couldn't avoid all of the blasts. One hit him in the shoulder, and he stumbled backwards, his shirt singed by the flames.

Karl, regaining his footing, charged towards Lakim with his sword held high. Lakim, coming to the terms of being outnumbered and outmatched, made a final desperate move.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial of green liquid. With a flick of his wrist, he hurled the vial at Karl.

The vial shattered against Karl's chest, and a cloud of green smoke enveloped him. Karl felt a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea, and he stumbled backwards, dropping his sword.

Shi'mir chanted another incantation and sent a bolt of lightning towards Lakim.

Lakim dodged quickly, ducking behind a pillar in retreat, as the crackling of lightning just missed him.

Lakim ducked and rolled, and went into a slide, as he slid through a small broken hole in the side of the ancient library.

Shi'mir quickly turned to check on his friend Karl, who was leaning against a nearby pillar, clutching his head.

"You alright there?" Shi'mir asked, extending a hand to help Karl up.

Karl nodded weakly. "Yeah, I think so. What was that thing he threw at me?"

Shi'mir frowned in thought. "It looked like a gas potion, but those are pretty rare. I'm not entirely sure."

"Do you think Elwood might know something about it?" Karl asked.

"It's possible," Shi'mir replied, putting an arm around his friend to help him to the entrance hole. "It's worth a shot. We'll ask him when we get back to town."

As they rode into Ula'rae, Karl's head was still swimming from the gas potion that had been thrown at him. Shi'mir led the way, trying to keep Karl steady on his horse. They found Elwood in the crowded market, and he immediately noticed Karl's condition.

"Come with me," he said, leading them through the crowds and back to his house. Elwood disappeared into his workshop and emerged a few moments later with a small vial of yellow liquid. "This will counteract the effects of the potion," he said, handing it to Karl.

Karl took the vial gratefully and drank it down. Almost immediately, he felt the haze in his mind begin to clear.

Elwood examined the shattered pieces of the potion bottle. "This was definitely made by an amateur," he said, pointing to a leather collar attached to the neck of the bottle. "It's from Vil'naga, a third-rate alchemist at best."

Elwood went on to explain that Vil'naga had been a student at the library three years ago, but had nearly burned the whole building down with a botched potion. "Luckily, there were more skilled alchemists present who were able to contain the fire," Elwood said.

"After that incident, Vil'naga disappeared, and nobody knew where he had gone. By the looks of the markings and smell, my guess is from Wiredeep." Elwood finished, showing them a small tag attached to the leather collar.

Karl and Shi'mir listened intently to Elwood's explanation, their minds racing with the implications of what he had just told them.

Shi'mir's curiosity was piqued. "Isn't Wiredeep where Ula'rae gets their slaves from?" he asked.

Elwood nodded gravely. "It's a dark place, rumors say that many of the slaves there are taken against their will."

Karl chimed in, "We should consult with the council, they might know more about this."

Shi'mir had a different thought, "We need to report to Kaldonic back in Pastorfest."

Karl agreed, "You go to the guild, Shi'mir. I'll head to the council and gather more information. We'll meet in Pastorfest when I'm done."

Shi'mir nodded, "Be careful, Karl. This situation is more dangerous than we thought."

Chapter 6: Unbound

Lorin and Neville had been training with Valorie for weeks, determined to become skilled warriors like their mentor. They had been practicing their archery skills and were now moving onto stealth and agility exercises in the forest.

Valorie had set up a series of obstacles that they had to navigate quietly and efficiently. Neville and Lorin moved carefully through the forest, trying to stay as silent as possible. The leaves crunched softly under their feet as they attempted to stay unnoticed. In the distance, a deer was peacefully eating, unaware of their presence.

Neville silently crept closer and closer until suddenly an arrow whizzed past his ear, piercing into the nearby tree. The deer quickly ran off, startled by the sudden commotion.

"You almost hit me!" Neville yelled, still in shock from the close call with the arrow.

"I saw you the whole time, and so did that deer." Lorin replied in a snarky tone. "You're getting better though," she said, flashing a smirk at her friend.

Neville rubbed his ear, realizing that he had been too eager and careless. He was still young and had a lot to learn, but he was determined to improve his skills. Lorin was his friend, and he trusted her skills and guidance.

"Very good young ones," Valorie said, clapping her hands. "Neville, your recklessness almost cost you your life. If this were a real battle, you would have been pinned to that tree."

"I thought this was a hunting exercise," Neville replied.

"It was an exercise in agility and stealth," Valorie replied, putting her arm around Neville. "You both did very well, but Lorin's eyes are just extraordinarily keen."

Valorie then led them through a more elaborate training exercise, teaching them how to move silently and quickly through the forest. They practiced jumping over logs, climbing trees, and sneaking through bushes without making a sound. It was challenging, but both Neville and Lorin were determined to master the skills.

Finally, after several hours of training, Valorie announced that they had earned a seat at the barrack mess hall for their hard work. Neville and Lorin were elated, knowing that they were one step closer to becoming skilled warriors. They thanked Valorie for her guidance and headed off to celebrate their achievement.

As Neville and Lorin sprinted back to the small village they called home, they couldn't contain their excitement at the thought of finally earning their place at the barrack mess hall. Valorie's rigorous training had been challenging, but it had prepared them for the life of a warrior. It was a hard-earned skill that they were both proud of.

Upon arriving at the Irie, they were greeted by the sweet scent of duck and the lively chatter of the village warriors, the seer, and the villagers who lived there. The long table set for the whole village was already filled with the small party of people. The warriors were discussing the day's training, while the seer was lost in deep thought, perhaps pondering the future of the village. The patrons, on the other hand, were gossiping about the latest news from neighboring villages.

As Neville and Lorin took their seats at the table, they couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to dine alongside their fellow villagers. It was customary for the Myremites to eat together at one long table, symbolizing their unity as a community. The meal was simple but delicious, consisting of duck, roasted vegetables, and freshly baked bread.

Neville couldn't help but wonder what Cushack, the village cook, had prepared for them tonight. He had heard rumors of a special dish that Cushack had been working on for weeks, and he hoped that tonight would be the night that they would finally get to taste it.

As they ate, Neville and Lorin chatted with their fellow warriors, exchanging stories and discussing their training. They were proud of the progress they had made and were excited about their future as skilled warriors. They knew that they still had a long way to go, but they were determined to work hard and become the best warriors they could be.

After the meal, the villagers gathered around the fire, enjoying the warmth and comfort of each other's company. Neville and Lorin listened as the seer shared her visions of the future, and the warriors discussed their plans for the next day's training. It was a peaceful and contented moment, and Neville and Lorin felt a deep sense of belonging and purpose among their fellow villagers.

As the night wore on, and the fire burned low, Neville and Lorin retired to their small hut, exhausted but happy.

Neville had a restless night, tossing and turning in his sleep. He dreamt of a red fox, agile and nimble, darting through the forest with ease. Neville followed the fox, stalking it silently, hoping to catch it and hold it in his hands, feeling its soft fur against his skin. But before he could get close, he felt a playful kick to his ribs and woke up to see Lorin's grinning face.

"Good morning," Neville mumbled, still feeling sleepy.

Lorin chuckled. "Good morning, sleepy head," she said. "Valorie wants us to meet her at the cliffs at sunrise."

As the sun began to peek over the mountains in the east, Neville and Lorin got ready to meet Valorie for their training exercise. The crisp morning air was filled with the sweet scent of pine needles and damp earth, and the forest was alive with the sounds of birds chirping and leaves rustling in the breeze. Neville felt a sense of excitement and anticipation building up within him, wondering what Valorie had in store for them today.

The trek to the cliffs was a quiet one, with only the crunch of pine needles underfoot and the occasional rustle of branches breaking the silence. Neville and Lorin walked side by side, taking in the natural beauty around them, feeling invigorated by the fresh air and the early morning sun.

When they finally arrived at the cliffs, Lorin and Neville were taken aback by the breathtaking view before him. The sun had fully risen, casting a warm, golden glow across the ocean below. The waves crashed against the rocky shore, sending sprays of salty water into the air.

As Neville and Lorin stood at the edge of the cliff, taking in the stunning vista, Neville caught sight of a red fox darting across the rocks below. The fox moved with the same grace and agility

that Neville had witnessed in his dream. He wondered if it was a sign of things to come.

But before Neville could dwell on his thoughts, Valorie appeared from behind a boulder, greeting them with a warm smile.

Valorie stood before Neville and Lorin, her eyes sharp and focused as she assessed the two young ones. She could sense their eagerness to learn and to prove themselves, and she felt a sense of pride in their determination.

"Good morning," she said, her voice firm but encouraging. "Are you ready for your training exercise?"

Neville and Lorin nodded eagerly, their eyes shining with excitement. They were ready for whatever Valorie had in store for them.

Valorie stepped forward and looked at them both in turn. "Today, we will be working on your ability to counter your weight against the pull of the fall," she said. "This is a crucial skill that has the power to overwhelm any opponent."

She gestured towards a tall pine tree at the bottom of the cliff side. "Do you see that flag at the top?" she asked.

Neville and Lorin nodded, their eyes fixed on the flag waving gently in the breeze.

"You must retrieve that flag," Valorie said firmly. "First, climb safely down the cliff and inspect your surroundings. There are dangers below that you must be aware of. Then climb to the top and get the flag. The first one to do so gets the rest of the afternoon at the Irie."

Lorin and Neville looked at each other, their faces determined. They had both been training for this moment for weeks, and they were ready to put their skills to the test.

Without a word, they peered over the edge of the cliff, assessing the distance and the potential dangers below. They could see jagged rocks and turbulent waters, and they knew that one wrong move could mean disaster.

But they also knew that they had each other, and that they could rely on their training and their instincts to get them through.

With a deep breath, Lorin took the lead, carefully descending the cliff face, her fingers gripping the rough edges of the rocks with precision and care. Neville followed closely behind, his eyes fixed on Lorin's every move.

As they reached the bottom, they took a moment to catch their breath and assess their surroundings. They could see the flag waving in the distance, and they knew that the climb to the top would be treacherous.

Lorin was the first to leap into the air, she had been climbing trees since she was born. As she grabbed the first branch and flung herself high into the tree, landing gracefully on another branch.

"Hey wait up!" Cried Neville, as he leaped into the branches.

With a giggle, Lorin jumped onto another branch, her eyes went wide as the branch she had jumped to snapped from under her. Neville reached out his arm, in an attempt to help his friend, and she went crashing by him, grazing his hand for a second.

"Lorin" Neville yelled, as she landed into a Blight-weed bush. Thousands of tiny needles pierced her soft flesh sending toxins into her body, and putting the young girl in shock.

Neville quickly flung himself out of the tree, landing on the stone ground, and pulling Lorin out of the bush.

As Neville pulled Lorin out of the Blight-weed bush, he noticed that she was breathing heavily and her face was contorted in pain. He quickly realized that she had broken her arm in the fall.

"Lorin, can you hear me?" Neville asked urgently, as he gently cradled her injured arm. But Lorin was barely conscious, her breathing shallow and ragged.

Neville knew that he needed to act quickly to get Lorin the medical attention she needed. He carefully lifted her into his arms and started to make his way back up the cliff, moving as quickly as he could without jostling her broken arm too much.

As they climbed, Neville could feel Lorin's body growing colder and more limp in his arms. He knew that she was slipping into shock, and he needed to get her help fast.

Finally, they reached the top of the cliff, and Neville called out for Valorie to come to their aid. Within moments, Valorie was at Neville's side, assessing Lorin's condition and preparing to get her the medical attention she needed.

Neville watched anxiously as she worked to stabilize Lorin's condition, his heart pounding with fear and worry. He knew that Lorin was a tough and resilient girl, but he also knew that the fall and the shock could have serious consequences.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Valorie turned to Neville and gave him a small nod. "She's going to be okay," she said softly. "But we need to get her to the infirmary as soon as possible."

With a sense of relief flooding through him, Neville nodded and followed Valorie as she carefully carried Lorin to the infirmary. He knew that Lorin had been hurt, but he also knew that they had faced the danger together, and that they would continue to rely on each other as they trained to become the best warriors they could be.

After Valorie had brought Lorin to the infirmary, with Neville closely behind, she laid her gently on the small clay table at the center of the room. The nurse examined her closely, pulling out the tiny needles that were still embedded in Lorin's skin.

"This is Blight-weed," the nurse said, as she worked. "A very painful toxin that this plant releases. Poor girl, I know it hurts, but the pain will subside."

Lorin moaned in agony, her body writhing as the Blight-weed toxin coursed through her veins. The pain was almost unbearable, and she felt like she was being pricked by thousands of tiny needles.

"We don't have much lettuce left to ease her pain," the nurse said, looking at Valorie. "We need to find more."

Neville stepped forward, his face determined. "I can go find some," he said. "Wild lettuce grows near the mountains of Korath. I could be back by tomorrow evening."

Valorie hesitated. Neville was young, and the mountains were dangerous, particularly for someone inexperienced. She shook her head. "No, it's too risky," she said firmly. "We can find another way."

Neville's face fell. He felt responsible for Lorin's injuries, and he was determined to help. "But I want to help," he protested.

Valorie placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We appreciate your willingness to assist, Neville," she said. "But for now, it's best if you go back to your father. We'll take care of Lorin."

Neville's disappointment was palpable as he left the hut, feeling like he had let Lorin down.

"It's not your fault," Lorin whispered, trying to offer some comfort.

As Neville made his way back to his hut, he began to sulk. But then, an idea struck him. He lifted his head and broke into a sprint, his determination shining through. He knew he could find the wild lettuce and help Lorin, no matter what Valorie said.

"I won't give up," he muttered to himself as he reached his home, already planning his next move.

As Neville reached his hutt he pulled open the curtain, and found his father Ramhar bent over the fire cooking food.

"In a rush son?" Ramhar asked

"I hurt Lorin, and I must make it right." Neville said, grabbing some food for his journey.

Before Ramhar could say another word Neville had left. He ventured into the dark forest alone, scared but determined to help his friend.

After hours of hiking, Neville found himself by a small, tranquil stream that flowed gently towards a pond located at the base of the mountains in the east. He sat by the stream, mesmerized by the soothing sound of the water as it trickled over smooth rocks and pebbles. Neville couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment in the forest, surrounded by the beauty of nature. The gentle breeze rustled through the leaves above him, causing the canopy to sway softly, with twinkling stars peeking through the gaps.

As he lay there, Neville drifted off into a deep sleep. He found himself in a dream where the red fox appeared once again. As Neville followed the fox through the forest, he felt a sense of wonder and freedom. The fox seemed to lead him deeper into the woods, and Neville was happy to follow. He watched as the fox chased after a butterfly, its playful energy infectious. Neville laughed and felt his spirits lift.

But suddenly, the dream took a terrifying turn. Neville found himself at the edge of a sheer cliff, and he saw Lorin dangling precariously over the edge. Her fingers were tightly grasping Neville's hand, and he could feel the sweat forming in his palms. A strong gust of wind threatened to pull Lorin off the cliff, and Neville struggled to keep his balance.

Lorin's eyes were wide with fear, and she looked up at Neville with a desperate plea for help. Neville could see the terror in her eyes and knew that one wrong move could mean the end for both of them. He tried to pull Lorin up, but his strength was fading, and the wind was getting stronger.

The dream felt so real that Neville's heart raced, and he was gasping for air when he woke up. The image of Lorin hanging over the cliff stayed with him, and he couldn't shake the feeling that it held some significance. He wondered if it was just a random dream or if it was a warning of something to come.

Determined to help Lorin, Neville set out to find the elusive wild lettuce. Under the blazing sun, Neville scoured the forest floor. He was about to give up hope when a small red fox caught his eye. The creature was playfully chasing a mouse, jumping and rolling in the leaves. Neville felt a sudden jolt of recognition - this was the same fox from his dream.

He watched the fox with a mix of wonder and curiosity as it suddenly darted away into the underbrush. Without thinking, Neville followed, his heart pounding with excitement. He moved cautiously, using all the stealth and agility he had learned from Valorie.

The fox led him deeper into the forest until they reached a clearing. There, Neville saw a small cabin with a woman standing outside. The fox leaped into her arms.

Yanni Stood tall, her lean and muscular frame imposing yet graceful. Her cascading brown hair seemed to ripple down her shoulders like a gentle stream as the fox nuzzled into it. She wore a midnight blue cloak that fitted closely to her body, its fabric adorned with shimmering stars and swirling constellations.

When she turned to face Neville, her gaze was sharp and penetrating, sizing him up with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. Despite this initial wariness, Yanni's aura was welcoming and powerful, and Neville felt a sense of calmness in her presence.

"Who are you?" she asked in a sharp tone, sizing him up.

Neville hesitated, unsure of how to respond. "I'm sorry to intrude," he stammered. "I was just following the fox."

"His name is Kitsune, and you frightened him chasing him like you did!" The woman arched an eyebrow, eyeing him skeptically. "What do you want?"

Neville felt a sense of unease, but he pressed on. "I'm looking for wild lettuce for a friend's injuries," he explained, showing her the few leaves he had managed to gather.

The woman's expression softened slightly, and she gestured for him to follow her inside. The cabin was sparsely furnished, with a fire crackling in the hearth. The woman motioned for Neville to take a seat at the rough wooden table.

"My name is Yanni," she said, as she rummaged through a collection of herbs and tinctures. "I'm a healer of sorts."

Neville watched in awe as Yanni mixed the wild lettuce with other herbs, grinding them together in a mortar and pestle. She applied the resulting paste to a poultice and handed it to Neville.

"Apply this to your friend's injuries," she instructed. "It should ease the pain and promote healing."

"Did you make me have the dreams of the fox?" Neville asked, looking up from the poultice.

"No," she chuckled, "I do not possess the ability to shape someone's dreams." She said flatly. "Perhaps Kitsune was speaking to you through your dreams." She continued. "Galo shapes all things in Amon. Maybe it is our fates intertwined in some way."

In the presence of this woman, Neville found an unexpected tranquility settling within him. Despite his lack of prior interaction with humans, there was an inexplicable comfort emanating from her. The small cabin seemed to come alive with an enchanting aura, its very essence imbued with a soothing power that wrapped around him like a gentle embrace. Standing within the confines of this cozy abode, Neville felt an unspoken connection to the surroundings, a newfound sense of belonging that resonated within his soul.

Neville bowed gratefully to Yanni and took the poultice from her, carefully tucking it away. As he turned to leave, Kitsune brushed against his legs, prompting him to look down at her. Yanni Spoke up, "She will lead you home, dear. Our paths will cross again." Neville felt a pang of sadness at the thought of leaving the comforting presence of Yanni and Kitsune, but he knew his friend was in need. With a quick nod of thanks, he followed Kitsune out of the cabin and back into the woods.

Chapter 7: Misery

The sound of a whip cracking echoed through the air, as Edgar barked out orders to his slaves. A fresh group of newcomers had just arrived in Wiredeep, and were quickly being inspected and counted before being herded like livestock into a larger wagon to be transported and sold.

Edgar was meticulously recording the details of each new arrival as they passed by. However, his harshness knew no bounds when he came across two terrified elves who were clinging to each other for comfort. He callously tore them apart, assigning them to separate wagons without a second thought.

Sifar could not contain her tears as Talhun was forcibly taken from her embrace, and pulled into the thick mud, before being shoved into a nearby wagon. As the doors were shut, Talhun whispered his love to her, his hands wrapped tightly around the bars. With a heavy heart, Sifhar watched as her love was carted away to be sold.

"You're a pretty one now ain't ya" Edgar sneered, looking at Sifar with lecherous eyes, and inspecting her up and down. He then pushed her into the wagon.

She shifted deeper into the wagon trying to get as far away from this man as she could, knowing he was full of cruelty. "You wood elves grow attached to each other, but you'll get over that other one eventually." Edgar said, crawling into the wagon after her.

Sifar's eyes flashed with anger, but she tried to keep her voice steady. "I will never forget Talhun, and you will never break the bond of the Myremites."

Edgar let out a loud, cruel laugh. "Ha! The Myremites, what a joke! You'll learn to forget about that pathetic bond soon enough. Now, let's see what we have here." He moved closer to Sifhar, his hand brushing against her arm.

Sifhar recoiled from his touch, her eyes blazing with hatred. "Do not touch me!"

Edgar wrapped his calloused hand around Sifar's arm and grasped it tightly, his smirk turned into a snarl. "I can touch you whenever I want, slave. You belong to me now."

Sifar's heart sank as she realized the full extent of her situation. She was now a slave, at the mercy of this cruel and sadistic man. She prayed that Talhun was safe, and that somehow they would find a way to escape.

"Sir, all of the captives have been accounted for," a voice called out from outside the wagon, interrupting the tense moment.

Edgar glared at Sifar, his eyes promising retribution. "Very well. We'll continue this later." With that, he climbed out of the wagon, slamming the door behind him.

"Lock 'em up, we have a long trade route ahead" Edgar said, eyeing the man who had interrupted them.

The sound of hooves squelching in the mud filled the air as the caravan of wagons left Wiredeep. One carried Talhun north, while Edgar took Sifar west. The once bustling town now felt empty, as if it too mourned the loss of those taken away to a life of slavery.

Sifhar sat huddled in the cramped wagon, her heart heavy with grief and fear. She thought of Talhun and the promise he had whispered to her, to never forget their love and to fight for their freedom. She wondered if she would ever see him again.

As the wagon jolted forward, Sifar could hear the cries of the other slaves around her. Their wails filled the air and mixed with the sound of the creaking wheels and the thud of the hooves. Some of the slaves prayed, others cursed their captors, and a few simply sobbed.

Edgar rode on his horse beside the wagons, his face twisted with a cruel satisfaction. He enjoyed the power he held over these people, and relished the money he would make when he sold them. He looked over at Sifar, his eyes gleaming with malice.

"Don't worry, my pretty. You'll be making me a lot of money soon enough," he said, before spurring his horse forward.

The caravan of wagons continued on, the muddy road becoming increasingly difficult to navigate as they pushed further into the swamp. The wails of the jungle animals echoed in the distance, adding to the fear and anxiety of the slaves as the sun began to set. The dark shadows of the trees loomed overhead, casting an eerie veil over the entire caravan.

The men carrying lanterns tried their best to light the way, but their efforts were in vain as the darkness crept in. One of the men riding alongside Edgar spoke up, "We're getting close to Bellowin Marsh. We should make it there by tomorrow morning."

Edgar's eyes gleamed at the thought of potential profits. "First stop, hopefully the profits will start pouring in." he said, looking back at the slaves in the wagon. Sifar avoided his gaze, trying her best to remain unnoticed.

As they approached the town, Edgar signaled for the caravan to stop and make camp for the night. The men quickly began setting up tents, their tired faces illuminated by the flickering fire. The slaves were left in the wagons, with no blankets or provisions for the night. They huddled together, shivering in fear as the night air grew colder.

After finishing his meal, Edgar approached the wagon that held Sifar. "Perhaps it's time we continue what we started earlier," he sneered, his fingers running across the bars of the wagon. As he reached the backdoor, he caught the fear in her eyes. The moon cast shadows across her face as Edgar grinned menacingly and opened the door.

Talhun had been holding in his anger and frustration for days since being torn away from Sifar's side. His muscles ached from being cramped in the wagon for so long, and his bladder felt like it was about to burst.

"Stop the wagon," he demanded to the guards who were pulling it. "I need to relieve myself."

The guards exchanged a glance, unsure of what to do. They knew the risks of letting a slave out of their restraints, but they also couldn't ignore the basic needs of their captives.

Reluctantly, one of the guards unlocked the shackles on Talhun's feet, while the other held a bow at the ready, ready to shoot at the first sign of trouble.

Talhun stepped out of the wagon and quickly turned around, driving his elbow into the nose of his captor. The sound of bone splintered, and blood gushed from the guard's nose. The second guard drew his dagger, but before he could react, Talhun kicked him in the groin, causing him to double over in pain.

Talhun knew he had only a brief moment of freedom, so he started running as fast as he could. He could hear the guards shouting and cursing behind him, but he didn't stop. He ran until his lungs burned and his legs felt like they were about to give out.

But his escape was short-lived. The second guard had recovered from the pain and was now hot on Talhun's heels. In a desperate move, he drew his dagger and drove it deep into Talhun's back. Talhun fell to the ground, his vision fading as he thought about Sifar and their daughter.

As Talhun took his last breaths, the guards caught up to him, their faces twisted in rage. They kicked him repeatedly until he was no longer moving, and then dragged his lifeless body back to the wagon. The other slaves looked on in horror, realizing the consequences of any attempt to escape.

Edgar emerged from the wagon, a satisfied grin on his face as he adjusted his trousers. Sifar lay inside, huddled in a corner with tears streaming down her face. She felt so violated and helpless, her body aching from the rough treatment she had received.

One of the men in Edgar's camp watched in silence, his expression hidden in the shadows. He had been a slave himself once, but had managed to escape and join the band of slavers. He felt guilty for not doing more to help the slaves, but he knew he was in no position to stand up against Edgar and his henchmen.

The next morning, while unlocking the wagon, the same man caught Sifar's eye. He gave her a small nod, a gesture of sympathy and support that she appreciated. "Move along," he said gruffly to the slavers, as he watched the slaves being pulled out of the wagon.

The slaves were a motley crew, a mix of races and genders, all bound together by their fate as captives of the slavers. They were led through the market, Edgar shouting prices like an auctioneer, as if they were mere merchandise. The slaves walked slowly, their heads bowed in shame and fear, knowing that they were being paraded in front of strangers like cattle.

Men cracked whips, their sharp crack echoing through the market, as the slaves were herded past the busy people browsing the goods on display. Some people looked away, unable to bear the sight of the slaves being treated so inhumanely. Others jeered and laughed, reveling in the misery of the slaves. Sifar felt a deep sense of shame and humiliation, as she was forced to walk past these strangers who treated her like a piece of property.

As the day wore on, the heat of the sun beat down on the slaves as they were paraded through the town, shackled and exposed to the jeers of the crowd. Sifar tried to keep her head down, avoiding the gaze of the onlookers, but she could feel their eyes on her. She was relieved when they were finally loaded back into the wagon, ready to be taken to Ula'rae.

As the man locked the door, he leaned in close to Sifar and whispered, "I'm sorry." Sifar looked at him, surprised. "What do you have to be sorry for?" she asked.

The man hesitated for a moment before replying, "For what he's doing to you. For what they're doing to all of you." He slipped her a small knife, and Sifar's heart raced with hope. "Be careful," he finished before taking his place in the front of the wagon.

Sifar clutched the knife tightly. "Thank you," she whispered back, grateful for the small act of kindness.

She waited anxiously, hoping for an opportunity to put the knife to use. That opportunity came sooner than she expected, as the drunken figure of Edgar stumbled into view. Sifar tensed up, gripping the knife tighter as he made his way towards the back of the wagon.

The door creaked open, and Sifar sprang into action, leaping out of the darkness and pushing Edgar back out of the wagon. She slashed wildly with the knife, landing a deep cut across his hand as he reached for her.

Edgar screamed in pain and fury, lashing out with a backhand that sent Sifar crashing to the ground, unconscious. "Wretched bitch," he muttered as he picked her up and tossed her back into the wagon. He took the knife for himself, locking the door behind him as he eyed Sifar with a mixture of anger and desire.

Sifar awoke to the sound of men barking orders and the snap of whips as the wagons began their journey to Ula'rae. The road ahead was long and arduous.

As the wagon crossed the bridge out of Bellowin, Edgar appeared beside them on his horse. Sifar refused to look at him, but she noticed the bloodied cloth wrapped around his hand as he pulled out the knife from his pocket. He chuckled and flicked his wrist, sending the blade sailing over the wagon and into the stream below with a splash. Sifar tensed at the sound, unsure of what to expect next.

As they left the marsh behind, the trees grew fewer and fewer until they were swallowed up by the vast desert landscape. The hot sun beat down mercilessly on the wagons, casting wavering mirages across the barren sand. Sifar's throat was dry, and she could feel the dehydration setting in. As they passed by various ruins, remnants of long-forgotten civilizations, she couldn't help but wonder what stories they held.

She watched as Edgar rode ahead, his face wrapped tightly in cloth to protect against the blowing sand. He gestured and shouted orders that Sifar couldn't make out over the sound of the wagons.

Suddenly, a cry from one of the slaves in the wagon next to her broke through the noise. "Please, give us a drink of water!" the voice pleaded.

Edgar's horse jerked around as he turned to face the wagon. He slung a canteen towards the slaves, but unfortunately, the cap was off and most of the water spilled onto the wagon floor. The desperate slaves leaped onto the canteen, trying to salvage what little water remained.

"Pathetic," Edgar sneered with a cruel laugh. He rode back to the front of the wagon, leaving the slaves to their meager water supply

The wagon rumbled along the dusty path, the heat of the desert sun beating down upon them relentlessly. As they drew closer to Ula'rae, the city seemed to shimmer in the distance, as if it was a mirage. But as they approached, the city's beauty became undeniable.

The towering walls of Ula'rae glimmered in the sunlight, adorned with intricate carvings and mosaics that seemed to tell stories of the city's history. Sifar couldn't help but marvel at the sight, her eyes tracing the winding paths that led up to the great gates of the city.

As they neared the gates, Sifar could see the guards, their armor polished and gleaming, as they finished lighting the braziers that lined the walls. The guard at the front of the line peered into their wagon.

"More slaves from the swamp," he observed, eyeing the group of tired and ragged slaves in the wagon. "Seven hundred," he said, addressing Edgar.

"These slaves have not been put up for auction," replied Edgar, his voice cool and authoritative.

"Seven hundred to get in," said the guard. "Guild members have been meddling in the city."

Edgar sighed, the weight of the situation evident on his face. With a nod, he signaled to the man sitting in the wagon, who produced a small pouch of gold and tossed it to the guard.

The gates of Ula'rae creaked open, and the wagons rolled through, leaving the harsh desert behind and entering the glittering city

The wagons rumbled to a stop near the bustling market, and Sifar couldn't help but notice the grim scene unfolding before her. Women of all races, including Elves and humans, were being paraded in front of the windows of a nearby building, offering themselves for sale.

Edgar dismounted his horse and made his way towards the entrance, where an older elvish woman was standing guard. He handed her a pouch of gold, and she summoned a group of young girls from within the establishment. They bounced out of the doorway, giggling and laughing as they approached the wagons.

The man with the keys struggled to find the right one, his face went flush as one of the girls brushed her hand against his cheek and giggled softly. Finally, he unlocked the gate, and the girls led the slaves inside the brothel.

Behind closed doors, the girls tended to the slaves, bathing them and applying makeup to the women. They also provided services to the men who were willing. They were fed, and given beds to sleep in for comfort.

Ula'rae was a city where the rich and powerful ruled with an iron fist, and where slavery was the norm. The people of the city, the majority of whom were poor, had to toil day and night to make a living, while the wealthy elite indulged in debauchery and hedonism. The council, made up of the most influential and powerful individuals in the city, had never outlawed slavery, and it was a common sight to see slaves being bought and sold in the streets.

To make matters worse, the slaves were not allowed to be without their masters inside the city, making it impossible for them to escape their fate. It was all justified in the name of religion, as the council claimed that it was the will of their god, Galo, that the unworthy and unfaithful should serve the faithful. This twisted interpretation of the religious doctrine had turned into the greedy and corrupt slavery that ran rampant in the city, with many slaves being forced to do the bidding of their masters and subjected to unspeakable horrors.

Lakim emerged from the dusty hole in the library, his burned shirt stained with fresh blood. As he brushed off the sand from his trousers, he glanced around at the abandoned streets, his senses on high alert. Keeping to the shadows of the ancient, crumbling buildings, he moved with a quick and silent grace until he reached the outskirts of the city. There, he spotted his trusted horse tied to a sturdy palm tree, and he wasted no time mounting up and heading west towards his destination: the vibrant city of Ula'rae.

The dark silhouette of Lakim and his horse cast long shadows on the sandy landscape, leaving a trail of dust behind them as they traveled through the endless desert. Despite the sweltering heat and the thirst that gnawed at his throat, Lakim pushed on, determined to reach his destination.

Finally, after hours of riding, Lakim arrived at Ula'rae, exhausted and in need of rest. He dismounted his horse and tied it up outside the tavern, then made his way inside. Lakim scanned the room, searching for any potential threats, but it seemed to be a quiet and uneventful night. He made his way to the bar and ordered a tankard of ale from the bartender. As he took a sip, he noticed Edgar walking through the doors, his presence immediately raising Lakim's guard.

Edgar strode towards him, and Lakim could feel his tension rising. "I take it you took care of our problem," Edgar said, his voice laced with a note of expectation.

Lakim sighed heavily, his exhaustion and frustration evident in his voice. "There were complications," he replied, his eyes avoiding Edgar's gaze.

"What do you mean by complications?" Edgar snarled, his voice dripping with menace.

Lakim thought about his next words. From the tone in Edgars voice he was likely to slit his throat right there. "They are two trained guild members, not some meager scholars. And my potion was supposed to knock the big one out, but it didn't." Lakim spat back.

"You must stay with me here while the slaves are being sold." Edgar said contemplating his next move. "Meet me at the brothel tomorrow" Edgar said, turning to leave the establishment. He wasn't about to fraternize with the likes of Lakim, a peasant compared to what Edgar thought of himself.

Chapter 8: Journey North

"But we were attacked by a potion-wielding assailant who we believe was working for someone involved in the slave trade," Karl explained his frustration building as he sat across from the council of elders.

"Surely this concerns the safety of the entire realm, not just the guild," he added.

The council sat stoically, their faces giving away no hint of their thoughts.

"You have no authority to challenge the order of the elves, human," one of the council elders finally spoke up.

"But this is not just about challenging authority," Karl insisted. "It's about protecting innocent lives and stopping a heinous practice."

"Leave the matters of the slave trade to those who wish to deal in it. This meeting is adjourned," another council elder stated abruptly, rising from his seat.

Karl stormed out of the council building, his mind racing with frustration and anger at the council's dismissive attitude towards the slave trade. He couldn't believe that they were willing to turn a blind eye to the suffering of so many people.

As he made his way towards the market, Karl felt a burning determination rising within him. He knew he couldn't just stand idly by and watch as innocent people were being exploited and sold into slavery.

With a firm resolve, he set his sights on the road ahead, determined to gather the supplies he needed and make his way back to the guild in Pastorfest.

As Karl neared the busy market, he saw the cart of Elwood, and approached him saying "The council is blind to the trade, they give no care for the safety of people, as long as they can turn a profit." His frustration evident.

"I was afraid of that." remarked Elwood, with a sigh.

"I do have news that may be beneficial though," he continued. "That wagon there, arrived yesterday, I've been watching them all day, and it looks like they brought slaves"

Karl looked towards the wagon, noticing the mud caked on the side, just then the figure of Lakim exited the brothel heading towards the wagon.

"Elwood! That there is the man who attacked Shi'mir and I!" Karl expressed, pointing toward the slender figure at the wagon.

Lakim sauntered across the street where he met with Edgar, who was leaning against the wagon.

As Karl crept close he stayed out of sight as to remain unnoticed, and eavesdropped on the conversation between the two, he felt a knot tighten in his stomach. These were the men responsible for the attack on him and his companion, and now he knew they were involved in the slave trade.

He knew he needed to act fast. He quickly retreated to a nearby alleyway, where he pulled out a small notepad and scribbled down everything he had heard.

Once he was satisfied that he had captured all the important details, he made his way back to Elwood's cart.

"We need to get out of here," he said, with urgency in his voice. "But first, I need to get this information to Shi'mir in Pastorfest. Can you help me?"

Elwood nodded solemnly. "Of course, my friend. I'll do whatever I can to help."

With that, Karl and Elwood set off towards Pastorfest, each step bringing them closer to the confrontation that was sure to come.

Shi'mir walked along the illustrious hall adorned with countless trophies, each representing the remarkable achievements and triumphs of past guild members. Amidst the turmoil that surrounded them, Shi'mir couldn't help but wonder if he and Karl would ever secure a place among those coveted spots of glory.

With determination, Shi'mir proceeded through the corridor until he reached Kaldonic's office. He rapped on the solid oak door, waiting expectantly for a response. No answer came. Growing slightly impatient, Shi'mir knocked again, this time with more force.

A muffled voice emanated from behind the door. "You may enter." Shi'mir pushed open the door and stepped inside, finding Kaldonic engrossed in a stack of parchments and scrolls. Sensing Shi'mir's presence, Kaldonic looked up and greeted him. "Ah, Shi'mir! I didn't anticipate your arrival. What brings you here? Have you and Karl completed your task in Ula'rae?"

Kaldonic rose from his chair and circled around his desk, his curiosity piqued. Shi'mir's face revealed a mixture of frustration and concern as he began to explain. "We encountered unexpected complications in Ula'rae," Shi'mir confessed. "Karl and I stumbled upon some ancient ruins and decided to explore. Within those ruins, we discovered a potent incantation." Shi'mir retrieved the parchment they had retrieved from the depths of the ruins and handed it to Kaldonic. "However, while we were exploring, a mysterious mercenary ambushed us. We know very little about him."

Shi'mir shifted his stance, his gaze fixated on the window overlooking the bustling city. "We were unable to gather much information about the mercenary or discern his intentions, Karl is meeting with the council to gather more information."

Kaldonic frowned at Shi'mir's words. "If not much is known about this attacker the guild cannot provide assistance, besides the King is requesting assistance from the guild and that is more pressing at this time."

End of act 1

King Hammond sat on his throne, listening carefully to the report from his squire. His expression remained calm and thoughtful as he heard about the troubles facing their men in Wimborne village due to the interference of the people of the wood.

The squire finished his report, bowing deeply to show his respect for the King. "Your majesty, I've read about the people of the wood, and they are a small few. Easily dispatched," Rowan, the King's trusted advisor, interjected.

The King's eyes narrowed slightly as he turned his attention to Rowan. "That is not the way we do things in this kingdom, Rowan. We must always seek a peaceful resolution before resorting to force."

"But your majesty, we are already behind on the demand at the harbor. We cannot afford to let this continue," Rowan protested.

King Hammond stood up from his throne, his voice firm and authoritative. "I understand the urgency of the situation, but we will not sacrifice the well-being of the people of the wood for our own gain. We must slow our operations until we can establish the fort north of Korath and find a way to make peace with them."

The squire bowed again, acknowledging the King's decision. "As you wish, your majesty."

As the king went about his daily duties, he patiently listened to the reports of his trusted squires regarding the matters concerning the various holds of his kingdom. However, in the midst of these mundane proceedings, a rather peculiar figure appeared before him. Despite his diminutive stature, Bardin commanded an undeniable presence. He wore a suit of intricately crafted armor that shimmered in the light, and his long red beard, which reached down to his knees, was neatly braided.

"Greetings, Your Highness," Bardin said with a deep bow, his beard sweeping the floor . "I am Prince Bardin, son of Dwarven King Baldin, I come before you seeking aid for my kingdom. We are under siege from goblins and trolls, and our people are in dire need of assistance."

King Hammond leaned forward in his seat, intrigued by the dwarf's words. He had always been fascinated by the stories of the dwarves and their legendary craftsmanship.

"You have my attention, Bardin," Hammond said. "But tell me, why does the kingdom of Valfrost seek aid now? Have you not been able to defend yourselves in the past?"

Bardin's face darkened at the question. "My father has ruled our kingdom for too long," he said with a scowl. "He is stubborn and set in his ways. But I am determined to bring change and build alliances. I believe that together, our kingdoms can defeat these monsters once and for all."

The king was impressed by Bardin's passion and conviction. He could see the fire in the dwarf's eyes and knew that he was a force to be reckoned with.

"I will consider your request, Bardin," the king said. "But before I make any promises, I must consult with my advisors and the guild. We will see what aid we can provide for your people."

Bardin nodded, his face alight with hope. "I understand, Your Highness. I am grateful for your consideration. May our kingdoms have the chance to stand strong together." With another bow Bardin turned and exited the grand hall. With great hope he headed to the Tavern to await King Hammonds decision.

Bardin left the grand castle, his mood lifted as he pondered the proposition the king had offered. With each step, he paid no mind to the whispers and stares from the onlookers, for his determination eclipsed any doubts others might have had about his stature.

As he pushed open the ornate doors of The Shrinking Dragon, a warm wave of camaraderie washed over him. Inside, he found his trusted companions, Thane and Thallen, engrossed in a tale that had them both laughing uproariously. The lively tavern echoed with their mirth, momentarily lifting the weight of their kingdom's troubles.

Bardin's entrance silenced the room as all eyes turned towards the dwarf prince. Thane and Thallen, noticing their cousin's arrival, hastily rose to their feet. Thane, his eyes still sparkling with laughter, beamed at Bardin.

"Ah, Bardin! Just the dwarf we needed to complete this merry gathering," Thane exclaimed, clapping Bardin on the back. "What news from the grand hall? Did King Hammond grant us his aid?"

Bardin's expression transformed into one of cautious optimism. "The king is considering our plea," he replied, his voice filled with hope. "He will consult with his advisors and guild before reaching a decision. But I sense a glimmer of possibility, my dear cousins."

Thallen, the more reserved of the two, nodded approvingly. "It is no small feat to capture the king's attention, Bardin. Your words must have left a lasting impression. We shall wait here with bated breath for his decision."

Bardin felt a surge of gratitude for his companions' support. "Indeed, my cousins. Our fate and that of Valfrost hang in the balance. But together, we shall remain steadfast. Until then, let us celebrate the hope that fills our hearts and revel in each other's company."

The tavern was still alive and bustling with laughter as Shi'mir made his way through the door, his mind burdened by thoughts of Kaldonic's dismissal of the attack in Ula'rae. However, his troubled thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the raucous commotion caused by a group of dwarves at the center of the establishment.

Curiosity piqued, Shi'mir weaved through the crowd, his gaze fixed on the animated storyteller standing atop a table. The dwarf regaled the enthralled audience with a gripping tale of a troll attack on one of their villages. Every word carried weight, as the dwarf's voice boomed with excitement.

"As Bardin leaped from the rooftop," the dwarf exclaimed, his voice resonating with the fervor of battle, "he drove his darksteel sword deep into the troll's back!" With a flourish, he mimicked a powerful swing through the air, his imaginary sword slashing downwards. "Slicing all the way down, until the troll was nearly in two!" The dwarf's laughter thundered through the tavern, matching the gasps and cheers of the crowd.

Amidst the captivated audience, a voice called out, breaking the spell. "If your city is truly in peril," a concerned member of the crowd shouted, "why have you come to Pasterfest?"

"We seek a-.." began Thallen, but Bardin swiftly interjected, "Ale, from the kingdom of Pastorfest," finishing Thallen's sentence, while casting a reproachful glance at him.

"Mind your tongue, Thallen," Bardin chastised the young dwarf under his breath. "We did not journey here to seek aid from mere tavern folk!"

Catching wind of their conversation, Shi'mir approached the dwarves, speaking softly. "I don't believe it's Ale you're truly seeking, my friend," he said, leaning down next to Bardin.

The red-bearded dwarf looked up at the elf, the weight of his kingdom evident in his tired eyes. Shi'mir pressed further, his curiosity unabated. "What is the true purpose of the dwarves' presence here?"

Under the cover of the night, Karl and Elwood hastened their journey, their eagerness to reach Pasterfest palpable. They were eager to find Shi'mir and relay the council's response, along with the information they had gathered in Ula'rae.

In an attempt to alleviate the tension that weighed heavily on their minds, Elwood broke the silence. "The scent of the orchard is truly magnificent," he remarked.

Karl nodded in agreement, grateful for the respite. "Indeed, it brings a sense of peace to know that there are still places untouched by turmoil," he replied, savoring the aroma of fresh apples with a deep breath.

As Karl and Elwood approached the stables, Karl's heart raced with nervous anticipation. He caught sight of Elsa, the stable girl from his previous visit, her flowing blonde hair shimmering in the dim light. Recognizing Karl's face, she beamed with delight and waved at their return.

Attempting to stay hidden behind Elwood, Karl found it futile as Elsa's eyes locked onto him as if he were the only one there.

Unable to contain his nerves any longer, Karl stepped forward, stammering, "Well... hello, my lady."

Elsa's smile widened, clearly smitten by his presence. "It's good to have the brave city soldiers home safe," she replied, taking hold of Karl's horse's reins and leading them to the tying post.

Karl, still fumbling with his words, managed to respond, "The journey was arduous, but the guild has trained us well." He dismounted his horse, feeling his palms growing sweaty.

Elsa giggled, her eyes fixed on Karl. "What is your name, or should I just call you Soldier?" she playfully inquired, batting her eyelashes.

Karl, mustering his courage, replied with a hint of a smile, "It's, uh... Karl Josson, ma'am." He slowly removed his gloves, his hands trembling slightly. "And what is yours, my dear?" he asked, trying to mask his nervousness.

Meanwhile, Elwood discreetly slipped away, a mischievous grin on his face, as he entered Pasterfest, leaving Karl to face his newfound connection with Elsa alone.

Karl, his heart still fluttering from the exchange with Elsa, began to unpack his horse, relieving the faithful beast of its saddle. Elsa lingered nearby, brushing the horse's coat as Karl worked. The intoxicating scent of honey and lavender enveloped him as her arm almost brushed against his cheek. Karl's mind spun, completely consumed by the enchanting presence of this woman. They finished caring for the horses, and as Karl picked up his pack, he couldn't help but steal one last glance at Elsa.

With a farewell, they reluctantly parted ways, each going their separate direction. Karl found Elwood just inside the city, already making his way to the Inn to secure a bed for the night. "I need to find Shi'mir. He's likely at the guild barracks," Karl declared, determination resurfacing as he focused on the task at hand.

Elwood obliged, and thanked Karl for bringing him to the city. "We'll meet here tomorrow" Karl said as he began to head towards the guild. As Karl continued his brisk pace towards the guild, he couldn't help his mind wander back to the stable lady, her aromas still lingering with him. He thought to himself, how could he pursue her without being overbearing.

As Karl stepped into the barracks, the flickering candlelight revealed Shi'mir in deep concentration, seated cross-legged on the floor. Candles encircled him, casting an ethereal glow upon his focused visage. In front of him lay a copy of the ancient spell, sourced from the hidden library.

Exhausted, Karl made his way to his bed, unfastening his boots and massaging his weary feet. However, the scent of honey and lavender still lingered, a gentle reminder of Elsa and their brief encounter. Breaking the silence, Karl finally spoke, interrupting Shi'mir's meditation.

"The council provided no assistance and denied any involvement," he revealed, his voice filled with disappointment.

Shi'mir, his eyes still closed in deep concentration, responded, "Kaldonic's response was expected. It seems we must take matters into our own hands for now," he concluded, a hint of determination in his tone.

Karl, removing his heavy leather armor, continued sharing his findings, hoping to contribute to their cause. "I did uncover a lead, though. I saw the man who attacked us outside a brothel before I left," he disclosed, his voice tinged with intrigue.

Shi'mir's eyes snapped open, his interest piqued. "Bold of him to return to the city knowing we were stationed there," he remarked.

"He met with another man who appeared to be overseeing a shipment of slaves," Karl added, his curiosity growing as he moved closer to Shi'mir, reaching for one of the candles to illuminate the room.

Shi'mir sighed, slightly annoyed by Karl's candle acquisition, but closed his eyes once more. "We may be reassigned soon anyway," he divulged, a note of uncertainty in his voice. "There are newcomers at the tavern whose presence you may find intriguing."

As the anticipation swelled within Karl, he recognized the need to rest before delving further into their investigation. With newfound information and the promise of fresh leads, they both settled into their respective tasks, before retiring for the night. Their minds brimming with the mysteries that lay ahead.

Chapter 9: Treatery

Kaldonic sat in silence behind his desk, his elbows planted firmly on the polished hardwood, and his head supported by his knuckles. Karl sat before him, recounting the details of their recent assault.

"If the council denies any involvement, then it suggests this was an isolated incident," Kaldonic remarked, addressing the two young men seated opposite him.

"But sir, this incident is links to the slave trade, now we know it originats from Wiredeep," Karl persisted, sensing the guild master's reluctance to pursue further investigations.

"Wiredeep lies beyond the kingdom's jurisdiction," Kaldonic replied, his tone unwavering. "Moreover, the king has requested our assistance in a more pressing matter." He reclined back in his chair, conveying his final decision.

Karl and Shi'mir left the guild master's office, their frustration evident. "This is absurd, Shi'mir," Karl vented, his irritation reaching its peak. "We must reach Wiredeep and uncover the truth behind our attack."

"We will, Karl," Shi'mir assured, placing a comforting hand on his comrade's shoulder. "But we've just returned from a demanding mission. Let us take some time to rest and relish our accomplishments."

Karl smiled, grateful for his friend's understanding. Shi'mir was right—they deserved a respite after their latest endeavor. "Thank you, Shi'mir," Karl acknowledged. "Perhaps a leisurely stroll will help clear my mind." With that, his thoughts shifted to Elsa

Karl found it increasingly difficult to distract himself from thoughts of the stable girl. Determined to see her, he made his way through the bustling market, observing the myriad of stalls and storefronts that adorned the streets. The air was filled with the murmur of conversations and the hum of activity.

Pausing for a moment, Karl's gaze was drawn to a vibrant display of flowers at one of the stalls. He couldn't resist acquiring a single purple perennial, its beauty captivating him. Clutching the delicate blossom in his hand, he resumed his journey, his anticipation mounting.

As the market faded behind him, the horse stable came into view just outside the city gates. Karl's heart raced, his nerves consuming him, as he approached the magnificent animals.

Elsa was engrossed in combing the long mane of a horse when she heard Karl's voice from behind.

"A splendid day for indulging in the company of horses," Karl said, clearing his throat.

Startled, Elsa turned around, her face lighting up with a radiant smile that sent a flurry of butterflies through Karl's stomach. "These creatures bring me such joy," she replied warmly.

"They are intelligent and loyal, true companions," Karl said, gently resting his hand on the horse's shoulder.

Elsa's eyes fell upon the purple flower trembling slightly in Karl's hand. "What a lovely flower," she remarked, her cheeks tinged with a delicate blush.

"While wandering through the market, I caught sight of it, and its beauty reminded me of you," Karl managed to say, offering her the flower.

Grateful, Elsa accepted the gift, her eyes gleaming. "Thank you. Purple happens to be my favorite."

"I was wondering if you would do me the honor of joining me for a walk," Karl asked, his voice tinged with nervousness.

Elsa's face lit up with delight. "That would be absolutely wonderful."

As they strolled through the bustling city, Karl shared tales of his life before joining the guild, while Elsa revealed the enchanting secrets of her father's orchard situated just south of the city.

Elsa painted a vivid picture of the magnificent rows of trees, adorned with apples of every hue. She described the tireless efforts of the workers, diligently plucking the fruits and sending them off to cities across the kingdom. However, what truly set the orchard apart was the remarkable honey it produced. Elsa's father had discovered that placing beehives near the orchard resulted in honey with a subtly fruity aroma.

"This must be Silvertree Farms," Karl marveled, his eyes wide with admiration. The couple had paused beneath a majestic tree in the heart of a nearby park. A gentle stream flowed nearby, its soothing sound adding to the tranquility of their moment on the grassy banks.

"We used to receive weekly shipments from there. The mead crafted from that honey is truly exceptional," Karl praised.

Elsa giggled, a delightful sound that danced on the breeze. "My father has a true passion for beekeeping," she shared, her eyes sparkling with affection.

"During my childhood, I would wander amidst the endless rows of apple trees," Elsa reminisced, her voice brimming with excitement.

"We played games of tag, my sisters and I, and indulged in the sweet succulence of those apples," she continued, regaling Karl with cherished memories of her idyllic days on the farm.

"It sounds like a truly marvelous way of life," Karl interjected, captivated by Elsa's tales.

Under the tree's protective shade, Karl and Elsa found solace in each other's company, weaving together their stories and dreams, their hearts entwined like the branches of the trees surrounding them.

Engrossed in their conversation, time slipped away unnoticed, and the sun began its descent, casting a gentle orange glow upon Elsa's face. Karl found himself captivated by her enchanting presence, realizing in that moment that he wanted to spend the rest of his days with this remarkable woman.

"It's getting late, and I should head home," Elsa said, breaking the spell momentarily.

Karl's heart skipped a beat as he mustered the courage to ask, "Can I see you again?"

A warm smile graced Elsa's lips as she replied, "I would be absolutely delighted."

"Tomorrow? Same place? Dinner?" Karl asked, his words tumbling out in a jumble of excitement.

Elsa's laughter danced through the air, a delightful melody that echoed their shared joy. "The next day, I'll meet you here," she said, rising gracefully and beginning her journey back toward the city gates.

Karl watched her depart, his eyes fixed on her graceful stride until she was a mere speck in the distance. Finally, he reclined onto the soft grass, basking in the tranquil sounds of the stream.

When he eventually rose to his feet, the sun had fully descended, and his legs felt slightly stiff from the extended period of sitting. A wide grin stretched across Karl's face as he marveled at the fact that he had spent an entire day engrossed in conversation with this incredible woman. With a skip in his step, Karl made his way to the Shrinking Dragon Inn

As Karl pushed open the heavy wooden door, he was greeted by a wave of laughter and lively music emanating from within the inn. His eyes immediately fell upon Shi'mir, and Elwood, leaning casually against a post, fully immersed in the entertainment unfolding before them.

Perched upon a sturdy table, a small dwarf with a long brown beard commanded the attention of the crowd, while another dwarf passionately banged on a drum, setting the rhythm for the tale being spun. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation as Thane, the storyteller, weaved a mesmerizing narrative.

"And as Barakin lifted his fathers fallen sword, he raised it triumphantly high," Thane proclaimed, his voice filled with theatricality, mimicking the action with his own darksteel sword. "The united dwarven tribes rallied together and drove Balgor and his allies deep into the far-reaching mountains."

"Barakin emerged as the unifying force, the true leader of our people. He forged a mighty alliance and erected the grand forge at the heart of our kingdom," He continued, his words capturing the imagination of all who listened.

Karl found himself captivated by the tale unfolding before him, his attention completely absorbed by the skilled storyteller. However, a voice from behind him broke the spell, uttering a polite "Excuse me." Karl turned to find no one there, but a persistent "Excuse me" followed, prompting a small dwarf to squeeze past him, offering apologies. Karl quickly shifted aside, making way for the unexpected visitor.

With a gracious gesture, Shi'mir extended his arm towards the dwarf, presenting Bardin as if introducing a dignitary of great importance. Bardin, adorned in regal attire befitting his princely status, stood tall despite his modest stature. His beard, carefully groomed and adorned with intricate braids, cascaded down his chest, giving him an air of wisdom and authority.

A warm smile played upon Bardin's lips as he extended a hand towards Karl, the glimmer of recognition evident in his eyes. "Ah, Karl, it is a pleasure to meet you," he greeted with a deep, resonant voice that commanded respect.

Karl, momentarily taken aback by the honor of meeting a prince, quickly composed himself and reached out, clasping Bardin's hand firmly. "The pleasure is mine, Prince Bardin," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity.

Bardin's eyes sparkled with curiosity as he studied Karl for a brief moment. "Shi'mir speaks highly of you," he commented, his tone tinged with intrigue. "A man of skill and honor, it seems."

Karl's cheeks flushed with a mixture of pride and humility. "I am honored by your words, Prince Bardin. I strive to be deserving of such praise."

Shi'mir couldn't contain his amusement, bursting into a hearty laugh and playfully slapping Karl on the back. "Well-deserved praise, my friend! Karl here is a warrior of immense valor and an unwavering ally."

Perplexed, Karl inquired, "What is the meaning of this, Shi'mir?"

With a mischievous grin, Shi'mir leaned in closer, whispering, "The prince seeks aid from the king. You should hear his tale."

Intrigued by the mention of a prince in need, Karl shifted his focus to Bardin, who stood with an air of authority, beckoning them to a nearby table. "Please, friends, let us continue this conversation over there," Bardin warmly invited, pointing to the gathering where Thane and Thallen were engrossed in laughter.

"Karl," Bardin began, catching his attention, "let me share with you the remarkable conversational prowess of dwarves." However, Karl's concentration was momentarily diverted as he overheard Thane bellowing Thorin the Great's battle cry at the top of his lungs, echoing throughout the surroundings.

Shi'mir's voice came from behind, reminding Karl, "Try to focus on Bardin."

Bardin persisted, "The effects of dwarven conversation are not malicious. Our magic has the power to hold your attention for as long as we need." Meanwhile, Thane leaped onto the table, wielding a knife. "The frost troll we encountered was as colossal as a towering building."

"For many years, my kingdom has suffered from the incessant threat of goblins and their ferocious creatures," Bardin expressed. Karl noticed that he had become completely captivated by Bardin's words.

As Thane leapt across the table, jabbing his dagger with theatrical flair, Karl observed the audience enthralled by his performance. Yet, Karl's ears were tuned solely to Bardin's voice.

"Long ago, the dwarves were divided into tribes, constantly plagued by internal conflicts," Bardin began, delving into a historical account. "My three times great grandfather was Barakin Overkin. In the Great War, he united the dwarves under one banner. Our glorious city of Valtor was ravaged, and countless dwarven lives were lost."

Bardin shifted uncomfortably in his seat, a tinge of nervousness in his tone. "My father, driven by pride, refuses to seek assistance," he continued. "He longs to emulate his father's footsteps." Bardin's expression turned somber. "But now, the goblins have launched another assault upon our gates. This time, their forces outnumber us, and my stubborn father would rather witness our kingdom's downfall than ask for help."

"The people have started questioning my father's rightful claim to the throne," Bardin confessed, his voice filled with a mixture of frustration and concern. "Dwarves have formed tribes, desperately trying to protect their own belongings." Pausing to take a long swig from his tankard, he continued, "Forging an alliance with you would instill a renewed sense of hope among my people. Finally, I believe, we can eradicate the goblin menace once and for all." Bardin concluded, his determination shining through his eyes.

As the effects of Bardin's magic gradually waned, Karl's head cleared, and the noise of the crowd, along with Thorin's captivating presence, returned to the forefront. Karl suddenly remembered Shi'mir's presence beside him. However, reality fully snapped back into focus as he locked eyes with the dwarf sitting across from him.

"Bardin, your tale resonates deeply within me," Karl finally spoke, his voice carrying a mix of empathy and understanding. "I sense immense sorrow and foreboding in your words." Pausing to choose his next words carefully, he continued, "Shi'mir, what are your thoughts on the challenges faced by Valfrost?"

Shi'mir's response was laced with a hint of pride as he replied, "I believe it is our guild's duty to protect the people, regardless of the circumstances."

After a contemplative moment, Karl made his decision known, his voice filled with resolve. "We would consider it an honor to journey to Valfrost and establish a bond with your people,"catching a nod from Shimir he declared "We shall willingly offer our assistance and join your army in the battle against the goblin menace."

"Ah ha!" Bardin cheered, raising his tankard. "You surely will be honored in the halls of the dwarves" he said offering a toast to the newfound friendship.

The night wore on, as Thane and Thallen continued to marvel the audience; stories of the dwarves with grandiose fashion

When morning arrived, Shi'mir roused Karl, who groaned, nursing a pounding headache from the generous amounts of ale he had consumed. "Bardin is already summoning us to meet with the king," Shi'mir informed him.

"Those dwarves sure know how to drink," Karl mumbled, massaging his throbbing temples.

"Did you even realize they were dwarves?" Shi'mir chuckled mischievously before replying, "Of course they can handle their drink! I wouldn't be surprised if they had a hand in inventing ale itself!"

Once Karl and Shi'mir had packed their belongings and readied themselves for an audience with King Hammond, they stepped out of the guild hall and into the bustling streets of Pastorfest.

As the two entered the majestic castle, a familiar face appeared before them. It was Elwood, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Ah, my friends!" he exclaimed, a wide smile spreading across his face. "The tales from last night were truly captivating. This city is brimming with anticipation and wonder."

"Well met, Elwood," Shi'mir greeted warmly, extending a hand in friendship. Karl followed suit, shaking Elwood's hand with genuine pleasure.

"I shall join you later," Elwood announced, his tone filled with determination. "I need to rendezvous with the treasurer to discuss opening a shop here in Pastorfest." With a nod and a wave, he swiftly departed, striding down the grand corridor that led to the treasurer's office.

Watching Elwood go, Karl couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for his friend's entrepreneurial spirit. "He's always finding new opportunities," Karl remarked, a hint of pride in his voice. "Let's make our way to the throne room now, Shi'mir. King Hammond awaits.".

Bardin and Kaldonic had already entered into a conversation with King Hammond, accompanied by Karl and Shimir as they were escorted into the grand throne room of the palace. "Bardin has informed me that two members of our guild have volunteered to provide assistance to the kingdom of Valfrost," Kaldonic stated, glancing over to where Karl and Shimir were approaching. "And here they are!" Bardin exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement.

"Ah, Karl and Shimir, it's good to have you with us," King Hammond addressed the pair, standing up to acknowledge them. "Prince Bardin, Kaldonic, and I were just discussing the plans for your journey to Valfrost," he continued. "Indeed, Your Majesty," Shi'mir replied, "Karl and I spoke to the dwarven Prince and extended our hand to aid him in whatever way we can." Shi'mir approached and bowed respectfully, with Karl following suit and adding, "We believe it is our guild's duty to protect the people of Amon, regardless of their background." After completing their bows, they stood before the group, radiating with pride.

As the group departed from Pastorfest's keep, they engaged in hushed conversations and murmurs, deliberating the arrangements and provisions needed for their ambitious journey. Bardin, brimming with anticipation, interjected, "We should depart at the break of dawn tomorrow. The sooner we reach Valfrost, the sooner we can confront those bothersome goblins and their fierce creatures."

Unbeknownst to the others, Karl overheard the exchanges between Shimir and Kaldonic behind him. However, his mind was consumed by one thought—Elsa. How would he break the news to her about his departure, and more importantly, how could he express his true feelings for her? He wondered if writing her a heartfelt love letter upon their return to the guild would express such feelings.

The group spent the entire day bustling about, gathering supplies and making preparations for their journey to Valfrost. As they settled into the barracks that evening, Karl found himself pondering how to inform Elsa about his summons by the dwarven prince. Seated at his small desk, he retrieved a quill pen from the inkwell and began to write, reciting his words aloud to himself.

"Dear Elsa, your captivating fragrance lingers…" he read, only to crumple the paper in frustration and discard it. He started afresh, writing, "To the enchanting lady of the horses…" but crumpled the parchment once again. "That doesn't feel right either," he muttered, feeling his imagination falter.

Shi'mir, finishing up with his gear bag, noticed Karl's struggle. "Need a hand?" he offered, extending his assistance.

"I need to get this letter to Elsa," Karl pleaded, passing the quill to Shi'mir. "But I can't find the right words."

"Let me give it a try," Shi'mir said, accepting the quill with a nod. "How would you like to begin?"

"Start by mentioning her scent," Karl suggested, gazing out the window toward the horse stables. "Describe its intoxicating allure, as beautiful as she is."

Shi'mir, understanding Karl's intent, opted not to write the description of her scent. Instead, he addressed the beautiful stable girl more simply, saying, "My Dearest Elsa, how I long to be by your side…"

Chapter 10: Love and Mysticism

As Elwood strode down the grand hall towards the treasurer's office, he couldn't help but marvel at the magnificent stone walls of the castle. The craftsmanship and grandeur were truly awe-inspiring. However, his thoughts were interrupted by a guard stationed by the doorway.

"Halt," the guard commanded, blocking Elwood's path. "Treasurer Rowan is currently unavailable for appointments."

Surprised but undeterred, Elwood responded, "I had a scheduled meeting with him today regarding the sale of my wares in the city."

Just then, the door to the treasurer's office swung open, revealing a man standing before Elwood. The man was nearly as tall as Elwood, his hair white and his robes resplendent in shades of red, white, and gold. He wore round glasses that gleamed with a touch of gold.

"You must be the new merchant from Ula'rae," the man addressed Elwood. "I am Rowan Haldgar, treasurer to the king."

Elwood extended his hand for a handshake, but Rowan regarded it with disdain. Feeling a bit embarrassed, Elwood quickly withdrew his hand, realizing the gesture was not welcomed. "My name is Elwood," he introduced himself. "I specialize in brewing, and crafting tonics."

Rowan let out a weary sigh. "Another potion maker," he muttered. "There are already numerous competitors in that trade here in the city. Do you truly believe you can outshine the existing competition?"

With confidence, Elwood replied, "I have dedicated my entire life to training under the scholars in Ula'rae, sir. My family has a long-standing tradition of serving the council with our meticulously crafted recipes."

Rowan considered Elwood's words for a moment. "Very well," he finally conceded. "However, there are regulations you must adhere to in order to maintain your permit." And with that, Rowan proceeded to enlighten Elwood about the various practices and responsibilities associated with selling wares in the city, ensuring that Elwood was well-informed and prepared for the journey ahead.

"Down the hallway, on the left, you'll find a clerk who will finalize your permit," Rowan directed before swiftly retreating into his office, not allowing Elwood a chance to respond.

Surprised by the treasurer's brusqueness, Elwood glanced at the guard stationed by the door. The guard shrugged nonchalantly, indicating that Elwood should proceed down the hall.

Nevertheless, with the permit situation resolved, Elwood walked down the corridor toward the clerk. The lady seated behind the counter greeted him with warmth, her friendly smile putting him at ease.

"Good morning," she greeted him politely as he approached.

"Hello," Elwood responded. "Treasurer Rowan mentioned I could acquire a permit here to sell my potions."

"Absolutely. Let me prepare the necessary paperwork. Please have a seat, and I'll be back shortly," she replied, gesturing toward a chair near the counter.

The lady disappeared through a nearby door, leaving Elwood waiting longer than he had anticipated. As the moments passed, his anticipation grew, but so did his nerves.

Finally, the clerk emerged from the door, clutching a substantial stack of papers. "Okay," she said, returning to the counter. "All of this needs to be filled out. We require detailed records of each potion you intend to sell, including the ingredients used in your recipes. Please consult the list of prohibited items while making your selection. Failure to comply with these terms will result in the revocation of your permit until the prohibited items are removed from your inventory."

Feeling a little overwhelmed, Elwood accepted the sizable stack of parchments, his hands slightly trembling as he fumbled with the papers. He mustered a smile, expressing gratitude to the clerk for her assistance, and embarked on his journey back to the tavern. Ready to commence the task of filling out the papers, he anticipated the opportunity to begin selling his potions.

Elwood sat at the small desk in his room at the inn, he could just hear the busy noise of the tavern below as he read over the long list of prohibited ingredients written down. "This is half of my inventory" he thought to himself looking at the list.

With a sigh he stood from the desk to stretch his legs, "I need to go home, and reorganize my ingredients" with a resolve Elwood gathered his belongings and left the inn, determined to abide by the regulations set forth, he headed back to Ula'rae.

Karl awoke with the gentle embrace of the rising sun, finding Shi'mir already equipped with his gear, standing by the window as the first rays of light filtered through, drinking a mug of kaffee tea. The urgency in Shi'mir's voice cut through Karl's drowsiness.

"We must leave soon," declared Shi'mir to his bleary-eyed companion. "The company is already gathering at the east gate."

Realizing the preciousness of time, Karl pondered aloud, "No time to lose, but how can I get this letter to Elsa?"

"We'll find a way," Shi'mir reassured, his pack slung over his shoulder as he exited the room. "Get ready, I'll meet you outside."

Stepping into the morning sun, Karl felt the lingering coolness in the air. His gaze naturally gravitated towards the west gate, where Elsa was known to await.

A sudden inspiration struck Karl like lightning. "The tree," he murmured to himself. He deftly folded the letter, inscribing 'For Elsa' on the front. Side by side with Shi'mir, they embarked on their journey toward the park just beyond the Guild grounds.

Approaching the designated tree, Karl cast a cautious glance around, ensuring no prying eyes were present. Retrieving a small dagger from his hip, he delicately fastened the letter to the tree's trunk. As Karl stood there, captivated by the missive hanging on the tree, Shi'mir provided a comforting touch to his shoulder.

"With that accomplished, let us now make our way to Valfrost," Shi'mir gently suggested, his voice brimming with reassurance. Karl's gaze lingered on the letter, feeling a blend of determination and remorse. His heart felt torn by his duty to the guild, and oath to the Dwarven Prince, but also disappointed at not knowing when he would return to his beautiful stable girl.

By the time Karl and Shi'mir arrived, the company was already mounted and prepared for the journey ahead.

"Shi'mir, Karl, you've finally graced us with your presence," Thane announced with a hint of playful reproach.

Thallen tossing a coin to his brother, and whispered with a smirk "this time"

"We were starting to wonder if you had a change of heart," He added, a mischievous smile on his face.

As they approached, Bardin rode his horse over to greet them.

" Our apologies, Your Highness," Shi'mir said, bowing deeply to the prince. "We needed to gather a few remaining items."

Karl quickly interjected, "No, it was my fault, sir. I tend to grow restless the night before a long journey."

Bardin's laughter rang through the air. "No worries, my friends. Let's not waste any more daylight. It's time to set off."

As they rode north, crossing the vast plains of Colestrand, Karl's gaze was drawn to the majestic mountains that loomed in the distance. Their snow-capped peaks seemed to touch the sky, invoking a sense of awe and anticipation within him. Just beyond the plains, a dense wall of trees stretched as far as the eye could see, marking the beginning of an ancient forest.

Thane and Thallen, true to their lively nature, took it upon themselves to entertain the group during the journey. Their powerful voices carried the tunes of dwarven songs, filling the air with melodic tales of bravery, adventure, and the rich history of their people. The rhythmic melodies and harmonious voices created a sense of camaraderie among the travelers, bringing warmth and joy to their hearts as they ventured forth into the unknown.

In the lonely depths we wander,

On a road untrodden, we meander.

Valfrost, our mountain home so grand,

The humble abode of the dwarven band.

Through darkness and shadows, we traverse,

With sturdy hearts and spirits so diverse.

Forging our path with hammers strong,

In search of treasures, we journey along.

In caverns deep, our anvils resound,

As we shape the earth, our craft renowned.

With axes sharp and hammers true,

We build our halls, steadfast and true.

Oh, the legends of our kin so bold,

From ancient tales and sagas untold.

In caverns vast, where gold gleams bright,

We delve deep into the starless night.

In Valfrost's embrace, we find our peace,

Where echoes of hammers and songs don't cease.

We honor our ancestors, brave and strong,

In this mountain home where we belong.

So raise your voices, ye dwarven kin,

Sing of our homeland, the rock and the din.

Valfrost's glory forever shall endure,

As our songs echo through ages pure.

As the group ventured deeper into the wooded region, the harmonious songs of Thane and Thallen continued to uplift their spirits. Following the winding dirt path that meandered through the dense forest, they were accompanied by the gentle melody that resonated from a small stream, its rippling waters harmonizing with the singers' voices.

The road led long through the forest, as the mountains rose up around them. Soon the cliffs became too incredibly steep to climb.

"Stop that singing" Bardin suddenly demanded, the spell broken by a noise coming from afar. Bringing his horse to a halt. He attuned his ears, trying to determine the location of the disturbance.

"There's something around that bend. Karl, come with me," Bardin's voice trembled with growing concern.

Karl exchanged a glance of uncertainty with Shi'mir as he dismounted his horse, aligning himself beside Bardin, who had already dismounted and was tending to his steed.

"Shi'mir, you stay behind with Thane and Thallen. We'll move through the thicket to see what's happening," Bardin commanded in a hushed tone.

Silently, they crept through the dense foliage, weaving their way among trees and bushes until they stumbled upon a large boulder jutting out of the ground. "This should provide a good vantage point," the dwarf remarked to Karl. "Come, let's climb up and take a look."

With agility, Bardin pulled his small frame onto the rock, motioning for Karl to follow suit. As they reached the top, a chilling sight unfolded before their eyes.

A pack of sabercats had laid claim to a fresh kill, scattering it's unrecognizable carcass across the forest floor. The felines, consumed by their savage instincts, tore apart the remains with frenzied intensity.

Karl found himself captivated by these majestic creatures, recognizing them as the white feline he had once seen in the guild's hall of trophies. Driven by curiosity, he began to crawl closer, seeking a better view. But his actions were abruptly halted as a firm grip seized his arm.

"Are you a fool? There are too many of them. If they see you, it will spell death for us all," Bardin whispered through gritted teeth, his hand trembling as it clung to Karl's arm.

Realizing the gravity of the situation, Karl nodded. "You're right, but how can we maneuver around them without being noticed?" he asked, acknowledging his friend's unease.

Bardin's eyes darted around, searching for a solution. "I know of another path. Quickly, let's return to the group and warn them," he urged, releasing his grip on Karl's arm and initiating his descent from the rocky perch.

Karl stole one last glance at the pack of sabercats, nearly twenty beasts engrossed in the gory scene. Some were gray, others black, but one in particular stood out—a snow-white sabercat playfully interacting with her cub. Their eyes seemed to lock for a fleeting moment before Karl swiftly took cover behind the boulder, sensing the sabercat's gaze upon him.

Bardin, already on the ground, signaled for Karl to follow suit. Carefully, Karl descended the stone, mindful of the perilous presence nearby. "Those creatures are dangerous. Many dwarves have lost their lives to Sabercats over the years," Bardin cautioned as they retraced their steps back to the waiting group.

"Sabercats," Bardin addressed the group, his voice laced with urgency. "There appeared to be about twenty of them."

Thane tightened his grip on his brother's arm, haunted by nightmares of dwarves being snatched away by these beasts. The image of Talen being dragged off by sabercats lingered in his mind, fueling his deep-seated fear.

"Quick, let's put distance between us and them. We must abandon the path and follow the mountain to the North Valley," Bardin proclaimed, mounting his horse and galloping away, the others following in his wake.

The canopy of trees overhead provided a sheltering embrace, the sunlight filtering through the foliage in dappled patterns. The sounds of their horses' hooves on the forest floor merged with the fading melodies of Thane and Thallen's songs, guiding them further into the unknown. The forest seemed to close ranks behind them, erasing any trace of their presence and granting them a temporary respite.

"We should be safer for now," Bardin called out, his voice carrying a hint of relief and caution. "But we must stay vigilant. The path to Valfrost may be treacherous, but we shall find our way."

As they rode, the haunting melodies sung by Thane and Thallen enveloped the group once more, casting a mystical spell that lifted their spirits and carried them deeper into the enchanted forest. The trees seemed to bend and sway in rhythm with the music, their branches reaching out as if beckoning them forward.

Before long, they stumbled across a clearing blanketed in pristine snow. Sunlight pierced through the gaps in the canopy above, creating a dazzling display of sparkling light. A new dirt path, freshly marked with footprints, led through the snow and led to a quaint cabin nestled at the far end of the clearing.

As they cautiously made their way across the glistening expanse, the sun began its descent, casting a warm glow and painting the surroundings in hues of pink and purple. The serenity of the scene was interrupted by the presence of two men standing outside the cabin. Clad in matching white robes and sporting long beards, they exuded an air of wisdom and tranquility.

"We seek refuge for the night," Karl said, dismounting his horse and approaching the men with a mixture of curiosity and gratitude. "We hope we are not intruding upon your space."

The man closest to Karl smiled warmly. "No intrusion at all," he replied. "Please, come inside and find respite."

The group exchanged glances, a shared sense of relief washing over them at the welcoming demeanor of the two men. With that reassurance, they dismounted their horses and followed Karl's lead.

"We have a stable with fresh hay for your steeds," the other man offered, gesturing toward a small lean-to near the cabin. "They shall be well cared for."

The inviting aroma of supper wafted through the air, tantalizing their senses. The weariness of their journey was momentarily forgotten as the promise of a warm meal beckoned them closer.

"We had just finished preparing supper when we saw you coming up the path," one of the men explained, his voice filled with genuine hospitality. "Please, join us. Share in our humble feast."

Grateful for the invitation, the group hurried their horses to the lean-to, ensuring they were comfortable and well-fed before joining their hosts inside the small cabin. As they entered, a cozy warmth enveloped them, and the flickering flames of the fireplace danced merrily, casting a gentle glow upon the room.

"What are the names of our visitors?" one of the men asked, his eyes filled with genuine curiosity, as the gang slowly funneled into the house.

"My name is Karl Josson," Karl said, a sense of humility and gratitude evident in his voice. He gestured toward his companion. "And this is my brother-in-arms, Shi'mir."

The man nodded, his eyes lingering on each member of the group with a keen interest.

"And I am Bardin Orehamer, Prince of Valfrost" Bardin announced, a regal air surrounding him as he introduced himself, bowing respectfully to the two men. "Heir to the dwarven throne."

Thane and Thallen stepped forward, their presence emanating strength and camaraderie. "Thane," one of them said, his voice resonating with pride. "And Thallen," added the other, his eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and wisdom.

"Thank you for inviting us to your beautiful home," Bardin continued, his voice filled with sincerity. "This valley has long been lost to us dwarves, and it brings me great joy to see it inhabited by kind-hearted people like yourselves."

The two men exchanged a glance, a shared sense of appreciation evident in their smiles. "Thank you, Prince Bardin," one of them replied, his voice warm and genuine. "It is a pleasure to meet all of you. My name is David, and this is my partner Merlin."

The room filled with a sense of acceptance and newfound friendship as the introductions were made. The cabin, with its walls adorned with handmade tapestries and shelves lined with books, seemed to welcome them into its embrace. The crackling fire cast dancing shadows upon the cozy space, creating an atmosphere of magic and tranquility.

As the group settled around a wooden table, the inviting aroma of a hearty stew filled the air, its savory scent mingling with the comforting crackle of logs in the fireplace.

"What is your quest here?" David asked, his gaze sincere as he took a seat at the table, Merlin by his side.

Karl savored each spoonful of stew, briefly pausing to contemplate his response. The warmth of the cabin and the flavors of the meal enveloped him, fostering a sense of comfort amidst the uncertainties they faced. Finally, he spoke, his words carrying the weight of their recent encounter.

"We crossed paths with a formidable pack of Sabercats on our journey to Valfrost," Karl revealed, his voice reflecting both the danger and awe that filled their encounter.

David nodded, his eyes reflecting an understanding of the perils that lurked in the wild. "Sabercats, magnificent creatures indeed. Their migrations often dictate the flow of life in these lands," he acknowledged, his voice tinged with a respect for the intricate balance of nature.

Karl's determination shone brightly as his gaze met David's. "Indeed, our mission goes beyond mere survival. We also seek to forge an enduring alliance with the dwarves, uniting our strengths to safeguard the kingdom of Pastorfest," he declared, underscoring their broader purpose and vision.

The conversation flowed, curiosity sparking within Thallen as he leaned forward, eager to learn more about their hosts' secluded way of life. Thane, meanwhile, savored each bite of his meal with unwavering gusto.

"Why do you choose to live in such seclusion?" Thallen inquired, genuinely interested in their hosts' way of life.

David's hand found its way into Merlin's, their fingers intertwining. "Our way of life is one of peace," he replied, his voice carrying a sense of contentment. "Over the years, we have formed a deep bond, learning from one another and from the mystical woods that surround us. We have honed our knowledge of magical practices and herbal techniques to assist travelers in need, although we rarely receive visitors."

Shamir's curiosity got the better of him, and he pressed further. "But I thought humans were incapable of wielding magic. What are you, then?"

David's gentle smile held a touch of mystery. "We don't claim to be human," he said with certainty. "Our origin remains unknown to us, but we simply are."

Thane, ever observant, chimed in. "So you are wizards, then?"

Merlin chuckled softly, shaking his head. "We prefer the term herbalists. We have discovered that nature's remedies can be as potent, if not more so, than spells and incantations," he explained. "The power of the forests has revealed visions to us, and we have endeavored to harness that power here on our property."

Bardin, captivated by their words, interjected. "That is truly marvelous," he said, a genuine appreciation shining in his eyes.

"It is marvelous, Merlin discovered a portal growing in the garden just outside." Daniel said, "We couldn't see through the portal, so Merlin shaped the tree growing around it into a beautiful bench."

His eyes drifted toward Merlin in admiration. "Now when you sit on the bench, we see visions." Daniel finished.

Chapter 11: Friendship Triumphs

As Neville quickly followed Kitsune through the dense undergrowth, the urgency in each step led him closer to familiar territory. The forest seemed alive with hidden secrets, whispered only in the rustling leaves crunching beneath the soles of his bare feet.

Ancient trees towered above, their branches reaching out like gnarled fingers, guarding forgotten tales. Neville pushed forward, he could feel his people's connection to the woods. He felt a deep bond to this mystical realm, as if the trees themselves welcomed him into their embrace.

With each step, Neville's senses heightened, attuned to the subtle shifts in the air and the unseen creatures that stirred in the underbrush. He could almost taste the earthy scent of moss and hear the gentle trickling of nearby streams.

The sun cast fleeting patterns on the forest floor, its rays filtering through the thick foliage, as each footfall led them closer to home. Neville couldn't help but be captivated by the ethereal beauty surrounding him, almost losing himself in the enchantment of the wild.

When they approached the outskirts of the village, Kitsune halted, causing Neville to stop in his tracks. He turned to face the fox, a mixture of gratitude and sadness in his eyes. It was as if Neville knew that Kitsune's role as his guide had come to an end. With a gentle nuzzle against his leg, the fox bid him farewell and disappeared into the woods.

A moment lingered, Neville rooted in place. A blend of emotions swelled within him, a mixture of sweetness and sorrow intertwining. Gratitude filled him, a warm tide, for the guidance Kitsune had provided and the profound bond they had forged. Shaking off his reverie, Neville refocused his attention on Lorin. With renewed purpose, he turned towards the village. The anticipation of reuniting with Lorin and delivering the healing remedy pushed him forward, his steps quickening his pace.

The familiar sights and sounds of the village greeted Neville as he finally arrived. Relief washed over him as he spotted the familiar structure of the Irie. Stepping inside, he saw his father, Ramhar, sitting by Lorin's bedside, his face etched with concern. Neville's breath caught for a moment, the weariness of his journey evident in his voice as he softly murmured, "Father."

Ramhar turned, his eyes filled with relief and worry as he saw Neville. "My son, where have you been? We have been worried." Ramhar inquired, his voice filled with a father's love and concern. His gaze shifted to Lorin, who lay peacefully asleep.

"Father, I have gathered a healing paste for Lorin." He explained, determination shining through. As Ramhar's focus shifted back to him, Neville reached into his pocket, retrieving the poultice. He extended it toward his father.

Ramhar's gaze fixated on Neville and the poultice. Silent questions lingered in the air, unspoken but felt deeply. "Where did you find that?" he asked, his voice tinged with a mix of hope and uncertainty.

Before Neville could provide an answer, a faint restlessness rippled through Lorin's sleep. She began fidgeting, her brows furrowing in discomfort. Concern surged through Neville's veins, overriding any other thought.

"Later father. Lorin needs help first." Neville urgently pleaded.

Ramhar's actions were swift and purposeful as he handed the paste to the young elven healer. Neville shifted himself to the side, giving them room. With delicate precision, she applied the soothing remedy to Lorin's skin. In an undertone of heartfelt solace, Neville's whispered words filled the room, an offering of comfort to his dearest friend. It was as if the air held its collective breath, awaiting the poultice's mystical magic to weave its spell.

Lorin's restlessness eased as she fell back into her slumber, Her breathing slowed, and pulse returned to normal. "I believe she will be ok, We should let her rest now." The elf healer said.

With a sigh of relief Neville walked to the side of the room where a chair stood, and sat down. The enigmatic mysteries of Yanni and Kitsune, once captivating, now faded into the background as the urgency of the present moment took precedence.

Ramhar approached his son's side, placing a comforting hand on Neville's shoulder. "Neville?" Ramhar began. Neville cut in, "Father, this is entirely my fault! If I had caught her as she was falling, none of this would have happened." Tears streamed down Neville's face as he tried to suppress his guilt-laden sobs.

"Neville, you've exerted all your efforts to help her. Let the magic take over now. She'll regain her strength soon." Ramhar started to leave the Irie.

"I'd like to stay with Lorin tonight," Neville expressed, stepping away from the chair to stand by Lorin's bedside. Ramhar glanced back, a smile emerging. "I'm certain your presence would comfort her, son. I'm glad you made it home safe." And with that, he finished and left the medical area of the Irie.

Neville resumed his seat, interrupted by a faint whisper that caught his attention. He shifted towards the bed where Lorin lay, noticing her determined effort to open her eyes and gaze at him. Despite her struggle to speak, all she managed was a whispered "Neville" before her voice trailed off. Neville gently reached for Lorin's hand, offering solace. He softly uttered, "Get some rest, Lorin. I'll be here." Neville comforted. As she eased back into slumber.

Neville grumbled as he stretched his limbs upon awakening. He suddenly realized he had dozed off, finding himself halfway across Lorin's lap and slouched against the bed, knees resting on the dirt floor. As he looked up, he met Lorin's gaze, now sitting upright in bed and staring at him. "What are you up to, silly?" Curiosity and playfulness danced in Lorin's voice. Neville snapped out of his slumber. "Lorin! You're awake. How do you feel?"

Lorin raised herself up in her bed. "I'm feeling better, what happened? Did we finish the training?" Neville's expression shifted to concern; he realized she had no memory of falling into the Blight-weed or him carrying her back to the village. "Lorin, you fell into a patch of Blight-weed. It poisoned you and left you unable to move. I brought you back to my father for assistance."

Neville's words seemed to trigger a flicker of realization in Lorin's eyes. She gingerly touched her hand to her chest, feeling a lingering discomfort. "Blight-weed? that explains the stinging sensation," she murmured, piecing together some fragments of memory.

Neville nodded, his worry still evident. "Yes, you were in a lot of pain. But father managed to treat you with an antidote. You've been resting since then."

Lorin's lips curved into a smile. "I guess I won't be living that down anytime soon, will I? Falling into Blight-weed during training"

Neville chuckled softly, a mixture of relief and warmth in his eyes. "Yeah, some great climber you are.'

As they shared a lighthearted moment, Lorin's playfulness returned. "Well, I'm glad you were there to rescue me, even if I don't remember it. Thank you, Neville."

He nodded, his gaze softening. "Of course. I'll always be there for you."

Their connection felt stronger in that moment, the training and challenges only bringing them closer together.

Lorin settled back against the pillows, allowing herself to rest once again. Neville stood up from his seat, his attention now shifting to the tasks that needed him.

"I'll let you rest," he said, a reassuring smile on his face. "If you need anything, just call for me."

Lorin nodded appreciatively, her eyes already growing heavy as fatigue started to catch up with her once more. "Thanks again, Neville."

Stepping away from Lorin's bedside, Neville ventured into the embrace of the warm daylight spilling over the village. The place buzzed with life, and he knew there were tasks to be accomplished.

His first destination was the kitchen, where he hoped to lend a hand to Cushack, the village cook. "If it isn't Neville, the village hero," boomed Cushack's hearty greeting as Neville entered the tent. The aroma of the evening's meal hung in the air, a mouthwatering invitation.

With humility coloring his cheeks, Neville replied, "I just want to be of help."

"If it's work you're after, then work you shall have," Cushack declared, tossing a rag over his shoulder.

With a friendly grin, he said, "The Smiths have stashed all the berries from today's harvest behind the training shack. Could you fetch them for me?"

Neville agreed and stepped out of the kitchen tent, setting his course toward the training shack. As he approached, voices emanated from inside. He hid in a nearby bush, straining to catch the conversation.

"Our scouts have picked up news of humans in the water city, discussing plans for expansion to the north," Ramher, Neville's father, was saying. His tone carried a weight of concern. "We fear what that might entail for our people."

"Will they pass through our village? Is our safety at risk?" a voice tinged with worry inquired.

"We're uncertain about their intentions. We've always been foragers and gatherers," another voice chimed in, a fellow seer whose identity escaped Neville's knowledge.

Ramher paused thoughtfully before he continued. "We have two younglings under Valorie's tutelage. They could be a beacon of hope in our defense. Allow Valorie to train your young ones, and we may build a small army."

"I can shape them into formidable warriors," Valorie chimed in, determination resonating in her voice. "Provide me with the people, and we can stand as a united force."

Neville's heart raced as he digested the weighty conversation he had overheard. Hastily, he retreated from his concealed vantage point and hurried back to Cushack's kitchen, where he deposited the basket of berries onto the table.

"Thanks for the berries," Cushack acknowledged, his attention already returning to his culinary endeavors. "Aren't you keen on helping with the pie, lad?"

Neville hesitated for a moment, his mind still grappling with the implications of what he had just heard. "Maybe later," he finally replied, his voice betraying his distraction. "I need to check on Lorin first." With that, he turned and left the tent.

As Neville entered the small room, he was greeted by the sight of Lorin, gingerly on her feet. The elf nurse stood nearby, offering assistance and guidance on how to protect Lorin's broken arm. The arm was crudely wrapped in bandages, with a brace peeking through, and it looked rather uncomfortable to Neville's eyes.

"That doesn't look too comfortable," he observed, his concern evident as he glanced at his friend's injured arm.

Lorin sighed, her voice tinged with frustration. "It itches," she admitted, her gaze shifting to Neville as he stood in the doorway. "But whatever you gave me has already made me feel much better. I should be ready to get back to training soon," she declared, her childlike enthusiasm shining brightly despite the discomfort.

The nurse, however, interjected with a gentle but stern tone. "Not too soon, young lady. Your arm needs proper rest," she scolded, emphasizing the importance of allowing Lorin's injury to heal.

"We can't allow you to leave until we're absolutely certain that the toxins from the blight-weed have fully left your system," she continued, her nurturing demeanor asserting the need for patience and thorough recovery.

A look of disappointment etched its way across Lorin's features. "Do I really need to be stuck in here any longer?" she asked, her desire to return to her training evident.

"Only for another day, my dear. Then you can get back to playing," the nurse reassured her before leading Lorin back to her bed.

Neville watched as the nurse said her farewell to Lorin and departed the room. He couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that had been gnawing at him since he overheard the conversation between his father and the seer.

"Lorin, I think something is wrong," Neville began, his voice carrying a note of concern. "I overheard my father talking to one of the seers. They say that Humans are in the northern forest."

"Humans don't belong here," Lorin replied, her tone firm. "Isn't that what we're training for? To protect our woods from the humans?" She asked, her words tinged with the memories of her last encounter with humans.

"That's what it seems. And perhaps we'll have more warriors to train with, by the sound of it," Neville responded. "But I need to go now. I'll explain when I get back, but I have to find someone who might be able to help."

With that, he made a hasty exit, leaving Lorin to ponder the unsettling news and what it might mean for their people.

The next morning, Neville packed his gear and departed early, well aware that his father wouldn't permit him to venture into the woods with reports of humans in the vicinity. Thus, he set forth before the sun had even begun to climb the sky, his determination propelling him toward the old hut where Yanni resided.

Eventually, he arrived at the clearing, bathed in the soft embrace of golden sunlight. Standing at its heart was the cabin he had once visited. Its wooden walls were adorned with ivy and moss. It appeared as though it had been here for centuries, untouched by the passage of time.

Summoning his courage, Neville drew nearer, his heart echoing loudly in his chest. He rapped on the cabin door, waiting with bated breath. But there was no answer. He knocked again, this time with a bit more force, causing the door to creak open slightly. Neville hesitated but couldn't resist the urge to push it open and enter.

Neville's feet stood solemnly on the frigid cabin floor, a wave of desolation and despair washing over him. It seemed as though countless years had passed since anyone had set foot in this place. Determined to find Yanni, he methodically combed through the vacant space, carefully inspecting the overturned chairs and sifting through the layers of dust on the forgotten books.

Approaching the fireplace, he noticed the lingering warmth emanating from the smoldering coals, suggesting that someone was recently here. However, when he turned around, it was still just him and the empty cabin, this left him with a deep sense of eeriness and unanswered questions.

Neville emerged from the cabin, greeted by the gentle touch of the setting sun's rays piercing through the dense canopy. The forest around him was bathed in a soothing amber light. Aware that venturing home in the dwindling light was impractical, Neville chose to set up camp at the clearing's fringe, finding comfort and security in the magical embrace of the woods. He strategically positioned himself within view of the cabin, ensuring he could see Yanni if she were to return.

Beside a small crackling fire, Neville cooked a rabbit he had captured. While the meal wasn't abundant, combined with his scarce provisions, it would be enough for the night. As he leaned back, taking in the starry sky above, he gradually fell into a serene slumber.

A faint but bright light crested out of the trees, it flooded into the clearing. Neville's gaze was fixated on this light coming from the forest.

Startled, Neville abruptly awoke, recognizing that he had been immersed in a dream once more. He understood that his envisioned journey with this spirit animal would have to wait, for the reality around him was different. In place where the cabin had once stood, there now stretched an extensive empty field of lush grass.

Swiftly rising to his feet, Neville was overcome with confusion. What transpired overnight? Had he truly discovered the cabin, or was it merely a fragment of his dream?

Briefly, Neville questioned his sanity, wondering if he was descending into madness. Were all these experiences products of his imagination, or had he truly encountered a mystical entity?

Chapter 12: Love Unbroken

Elwood frantically rummaged through his inventory, his heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and determination. The weight of the regulations bore down on him, intensifying the pressure to comply. With care, he meticulously noted each ingredient in his collection, ensuring nothing was overlooked. Gently, he placed each precious specimen into various crates, organizing them neatly on the floor of his humble abode.

A list of forbidden ingredients lay before him, a constant reminder of the challenges he faced. Determined to adapt and comply, Elwood set those ingredients aside, knowing he would sell them in Ula'rae. The past two nights had been spent tirelessly, burning the midnight oil as he worked late into the night. His mission: to revamp his recipes, finding alternative ways to achieve the same effects without relying on the banned elements.

The flickering candle cast dancing shadows on the walls, mirroring the swirling thoughts in Elwood's mind. Each adjustment he made was a delicate balancing act, striving to preserve the essence and efficacy of his concoctions while adhering to the stringent regulations. As he toiled, his determination fueled his creativity, propelling him to explore new combinations and techniques that would stand up to scrutiny.

With beads of sweat forming on his brow, Elwood labored on, his hands deftly measuring, mixing, and tasting. His passion for his craft mingled with a tinge of frustration, yet he refused to yield. Every alteration brought him closer to his goal, each successful adaptation a triumph in the face of adversity.

As the first rays of dawn painted the horizon, Elwood surveyed his revamped inventory with a mix of relief and satisfaction. The crates, now filled with revised recipes and compliant ingredients, stood as a testament to his perseverance. Though the road ahead remained challenging, he knew he had met the regulations head-on, finding innovative ways to circumvent the obstacles in his path.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, Elwood allowed himself a rare smile. His dedication had paid off, and he was ready to face the ever-evolving world of regulations with resilience and creativity. The journey to cater to the changing demands of the realm had just begun, and Elwood was determined to rise to the occasion, confident in his ability to adapt and continue creating magic within the boundaries set before him.

After accomplishing his task, Elwood stepped outside, relishing in the fresh air that greeted him. The morning sun bathed the desert landscape, casting a warm glow and illuminating the dew-dappled sand. Setting his sights on the city gates, he was determined to rid himself of the forbidden ingredients he had carefully packed in a crate. With resolute steps, he embarked on his journey toward Ula'rae.

As Elwood entered the city market, the hustle and bustle of the lively streets enveloped him. His gaze remained fixed on his destination—the apothecary nestled in a small building on the north side of the market. It seemed to burst with vibrant greenery, as plants and herbs spilled out from every available space, adding an air of enchantment to the surroundings. Pushing open the door, Elwood was greeted by a familiar face.

"What's this?" Mathork, the apothecary, exclaimed, his attention drawn to the crate of dried plants in Elwood's arms.

"Good morning, Mathork," Elwood greeted, a hint of weariness in his voice. "I've been granted the opportunity to produce brews in Pastorfest. However, their regulations are far more stringent than here. These are the ingredients I no longer need." He carefully placed the heavy crate on the counter, its contents ready to be inspected.

Mathork's curious eyes scanned the assortment of ingredients before him, taking note of each one. His brows furrowed as he voiced his dismay, "How could they ban Dilweed?" The apothecary shook his head, a mixture of disbelief and disappointment etched on his face.

Elwood nodded sympathetically, understanding the shared frustration. "Indeed, the regulations are demanding. But we must adapt and comply if we wish to continue our craft," he replied, his tone tinged with determination. "I trust these ingredients will find a new purpose in your skilled hands, Mathork."

With a grateful smile, Mathork regarded Elwood, acknowledging the weight of their chosen paths. "Thank you, Elwood. I will make good use of these and ensure their potential is not wasted."

The exchange served as a reminder of the interconnectedness of their trade, the camaraderie found among those who sought to harness nature's gifts. Their dedication and passion bound them together, despite the challenges they faced.

As Elwood bid Mathork farewell and left the apothecary's bustling shop, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. The road ahead might be strewn with obstacles and stringent regulations, but he was not alone. The support of fellow artisans like Mathork bolstered his resolve, propelling him forward on his journey to navigate the ever-changing landscape of potion brewing.

With the crate now emptied, Elwood continued his exploration of the market, his eyes sparkling with curiosity and his mind brimming with ideas. The vibrant sights, sounds, and aromas of Ula'rae's bustling marketplace surrounded him, offering inspiration and opportunity at every turn.

As Elwood strolled through the bustling streets of Ula'rae, a sense of liberation washed over him. The monotonous desert landscape had worn thin, and he yearned for a fresh start in Pastorfest, where he would serve the honorable King Hammond. With each determined stride, he reveled in the anticipation of leaving this place behind.

The market square buzzed with activity, its vibrant stalls brimming with an assortment of goods. Elwood's keen eyes roamed over the colorful displays, taking in the ripe fruits, fresh vegetables, and an array of clothing and trinkets that tempted passersby. The sights and sounds of commerce filled the air, momentarily distracting him from his thoughts.

However, amidst the lively atmosphere, Elwood's attention was inevitably drawn to the brothel that held slaves. It stood as a stark reminder of the darker side of the city, a place where human suffering was commodified. Karl had warned him about a particular man associated with that establishment, and Elwood instinctively kept a cautious eye on anyone leaving its doors.

His gaze locked onto a figure emerging from the brothel's entrance, fitting the description Karl had provided. There was an aura of danger surrounding him, a sensation that sent a shiver down Elwood's spine. He observed the man closely as he swiftly mounted his horse and rode off, paying no attention to the elf who watched with a vigilant gaze.

Elwood's thoughts raced, contemplating the motives and secrets that this mysterious individual carried. His intuition told him to tread carefully, for there was much more to this man than met the eye. With caution in his heart, he committed the image to memory, his mind buzzing with questions and curiosity.

As the man disappeared around a corner, Elwood exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "I'll be relieved to be away from the likes of people like him," he murmured to himself. Gathering his resolve, Elwood turned his steps toward home, eager to collect the remaining supplies he would need for his journey to Pastorfest. The prospect of leaving Ula'rae and its dubious characters behind filled him with renewed determination.

With his mind set on his new destination, Elwood's home became a flurry of activity as he gathered his belongings. He carefully packed his essential supplies, double-checking that nothing was left behind. The dusty corners of the room bore witness to his meticulous preparations.

Finally, his preparations complete, Elwood shouldered his bag and stepped outside, inhaling the desert air. The scorching sun hung high overhead, casting long shadows that stretched across the sandy streets. As he walked, the thought of leaving Ula'rae and embarking on a new chapter in Pastorfest filled him with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Elsa stood in the midst of the blossoming orchard, her spirits uplifted by the fragrant embrace of the apple trees. With childlike delight, she frolicked among the swaying branches, cherishing the crisp sweetness of the air. Thoughts of Karl filled her heart with joy, their time spent together in the park having left an indelible impression on her soul. The anticipation of seeing him again tonight set her heart aflutter, her entire being ablaze with excitement.

In the company of her sisters, Elsa couldn't contain her newfound love, gushing about the brave soldier who had captured her heart with his enchanting smile. Her sisters, captivated by her tale, couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy for the romantic adventures that lay ahead for Elsa. As she made her way towards the stables, a sense of anticipation filled her every step, for it was there that she would reunite with Karl, the man who had ignited a spark within her.

Her time at the stables was brief, for her heart yearned to see Karl once more. With an eager spirit, she ventured into the bustling city market, casting wistful gazes towards the guild where her love was stationed. Her imagination ran wild, envisioning the thrilling adventures he might be embarking on, the noble deeds he would accomplish. Her love for him only grew stronger as she walked through the vibrant market, each sight and sound carrying the promise of their future together.

In her wanderings, she found herself drawn to the park, the very place where their love had taken root. Nestled beneath the shade of a majestic oak tree, she paused, reminiscing about the blissful evening they had shared under its protective branches. It was there, in the tender embrace of that cherished memory, that her eyes fell upon a sight that stirred her curiosity and sent a shiver down her spine.

A letter, carefully pinned to the tree with a gleaming dagger, bore her name in elegant script. Its unexpected presence piqued her intrigue, and her heart quickened its pace as she approached. With trembling hands, she delicately freed the note from its ephemeral prison, the words etched upon it brought a tear to her eye, and a smile to her face.

My dearest Elsa,

How I long to be by your side, for your beauty lingers in my heart like the glistening morning dew. Since the day we first met, thoughts of you have remained with me, a constant presence in my thoughts and dreams.

The love and compassion you shower upon the animals at the stable fill my soul with boundless joy. Your tender care and gentle touch ignite a fire within me, drawing me closer to you with each passing day.

Yet, with a heavy heart, I must confess that I am being summoned to the grand Dwarven city of Valfrost. Oh, how I wish I could remain here, beneath the comforting shade of our cherished tree, lost in heartfelt conversations that flow as effortlessly as a gentle breeze.

But fear not, my love, for it is my solemn oath to return to you with haste. I long for the day when we can once again be united, sharing our passions and knowledge, growing together as two souls entwined.

Until that joyous moment, I carry you with me, tucked away in the depths of my being. Know that you are cherished beyond measure and that every step I take toward Valfrost is filled with the hope of our reunion.

Yours eternally,

Karl

A smile, radiant and full of affection, graced Elsa's face as she absorbed the heartfelt words written on that cherished piece of paper. In that moment, the world around her faded into insignificance, and her entire being became immersed in the tender emotions conveyed by the inked expressions of love. It was a message that affirmed the depth of their bond, evoking a sense of belonging and unity that transcended words alone.

Elsa clutched the letter to her chest, feeling its warmth resonate within her. It was a testament to the profound connection they shared, a symbol of the devotion and admiration that existed between them. With a renewed sense of purpose and an unyielding belief in the power of their love, she set forth on a path filled with wonder and possibility, guided by the whispered promises contained within that precious missive.

As Elsa meandered through the city streets, her thoughts were consumed by the words of Karl's letter. Each sentiment he had expressed had taken root deep within her, filling her with an inexplicable excitement that radiated through her every step. She couldn't help but steal a glance at the stables as she passed, her eyes briefly lingering on the magnificent horses, a symbol of strength and freedom. But her heart remained tethered to the thoughts of Karl and the precious letter clasped tightly in her hands.

With her spirits soaring, she finally arrived at the front walk of her father's orchard, the scent of supper drifting on the evening breeze. The door swung open with a burst of exhilaration, revealing the warmth and comfort of home. Her family, gathered around the table, turned their attention to her as she entered, the small missive held close to her chest.

"What has put you in such a buoyant mood, my dear?" her father inquired, his eyes sparkling with curiosity and affection.

A smile played upon Elsa's lips, her face radiant with joy. "I have met the most extraordinary man," she replied, her voice filled with a mixture of awe and adoration. "He crossed my path at the stables, and from the moment he spoke to me, I knew he was unlike anyone I had ever encountered."

Her father's interest piqued as he leaned forward, eager to hear more. "Where is this man now?" he inquired, his tone tinged with a hint of protectiveness.

"He has embarked on a mission to Valfrost on behalf of the king," Elsa responded, a trace of disappointment lacing her words. "He is not a soldier, but rather a brave member of a guild."

Her father's brows furrowed as he absorbed the information. "A guild member," he repeated, mulling over the significance of those words. "Tell us more about this man, my dear. What captivated your heart?"

Elsa's eyes sparkled as she delved into her memories of their encounters. "When he returned from his last mission, we spent hours in deep conversation," she revealed, her voice filled with warmth and affection. "His smile is enchanting, and his words resonated with a wisdom and kindness that touched my soul. In his presence, I feel seen, heard, and understood."

Her family listened attentively, their expressions a mix of curiosity and delight. They sensed the genuine connection Elsa had forged with this mysterious man and couldn't help but share in her excitement.

Her mother reached out, placing a comforting hand on Elsa's arm. "It sounds like you've found something truly special, my dear," she remarked, her voice filled with motherly affection. "Love has a way of weaving its magic in the most unexpected moments."

The room seemed to glow with an air of anticipation and possibility. The aroma of the evening meal mingled with the warmth of familial love, creating a sanctuary of support and understanding. Conversations flowed freely as they relished the joyous revelation, envisioning the adventures and love that lay ahead for Elsa and her newfound companion.

At that moment, Elsa's heart swelled with gratitude for her family's support. Their shared excitement and curiosity kindled a flame of hope within her, igniting the belief that true love knows no boundaries or distances. As they sat around the table, savoring the meal and basking in the warmth of their bond, they eagerly awaited the return of Karl, knowing that their lives would forever be changed by the power of love's embrace.

Chapter 13: Navi'dah

As Edgar rounded the corner, his thoughts consumed by the two guild members still lurking in the city, he pressed on, crossing the bridge that marked the exit of Ula'rea. The scorching desert landscape raced beneath him as he swiftly rode across the burning sand, his destination clear: the prosperous port city of Navi'dah.

Approaching the city with a mix of anticipation and caution, Edgar recognized its significance as the first human settlement under the rule of the king. While the elves had also laid claim to the port, it provided him with an ideal location for expanding his lucrative slave trade and establishing new connections in the south.

Observing the men diligently unloading ships, Edgar's mind raced with thoughts of the guild and the threat they posed to his illicit operations. With a steely resolve, he made his way to the tavern, along the docks.

Stepping into the establishment, the distinct smells of saltwater and freshly caught fish enveloped Edgar's senses. Seagulls squawked outside, ever vigilant in their quest for any dropped crumbs of food.

Approaching the table where his contact sat, Edgar exuded confidence. "We are eager to establish profitable ventures here," he stated, pulling out a chair and taking a seat.

The figure across the table kept their face concealed beneath a dark hood, adding an air of mystery to their encounter. "As are we," a feminine voice responded. "But have you brought us any merchandise yet?" they inquired, their tone expectant.

Edgar leaned forward, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Not yet," he replied, his voice tinged with anticipation. "But I assure you, I have access to a steady supply of valuable slaves from exotic lands. Together, we can reap immense profits and power."

The hidden face betrayed a glimmer of intrigue as they contemplated the possibilities. "Very well," they finally murmured. "Let us discuss the details of our partnership further."

Meanwhile, the ocean mist sprayed cold water on the men toiling along the bustling docks. Navi'dah, a thriving port city and the first human settlement, owed its existence to the ambitious endeavors of its founders. The humans built the city and bestowed upon it an Elvish name in honor of the people they encountered.

"Get those wagons unloaded!" one of the sailors bellowed, his voice commanding attention as he pointed and directed the men along the dock. The urgency in his tone indicated the need to swiftly clear the camp for the impending arrival of a shipment of lumber from Wimborne.

The men diligently loaded the ships with an assortment of goods, including exotic spices, rare herbs, and potions. Barrels of mead were carefully stowed, their contents destined for lucrative trade in the warm and sandy territories deep within the elvish domain.

Amidst the bustling activity, alliances and schemes intertwined, with Edgar and his contact strategizing to exploit the port's potential for their illicit endeavors. The city's fate, once founded on dreams of cooperation and exploration, now stood at the crossroads of ambition and treachery.

"We believe that with an ample supply of slaves, the production in this city would skyrocket by a hundred percent," Edgar confidently stated to the mysterious figure concealed within the depths of the hood.

Leaning back in the chair, the hooded figure pondered the potential implications of increased productivity. their voice held a hint of skepticism as they inquired, "And what of the treatment of these slaves? How would you ensure their compliance and productivity?"

Edgar's eyes gleamed with a cruel glint as he responded, his words dripping with malice, "Do with them as you wish. Fear, punishment, and control will be our tools."

A cruel smile played across the strangers lips, revealing their own twisted intentions for the unfortunate souls who would become enslaved. "Very well," they uttered, dismissively waving a hand as if Edgar were a lowly servant. "We await your arrival with the merchandise."

Edgar's smile twisted into a cruel expression as he seethed internally at being treated with such disdain. However, he suppressed his anger, realizing the immense profits that awaited him in this city. He understood that enduring the indignity of being treated like a common citizen would be a small price to pay for the vast rewards that lay ahead. With determined strides, Edgar departed the city, ready to return to his group of slaves and assess Lakim's progress in selling any of them or eliminating the guild members who posed the threat.

As Edgar's horse carved its way through the unforgiving desert sands, his thoughts churned with a potent blend of anticipation and malevolence. The destiny of the slaves and the prosperity of his enterprise consumed his mind, each thought adding to his determination to establish dominance over the city and secure his own reign of power and riches.

Crossing the weathered bridge that led into the city of Ula'rae, Edgar's gaze pierced through the guard standing at attention, his expression a testament to the simmering intensity within. A momentary clash of wills transpired, an unspoken challenge thrown between them, before Edgar pressed on, leaving the guard in his wake. Ahead, the brothel emerged like an oasis in the desert, a sanctuary promising respite from the harsh riding conditions he had endured for the past three grueling days.

Disembarking from his horse with a sense of urgency, Edgar strode into the establishment with aggressive purpose. His mind fixated on the remaining slaves that awaited him, their fates entwined with his grand design. Spotting Lakim engaged in conversation with one of the courtesans seated at a nearby table, Edgar approached with a brusque demeanor, interrupting their exchange with a noticeable air of displeasure.

"We require more slaves, Lakim," Edgar declared, his voice laced with impatience. "Return to Wiredeep with the men. Venture south to the tribes of lost elves and bring back as many as you can."

Lakim's irritation was palpable as he cleared his throat, his attention shifting from the woman to Edgar. "I see," he responded, his tone tinged with frustration. "And how did the meeting at Navi'dah unfold?"

A sinister smile played upon Edgar's lips as he spoke, his voice carrying an undercurrent of menace. "The ring of thieves is hungry for power," he revealed, his words dripping with predatory intent. "We have sown the seeds of our influence, and now it is time to reap the rewards."

The weight of their shared ambitions hung in the air, a palpable tension that underscored their conversation. Edgar's desire for dominion and Lakim's reluctance to be hindered by the encroaching demands clashed and intertwined, their partnership forged on the delicate balance of necessity and mutual gain. With each passing moment, their grip on power tightened, their ambitions poised to reshape the very fabric of their world.

As they stood amidst the dimly lit halls of the brothel, their voices lowered to guarded whispers, Edgar and Lakim reaffirmed their commitment to their cause. The promise of a burgeoning empire and the allure of wealth interwoven with the whispers of decadence and power that filled the air. Their gaze met, a silent understanding passing between them, their shared path forward paved with ruthlessness and ambition.

With their intentions solidified, Edgar and Lakim turned their attention back to the room, their eyes scanning the patrons and courtesans who occupied the space. The brothel, once a mere oasis from the harshness of the desert, now served as a stage for their grand design—a conduit for acquiring the resources and influence they needed to realize their shared vision.

In that moment, as their malevolent intentions coalesced with the flickering candlelight, the brothel became more than an oasis—it transformed into a crucible of ambition, a breeding ground for power and corruption. As Edgar and Lakim departed, their steps resonating with purpose, the echoes of their plot reverberated through the very foundations of the establishment, setting in motion a chain of events that would forever alter the fate of Ula'rae and all who resided within its walls.

Sifar's body jostled uncomfortably as the rickety wagon rumbled across the unforgiving desert trail. The scorching sun beat down relentlessly, its searing rays threatening to sap every ounce of energy from her weary frame. The wagon's speed only intensified her discomfort, causing a queasiness to rise within her. Nausea consumed her, and she could no longer suppress the churning in her stomach. As the wagon continued its relentless journey, she leaned over the edge and regurgitated, the contents of her empty stomach spilling onto the arid ground.

Weeks had passed since her encounter with Edgar, and a deep unease had settled within Sifar. She knew something was amiss, a gnawing sense that extended beyond the physical discomfort that plagued her. She pleaded, along with the other slaves, her parched throat begging for even a sip of water to soothe her parched lips, but her pleas fell on deaf ears. The cruel and heartless captors denied them even the most basic of necessities, ensuring their suffering endured.

But as the evening sun began its descent, casting a golden hue across the vast desert expanse, a flicker of hope emerged on the horizon. Dark clouds, heavy with rain, gathered in the distance, promising respite from the relentless heat and offering a glimmer of relief to the parched souls being hauled towards Navi'dah. The distant glow of candle lights, like beacons of solace amidst the barren landscape, shimmered in the distance, instilling a flicker of hope within Sifar's heart. In that fleeting moment, the cruelty and domination of Edgar's cruel goals were momentarily overshadowed by the elemental forces of nature, bringing a touch of mercy to those who had been subjected to his whims.

The rain arrived, a blessed deluge that drenched the parched earth, washing away the layer of dust that clung to their weary bodies. Each droplet that fell from the heavens was a gift, a lifeline that revitalized their spirits and quenched their thirst. Sifar tilted her face skyward, her skin basking in the cool touch of the raindrops, a gentle reminder that even amidst the harshest of circumstances, there was still beauty and resilience to be found.

As the heavy rain persisted, Edgar skillfully guided the wagon into the bustling port city. The sound of distant men and women echoed through the air, their faint shouts and murmurs carried on the rhythm of the rippling water, creating a ghostly aura that enveloped the streets.

With a jolt, the wagon came to a halt, the wheels sliding slightly on the rain-soaked ground. Outside, the muffled whispers of unseen figures lingered, their voices blending with the falling raindrops. The slaves, their bodies weary and battered from the long journey, were swiftly and unceremoniously unloaded from the wagon. The rain continued to pour, drenching them further as they were led towards a small building attached to the bustling tavern nearby.

Inside the dimly lit room, hooded figures stood tall, their faces hidden beneath the folds of their cloaks. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across the walls, adding to the air of mystery that permeated the space. The slaves were arranged in a line along the rough-hewn wall, their exhausted forms illuminated by the wavering flames.

One of the hooded figures, a woman with a commanding presence, stepped forward and began to inspect the captives. Her discerning gaze traveled over the weary faces and worn bodies, assessing their worth. "Two of them are decent enough," she remarked in a voice that held a hint of detachment, "but we have no use for one that is with child." Her words hung in the air, casting a pall of disappointment and despair upon Sifar.

Her heart sank within her chest, the weight of her situation crushing her spirit. The thought of enduring another day under Edgar's cruel grip filled her with revulsion and a deep sense of dread. Her stomach twisted with both fear and a growing sense of defiance as she instinctively recoiled, sinking back against the cool, unforgiving wall. She yearned for escape, for freedom from the clutches of her tormentors.

With a sadistic gleam in his eyes, Edgar directed his gaze upon Sifar, his face contorted with contempt and malice. The embodiment of cruelty itself, he spat out his disdainful words, each syllable dripping with venom. "Stupid wretch," he sneered, relishing in his power over her. "I should take you back to that brothel."

The hooded woman, seemingly unfazed by Edgar's spiteful words, finally spoke up, her voice carrying a hint of authority. "Three thousand, and we will take her," she declared, her tone firm and resolute. "Once the child is born, we will find a use for them."

Edgar, aware that the price offered by the hooded thieves was an insult to his perceived value, felt his anger simmer beneath the surface. He was determined not to let the slaves go for such a paltry sum in the future. "I won't let them go for such a small fee next time," he grumbled, his voice laced with bitterness. Expecting immediate payment for his vile trade, he extended his hand, palm up, a gesture demanding the gold that was rightfully his.

Without hesitation, the hooded woman led the group of slaves through a concealed door on the far side of the candlelit room. As they made their exit, one of the other shadowy figures approached Edgar, carrying a heavy sack of gold coins. The weight of the sack landed in Edgar's outstretched hand, the clinking sound of the coins serving as a haunting reminder of the transaction that had just taken place.

As Edgar clutched the weighty sack of gold, a fleeting expression of satisfaction and greed flitted across his face. The jingling coins served as a twisted validation of his despicable trade, momentarily satiating his insatiable hunger for wealth and power. The allure of material gain overshadowed any lingering flicker of moral reckoning that might have momentarily haunted his conscience.

Grateful to be rid of his human cargo, Edgar climbed onto his now empty wagon, the creaking sound of the wooden boards echoing the relief in his heart. With a calculating mind, he steered the wagon towards the direction of Pastorfest, his mind already plotting his next profitable venture.

Meanwhile, behind closed doors, Sifar and her fellow captives found a glimmer of hope amidst their harrowing circumstances. Their shackles were removed, and provisions were provided to sustain them. In a hushed tone, one of the hooded figures spoke, their voice carrying a sense of urgency. "Your freedom will come at a cost," they warned. "Tomorrow, there will be ships departing south. Climb aboard unnoticed and deliver these letters to the tavern keeper when the ship docks. Ensure that no one sees you."

Hope flickered within Sifar's heart, mingling with the remnants of fear and desperation. The opportunity to escape their captors and find solace in a distant land presented itself, but the path to freedom was fraught with danger and uncertainty. Nevertheless, she clung to the glimmer of hope, vowing to do whatever it took to break free from the chains that bound her.

Under the cloak of night, Sifar and her fellow captives moved stealthily towards the waiting ship, each step carrying them closer to the elusive promise of freedom. Clutching the letter entrusted to her, Sifar's heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of apprehension and anticipation coursing through her veins. Silently, they slipped aboard the vessel, seeking refuge in the shadows, their presence concealed from prying eyes.

As the ship set sail, the gentle rocking motion of the vessel became a constant reminder of their uncertain journey. Sifar's senses were heightened, every creaking plank, every lapping wave intensifying the discomfort that gnawed at her core. The relentless swaying of the boat stirred a perpetual queasiness in her throat, while hunger pangs tugged at her empty stomach. Exhausted and consumed by worry, sleep evaded her, leaving her to sit in the enveloping darkness, listening intently to the symphony of sounds that surrounded her.

The rhythmic crashing of water against the ship's hull filled the air, a soothing yet restless melody that echoed the turbulent path they traversed. From a distance, the murmurs of people toiling through the night reached her ears, their voices blending into an indistinguishable chorus. Sifar strained to catch fragments of their conversations, but the words remained elusive, carried away by the wind. Each whisper, each muffled shout spoke of a world beyond her captivity, a world she yearned to explore, to taste the freedom denied to her for far too long.

As the night gradually gave way to the soft hues of dawn, a new day emerged, shrouded in a mix of hope and trepidation. However, with the arrival of daylight, the relentless waves of nausea intensified within Sifar. She clutched her churning stomach, succumbing to the overwhelming sensation that demanded release. Bent over the edge of the ship, she expelled the empty contents of her stomach, her body wracked with spasms of discomfort. The act was both a physical manifestation of her ordeal and a symbolic purge of the misery and oppression she had endured.

But in an unfortunate twist of fate, as Sifar leaned over once more to expel the remnants of nothingness from her empty stomach, the ship lurched unexpectedly. The sudden motion sent her hurtling over the edge, her fingers grasping futilely at the rail as she plummeted into the tumultuous waters below. The salty waves eagerly swallowed her whole, enveloping her in their watery embrace, and as she disappeared beneath the surface, the ship sailed on, unaware of the tragic loss it had just witnessed.

Chapter 14: To Valfrost

Shi'mir sat awkwardly on the bench, his hand tightly grasped in Merlin's weathered palm. The old man's eyes were closed, and a gentle, almost melodic humming escaped his lips as he seemed lost in his own world of mysticism. Shi'mir observed Merlin with a mix of curiosity and skepticism, uncertain of what to expect.

As Merlin continued his soft incantation, Shi'mir's mind wrestled with conflicting thoughts. On one hand, he was intrigued by the possibility of magic performed by humans, the allure of tapping into unseen forces and unraveling the mysteries of the universe. On the other hand, he couldn't shake off the ingrained skepticism that came with his elvish upbringing. Elves were known for their distrust towards human magic, considering it to be nothing more than smoke and mirrors.

"It is very dark, and cloudy," Merlin finally spoke, breaking the silence. "There is a darkness coming that you won't be able to confront, only you will raise the hero to stop it." Shi'mir suppressed an involuntary eye-roll at the statement. Cloudy skies were hardly a profound revelation. Yet, he remained attentive, allowing Merlin to continue.

"I see a long life, and many adventures, you're almost as gray as me" Merlin continued, a wide smile played across his lips as he spoke with an air of authority. Shi'mir couldn't help but wonder if the old man truly believed his own words or if it was merely a ploy to entertain his guests.

Despite his reservations, Shi'mir recognized the importance of showing gratitude. He appreciated the effort Merlin had put into crafting the beautiful artwork and the enchanting garden where they sat. The intricate layout of the garden spoke of a deep understanding of magic, earning Shi'mir's respect as a fellow mage. The mystical properties infused within the garden itself were a testament to Merlin's skill and dedication.

With a polite nod, Shi'mir mustered a genuine smile, acknowledging Merlin's gesture. Although he remained skeptical of the old man's supposed ability to see the future, he understood the value of respecting and appreciating the different perspectives and talents that existed in the world. In this moment, he chose to set aside his skepticism and embrace the shared love for magic that connected them, even if their beliefs diverged.

"I must apologize, it is difficult to see the future of the elves, for their lifespan is so great." Merlin confessed, releasing his grasp on Shi'mir's hand, as he stood from the bench.

Shi'mir sat for a moment longer, Lingering in the escape that was the garden. He felt great power emanating from this "gateway".

"It is alright, I can feel the mystical properties in the garden, It really is remarkable work" Shi'mir finally replied, as he stood to join Merlin on his way back to the cabin.

Karl was fully enveloped in conversation with Daniel when the two returned from the garden. "Shi'mir, did you receive any insight on what your future holds?" Karl asked joyfully.

"It was an enlightening experience, to say the least." Shi'mir replied, joining the group back at the table.

"We would be happy to give all of you readings, if you wish." Merlin said as he took his seat back beside his partner.

"Not I" Bardin said, "I have no desire to see what my future holds, For I know it will be a long and tedious journey ahead, having the duty of King bestowed upon me and serving my people"

Thane, and Thallen simply shook their heads in unison, rejecting the offer as well.

Karl, however, was more than willing to participate. "I'd be happy to join," he replied enthusiastically, though he was momentarily interrupted by another voice. "It is getting dark, perhaps tomorrow would be better suited," David interjected, suggesting that the readings be postponed.

The rest of the evening unfolded in enchanting tales, narrated by the talented Thane, Thallen, David, and Merlin. The stories wove their way deep into the night, holding the group spellbound.

As the night wore on, the occupants retired to their beds, content with the magical aura of the cabin and the camaraderie they had found in each other. Karl fell asleep, his dreams filled with images of Elsa.

However, as the first light of dawn began to paint the sky in soft pink hues, Karl was roused from his slumber by an inexplicable urge. It was as if he could hear Elsa's voice, calling to him from afar. Surrendering to the impulse, he rose from his bed and stepped outside for a stroll around the property.

His feet led him to the bench at the back of the garden, the "Gateway" as they called it. He settled on the bench, mesmerized by the breathtaking sight of the morning sun rising in the east. Just then, at the break of dawn, he spotted Merlin approaching from the back of the cabin, holding two steaming cups in his hands.

With a warm smile, Merlin offered one of the cups to Karl. "I thought you might enjoy a cup of morning tea?" he said kindly. Karl accepted the gesture gratefully, feeling a sense of peace and serenity wash over him in the presence of the wise old man and the magical garden that seemed to hold so many secrets.

Karl and Merlin sat in companionable silence on the bench, savoring the warmth of the morning tea and the enchanting ambiance of the garden bathed in the soft hues of the rising sun.

When they had finished their tea, Merlin took the cups back with a gentle gesture, his eyes seemingly lost in thought as he gazed at the empty vessel. Karl broke the silence, reminding them of their impending departure. As he stood up, ready to resume their journey, he was surprised by Merlin's decision to remain seated.

However, Merlin's next words captivated Karl's attention entirely. The old man's gaze seemed to pierce through the depths of his soul, speaking of things that should have been unknown to him. Mentioning the woman from his dreams, the one Karl couldn't stop thinking about, left him startled and vulnerable.

"How do you…?" Karl stammered, unable to complete his question.

"We can see things, the forest, and the magic here aids us," Merlin replied, his voice gentle and understanding. "I see a love growing in your eyes, the same love that David and I share," he continued, a knowing smile gracing his lips.

Karl was taken aback, unsure how to process this revelation. His feelings for the woman in his dreams had been a private matter, and yet, here was Merlin seemingly unraveling the mysteries of his heart.

"I can't stop thinking about her," Karl admitted, his gaze now fixed on the ground beneath him.

"Love is a fire that burns deep," Merlin mused, his words carrying both wisdom and empathy. "Many paths we must travel in life, and when you find your true love, you must not let that slip away."

Karl listened intently, absorbing every word as if it were a precious gem of guidance. The old man's words resonated with him, stirring a mix of hope and trepidation within his heart.

"Maybe a reading will help you see things more clearly?" Merlin suggested, his concern evident in his tone. The offer was genuine, and Karl appreciated the caring gesture.

"I don't know," Karl replied, torn between wanting to uncover the truth and fearing what it might reveal. "I'm not sure if the path I'm on follows the right direction."

Merlin's expression remained compassionate, and he offered reassurance. "True love will last, and your journey will bring much joy if you stay true to yourself," he said with certainty. His words held a sense of encouragement, nudging Karl to embrace the possibilities ahead.

As the garden around them bathed in the morning light, Karl contemplated the advice he had received. The magic of the place seemed to amplify the significance of the moment, as if the garden itself held the answers to his deepest desires. With Merlin's words lingering in his mind, Karl knew that he needed to explore the path his heart was yearning for, even if it led to uncertain terrain.

"Alright, Merlin," Karl finally responded, determination lacing his voice. "I'll trust in your gift. Give me the reading."

With that, the wise old man's eyes sparkled with approval, knowing that Karl had taken a step closer to discovering his true destiny.

"In a reading, I will hold your hand, and tell you the visions I see" Merlin instructed, as he took Karl's hand in his, and closed his eyes.

The old man's eyes closed, and his grip on Karl's hand tightened like a vice, his knuckles turning white. He murmured soft, unintelligible incantations, his voice carrying an air of ancient power.

"You are destined for greatness," Merlin began, his voice carrying an otherworldly weight. "I see the woman of your dreams, a vision of beauty, and a wedding as splendid as the sunrise." A serene smile graced Merlin's lips. "Your time will be a comet's flash, but do not fear, even in the embrace of the beyond, you will be cherished." Merlin's words flowed like a river, carrying a profound wisdom. "I see sapphire eyes gazing at you, framed by locks of golden hair. A single tear caresses your cheek as you bid your earthly farewell."

Karl's brow furrowed, baffled by the enigmatic words. "My passing is beautiful?" he inquired, seeking clarity.

"Yes," Merlin affirmed, his gaze fixed on some distant point. "You will be surrounded by those whose hearts you've touched, a privilege beyond measure. A passage many yearn for." His tone held a note of both solemnity and reverence. "But fear not, that chapter lies in a distant tome. For now, the road stretches ahead, and time's sands keep flowing." With a gentle release of Karl's hand, Merlin stood from the bench.

"Look, the sun stands tall, and your dwarven companions gather by the stables. Let us tarry no longer and join their company."

With gratitude filling his heart, Karl expressed his thanks to Merlin for his profound insights. Side by side, they strode towards the waiting group at the stables. Upon arriving, Karl found his horse already saddled, a considerate gesture from David

"Did you glimpse a bountiful future?" Bardin inquired from his sturdy saddle, his gaze already fixed on the path ahead.

"It was enlightening, much like Shi'mir," Karl replied, sharing a knowing look with his elven friend, who was meticulously preparing his horse for the journey.

"Good. Then let's linger no more. We have but a half-day's ride through the Forgotten Valley. If fortune favors us, we shall reach our destination by the sun's descent," Bardin declared, his voice carrying the weight of their mission.

"We're deeply grateful for your hospitality, kind wizards. Your names will forever echo within the halls of Valfrost," Bardin offered, his words laden with sincerity. With a firm nudge to his horse's flank, he spurred the steed into motion, leading the way towards their next destination.

"Once again, thank you," Karl said to Merlin, a genuine smile gracing his lips, and with a fluid motion, he mounted his horse, joining Shi'mir in the saddle. Their journey continued, the camaraderie of their group pushing them forward as they rode the path that wound through the Forgotten Valley.

The rocky path carved its way through the mountain, its wide opening swallowed them up, as they began the ascent up the snowy mountain to the heart of the dwarven domain.

""Did those wizards provide any useful insights for our journey?" Shi'mir asked with a touch of sarcasm.

"Only that my journey is destined for greatness," Karl responded.

"Be cautious of magic beyond elvish realms, Karl. Many humans claim mastery over it, yet lack the essence of an elf's connection." Shimir continued.

"What do you mean?" Karl questioned, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"Human magic can often be deceptive. Just exercise caution in what you embrace."

"They spoke of my voyage to Valfrost becoming a legend, but it's not where our story concludes."

Shi'mir let the matter rest, feeling the cool mountain breeze sweep over him.

"I thought we were to arrive in Valfrost around midday," he remarked as he rode alongside Bardin, who was humming a gentle tune to himself.

"We're already in Valfrost," Thallen chimed in.

"Below us," Thane added, pointing a finger downward.

As he realized their position atop the mountain city, a staircase seemed to materialize ahead, transforming the cold snow covered ground into a solid stone pathway. The cobbled steps led them to an impressive entrance, the gateway to the dwarven city of Valfrost.

The grand gate loomed majestically before them, a living testament to the artistry of dwarven engineering. The massive twin doors, intricately adorned with runes and reliefs, swung together to reveal a stoic visage - that of a dwarven king, an eternal sentinel safeguarding the entrance to his realm.

Flanking the grandeur of the doors stood two guards, their formidable figures melding with the snowy backdrop. As the procession approached, an exchange of perplexed glances transpired between them, overtaken by the unexpected presence of their king. "Prince Bardin," one of the guards intoned, his voice a blend of reverence and surprise, punctuated by a deep bow. "We were unaware of your departure from the realm. Is all well?" he inquired.

Bardin's countenance radiated both warmth and assurance as he dismounted his horse, extending a cordial hand to rest upon the guard's armored shoulder. "All is well, my friend," he affirmed, his voice steady and soothing. "We arrive bolstered by the strength of the human kingdom, for we aspire to finally quell this relentless conflict," he proclaimed, his words infused with a resolve that mirrored the determination in his eyes.

The other guard's skepticism couldn't be contained. "Humans, I doubt your father would countenance such an alliance," he asserted with a hint of caution.

A confident smile danced upon Bardin's lips as he addressed the doubt. "I shall manage my father's concerns," he replied assuredly. "Now, where might I find the king?" Bardin's query held an air of authority, his impatience accentuated by his hand firmly pushing open the ornate doors that guarded the passage into his ancestral realm.

Chapter 15: Changing Tides

The ocean's frigid embrace enveloped Sifar, a cruel and unwelcome lover. The sharp currents, like icy tendrils, cut through her body, and the relentless force of the waves crashed over her, entwining her in their watery dance. The ship, once a bastion of safety, now loomed distant and indifferent, a fading silhouette against the vast expanse of the sea.

As the saltwater invaded her senses, every nerve screamed in protest. Darkness encroached, suffocating and inviting, like a siren's song luring her deeper. Sifar's consciousness flickered, caught between the clutches of the abyss and the tether of life. Her mind became a canvas upon which memories painted themselves in vivid strokes, vibrant and poignant.

A world beyond the cold, watery currents materialized – Lorin's radiant face, forever etched with innocence and joy. Talhon's loving embrace, a fortress of warmth and security as he cradled their child. The echo of his final words, whispered like a solemn promise as they parted ways. These memories converged into a symphony of love, a bittersweet farewell and an unspoken invitation to endure.

But then, as if a lifeline hurled from the depths of her own recollections, Sifar sensed an unyielding grip tugging at her body, as an arm extended into the depths of the water. Her lungs ignited in agony, deprived of the life-giving breath they so desperately craved. With the raw force of a renaissance, her form surged through the water's surface. Gasping, choking, her heaving chest welcomed the vital air she had teetered on the brink of forfeiting, each inhale a fervent celebration of survival.

The world around her swirled and blurred, the elements still waging their battle for dominion over her. And there, amidst the tumult, Sifar found herself staring into the eyes of a woman who seemed to embody the essence of the sea. This guardian of the watery realm held a commanding presence, her voice a mix of stern authority and genuine concern.

"You don't go for a swim after the ship's already left port," the woman's words resonated, a cautionary tale woven with threads of wisdom. Her features bore the marks of a life lived in harmony with the sea's unpredictable temperament. Her eyes, like twin pools of ancient knowledge, held the secrets of countless tides and the echoes of distant storms.

Sifar's voice quivered, a fragile thread holding her consciousness as she managed to ask, "What happened?"

"You fell in," the woman's reply was matter-of-fact, as if stating an inevitable truth. Her words carried the weight of experience, a reminder of the sea's capricious nature. "These waters are cold as ice this time of year. You're lucky to be alive."

"I fell in?" Sifar's words held a tinge of disbelief, her mind struggling to grasp the sequence of events. But before the mystery could unravel, before the woman's enigmatic gaze could offer further insight, Sifar succumbed to the sea's relentless toll. Consciousness slipped away like sand through clenched fingers, and she surrendered to the embrace of unconsciousness, adrift in the currents of her own fate.

"She has fever," Torrez's voice held both a diagnosis and a plea, a stark acknowledgment of the precarious situation. The cold waters had undoubtedly taken their toll on Sifar's already delicate constitution. His gaze shifted to Franklyn, the two of them sharing a moment of silent understanding.

In the tender embrace of Franklyn's arms, Sifar lay deeply asleep, her breaths shallow and her brow creased with the warmth of fever. Franklyn's fingers traced gentle paths through Sifar's hair, a soothing caress amidst the turmoil.

"I think she's with child," Franklyn's words held a note of revelation, an observation that held the potential to reshape their understanding of the situation. Her gaze still locked with Torrez's, an unspoken exchange that carried the weight of shared concern and responsibility.

"Then we must hurry," Torrez's response resonated with determination. His sinewy arms strained against the resistance of the water, each pull of the oar a testament to their commitment. The boat cut through the waves with renewed purpose, the urgency of their mission propelling them forward.

The shoreline drew closer, the bustling port now within reach. With every remaining ounce of strength, Torrez propelled the boat to the dock. The vessel came to a gentle halt, the soft creaking of wood against wood punctuating their arrival.

Torrez and Franklyn exchanged a glance, their eyes communicating a shared resolve. With careful and deliberate movements, they lifted Sifar's still from the boat, cradling her as if she were a fragile treasure. The path to the infirmary lay before them, a journey marked by uncertainty and hope.

As they navigated the bustling port, the weight of their duty was palpable. Sifar's fate, and the potential life within her, hung in the balance. Their steps were purposeful, their hearts set on delivering this stranger to the hands of healers.

In that pivotal moment, Torrez and Franklyn embodied a profound truth – that amidst the unpredictable currents of life, bonds of kinship and shared humanity had the power to steer even the most fragile of vessels toward safety.

The infirmary doors swung open abruptly as Franklyn burst through, her strong arms cradling Sifar's limp form. With urgent yet gentle motions, she laid the unconscious elf on the sterile operating table.

"She's taken in a fair amount of water, and we suspect she might be carrying a child," Franklyn's voice was a mix of concern and the need for immediate action, her words directed towards the nurse who had swiftly come to attend.

Responding with the precision of someone well-versed in crisis, the nurse wasted no time. Her practiced hands moved with purpose, securing a leather apparatus over Sifar's face to aid her breathing. "This will provide her with air. How advanced is her pregnancy?" Her inquiry was both a medical assessment and an acknowledgment of the delicate situation.

As the nurse dabbed moisture from Sifar's skin, the unconscious elf's body jolted, a violent upheaval in her fevered dream. The room was filled with Sifar's piercing scream, the sound a raw manifestation of her torment. "Don't let him near me!" Her desperate cry reverberated, an echo of the turmoil consuming her subconscious. Franklyn's eyes darted towards Torrez, a shared worry etching both their faces.

Edgar's horse-drawn buggy traversed the cobbled road toward Pasterfest, the rhythmic clip-clop of hooves marking his progress. His watchful eyes swept over the surroundings with a mix of familiarity and detachment. The vibrant orchard flashed by, a burst of color against the backdrop of everyday life. Beyond that, the stables stood like steadfast sentinels, guarding the entrance to the town.

Unfazed, Edgar led his horse through the town gates, his gaze locked on a singular destination that lay at the far end of the market. Determination etched on his face, he navigated the labyrinthine streets with purpose.

However, his intentions were soon met with an obstacle – a guard stepped into his path, casting a shadow over his journey. The guard's features were a curious blend of malice and indifference, a reflection of authority mingled with a sense of weariness from dealing with the daily affairs of the town.

"Slave wagons are strictly prohibited within Pasterfest," the guard's voice held a stern tone, a declaration that carried the weight of the town's laws.

Edgar, undeterred, swung down from his perch on the buggy, his boots landing solidly on the cobbled street. His gaze met the guard's, an unspoken challenge in his eyes. "I have pressing matters to attend to. I'm sure you could find more worthwhile endeavors than troubling me," he retorted, his voice firm yet laced with an underlying impatience.

The guard's resolve remained unwavering. "I am duty-bound to ensure the law is upheld. This wagon will have to be removed from the city, or I'll be forced to issue a citation of the violation."

Edgar's lips quirked in a half-amused, half-exasperated expression. He turned away from the guard, his steps purposeful as he continued walking toward the tavern. "Feel free to exercise your duties," he tossed over his shoulder, his tone oozing with a mixture of casual indifference and thinly veiled dismissal. With his back to the guard, who was engrossed in the bureaucratic task of issuing a citation, Edgar's figure grew smaller against the backdrop of the town's busy activity.

Inside the welcoming embrace of the tavern, Edgar's determined strides carried him toward a back room, a haven of secrecy in a world of prying eyes. This clandestine meeting was essential, and Rowan, a man of his own ilk, awaited him there.

The room exuded an air of concealed intentions, the dim light casting elongated shadows across the wooden furnishings. Rowan's presence, while seemingly relaxed, held an undercurrent of shrewd calculation.

"Navi'dah is eager to forge connections with us, to expand our trade," Edgar's words dripped with a sinister satisfaction, his grin mirroring the coldness that gripped his heart. "Our partnership with the ring of thieves promises bountiful opportunities, especially given our steady supply of slaves." The malevolence etched onto his features found its mirror in Rowan's own countenance.

Rowan leaned back, his response a masterclass in nonchalance. "Indeed, that is good news," he replied, his voice a measured monotone. His lack of enthusiasm acted as a foil to Edgar's palpable excitement, a deliberate choice to maintain an air of detachment.

Rowan's gaze, ever sharp and calculating, settled squarely on Edgar. The tavern's subdued ambiance seemed to bend around them, creating a cocoon of confidentiality for their conversation.

"And what of our predicament in Ula'rae?" Rowan's inquiry, while measured, carried the weight of unresolved matters. The shadow of the guild loomed heavily over his thoughts, a constant reminder of the obstacle that needed careful navigation.

Edgar's response was swift, his tone edged with a no-nonsense efficiency. "It appears they've vanished from Ula'rae. My network of informants, diligent as they are, has yet to catch even a whisper of their presence." The words rolled off his tongue, punctuated by a curt finality. "We remain vigilant, of course. Should they resurface, we'll be poised to act. But for now, our immediate focus lies on procuring the next shipment from the Lost Tribes. It's a step toward fulfilling the ring's sizable order."

Rowan's reaction was immediate, a fluid rise from his seat that seemed to mirror the gravity of their situation. His eyes bore into Edgar, calculating and decisive. "Then it's evident that your path forward is clear," Rowan stated with a thinly veiled dismissal. "Return to Wiredeep and attend to the matter at hand." A dismissive wave of his hand punctuated his command. Edgar's lips curled into a snarl, a fleeting flash of indignation before he surged from his seat. Without a parting word, he strode from the room, leaving behind an air thick with unresolved tension.

Back at his wagon, Edgar's initial irritation grew into a seething rage as his eyes fell upon an unsettling sight. Four guards, armed and vigilant, had encircled his wagon with an authoritative air. Edgar's jaw clenched, his voice dripping with controlled fury, "What in all realms is the meaning of this intrusion?" He brusquely demanded, his attempt to board his wagon met with an uncompromising wall of swords and authority.

"Stand down, civilian," one of the guards retorted, his tone brooking no defiance. He leveled his sword at Edgar, the message unmistakable. "This vehicle is under the order of impoundment by the king. You may retrieve it tomorrow, once the citation fee has been duly paid."

Edgar's frustration, already a smoldering ember, burst into a blazing conflagration. He swatted the sword away from his face with a snarl, his gaze locked onto the guard. "You dare obstruct me, filth?" he hissed, his voice a venomous lash. In an impulsive surge, he launched a balled fist toward the guard's face, catching the sentinel off-guard.

The remaining guards pounced, swift and efficient. They wrestled Edgar to the ground, suppressing his fiery resistance with practiced precision. After a brief, chaotic scuffle, they hauled him to his feet, his face marred by a trail of crimson from a brutal kick. "A night in the dungeon should help you find your senses," one of the guards sneered, his grip unyielding as he motioned for his companions to lead Edgar away. "Perhaps by morning, your arrogance will have cooled."

Edgar's retort was a venomous glare, his heart a roiling tempest of humiliation and anger. As the guards escorted him away, his mind seethed with thoughts of retribution and reclamation, a storm of defiance echoing through the depths of his resolve.

The next morning found Rowan immersed in a sea of documents, a triumphant grin stretching across his features. His satisfaction stemmed from the newly arrived balance sheets from Ula'rae, the numbers noticeably fattened thanks to the recent illicit operations. His mind was ablaze with thoughts of potential expansion into Wiredeep, a lucrative endeavor that danced on the horizon. As he reveled in these musings, a sharp knock resounded through his door, interrupting his reverie.

"Enter," Rowan called out, his tone a mixture of curiosity and authority. The door creaked open, and the steward guarding it announced the arrival of none other than King Hammond. Rowan swiftly rose from his chair, offering a respectful bow. "Your highness, what honor brings you to my humble office today?"

The king's expression was a delicate balance between controlled composure and simmering frustration. "Reports have reached my ears of slavers operating within the boundaries of my kingdom. I seek your counsel on how best to eradicate this abhorrent practice," he stated, his voice carrying a veneer of restraint. The subject of slave trade was a tense one, a relic of his late father's reign that King Hammond had fervently sought to quash.

Rowan's brow furrowed in apparent surprise. "I assure you, your highness, I've received no such reports. From where does this information stem?"

"The city guards encountered a wagon that had clear indication of the trade within the city walls yesterday," Hammond replied, his gaze steady.

Rowan's mind raced, concocting potential explanations. "It's possible, your highness, that the wagon's purpose has shifted. Perhaps it was recently acquired and is being repurposed for legitimate trade," he ventured, his words measured, yet laced with an underlying plea for acceptance.

A hint of skepticism lingered in Hammond's eyes. "If that is the case, then the owner should be promptly educated on the laws of our land," he suggested, his tone firm. "I require your assistance in resolving this matter with utmost urgency. The owner of the wagon was arrested last night after he instigated a fight with my guards" A brief pause followed, laden with unspoken implications. "Kindly accompany me to interrogate the prisoner, we must find out who he works for" he concluded, his gaze already turning toward the exit.

Rowan's mind raced, grappling with the delicate balance of power and diplomacy. "Of course, your highness," he acquiesced, a practiced smile gracing his lips. As they both exited the confines of the small office, the wheels of intrigue and strategy continued to turn, set in motion by the unexpected intrusion of a seemingly inconspicuous slave wagon.

Edgar's protest reverberated off the cold stone walls, his anger a palpable presence in the damp dungeon. "Release me this instant!" he thundered, his voice a seething tempest. "Mark my words, each of you will find yourselves jobless before I'm through with you." Yet, his words were mere echoes in the desolate chamber, falling on unyielding ears that had heard countless threats before.

Amid his futile rage, Edgar's attention was caught by a figure approaching, one whose presence cut through the gloom. King Hammond strode forward, an aura of unwavering authority enveloping him. The gravity of the situation intensified as the monarch's piercing gaze locked onto Edgar. "An assault on the king's guard is tantamount to an assault on the king himself," Hammond's voice rang out, each word a declaration of unshakable dominion. "What defense have you, Slaver?"

Edgar's eyes shifted, catching a glimpse of Rowan lurking behind the king. An ironic smile tugged at the corner of his lips, a silent acknowledgment of their shared predicament. His focus snapped back to the king, his resolve unwavering. "Your kingdom's laws are naught to me or my ventures," he retorted, a defiant sneer curling his lips.

"Ah, so it's true then," the king mused, his tone a blend of accusation and realization. "That wagon, it was destined for your wretched trade, wasn't it? A business built upon suffering and cruelty." Hammond's words hung heavy in the air, laden with the weight of moral judgment.

"Perhaps a prolonged stay in these dungeons will instigate a change of heart, a glimpse of morality," the king continued, his gaze unwavering. The implication was clear – Edgar's fate was to be decided by the very depths that had swallowed him.

Amid this tense exchange, Rowan seized a moment to interject. His voice, tinged with an attempt at authority, cut through the charged atmosphere. "And what, pray, brings a slaver into our realm? What twisted endeavor were you planning?"

Edgar's gaze bore into Rowan, an embodiment of smoldering contempt. "My motives are my own concern," he hissed, disdain dripping from every syllable. The lingering stare between the two men was a testament to their shared enmity, a clash of wills concealed beneath veils of defiance.

As the silence settled, the dungeon seemed to hold its breath, captive to the tension that crackled between the king, the slaver, and the man who had once been his confidant. In the shadows, the echoes of choices made and destinies entwined whispered their haunting truths.

"When we examined the wagon," the king's voice cut through the tension like a blade, "we discovered documents bearing the seal of House Rowan," he declared, presenting a parcel of pages adorned with Rowan's house colors. The implications hung in the air, a damning revelation demanding explanation. "Tell me, who dispatched these documents to you?"

Edgar's features contorted into a sinister grin, his gaze a malevolent lance directed at Rowan, who seemed to retreat further into the shadows behind the king. "My influence traverses realms, transcending boundaries. The trade I orchestrate is a force beyond restraint," his words dripped with calculated malice. "Perhaps, even within your own court, there are those who see the wisdom in my endeavors," he concluded, the threat veiled in his taunting tone.

Chapter 16: Loran and Neville

After Lorin's unfortunate encounter with the blight-weed, the days became centered around her recovery. However, Lorin's eagerness to resume her training with Valorie collided with Neville's cautious approach. Neville perched on a branch just above, offering a friendly word of caution, "Hey, Lorin, be careful. Remember, a group of other kids are due to arrive tomorrow. We don't need you to get hurt again. Plus we can't let them show us up."

Lorin, appreciative of Neville's support but slightly irritated by his overprotectiveness, countered with a snide remark of her own. "Come on, Neville. I've been climbing, jumping, and running around for days now. I'm pretty sure I'm ready to get back to training."

Neville observed Lorin's climbing with fascination, perched above her. He couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder about the potent healing magic he had acquired from Yanni. He contemplated the possibility of returning to the cabin, to discover more mystical powers she might know.

As Lorin reached Neville's level in the tree and playfully teased him, Neville's attention returned to the present. Lorin demanded with curiosity, "What are you doing up here?" She continued scaling the tree alongside him, reaching about three-quarters of the way up a tall oak. "You never did tell me how you found that amazing healing paste."

Neville adjusted his position for comfort, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before responding. "Well, after you got hurt, I felt like I had to do something," he began, looking down at his feet that dangled high above the ground.

"You carried me all the way back up that cliff. That's quite a lot," Lorin interjected, offering her comfort and admiration.

Neville continued, "Yeah, I know. But I just had this feeling that if I could find some wild lettuce, I might be able to help even more. So, I headed north toward the mountain. And, well, while I was there, something kind of strange happened. I had this vivid dream about a fox. I know it sounds a bit silly," he admitted, his cheeks beginning to turn a shade of red. He hadn't shared this unusual experience with anyone, and now it seemed somewhat foolish. "When I woke up, I stumbled upon this old cabin and-"

"Kids!" a voice from below suddenly interjected. It was Ramhar's voice. "Come to the Irie; we have news for you," he announced before his voice faded away.

Neville glanced at Lorin, a sense of urgency in his eyes. "I'll fill you in later. Let's go," he said before skillfully leaping to the forest floor.

Lorin swiftly scaled down the tree, not having the chance to question Neville's story further.

Back at the Irie, they followed Ramhar through the curtain. Upon entering, a scene unfolded before them: seven young elves, varying in heights, sizes, and ages, were seated around the long table. They were deeply engrossed in lively banter amongst themselves. Valorie, a commanding presence, occupied the head of the table.

"Lorin, Neville, thank you for joining us. Please, take a seat," Valorie welcomed them, her gesture indicating some vacant chairs at the end of the table. Neville quickly seated himself, prompting the oldest and loudest of the young elves to shoot up.

"I am Maltin, son of Darius. May I inquire as to why we're gathered here?" Maltin asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. Ramhar's gaze, cold and unyielding, locked onto the boy. The intensity of that look sent a shiver down Maltin's small frame, and he slowly eased back into his seat.

Valorie, radiating serenity, replied, "Of course, Maltin. But before we begin, let me provide some context." Her words lingered in the room, and a subdued chuckle slipped from Lorin's mouth.

"We're uniting the younger members to train and equip you for combat," Ramhar declared as he rose from his seat, adding, "It's high time our community evolved beyond merely gathering and foraging." He moved around the table, resting his hands on Neville's shoulders and continued, "It's time we embrace our inner warriors."

Neville caught Lorins gaze, with a sense of excitement finally, a calling, a purpose.

Curiosity sparked in Lorin's eyes. "That's amazing! So, you managed to recreate the paste based on the instructions in the journal?"

Neville nodded, a hint of pride in his expression. "Yeah, I experimented and gathered the necessary herbs, following the instructions as closely as I could. It was a challenging process, but witnessing the medicines effectiveness on you made it all worthwhile."

Gratitude washed over Lorin, dissolving her annoyance. "Thank you, Neville. I'm truly grateful for everything you've done. You've been an incredible friend."

Neville smiled warmly. "Don't mention it, Lorin. Friends take care of each other, and I'm glad I could be there for you. Now, let's focus on your training with Valorie. You've made remarkable progress, and I believe you're ready to face the upcoming challenges."

Lorin's determination soared as she returned Neville's smile. "Absolutely, Neville! With your support and Valorie's guidance, there's nothing we can't conquer together."

Reinvigorated and unified, Lorin and Neville continued their climb, eagerly preparing themselves for the next phase of training with Valorie. The bond between them grew stronger, fortified by their shared experiences and the trust they had developed along the way.

As they gathered around the supper table that evening, Lorin and her kin engaged in lively conversation while savoring a delicious meal. However, Lorin couldn't help but notice that Neville seemed distracted, his focus wandering and fidgeting throughout the evening. Concerned about her friend, she couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that something was amiss. Although Neville had briefly mentioned his dreams about the fox to her, he hadn't provided many details, leaving Lorin with unanswered questions.

As the night progressed and some of their kin retired to their beds, Lorin and Neville found themselves seated together at the table. Sensing Neville's uneasiness, Lorin gently inquired, "Is everything alright, Neville?"

Neville hesitated, his discomfort apparent as he responded, "Oh, yes, just lost in some thoughts."

Unwilling to let it go, Lorin leaned closer, her concern evident in her voice. "Neville, I can tell something's bothering you. You're not telling me everything. What's really going on?"

There was a brief pause as Neville met Lorin's gaze, realizing that he couldn't keep his worries hidden any longer. Reluctantly, he finally opened up, knowing that he could trust Lorin with his concerns.

With a heavy sigh, Neville rested his arms on the table and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "You're right, Lorin. I need to come clean. The truth is, I didn't actually craft the healing medicine myself." His face dropped, revealing the weight of the lie he had told.

Lorin's frustration mingled with curiosity as she pressed for answers. "If not you, then who? Where did this healing paste come from?"

Neville took a moment, gathering his thoughts, before he began to explain. "After bringing you back to the village and realizing the severity of your condition, I ventured into the forest in search of lettuce, hoping it could aid in your healing." He paused briefly to take a drink from his mug. "While I was running through the woods, the fox from my dreams appeared and beckoned me to follow."

Lorin's curiosity piqued, her annoyance momentarily set aside. "The fox led you somewhere? What happened?"

Neville's eyes lit up with excitement. "Yes! The fox guided me to a hidden clearing where…" Before he could finish his sentence, their conversation was interrupted by Valorie, who approached their table. "Hello, Lorin and Neville," she greeted them.

Valorie's presence shifted the focus, relieving Neville of having to reveal more about his encounter. Lorin's attention shifted to their upcoming task. "Valorie, I'm ready for tomorrow's challenge," she exclaimed with excitement. "Nothing will stop us this time!"

Neville joined in, grateful for the change of subject. "Absolutely! Together, we'll overcome any obstacles that come our way." The conversation shifted gears, and they eagerly discussed their upcoming training session, leaving Neville's confession temporarily unaddressed.

As the night wore on, the conversation gradually wound down, and a sense of weariness settled over the table. Lorin couldn't shake off the uneasiness caused by Neville's revelation, but she tried her best to push it aside, hoping for a peaceful night's sleep.

Finally, with their minds and bodies weary from the day's events, Lorin, Neville, and Valorie bid each other goodnight. Lorin retreated to her room, exhaustion tugging at her eyelids, but as she lay in bed, her mind began to drift into a restless sleep.

In the depths of her slumber, Lorin's dreams took an unsettling turn. Visions of the blight-weed incident flashed before her, vivid and haunting. She found herself trapped, entangled in a dense thicket of thorns, unable to escape. Each struggle only intensified the pain, and fear gripped her heart as she called out for help.

Suddenly, the dream shifted, and the image of the fox from Neville's story emerged from the shadows. Its eyes glimmered with an otherworldly wisdom as it approached Lorin, offering guidance and solace. The fox's presence brought a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos, as if it were a beacon of strength and resilience.

Startled awake, Lorin sat up in bed, her breathing rapid and sweat trickling down her forehead. It took a moment for her to gather her bearings and realize she was safe in her own room. The remnants of the nightmare clung to her thoughts, leaving her feeling shaken and vulnerable.

Determined to calm her racing heart, Lorin took deep breaths, attempting to steady herself. She reminded herself that it was just a dream, a product of her worries and fears. Seeking solace, she glanced at the moonlight filtering through her window, its gentle glow casting a soothing aura in the room.

As her breathing gradually regulated, Lorin found comfort in the knowledge that she had the support of her friends. She knew she could rely on Neville and Valorie, just as they had relied on her. With that reassurance, she settled back down, allowing the fatigue to overcome her once again.

In the quiet embrace of the night, Lorin drifted into a more peaceful sleep, hoping that the coming dawn would bring renewed strength and clarity. Little did she know that the challenges they faced were not just confined to the waking world, and the impact of her dreams would continue to unfold in the days to come.

With morning's arrival, Neville found himself seated at the lengthy table, relishing his breakfast, when Lorin made her entrance into the mess hall. Playfully, Lorin taunted Neville about his unending morning cheerfulness as she took a seat beside him. Neville replied with a touch of sarcasm, asserting that his keen awareness of nature upon waking made him better prepared for the day ahead. Engaging in their customary banter, Neville questioned Lorin's readiness for the upcoming challenge, proposing the possibility of waiting and further preparation.

Valorie approached the pair. "Good morning, young ones. I see you're already gearing up for today's trials," she said, her greeting was warming. Neville waited, expecting Lorin to respond, but she remained silent. Breaking the silence, Neville expressed his confidence in his own readiness if Lorin was prepared as well. Neville looked at Lorin, whose attention was jolted back by their stares. Cautiously, she replied, "Yes, I believe I am ready," although apprehensions about the day's events still lingered in her mind.

As Valorie headed out the mess hall, Ramhar greeted her on her way out, approaching the duo he placed his hand on his son's shoulder. He began, "Good luck to both of you today!" Ramhar then shifted his gaze towards Lorin. "You've got this today, Lorin. We believe in both of you." Lorin smiled at Neville. "Thank you for your support and the care you've shown me, Ramhar. Your son Neville has been by my side throughout." Neville, feeling bashful, chimed in, "Lorin, you will do great! Let's go out there and demonstrate our true capabilities to everyone."

Chapter 17: Karl, Shimir, Valfrost - Meet the king, Blacksmith, Magic

As the grand doors of Valfrost swung open with a resonant creak, an awe-inspiring panorama unveiled itself, a testament to the splendor concealed within the very heart of the mountain. The sprawling expanse of this hidden realm stretched out before them, bathed in the soft, inviting glow of carefully positioned luminescent crystals that adorned not only the vast cavernous walls but also the intricate labyrinth of stairways leading deeper into the city.

In the distance, nestled within the depths of the hollowed mountain, stood two colossal statues that seemed to bridge the realms of the earthly and the ethereal. These magnificent sculptures, carved with meticulous attention to detail by the hands of master artisans, soared toward the heavens with an unwavering sense of purpose, a testament to dwarven history and legacy. Rising to an astounding height of nearly two hundred meters, these stony figures bore the patina of ages, their faces etched by time into the semblance of ancient sentinels watching vigilantly over their realm.

Amidst this captivating tableau, a mesmerizing spectacle unfolded—a natural marvel born of the mountain itself. A waterfall, born from a concealed aperture at the very summit of the peak, descended with grace and power. Yet, this was no ordinary waterfall; it was nature's harmonious fusion. Clear, crystalline waters intertwined with the molten lava that flowed forth from the earth's fiery core. The mingling of these opposing elements gave rise to a spellbinding dance of fluidity and heat, an intricate ballet choreographed by the primal energies that underpin the world.

The culmination of this dance occurred beneath the outstretched arms of the towering statues. An expansive golden plate, cradled by the ancient dwarven figures, awaited the convergence of molten lava and cool water. This meeting of elements formed a symphony of transformation, a harmonious fusion encapsulating Valfrost's essence—the convergence of tradition and innovation, the forging of fire and craftsmanship.

As the molten and aqueous forces commingled on the golden plate, a radiant alchemical reaction transpired. Rivulets of fiery liquid intertwined with the cascading water, birthing a single, luminous ribbon of molten brilliance. This molten stream descended, directed by a complex network of channels, until it reached its zenith—a cavernous cistern nestled deep within the city's heart. Within these chambers, the fiery essence fuelled the ceaseless energy of the grand Blacksmith. It was here that dwarves of unparalleled skill and dedication crafted artifacts of both artistry and utility, creations that echoed the city's legacy.

"Follow me," Bardin beckoned, guiding the group into the labyrinthine network of staircases and corridors that threaded through the majestic city. The handrails, adorned with a gilded hue, exuded a sense of grandeur that awed Karl and Shi'mir. "Indeed, this is magnificent," Karl marveled, his praise cut short as he inadvertently bumped his head against a low-hanging arch. "I must learn to be more mindful of the architecture here," he confessed, rubbing his slightly bruised forehead.

"Dwarves have little use for lofty archways," Thane chimed in, his voice resonating with a proud undertone. "While there are exceptions, most structures here maintain a modest height of only a few meters."

Shi'mir, hunching to accommodate the arches, couldn't help but feel the strain in his back. "Yet, the dwarves are artisans of the highest order," he commented, masking the discomfort gnawing at his bones.

The ascending stairways unveiled a vast chamber adorned with intricate motifs, where the eye was drawn to another pair of imposing steel doors, aglow with a subtle blue luminescence. Flanking these doors stood two formidable guards, their stances shifting to attention as the prince's presence was detected. Their salute was crisp and precise, a testament to their loyalty and readiness.

"Prince Bardin," one of the guards initiated, his tone a mix of respect and concern. "His Majesty, the king, has been inquiring about your whereabouts. When we discovered your chambers vacant, fear gnawed at us that the Goblins might have captured you."

"Those wretched creatures could never ensnare an Oakenshield," Bardin responded, his voice marked by pride and determination. He puffed out his chest as if to embody the indomitable spirit of his lineage. "I come bearing not only tidings of triumph but also aid from beyond our borders. It's imperative that I gain an audience with my father without delay." His words hung in the air, heavy with urgency.

In swift response, the steel doors parted, granting entry to the inner sanctum of the King. Within, perched upon a lofty throne hewn from the same blue-tinged steel as the doors, resided King Barathin. His aura emanated authority and wisdom, his long gray beard cascading like a river of silver threads, extending before him and curling in small loops upon the chamber's floor.

Bardin advanced with the gravity befitting the moment, his footsteps resolute as he approached his father, the ruler of Valfrost. The presence of both guards flanking the chamber entrance and the looming grandeur of the chamber itself underscored the significance of this encounter

"Your highness, father, I have great news from beyond your realm." Bardin started, bowing deeply out of respect.

"Bardin Oakenshield," the king said, looking down at his son, still bowing deeply. " You dare bring a human into our domain. Have you no honor left in your people." He stated, looking in the direction of Karl.

"Your highness," Karl started taking a deep bow mimicking his small companion. "My colleague and I have offered our swords to help quell this plague that has forever daunted your grand city." He finished.

"You have no authority to speak to me, human." The king said dismissively. "For centuries long we have endured the threat of the goblins, we have no use for your inadequate "swords"." He said in a harsh tone born from years of prejudice. "Dark steel is far superior to any weapon made by man or elf." He finished glancing at shi'mir standing tall next to the two.

"Here we had worried you had been captured, or even dead at the hands of goblins, yet here you stand, foolheartedly on your quest to seek aid, we have the goblins at our gate. Yet you stand with humans, a fate worse than death." He said resting his head into his palm.

"Father, please, let old prejudice die, these honorable men have come to our aid, to forge a lasting alliance with the humans would only reap benefits for our kingdom and commerce."

"Leave me, for there are far more urgent matters than to have to deal with a half hearted alliance with the humans" the king finished with a wave of dismissal towards his son.

With disappointing rise, Bardin stood, eyeing the king for his foolishness. "Your kingdom will soon be mine, And then maybe you will see the foolishness in your words" he said, turning on his heels and marching out of the chamber.

"Your father is a stubborn man." Shi'mir said as the large darksteel doors shut behind them.

"My father is an honorable man, We will show him your worth, maybe then he will have a change of heart." Bardin said, as he marched forward. "Come, we must see the master blacksmith, you two will need to be equipped to face these monsters at the gate."

The long stairways led down through the cavern, leading them deeper into the mountain. The heat of the forge boiled up as they grew closer, causing sweat to form on their brows. The rhythmic sound of hammers banging away to the sound of singing.

Deep within the mountain's core,

Where molten rivers endlessly pour,

The dwarves of Valfrost dwell secure,

In halls of stone, a heritage pure.

Hidden away in their solemn keep,

In chambers carved, secrets they keep,

With bearded faces and hearts so bold,

Stories of ages in their tales are told.

In echoes of anvils and flickering light,

They toil through day and into night,

In Valfrost's embrace, they forge their lore,

A song of dwarven might forevermore.

The lively melody that had filled the air was abruptly silenced, hammers stilled and voices hushed, as the master blacksmith, a notably tall dwarf whose height could deceive one into thinking him a short human, noticed the approaching prince. His actions suspended, he turned his attention to the prince's arrival.

With a deep and deferential bow, a custom deeply woven into dwarven manners, the blacksmith extended his greeting. "My liege, this is an unexpected visit. Is all well in your kingdom?" The question was imbued with genuine concern, his tone both respectful and warm.

"Of course, Shep, my friend," Bardin replied, "but I must remind you that this realm still falls under my father's rule. I yield no power over his kingdom."

The blacksmith, aptly named Sheppard, offered an apologetic nod, his humility evident. "Apologies, my lord. You bear a strong resemblance to your father. His wisdom is reflected in your eyes."

Bardin smiled, then gestured towards the two figures standing beside him. "Allow me to introduce you, Sheppard. This is Karl Josson of Colestrand," he announced, prompting Karl to step forward and bow in a respectful greeting.

Notably, Sheppard's gaze fell to the broadsword hanging at Karl's side, and his reaction was marked by mild disappointment. "Ah, no, no. That blade is as sharp as a butter knife. It wouldn't sever a child's finger," he lamented with a shake of his head.

Taken aback, Karl's hand instinctively dropped to the hilt of his sword. "This blade was granted by my guild. I'm curious of your concern," he inquired.

With a firm grip on Karl's arm, Sheppard began leading him deeper into the forge, his stride forceful enough to almost unbalance Karl. "Dark steel is a testament to Dwarven craftsmanship," he explained, his voice resonating with a profound pride. "Your staff-wielding companion will also need suitable equipment. For now though, follow me."

Karl followed. Sheppard rummaged around through the back of the forge, and deftly lifted a substantial two-handed sword, a weapon designed for dwarven proportions, and passed it to Karl. Its weight surprised him, lighter than he had anticipated, yet it felt perfectly balanced in his grasp with one hand. Sheppard then casually cast Karl's old sword into the forge, hilt and all.

"That antiquated thing will fuel the forge's flames," Sheppard quipped with a grin. "Dark steel emerges from the heart of these mountains, infused with the potent magic of Amon," he continued, his passion evident. "This material maintains an exceptionally keen edge even when subjected to heat and hammer. Throughout the centuries, we dwarves have wielded it to fend off the thick-skinned goblins and their loathsome pets."

Bardin's smile mirrored Sheppard's enthusiasm, and he motioned to Shi'mir, ushering him to follow. "Sheppard speaks wisely. Preparing for the battles ahead, we shall equip you too." With those words, Bardin led Shi'mir deeper into the mountain's core, where more secrets of dwarven craftsmanship awaited.

With the forge behind them Bardin addressed Shi'mir "We dwarves have little use for incantations and spells like your Elven kind, But we do have many alchemists who are very knowledgeable I want to introduce you to" he said rounding a corner, meeting friendly faces along the way. Each dwarf they passed stopped and respectfully bowed to their prince.

"The Northern gates are strong, but they won't hold forever against the goblins. We have already lost Summithold outside, and our scouts say the goblins have rallied themselves and their troll pets to the north-east." He said, the worry evident in his voice, Although Bardin held himself high, the weight of his people bore down on him.

"We have tried for centuries to bring treaties with the goblins, but they hardly listen, They feast on fallen Dwarves" He said as he stopped next to a large woven curtain imbued with purple and green. "This is the Laboratory where the wisest dwarves practice brewing potions and gasses" He continued, Pulling back the curtain, revealing a large room, with many dwarves hunched over tables, all wearing strange spectacles over their eyes to shield them from any mishaps. "Gasses?" Shimir inquired, "I've seen such alchemy in Ula'rae, How did that knowledge make its way here?" he asked.

"Long ago, the dwarves learned of the magic in the hot dunes to the south, Brave adventurers set out to learn more of this magic. In doing so they met the Elves, and found them to be quite intolerable" Bardin said with a chuckle. "But, these adventurers found themselves in the swampy lands and discovered something quite valuable." He continued. "The muck under the swampy waters secrete a noxious chemical, when mixed with Darksteel it creates a gas like substance that stays in liquid form unto exposed to air"

Shi'mir's eyes widened with fascination. "Incredible," he breathed, leaning closer to examine the mixtures on the table. The thought seemed to strike him suddenly, and he asked with a wry grin, "By any chance, do any of these mixtures explode into a green, noxious gas that leaves one feeling a tad... off-balance?"

Bardin chuckled heartily at the inquiry. "Well, you have quite the keen eye, my friend. Come, let me show you," he invited, plucking a large glass container that seemed to fizz and froth as he swirled its contents. The sight and sound of it were a testament to the alchemical wonders being harnessed in the heart of the dwarven forge.

Suddenly a thundering bang echoed through the city, The walls shaking with a mighty groan. Thallen emerged in the room out of breath, leaning over, he was able to get out "The goblins are at the northern gate. We fear it wont last much longer." He finished.

Bardin cast a wary glance back to Shi'mir. "It seems the tour will be delayed, good elf. Let us hurry to the gates and assist our brethren against this threat." he said, turning back to Thallen and gesturing for him to lead the way.

Karl was already at the gates when they arrived, Shi'mir cast a speculative glance at the mighty sword Karl was wielding. Sheppard was nearby replenishing the arrow stocks for his archers. A steady stream of darts continued out the slits in the side of the gate. With each arrow released the cries of the goblins outside could be heard.

"This will be the first of many battles here. Lets try to survive." Bardin said unsheathing his own ax and standing at the ready.

Sheppard had rallied the men at the gates, ready to push open and drive the goblins back, As another heavy thud banged against the door.

Chapter 18: Sifar, Elwood - Builds his shop,

Chapter 19: Karl, Shimir, Valfrost, Epic battle to drive the goblins back

Chapter 20: Lorin, Neville

Chapter 21: Karl, Shimir, Valfrost - Magic, Battles, Blacksmith

Chapter 22: Karl, Shimir, Valfrost - Battles, King Dies?

Chapter 23: Elwood, Edgar - Elwood has tense run in with Rowan Plot unfolds revealing Rowan as conspirator, Edgar escapes jail

Chapter 24: Sifar, Franklyn, Torrez, Introducing Eklan - Sifar dies, Eklan is raised by Franky

Chapter 25: Karl, Shimir, Return to Pasterfest, Setup Frostfort

Chapter 26: Elwood confirms his suspicions with Rowan, and speaks to the king

Chapter 27: Lorin, Neville

Chapter 28: Lorin, Neville

Chapter 29: Karl, Shimir, Elwood travel to Colestrand after a meeting with the king

Chapter 30: Franklyn, Torrez, Eklan

Chapter 31: Karl, Shimir meet back with Bardin in Colestrand

Chapter 32: Travel to Wiredeep

Chapter 33: Final confrontation with Karl, Shimir, Bardin, Edgar, and Lakim

Chapter 34: Travel back to Pasterfest, Marries Elsa, and is given FrostFort - Final scene Karl and Elsa on their way to their new home in Frostfort