Twelfth month, Unknown Day, 967

  Illorien

  My brother Valyrian just punched a man. Moreover, I am fairly certain he was some sort of high-ranking merchant. How the hells did I let myself get into this situation? Ah, yes, it started last spring, when I became the target of an assassination attempt…

  Earlier, That Spring

  Throughout my centuries long life, I had always been more of a poet than a fighter, indeed, I always loved the ancient ballads of our people and I had them all memorized - tales of loss and fire, of valor and defeat, of tragedy and comedy, great deeds and grave peril. Stories about sorcerers of eld who could shape the very geography of the world with a mere thought, of swordsmen who could bring elder demons to ruin with but a single stroke of their divine blades, and my personal favorite, the tale of the trickster who used a legal loophole to separate a dragon from his entire hoard.

  That generation of elves had long passed, and of course, many have lamented the decline of our powers over the aeons - could we reach such heights again? I knew not - my brother certainly thinks so, but I have long thought him nothing more than a terrible boor and a sword-obsessed fool. I always thought that the answer to the question of “what makes a good king” was charisma, and an understanding of philosophy. To that end I cultivated a talent for poetry and diplomacy to the exclusion of the martial and magical talents that came naturally to our people.

  But no. In truth, it was I who was the fool. One day, out of the blue, our father called a war council and I was summoned as well. I held no office, and had no sense for warfare, so I wondered why his majesty had thought to include me. Wondered, that is, until I learned why the council had been called in the first place: someone had been plotting to murder me. I was in shock, naturally, even elder races aren't immune to that, we simply become better at hiding it the more centuries we live.

  The selfsame individuals had also attempted to murder my youngest sister, but they were vanquished by him: Victor, the man from another world who would later become my dear sister’s fiancee. I saw him for the first time that day, he was tall for a human but I think that I still stood a head over him. Though many in the court thought not much of him, for little did he resemble the legendary men of Old Hylaria, I saw something in him - a certain something in his eyes which, to my disgrace as a poet, I can’t quite put into words.

  I love my littlest sister, as do we all, though she was always certainly closer to Valyrian than any of the rest of us, and at that moment I realized that perhaps I should do a better job of showing it. I would have died of heartbreak had she perished ere I had a chance to just be a good elder brother to her every once in awhile instead of just the aloof and distant future king. A good prince did I call myself? No, I am nothing more than a careless fool who nearly got himself slaughtered. Sylfaena was right to call me, in her words, a “dummy.”

  As though someone had used forbidden magic to transmute my heart to lead, it sank as though through a nigh bottomless deep-sea abyss. I had grown cold and ill when Lord Hanzorian gave his report; to think that my harmless habit of slipping away into a place where I could find some inspiration to write could have led to my death. Once again Sylfaena’s unheeded warning churned in my stomach; I’m older, I know better than she, I’d foolishly told myself. Then my future brother-in-law made a suggestion - to have Valyrian take my place and ensnare our would-be-assassins. It seemed like a decent strategy, but Elianora have mercy, did he cut me with those words.

  "...that guy, who doesn't stand a chance in a fight,” he’d said.

  It was a most astute observation, and it was all that I could do to remain calm. After the meeting, I bolted into the garden and released the contents of my stomach into the grass. Hm? Didst thou believe that I was exaggerating when I said I was feeling ill? We highborn elves may be resistant to such things as the stomach flu, but stress-induced nausea is something that even we can suffer from; nor are we naturally inured to sudden changes of motion, as I would later discover whilst riding upon my brother’s dragon.

  Some few days passed after Illiana and Victor sped off in his Cadillac. I was wandering the halls of the palace, early one morning, searching for Valyrian. At this time, I surmised, he ought to be taking breakfast. Long I had been pondering over the events of the past few days, and I had come to an inescapable conclusion: I was woefully unprepared. I saw Hanzorian in the garden, unmasked again, eating berries with the High Inquisitorix. I saw my sisters Vardrina and Iylestra gossipping with the usual gaggle of high-brow ladies. Where short-devil was Valyrian?

  Ah, there you are, yes, he was sitting at a table, wearing nightclothes and scooping large spoonfuls of steaming hot oat porridge into his mouth from a little ceramic bowl. He'd developed a taste for the stuff during his time as an adventurer, so much so that he funded an entire local oat farming operation with his own personal wealth so that he no longer needed to have it imported. I walked in as he was in the middle of chewing, then he swallowed and glared at me.

  "Brother," I said, "May I-"

  Valyrian said, sharply, "You ain't getting none of my oats!"

  I waved my hand, "-Have a moment of your time. Nay, brother, what I crave of you isn't succor, it is satisfaction."

  Valyrian tilted his head with a "Huh?".

  I knelt, something that an elder ought not do before a junior, but to the hells with decorum! This was an earnest plea from a brother to a brother, not some courtly matter where I shouldn't be expected to show him deference.

  "I am dissatisfied with myself. Which is to say I hate the fact that I am so feeble as to be considered an easy target ripe for plucking. Brother, I want you to train me. I want to learn how to fight the same as you can. Please train me to become a legendary warrior such as you!"

  Valyrian said nothing for a long time, then he stepped closer, glaring down at me. I supposed that it was too much of a request. But then he laughed loudly and slapped me on the shoulder

  "Ha! I thought you'd never ask! Took you long enough!" He grabbed me and lifted me to a standing position. "Come, let's get started right now! I ain't goin' easy on you either."

  I smiled, "I wouldn't have it any other way, brother. But I refuse to call you teacher - I am still older than you, after all."

  He waved dismissively, "Fine, fine, I couldn't care less about that anyway."

  Twelfth month, Unknown Day, 967

  Months passed, it was now winter. The training was painful, harsh, but I slowly got better at swordplay; by the time I saw Victor again we were somewhat evenly matched. Why, I could even last a few rounds against that young swordsman, whom I am beginning to suspect might be a member of the royal family; not for terribly long though, he is quick and has endurance to match. The statuesque warrior-maiden from the north and the gentleman from Hylaria, however…I was no match for them at all.

  Some time after the victory festival, where my sister’s engagement was announced, Valyrian dragged me out of bed and took me out on another journey. First we flew on Snauro’s back to Kuvenberg and spent just over an hour there; he had me wait with his pet dragon while he went inside a tavern. Whatever errand he had inside didn’t take long, and so we spent the rest of our visit letting Snauro rest before we moved on.

  “Just what are we doing out here, brother?” I asked.

  “Ugh, it's hard to explain.” He grunted, then muttered something about being left handed. “Whatever, there ain’t any here so let’s move on to the next one.”

  I sighed, “The next what?”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Valyrian didn’t answer that; he has been behaving oddly since the festival, but then again he’s always been a bit odd so this might more accurately be described as uncharacteristic of him.

  I don’t know how many towns, villages, and cities we went to - I stopped counting. Then at some point he mentioned wanting to go to the Dragon Sea area. Why ever would he want to - ah, perhaps he wanted some of their signature cuisine? We returned to Tor Anaura and sought out Lord Hanzorian; Valyrian asked him whether he knew of any teleportation circles that led to the Dragon Sea.

  “The Gaian Empire,” said Hanzorian, “Never conquered the Dragon Sea. You know this, your highness.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know but, did they have one of them outposts close to the border or something, like maybe in the Wilderlands?”

  Hanzorian considered for a moment, and brought out the system map that he’d shown us during his briefing the month previous. “There. The Lashas Wilderland, it lies near the coast on our side of the Dragon Sea. You’ll need to use another checkpoint and go to the central hub, so take Nenewyn with you; she may be able to manage configuring the teleporter, but I need her returned as quickly as possible!”

  Valyrian grinned and, of course, imitated Victor’s thumbs-up, “Well shit, yeah, I can fly over the Dragon Sea from there in a flash! Thanks, Han!”

  Then we met up with Lady Nenewyn who was eager to help. She and I are roughly the same age, I think, and I’d known her for as long as she’d been court wizard - the changes in her demeanor over the course of the past few months was noticeable; she was more confident, not just in her face but also in her stance. The four of us, dragon included, were teleported to Snacqua’s former lair; the court mage had made it a point not to destroy the teleporter, just in case we needed it.

  Sure enough we found ourselves in the central hub, and after some trial and error we were able to teleport ourselves to the Lashas Wilderland and flew from there to the Dragon Sea. Lady Nenewyn joined us, but did not remain with in our presence the whole time; she wanted to do some magical research while we were here. For my part, I bought a few poetry books and a few other oddments while I waited for Valyrian to do what he needed to do; whatever in the name of all that is holy his mysterious errand was. Ah, they made such wonderful confections with smashed rice; I made it a point to purchase a few large bags of the grain, for surely Vardrina could-

  -That’s when the yelling started. Valyrian was leaving the manor in a huff.

  “We’re leaving,” he said, “Mother f-...just ditch ‘em in a random town and…gods-damned tayd stable…” His grumbles trailed off.

  The guards were coming to question us, so we began to run back to where Snauro was. Nenewyn was nowhere to be seen so we flew around looking for her. After a harrowing search, we found her at one of the book stalls - Valyrian whistled and she looked up. In a flash, she was sitting with us on Snauro’s back. Such a useful spell, that teleport.

  “Where to now, brother?” I said, exasperated.

  “I dunno, gonna check some maps and figure it out.”

  Nenewyn said, “Very well, then let us hie ourselves back to Tor Anaura - I must needs report upon the state of the transport hub to Lord Hanzorian.”

  Valyrian clicked his tongue, “Sounds good to me. By the way - you’re lookin’ especially…that new outfit’s great on ya!”

  “Hm, I thank you.” Nenewyn pressed her specs, “By the way. I heard an interesting rumor…they say that her majesty, Queen Variella, passed through here recently.”

  Huh? I said, “Our mother was…”

  Valyrian said, wide eyed, “...Here?”

  She nodded, “Correct.”

  Valyrian smiled, “Sweet. If she’s in the Dragon Sea area…her pilgrimage is almost over.”

  Out of all of our siblings only Valyrian had accompanied our mother on one of her journeys - long ago, back when he was barely in his fourth decade of life. He knew well the route that our mother took.

  Valyrian said, “Guys, guys, guys! Do you know what this means?”

  I rolled my eyes, “No, because you’re dying to tell us, have I the right of it?”

  He clicked his tongue, “You know me too well, elder brother. It means we might be throwin’ a wedding sooner than we thought! Hey Nene, where’s Vic anyway? I knocked at his door and nobody answered!”

  Ah, I’d almost forgotten - we had made it a point to visit his home. His friends staying at the inn were also gone - brother, if you wanted to know, why did you not ask Hanzorian…such a thick head on him some times.

  Nenewyn said, “The Greenreach.”

  “Greenreach? Huh, that’s where I’m going next, just, I don’t know what part,” He bellowed in that same deep horse laugh of his. “Hey, could we get there the same way we got here?”

  “Potentially, though we don’t know whether any of the termini are still functional. If the square is damaged, it may either leave us stranded on the opposite side, or send us to some random location hundreds of miles away.”

  I blanched, “Wait, there was a chance that neither the hub nor the circle in the Lashas Wilderland functioned?”

  Nenewyn simply nodded and my heart dropped. I’d just taken a huge risk and hadn’t even realized it…I laughed. I realized that I, for some reason or other, enjoyed that. The sudden rush of blood to my limbs, the heat in my chest…such exhilaration, this was not my intention.

  Then she said, “Lord Hanzorian presently has me investigating the teleportation squares; if you’ll wait patiently I’m certain I can help you.”

  Valyrian just nodded, gave a thumbs up, and spurred Snauro to maximum speed. Soon we were back in Tor Anaura, and while Valyrian went away to satisfy another porridge craving - the literal sort, involving his stomach - I took the opportunity to speak with the court mage.

  “Lady Nenewyn,” I said, “May I ask a somewhat unusual question?”

  She said, “Naturally. I am sworn to aid you in all matters of knowledge, after all.”

  I shook my head, “‘Tis not a matter so formal, nor is it some scholarly pursuit. Pray, and I realize that I may simply be reading more into this than I ought, have you noticed my brother’s strange behavior of late?”

  She crossed her arms, pressed a finger to her cheek and paused for a moment. “Yes, actually. Muttering things, wandering around the palace, asking for maps and records…”

  I knew it. “What do you think is going on, and why did this start specifically on the night of the victory festival? Surely it can not be something as mundane as searching for a wedding gift?”

  “I’m at a loss for ideas…where has he been dragging you lately?”

  I told her all of the places we’d been to lately and her eyes widened. She dipped her head, her chin cradled delicately in her hand.

  “I suspect,” she said at length. “That this has something to do with his son.”

  I sighed and nodded. “Ah, his son of course, is that all -” My eyes burst open as realization struck. “Wait, his what?” My jaw threatened to strike a telling blow against my noble sternum.”

  Lady Nenewyn nodded, “The young Andalonian adventurer, Selafyn, is his son.”

  So the thing that I suspected in jest was actually true? O Elianora, thy trickster brother hath played me well. Your errant child is unworthy to behold such glorious irony.

  I laughed, “That means I was bested by my own nephew, a thousand years my junior - ha, as a swordsman really am below par.”

  Seemingly irritated, she crossed her arms. “At least he didn’t beat you at chess. ” She shook her head. “I think, perhaps, that Valyrian may have finally realized it himself - or is on the cusp of it. That may be the reason for your seemingly random travels.”

  But what could possibly be the connection? Hold on a moment, with the exception of that port city in the Dragon Sea all of the places we’d visited so far were locales that Valyrian had visited once before. Had not that town north-west of Verdan once come under bandit attack in an incident spoken of among the humans, and recently in Kurvenberg didn’t he-

  “Lady Nenewyn, surely you can not mean…”

  “Illorien! Come on ya slowcoach!” Valyrian bellowed; that fellow can wolf down a bowl of porridge alarmingly fast.

  “I thought we were waiting for Lady Nenewyn and Hanzorian to finish their-”

  Valyrian clicked his tongue, “Well duh, but I wanna get a training session in while we wait!”

  “Very well. I’d like to try the new sword I bought on our journey.”

  “That’s the spirit!”

  Spirit I have in barrels, I can only pray that my body doesn’t break first. I asked before, how I’d gotten into this situation - the truth is that I’d brought it upon myself…and I couldn’t be happier for it.

  Not that it made my body any less sore!