As soon as they passed through the green veil of magic, the city was no longer in its ruinous state but appeared to be at the height of its power. They stood on a wide boulevard paved in pure white marble, the median lined with luminescent trees that shimmered with a soft, ethereal glow. Tall, curving buildings rose on either side, none shorter than five stories, with many as high as ten. The streets were filled with tall figures in flowing, vibrant robes, and—Justin noticed—pointed ears. Their skin tones ranged from pale silver to deep emerald, and their eyes glowed faintly, hinting at their innate magical abilities. The sky was pure blue, the weather warm, even balmy.
Kargan looked around, eyes wide. “I never dreamed I would see an Elf in all my days.”
“They’re not real,” Lila said.
“Yes, but they might as well be,” Kargan replied.
“Okay,” Lila said. “What’s the plan? We’re supposed to be a delegation from the Orcish Confederation, so we need to find the King and Queen. How can we do that?”
As they stepped forward into the city, Justin couldn’t help but notice that the Elves were shirking back from them. He realized it wasn’t he, Eldrin, and Lila they were afraid of, but Kargan. That made sense, considering they were at war with the Orcs.
It didn’t take too long for two guards to approach. They wore green, natural-looking armor that seemed to be woven from living vines and leaves, and they carried staves that glowed with a faint inner light. Each had silver skin, with silver hair hanging down to their waists.
“There you are!” the leader said. “They told us to be on the lookout for the delegation, but that you’ve snuck right past the walls doesn’t bode well for the Gate Wardens.”
To Justin’s shock, the words came out in the language that must have been Ancient Ilvari. It sounded melodic and slurring, but he understood every word.
He was even more surprised when Eldrin responded in the same language. “Indeed, we are representatives of the Orcish Confederation. Please take us to the King and Queen. There is no time to waste.”
“Just the four of you?” the other guard asked skeptically. “And our enemies would insult us to send an Orc! The delegation was to be entirely neutral.”
“I’m not from the Confederation,” Kargan put in.
“I see,” the guard said. “Well, maybe so. It would seem you’re a mage, and the Confederation doesn’t look too kindly on them.”
Justin cleared his throat. “The Confederation wishes to show its good faith, knowing the power of the Ilvari mages. It has been a long and terrible war, and they are eager to sue for peace.”
The first guard scoffed. “I’ll say, especially after how badly we beat them at the Battle of Eryndor!”
“Please,” Eldrin said. “Lead us to the Palace.”
“We will do so at once.”
Within a minute, a contingent of Elvish guards in similar natural armor, all bearing staves, had boxed them in and were escorting them up the main thoroughfare. The city was far larger than anything Justin had seen so far in Eyrth. This was clearly once an important city. The towers rose like skyscrapers, their surfaces adorned with intricate carvings, even connecting to each other in graceful, arched bridges. Blending in with the buildings were beautiful trees, with wide and graceful limbs. Passers-by watched them with distrust, their gazes lingering especially long on Kargan. Justin’s eyes widened in shock as he saw something that he could only describe as a bipedal, armored dinosaur, with emerald-green skin, being ridden on by an Elvish warrior. It was about the size of a horse, and from the lack of looks, it wasn’t a strange sight.
At Justin’s look of confusion, Eldrin leaned over, speaking in Aranthian while also watching the creature. “That’s a Thera. This kind has been extinct in Serenthel as long as the Elves.”
Justin had to wonder. If society had been this advanced two thousand years ago, what had caused it to…well, stop being so advanced? War? Plague? Random meteor strike? Yet more questions he didn’t have the answer to.
At last, they rounded a bend and found themselves before a massive palace that seemed to be a series of massive, interconnected trees, with branches and leaves gleaming silver and similarly silver bark shining under the resplendent sun. Its canopy spread wide, falling over the stones of the plaza they stood on.
The guards led them up a set of marble steps, right through the open entrance of the main tree, where the grandeur only increased. The halls were adorned with magical luminescence, casting everything in a soft, radiant glow. The walls were lined with tapestries depicting scenes of Elvish history, and statues of great Elven heroes stood in alcoves, their eyes watching the party as they passed. A magnificent fountain rose in the middle, depicting some great Elvish king on the back of a unicorn.
Finally, they entered a grand hall. The space was vast, with high ceilings supported by columns that were in fact living trees with golden bark, their branches arching overhead to form a natural canopy. The air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers and the soft hum of magical energy.
They passed dozens of nobles dressed richly, and all Justin could think of was that these people—if they could indeed be called people—no longer existed and hadn’t for two thousand years. More than that, their entire race had been wiped out by…something. Perhaps by this very war the Vault had tasked them to end.
Within a moment, the guards had brought them before the King and Queen, both of whom sat on thrones made of intertwined vines and precious stones, their presence commanding and regal. The King’s eyes, green as emerald, surveyed them with interest. He had long, silver hair that flowed down his back and a strong, dignified face. The Queen’s eyes, the same hue of amber as Kargan’s, held a mixture of curiosity and caution. She had dark, flowing hair and a serene yet powerful presence.
Justin remembered their names from the Vault description: King Thalion and Queen Alaria.
The hall was utterly silent as the monarchs looked down at them from their thrones. Justin had to remind himself this was only a Level 8 Vault, and that they were more than capable of handling whatever was thrown at them. At least, they should be in theory.
At last, the King’s voice broke the silence, deep and resonant. “Speak.”
Eldrin took a humble step forward, lowering his head. “My King and Queen…”
The Queen raised a bejeweled hand, instantly stopping him. “No. I want to hear from him.”
To Justin’s surprise, she was looking right at him.
Justin cleared his throat. “Me, your Majesty?”
“You dare question me, Socialite? Where is your respect?”
Justin recognized why she was singling him out. Somehow, she knew all their classes, and as the Socialite, she expected him to be the one to speak.
And come to think of it, why shouldn’t he? He had the highest Charisma Attribute of anyone in the party, which in theory, should allow him to think quickly on his feet.
Eldrin seemed to recognize this, gracefully taking a step back.
It was up to Justin now. He gave a winning smile, hardly even feeling the gazes of the Elvish nobles upon him. In fact, it seemed the more eyes that were looking at him, the more confident he felt. This was not his normal personality. It was definitely something to do with his Charisma Attribute.
“Your Majesties,” he said, his voice clear and commanding. “My name is Lord Justin of House Talemaker, and with me are my associates, Lord Eldrin, Lady Lila, and Lord Kargan. We have come on a mission of peace from the Orcish Confederation, eager to end the long and terrible war that has ravaged both nations and wider Serenthel.”
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The Queen’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Kargan. “An Orc mage in our midst is an unusual sight. Is this some idea of a joke by our enemies, Lord Justin?”
Justin held her gaze steadily. “It is no joke, Queen Alaria. It is only proof that it possible for an Orc—the dreaded enemy—to come within the hallowed walls of Eldareth itself and conduct himself worthily.”
To Kargan’s credit, he stood straighter, having a noble bearing. He seemed to understand that this was all an act.
Justin continued. “We desire to end the bloodshed and find a path to peace. We understand the pain this war has caused, but we believe that through diplomacy and mutual respect, we can forge a new and brighter future for both sides.”
The court murmured among themselves, their suspicion clear. Despite Justin’s eloquence, Kargan’s presence seemed to cast a shadow over their intentions. He wondered if that was by the Vault’s design, or whether things would have been easier without the Orc in their party.
King Thalion raised a hand to silence the court. “Of course, peace is desired by all. But when so many have died, and the borders remain the same as they ever were, the sacrifice of tens of thousands of Elves will have availed nothing. We cannot accept peace unless we receive something in compensation.”
Justin wished he could give something to the Elves, but the Vault description was clear. No land or resources could change sides in the peace deal.
Justin’s face became solemn. “Peace is better than the alternative, my King.”
“What alternative?”
Justin paused, weighing his words. Either what he said was a significant risk, or it would end up effectively making his point. “It’s been said that every empire falls as the ages turn. But when historians look back on the ruins of the past, they point to the reasons this or that kingdom fell, and what might have been done to prevent it. Sometimes, larger societal shifts are to blame, under the control of no single being in all of Eyrth, but a zeitgeist all moving in the same direction that can hardly be averted.”
Zeitgeist. Yes, the Charisma Attribute was definitely doing something to his words. And much to Justin’s surprise, everyone was listening closely.
“At other times,” Justin continued, “one can point to a single action, a single ruler, who set the course of future events in such a way that collapse became inevitable. A single decision, or lack thereof, can act as a trapdoor through which a kingdom crashes and burns.”
The King smiled. “And you would say that I’m that King, Lord Justin?”
“The powerful often cannot see what is apparent to all those who do not hold power. The humble farmer, whose house has burned, whose family has been killed, has already lost his kingdom. Multiply that by a hundred times—a thousand, or even more—then you discover that a Kingdom does not derive its power from its rulers, but from the ruled. Make no mistake. If this war is allowed to continue, and both sides waste themselves on each other, either the entire continent devolves into anarchy, or space is made for a third player to enter and eat the carcasses of what remains.”
The hall was incredibly silent following these words. His companions were looking at him strangely, maybe feeling his speech felt out of character.
But perhaps it wasn’t out of character. Perhaps he was simply stepping into his role for the first time.
“Your words are well spoken, Lord Justin,” King Thalion said at last. “Of course, the danger of running out of resources and soldiers is real. But words alone are not enough to prove your sincerity, or the sincerity of the Orcish Confederation. In these times of war, we cannot afford to trust so easily.”
The Queen looked at the King. “But Lord Justin’s words are as good as a prophecy. The Ilvari Elves are mighty indeed, but there are certain truths that even our people cannot escape. It might be said one day, ‘Here once ruled the Ilvari; their cities were powerful, their magic mighty, and their craft great. And yet, they are nothing more than a memory, because they didn’t know how to make peace with their enemies.’”
The King’s face firmed. It was clear they didn’t see eye-to-eye on this.
“That may be true,” the King said at last. “But if we were the first to cast aside our staves, it would expose our necks to the Orcish enemy. It’s only been fifty years since they even learned to write. Unlike our people, they do not abide by treaties and laws. Their word is only good for a generation until the next forgets it and takes up the hammers and axes of their fathers.”
“The Orcish Confederation is sincere in its offer of peace,” Justin said. “In the halls of their Clan Elders, they recognize the need for change in their society.”
“I imagine they do,” King Thalion said. “We dealt them a mighty blow at Eryndor. A blow for which we deserve compensation.”
“Or,” Queen Alaria said, “in our hubris, we stretch our hand too far and find ourselves with a string of losses that erases all of our gains. The war was faring poorly before our timely victory, my King. It might be best to take the peace while we can.”
Justin could see that his words had convinced the Queen already. The King was the main holdout.
And yet, Justin knew he had pushed enough already. Anymore and the King might become even more stubborn. His wife, after all, had already gone against him in front of the entire court.
At last, King Thalion sighed. “I cannot trust you, Lord Justin—or more accurately, the ones you represent. We’ve made peace in the time of my father, and still, they come raiding down from their mountain halls. Why should we ever trust them?”
“My King,” Queen Alaria said. “You must lay down your pride. We have already lost so many young soldiers. How can our kingdom hope to recover if we lose even more?”
The tension between the two only seemed to increase. Justin was wracking his mind for something to say to save the situation when the silence was broken by an unknown voice resounding throughout the hall.
“Why not let the gods decide?”
A warrior stepped forward from the shadows, tall and formidable, clad in silver armor that gleamed like the moon. His eyes were cold and calculating, fiercely blue, and his skin was the same color as his armor.
“Lord Seraphael,” the King said, a smile tugging at his lips. “You would challenge this envoy that has come in peace by laws centuries old?”
Justin frowned. “If this is some trial by combat, we aren’t interested.”
“And yet,” Lord Seraphael said, “the King and Queen are at an impasse. In times of old, if the monarchs could not agree on a matter, it was left to the gods to decide.” He turned to the King and Queen. “With your permission, your Majesties?”
The King nodded regally, while the Queen waited a moment, clearly not liking this. Yet she also nodded.
Lord Seraphael smiled, the picture of confidence as he turned to face the party. “I am Seraphael Thalarion, of the very Eryndor that has one the great victory a fortnight past. My land has suffered greatly at the hands of the Orcs, and I would die long before I ever made peace with the overgrown goblins.”
Kargan’s short tusks protruded further at that, but he kept silent, even as his amber eyes burned in anger.
Lord Seraphael gave a mocking smile as he looked down on Kargan. “That you bring one of these savages into our hallowed halls is the greatest of insults!”
Kargan was about to speak, but Justin raised his hand.
Justin smiled. “Really? I’d have thought the greatest insult would be your complete lack of manners. If anyone is behaving with savagery, it’s not Lord Kargan, but you, Seraphael. But I suppose one can’t expect much from someone who compensates with such… shining armor.”
A couple of nobles tittered in the background, but most seemed interested in how Seraphael would react. Clearly, the man had a reputation for violence.
Seraphael puffed out his chest. “Trust me, my dear Socialite, I shall not be the one found lacking. With the permission of the good King and Queen, I say we settle this in the arena. Me, against the four of you.”
Justin activated his Dandy’s Swagger, strutting forward with exaggerated grace, puffing out his chest mockingly while twirling his cane. His movements were fluid and taunting, a gross exaggeration of Seraphael himself. Gasps of alarm echoed through the hall, though some laughed nervously. Seraphael’s expression turned to one of disgust and anger.
Justin followed it up with a Poison Barb. “Well, my good Seraphael, if your combat skills are as sharp as your wit, then we have nothing to fear.”
Seraphael became momentarily stunned, his face red as he fought for words to speak. A couple of nobles gasped in the background.
“That settles it,” Seraphael said, finally recovering. “By the good grace of the King and Queen, this will be no simple contest, but a fight to the death. The four of you against me and my Thera, with the Goddess Lathalon herself as witness! I can see by those implements you call weapons that you are warriors of great renown.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. “If you can prove your strength and resolve by spilling my life’s blood, the bravest and most powerful warrior in the Kingdom, then I swear by the Good Goddess herself that the Ilvari Elves will enter peace talks with the Orcish Confederation.”
Eldrin, Lila, and Kargan looked at Justin. The Ranger nodded, and somehow, Justin knew that was part of the Vault’s challenge. While he had failed to convince both the King and Queen, there was still a way to complete the Vault.
To do that, they would have to face this warrior. It was four against one. Two, if they counted the Elvish warrior’s Thera mount.
Justin looked at the King and Queen. “Do we have your word that you’ll honor the terms given by…remind me again…your most powerful warrior?”
“Of course,” the King said, somewhat miffed. “No Elf can make such a vow and live to break it.”
“Then we accept your challenge, Seraphael. Upon our victory, the Ilvari Elves will gain two gifts: peace with the Orcs and the absence of one fool. I must admit, it’s difficult to say which is the greater blessing.”
“Very well,” Seraphael said, his voice one of forced calm. “We will see how empty banter avails you on the battleground, Socialite. I can’t wait to crush you beneath the claws of my Thera.”
The courtroom broke into a flurry of whispers. Justin could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on him.
The Queen’s gaze softened slightly as she looked at the party. “May the Goddess be with the winner.”
“The trial will begin in one hour in the courtyard arena,” the King declared. “You had best prepare yourselves; Seraphael is indeed my strongest warrior.”
In the next moment, Justin and the rest were escorted out of the throne room. His mind raced as they walked,
his heart pounding with a mix of adrenaline and anxiety. He wondered what else he could have said to convince the King before things came to blows, but it was too late for that.
He just had to believe that the four of them had what it took.