Viria raised her weapon, shuddering as Valandor’s collided with it. The old elf’s form was a rush of blood-tinged autumn, the mottled orange-red of his uniform bright against the dappled brown and green. His scarred face was calm; just as it always was during their sessions.

She adjusted her grip, blocking a second blow as he pressed forward. Valandor’s strikes were slow; meant to gauge her progress rather than break her guard. He made three more cuts– two horizontal and one diagonal– before retreating.

“Switch!” He said, gruff voice strained with effort.

Variel stepped forward to take his place. She wielded a sword of her own, wooden to Valandor’s metal, but where his movements were wide and slow, hers were narrow and quick. That was the reason for her inclusion in these training sessions: to give Viria experience against a different style of fighting. At least, that was the answer Valandor gave.

Viria stepped back as Variel came in low, twisting her entire body to power an upwards diagonal strike. She brought her weapon down in a series of smaller cuts, followed up by another larger one.

This was how Variel fought: a series of short, quick strikes meant to tire, and then a more powerful one, meant to disarm or break.

Viria felt her fingers numb as she blocked. There was no real competition between them. Variel was faster, stronger, and better trained. She’d barely managed to weather a single assault during the first week with Variel. This was a marked improvement.

“Add!”

Valandor’s rough voice broke her concentration. She pushed Variel’s weapon away, kicking out with one leg as she did so, then turned– to find the scarred elf just two paces away. His metal sword glimmered in the uneven sunlight as it curved downwards.

Viria reacted by weaving a barrier into existence just moments before his blade would have reached. The action came more easily now, spurred on by instinct honed over the past few weeks. She’d resisted adding this new element to their regime, but Valandor had insisted.

It was difficult to tell who between them was really in charge.

She felt the force of his strike echo across the barrier; magic’s blue glow dyeing the scarred elf’s face. Its surface cracked and then shattered as Viria stepped through it, swinging her weapon to push Valandor back.

Each shard of the shattered spell burned bright against her psyche, like so many points of light. Viria willed them to coalesce, then flatten and spread, forming two long blades formed from pure magic.

After so much time with Veile, she could create up to six, but going past two made them unstable– and ate too far into her focus. The two immaterial blades moved behind her, just in time to block another attack from Variel.

Viria heard the other elf shout in surprise, but she paid it no mind, instead stepping forward and swinging at Valandor once more. She split her focus as the older elf took a step back.

The constructs she kept at her back, held just the right distance apart to make slashing impractical. This was cheating, in a way; Variel had a tendency to avoid stabbing. Viria didn’t know whether that was due to habit or a desire to avoid inflicting harm, but she was happy to take advantage of it.

She stepped forward, swinging again her weapon for a third time while simultaneously adjusting the spell’s position to follow Variel’s sidestep.

Valandor, though he could have easily fended her off, let himself be pushed back. “Stop!”

Viria froze in place, as did Variel.

“That’s enough for today,” Valandor said calmly, stowing his sword with a flourish.

“Already?”

“Only two of us are still young. And besides,” he pointed with one hand. “It looks like there’s visitors. For you, I assume.”

Following the direction of his finger, Viria saw Veile and her ever-present attendant watching from the side. Her sister waved as their eyes met.

She returned the gesture, only to flinch as the pair appeared right in front of them amidst the sound of shattering glass.

“Ria!” And then Veile’s arms were around her neck. Her skin felt cold to the touch, no doubt thanks to the way Viria exerted herself moments ago.

“Vai.” She wrapped her own arms around Veile’s slim figure, squeezing her once before stepping away. “Why are you here? Is something wrong?”

Veile’s multi-colored eyes seemed to flicker as her lips curved down into a pout. “What? What if I just wanted to see my sister?”

“... You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” she laughed. “Although it does sadden me. Just a bit.” Her head shifted to the side ever so slightly. “Raise your head. Both of you. Especially you, Valandor.“There’s no need to hide your irreverence from me.”

Viria turned just in time to see Valandor and Variel straighten.

“To what do we owe the honor?” The old elf asked gruffly.

“Mere coincidence,” Veile answered with a smile. “I’m here to speak with my sister… although I suppose it concerns the two of you as well.”

“Variel will have no part of this,” he said, somewhat stiffly.

“That decision is not for you to make.”

“What do you…”

“Valandor.” Variel stepped forward, face stricken, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s okay. She asked me to be an attendant, same as you.”

“What?” His eyes widened. “But–”

She cut him off. “You are not in control of my life.” Her voice softened. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me– how you’ve looked out for me. But my choices are my own,” she said firmly. “And I want to see whatever unfolds with my own to eyes.” Varie’s eyes found Viria’s. “If you’ll have me as your attendant, I’ll gladly accept the offer.”

Viria looked to Valandor. Regardless of how Variel felt, his opinion was important. He was her attendant– and friend. She had no desire to cross him. His face was stony, but nodded once, the gesture so small it was nearly imperceptible.

“Happily.” She bowed slightly as Variel did the same.

In truth, she already filled much of that role. Her presence was a near-constant in their training sessions, and on the days Valandor forced her to rest, Variel often tagged along.

Viria wasn’t sure whether she considered the other elf a friend, yet, but that had more to do with her own reservations. Variel had made it clear many times over that her desire for kinship was a genuine one.

Veile clapped her hands together. “Excellent. That means Mara won’t have to ferry anyone back and forth.” Her expression turned serious. “This is for your ears only. If you speak to anyone, I will know– and there will be consequences. Do you understand?”

They all nodded once.

“Good.” She lowered her hands. “Then, hear me: some time from now, the five of us will embark on a journey to the human kingdom.” There were three different reactions to that.

Valandor’s body stiffened.

Variel’s jaw dropped open.

Viria took a step back.

The old elf was the first to recover. “What the fuck for?”

“To forge a treaty,” Veile answered matter-of-factly, as if completely unaware of the absurdity of her words.

“And the other Grovetenders agreed to this?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

Valandor growled, taking a step forward. “What is that supposed to mean?”

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“Exactly what I said.”

“You–” He stopped short, raising his hands as Mara stepped between him and Veile.

“Despite how this all seems, I hold you in rather high regard, Valandor,” Veile said lightly. “I’m grateful that you offered to guide my sister. I’m prepared to answer any questions that any of you may have.” She tilted her head. “Although I admit, I’m surprised. I thought this was part of your ideal.”

“I’m just not used to having world-shattering new dropped on my head. Forgive my impudence.”

“I would certainly hope not,” Veile laughed, “and as I said, there’s no need to hide your irreverence from me. You have no reason to apologize.”

“Your attendant here seems to think otherwise.”

“Mara is… over protective. Will you stay your hand, Valandor?”

“I will.”

“Then allow me to answer your questions.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why… all of it.”

Veile audibly sighed. “For such a large question, it’s a very simple answer: because it’s past time. We as races could compensate for each other’s weaknesses, but we see them only as a means to slay one another, or otherwise cause pain.” She gestured to his scarred arm. “You yourself experienced that, no?”

“Is it safe?”

“Quite. I’ve been assured by the crown prince that no harm shall come to us, and we will be left to our own devices– with reason, of course. The journey there, on the other hand, will be anything but. For that reason, the human kingdom will provide us with an escort.”

“An escort or jailers?” Valandor asked flatly.

“An escort,” Veile answered coolly. “One picked by me.”

He snorted. “Who do you know in the human kingdom?”

“A mutual acquaintance of ours.”

Another snort. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am, actually. Quite serious, in fact.”

Valandor laughed. “That’s one hell of a retinue you’ve got lined up.”

Veile smiled. “Isn’t it?”

“Mutual acquaintance?” Viria asked, her mind still whirling. She was certain her sister and Valandor had many, considering the old elf’s rather odd number of connections, but one in the human kingdom? That seemed rather hard to believe.

“Yes,” Veile answered with a nod. “Someone you know. Selerim. He’s decided to offer his services as a mercenary– much to our benefit, in this case. Though there will be others with him, of course.”

That, in a way, was even more difficult to believe. Partially, anyways. Viria didn’t know what mercenary work entailed, but given the context, it likely involved being in Umbra. Selerim had always shown a preference for the darkness. But the idea that he’d willingly return to the elven kingdom…

“Why?” She asked breathlessly.

“To see you again.”

“Stop teasing me.”

Veile laughed. “Sorry.” She cleared her throat before continuing. “Although I’m sure that’s one of his reasons… he likely wants answers.”

“Answers?”

She nodded and turned away before Viria could push the question further, taking Mara’s hand. “It is still some time away, but you should be sure to have everything in order. The journey ahead is fraught with danger.” And then they vanished.

image [https://i.imgur.com/T7fdvjj.png]

Viria raised the wooden bucket above her head, lettings its contents spill over her head and down onto her weary body. She’d taken to this practice after seeing Variel do the same. It was quick and messy, but much better than just throwing handfuls of water on her face. All three of them had wordlessly trained for another two hours, as if trying to expunge whatever feelings they had over the revelation from Veile.

She wiped the water from her face, taking a seat by the water fountain. Maybe that was a mistake. It wasn’t quite winter yet, but the crisp air carried its chilling bite nonetheless. Reaching for her cloak, she pulled it over her stiff training garments.

It was a crude thing, roughly cut and sewn from Reaver hide, but soft and warm against her skin. Selerim had given it to her to stave off the cold. Am I really going to see him again?

That brought many complicated emotions.

For all the care they’d shown for one another, those moments of warmth and care were interspersed between grief, pain, and anguish. And they’d seen each other at their lowest moments– Viria wasn’t even sure how to face him.

He wants answers. To what?

She closed her eyes. The answer to that was obvious. To the mysterious men that had destroyed his family.

Why would Veile know about that?

Another obvious answer: her powers. Whatever they were.

So why didn’t she already tell him?

That was the real question bothering her. And no matter how Viria turned the question in her head, there was no answer to it.

The sound of someone’s footsteps interrupted her thoughts. Opening her eyes, she saw Valandor dump a bucket of water on his own head before wordlessly taking a seat beside her. The water darkened his outfit, making the autumn-hued highlights look like blood.

They sat there in silence until Viria finally broke the silence. “Are you mad at me?” Of all the possible questions between the two of them, that was the most important to her.

Valandor stayed silent for a long while before answering. “No.” He sighed. “And even if I were, I said yes. Any negative feelings I may have towards that are not for you.”

“What is your relationship, exactly?” That question had slowly been burning a hole in Viria’s mind since Variel began joining their sessions. “You’re not her father. And I don’t think you two have any blood relation.” They were too distant with each other for that to be the case.

“That we don’t,” Valandor replied. “She was an orphan I decided to teach. She had nowhere to go, so she joined the military. That’s all there is to it.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“That’s not what I expected,” Viria admitted. “I thought her father was… you know, someone you served with.”

“He could be, for all I know. She says her father was a soldier. And too many of their names were lost.” He shook his head and wiped his face. “I served with many of those.”

“I see,” Viria said slowly. “Will she be okay? Going to the human kingdom?”

“She should be,” Valandor nodded. “She was too young to even remember anything. Though she may still bear some ill will, she can control herself.”

“Good.”

“That sister of yours is up to something.”

“You don’t say,” she said dryly. “And what do you propose we do about it?”

He seemed to consider that for a moment. “Good point. I suppose there’s not a whole lot we can do about it now, is there?”

“Not really.”

“Then all we can do is wait here for the boy.”

“Mmh.”

Valandor peered down at her. “That’s not quite the reaction that I expected. I thought you would be happier.” He paused. “How did the two of you meet, anyways?”

“I’m not sure it’s my story to tell.”

He frowned. “It sounds like it was a shared experience, no? That means it’s part of your story.”

Viria bit her lip. “I suppose.” A part of her still felt guilty, but the rest of her was glad for the opportunity to ease her burden. “I was hiding in his village,” she began. “With my uncle. It was meant to be a long while, but it was… cut short.” She gripped her cloak. “People… invaded. Tore down the wall and then killed all the villagers.”

“Shit.”

She nodded. “It was a bad night.” Then took a deep breath. “He agreed to guide us back, but… mostly to find out whether those men came from here. That’s what he wants answers to, I’m sure.”

“And your sister has them?”

Viria shrugged. “She might. But that would mean trade with the hollows would stop…” She scowled, trying in vain to untangle the many threads. “But I guess they have stopped. I haven’t had any meetings lately.”

“That means we’re royally fucked, doesn’t it?”

“That’s why I can’t believe it. And you haven’t heard anything, either?”

“Not a thing.”

“Then I have no clue.” She paused. “And what about you? I thought you would be ecstatic, considering your goals.”

“I don’t trust your sister. That’s the difference,” he said gruffly. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

"And she dodged your question. You know that, right?"

"... I do."

“So I’m suspicious. And the boy coming back? You don’t think he’s coming back to see you again?”

“Why would he?”

“You two spent nearly a year at each other’s side,” Valandor pointed out. “For all the bad, that means a lot to people.”

“It’s unlikely,” Viria said, pushing aside the fanciful notions. “It’s probably a combination of reasons. He wants answers. That’s the biggest one. And Veile keeps alluding to something in the future. Something… bad. If she mentioned that to him, it’s likely another thing he’d want answers to. Other than that…” She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“So it’s not outside the realm of possibility.”

“No… I don’t know.” Viria struggled to get the words out. “It’s unlikely,” she repeated.

“Why?”

“It just is.”

“If you say so.” He was clearly unconvinced.

“He wants answers. That’s it.”

“Mm-hm. Hey.” Valandor reached out, grabbing her wrist, his grip nearly painful. “Promise me you won’t knowingly put her into harm’s way.”

“I’m not sure I can promise you that,” Viria said earnestly.

“At least you’re honest.”

“I’ll do everything I can protect her. And you. I can promise that, at least.”

“I appreciate it,” he said solemnly.

“Why do you think Variel accepted?”

Valandor shrugged. “She’s taken an interest in you. And she probably sees this as a ticket to the top of the food chain. Not sure you’re aware, but there’s some prestige in tending to someone of your stature… troubled as it may be. I wouldn’t think too much about it. She’s still part of the military, technically speaking.”

“I see.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure you’re aware, but our stick-waving sessions are really just for your benefit. You’re a mage. Those fancy needles of yours could probably cut us in two.”

“What am I supposed to say to that?”

Valandor chuckled. “You’re always so upfront. Why stop there?”

Viria huffed. “I want to keep learning. I won’t always be able to cast a spell in time. Especially not with my… quirks.”

“Aye, I wasn’t suggesting we quit. It’s good experience for Variel, too.”

“Good.”

“I hope you sister knows what she’s doing.”

“I'm sure she does." She claimed to know everything, after all. There had to be a reason behind every action, no mater how small- or unsettling.