“I miss home.” Sheilah muttered. “I keep thinking I made a mistake coming here.”

Fialla looked up from her book. “I don’t mind it here.” She replied easily, “But if you want to return to the Redstone, then I’ll accompany you.”

Sheilah looked over at Fialla and smirked “Look at you. ‘Accompany’.” She accused lightly. “You’re sounding more and more like them.”

“You’re picking it up just as quickly.” Fialla retorted. “Though your reading is...” She trailed off.

Sheilah got up from her chair and stretched. “Yes, I’m not very good at it.” She admitted testily, beginning to pace. She always paced when she was irritable.

“Want to go hunting?” Fialla asked curiously. “It’s been some time,” she tried counting on her fingers and gave up, “since we last went with your father.”

“Do you?” Sheilah asked, turning towards the caramel-skinned elf curled up in her comfortable chair.

“Hmmm. I want to. I don’t want my skills to get rusty, after all.” Fialla replied. “But this book is interesting.”

Sheilah planted her hands on her hips. “How can a book be interesting?”

Fialla smirked. “Do you remember the Redstone Spire? The place where we met your mother?” She asked curiously.

Sheilah nodded. “There were a lot of clan signs I didn’t know that were carved there.” She replied.

Fialla tapped the book she was reading. “They’re in here.”

Sheilah immediately strode to Fialla and snatched the book from her half-elf friend. She stared at it, her brows coming together as she struggled to read.

“Ugh.” She thrust the book back towards Fialla. “Tell me what it says.”

Fialla chuckled. “Some of those clans were from Thorheim Forest.” She explained. “The Spire was once a place of meeting between the Valley and the Forest.”

“Huh.” Sheilah muttered wonderingly. “Okay, so there were clans outside of the Redstone.” She nodded. “What were their Totems?”

Fialla’s mouth twisted. “It doesn’t say.”

Sheilah gave her an exasperated look and threw up her hands. “What’s the point of reading about them, if-”

Fialla cut her off. “They were probably like us.” Fialla explained. “It’s interesting to me.”

Sheilah tossed up her hands and paced some more. Fialla gave her a sour look, and then settled back in her chair and resumed her reading. After a moment, she realized that Sheilah’s moodiness was getting to her as well, so she closed the book and set it down.

“What sorts of lessons are we to have today?” Fialla asked Sheilah. “History? Math? Dancing again with that buffon? Another sermon on ‘The Light’? Horseback riding?”

“That ‘buffoon’ is kind of cute.” Sheilah pointed out.

Fialla snorted. “His hands are way too squishy.”

Sheilah tugged on her dress. “Horseback riding doesn’t sound terrible,” she paused, “If I could stop scaring the beasts.”

“Supremacy.” Fialla nodded.

“Yep. Supremacy.” Sheilah agreed.

Sheilah resumed her pacing, kicking the hem of her blue dress. She stopped, and looked towards the front doors of her apartments at the same time as Fialla.

“Three of them.” Sheilah muttered, and stepped out of the study. “Andrea, we have company.” She called.

“I really wish you wouldn’t do that.” Andrea complained as she came out of the dining hall. “It makes me feel as if I’m not doing my job correctly.”

Sheilah gave an ostentatious shrug.

*****

Magdalene stepped into Sheilah’s apartments, shaking and pale. Sheilah eyed her curiously; the older woman was nervous, or scared.

“What has you looking like that?” Sheilah asked, and Magdalene jerked towards her.

“They’re here.” She began, and then nodded. “They’re here, and that means you’re going to stay in here, in your apartments until they leave.”

Sheilah gave her a skeptical look. “You really think-” She began, then cut herself off. “Who is here?” She asked instead.

Magdalene made fists with her hands.

“The High Elves. They’re here to- well, be a thorn in our sides. As usual.” She glared at Sheilah. “You and Fialla are going to stay here, in your apartments.”

“Are you sure?” Sheilah asked. “I could sneak up on them from behind and give them a good fright.”

Magdalene gave her a baffled look. “Yes, I’m sure. You stay here. There won’t be lessons from Toril or I while the High Elves are here. Practice your reading, practice your writing and numbers.” She paused again.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“I’m leaving guards outside your door to protect you.” She added, in a much firmer tone.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to deal with them?” Sheilah asked curiously. “Father told me he once burned a high elf princess’ head right off.” She explained. “I could do that much.”

“No.” Magdalene emphatically replied. “I’d love to say yes, but Stormheim doesn’t have the forces to repel an elven invasion.”

Sheilah gave her a disappointed look. “So no hunting trip?”

Magdalene shook her head. “If there were an absolutely certain way to get you out of the castle without being spotted...” She shook her head. “The elves are as cunning and as perceptive as you.” She offered a wan smile. “Please stay put.”

Sheilah nodded. “If they come in, I will defend my territory.” She promised.

Magdalene looked to Andrea. “Make sure... just do your best.”

*****

The High Elven ships were pale, slim, and graceful, and although they looked fragile, they navigated the waters of the harbor adroitly, elegantly slipping between two of the heavier and much more cumbersome Stormheim ships.

The elves that stepped off of their ships were as pale as their ships, with blonde or white hair, and carried themselves with a willowy grace. They wore complicated robes with a number of sashes and belts that were intricately embroidered with incomprehensible patterns. A number of dark-skinned elves surrounded them. One of the elves, a man with green eyes and blonde hair fretted impatiently. “Where are they?” He complained. “Damiel, Artrus, Eatha- They should have greeted us when we arrived, and arranged for transportation!” He held a delicate and embroidered cloth to his face. “This place smells like wet dog.”

One of his companions, a young woman with silvery hair glanced around with an expression of disgust. “I did send word ahead of our arrival.” She complained, covering her mouth with an embroidered cloth like her interlocutor.

“Perhaps he finally did his job and died properly.” The first elf replied. “It would be nice to rid ourselves of these mud-grubbing humans.”

As if summoned, Damiel appeared, looking drawn and strained. “I’m sorry it took so long.” He greeted, and gestured at a carriage with a greasy, obsequious grin. His eyes scanned the skies from time to time, and there was a distinct tremble to his hands.

“Artrus?” the male High Elf demanded. “Eatha?” He prompted.

“Artrus... is on a mission. Following human soldiers on a mission.” Damiel replied. “Eatha...” He shook his head. “She has no interest in the mission. Hasn’t done anything.”

The male high elf sighed. “Useless.” He spat.

The female high elf gestured. “Take us to the castle and be quick about it.”

Damiel nodded slowly, and turned towards the carriage.

“He moves as if he’s aged fifty years.” The male elf muttered to his partner. “What happened, I wonder?”

“Does it matter?” She replied disdainfully. “He’s a tool. As long as he does his job, it doesn’t matter.”

*****

On one side of the table was Toril, Magdalene, and Garen, the commander-in-chief of the entirety of the military of Stormheim.

On the other side of the table, a map of the explored world between them, were three High Elves and a number of Dark Elves. Damiel was conspicuously absent.

The High elves were slim and pale and waiflike, willowy and draped in expensive brocaded silks; the humans were taller, more robust, and while they were dressed in their finest, they seemed somewhat rougher, more coarse by comparison.

The elves introduced themselves.

“My name is Sureya.” The elven woman began. “These are my two brothers, Eadathir and Wisteran.”

Toril in turn gestured to his wife and his general and introduced them in turn.

“Our original agreement, the one made by my grandfather Edwin, was a mutual and cooperative development of the Silverlands.” Toril began. “There’s been no sign of aid or assistance in developing the Silverlands from your nation in three generations, and we’re still recouping our losses from our last attempt to develop it alone.” Toril began. “If you’re not going to honor the arrangement on your end, then I see no reason to-”

The elven woman raised her hand delicately, cutting him off.

“We have helped.” Sureya insisted, “And you have accrued a significant debt in that, human king.”

“Oh? Is there an elven colony there? A secure harbor?” Toril challenged.

Sureya gave him a comfortable smile. “Of course there is. But supporting it alone is unfeasible. I’m afraid that if we don’t have your support, and soon, we will have to withdraw that colony. And since the arrangement was made in the spirit of cooperation and goodwill, if we don’t receive the promised assistance from you, as per the contract, I’m afraid we will have to recoup that financial offset through other, less ... cooperative means.”

Toril rolled his eyes. “I still have the reports from the last colony we set up. There was no ‘mutual cooperation’. There was no harbor, the lands hadn’t been developed at all.”

Sureya sighed. “Your ...’deputy’... was it? He refused our assistance, and even conspired to destroy our colony- another financial debt you owe us.”

“He was pushed that far because of your colony’s sabotage!” Toril shouted.

Magdalene shot her husband a worried look, but Sureya merely smiled in response.

“I have it in good faith that our colony acted to defend themselves against a human slaughter.” She retorted.

“Take the whole of the Silverlands. We don’t even want them anymore.” Garen urged. “We lack the resources and manpower to establish a colony there anymore. End the contract and agree to walk away in good faith.”

Sureya shook her head. “We will not.” She replied. “If you do not develop a colony in the Silverlands within the next five years, you can expect a fleet of elven ships in your harbor to persuade you to reimburse our efforts.”

Garen grit his teeth at that. He’d been one of the last people to have been educated in the Elven lands. He knew what they were capable of. Their magics far outstripped Stormheims. With the loss of the colony and losing the Redstone Valley, Stormheim teetered on the brink of bankruptcy. Stormheim could not afford the financial outlay to assemble another navy. They lacked the manpower to harvest the wood, could not pay shipbuilders. Their current forces were stretched through the south and the west. The food production couldn’t keep up. They couldn’t even sufficiently protect themselves from the monsters that lurked in Thorheim Forest.

Even if they killed the elven ambassadors here and now, there would be nothing to stop the elves from landing their armada and taking everything.

“Five years, is it?” Toril asked.

Sureya nodded.

“If it’s five years... and this venture is done in cooperation and mutual good faith, we can do it.” Toril agreed grimly.

As one, the three elves smiled predatorily.

“We look forward to seeing you in the Silverlands once again.” Wisteran spoke up, the first and only thing he’d said through the whole meeting.