I visit my friends after breakfast, still feeling miserable. Miserable about my situation and about my own behavior. Just miserable all the way around

I’m such a child. A petty, petulant child. Luna doesn’t owe me a damn thing. Can marry whoever she wants. Whenever she wants. Ugh, I’m starting to sound like my mother now.

The king is happy to see me. As is Mary. And She says Charles is coming back soon; he is recovering well in elven care. So that’s something. More than something really. I have friends in this new world and they are happy to see me. One is even a king!

Unless he’s just using me for his own ends. To get back on his throne.

I push that thought away though. There’s only so much emotional stress I can deal with at one time.

“Lord Erriam has asked for you,” says King Leo.

I take a step back. “Just me? Why?”

“He didn’t say, but I think you’ll finally get more details on this little quest of his.”

“But what about you? You’re not coming?”

The king shakes his head. “I’m not. Erriam has asked for you alone and I did not object.”

I shuffle my feet uncomfortably.

Leo clasps my shoulder. “We need to trust them, Ethan. At least a bit. If this is going to work - for us, for them - then there has to be some measure of trust. Like there was before the Sorceress.”

I nod reluctantly and he grasps my arm. “Excellent. Report to the Lord at once.” He gives me a wink. “And be sure to tell me everything afterwards.”

So back I go, to the same chamber as before but without any help from my noble king. It’s just me and a lone figure at the far-end of the room. I feel small in the vastness of the space, and at first I’m motionless, not sure what to do.

“You may approach,” the lord says. The voice is tired and aggravated. Sort of like how I feel if I haven’t slept the night before.

Did he not sleep?

The elven lord is less regal now, but even more intimidating. Gone are the many shades of purple shirts, and the dark, feathered robe that covered them. Also absent are the luxurious rings and effeminate earrings. Instead, the elf presents a militaristic image. His chest is covered by a sliver breastplate that matches his gauntlets, and the only purple is on the cape that streams behind him. A large broadsword is snuggly sheathed against his hips and while the weapon may be a formality the bottom line is that it could be drawn for blood if needed.

I feel uncomfortable but try to keep my voice level. “You wished to speak to me, my Lord?”

The elf is cool for a moment and then nods. “The elves are not from Astria originally.”

I’m not sure if that is a statement or a question.

Erriam adjusts his cape. “We came from across the sea. We were refugees. And we did not settle here out of choice.”

“You mean in this palace?”

The lord scoffs. “Palace? There was no palace when we arrived, Ethan. We settled the woods because the humans did not want them. It was the only land they let us have. Long ago, across the sea, we farmed on fertile plains under the twin suns. Now most of my people live in partial darkness. Even our skin is pale now. We haven’t forgotten that.” His voice is tinged with a bitterness I don’t understand.

“Forgotten what?” I ask, feeling a bit exasperated. “That some humans from long ago didn’t give you sunnier land?”

“No,” the Lord says, still bitter. “We are realistic about the past. We were downtrodden and we rebuilt.” He gestures around him. “We rebuilt our civilization. We rebuilt ourselves to thrive in a new environment. We adapted.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“And that’s an accomplishment,” I say, and mean it.

The elf nods, his light eyes distant, looking somewhere else. “It is.”

“So why be angry about the past?”

He turns his pupils to me and I feel their heat. “I’m not. I am angry about the present. I am angry at your king for jeopardizing all we have done.”

I’m lost again.

“The dryad has returned to reclaim her woods,” Erriam continues. “And she has come because of the sorceress. Who was unleashed by your king.”

“That’s not fair,” I protest, mostly because the King denied it yesterday.

“Isn’t it?” Erriam asks coolly. “I see that you have not heard the full story of her rise yet.” He sighs. “Well, it is not my place to tell of it. And the truth is I hope your king is right. Right about you that is.”

“You don’t believe that I destroyed the onyx?”

“Oh I’m sure that much is true, but did you earn such a grand accomplishment or was it just a stroke of mere luck?”

I gulp.

Erriam leans forward, those cool eyes burning me with their intensity. “Because let me tell you that you will need more than luck for this quest.”

I’m tempted to fall back, to cower in my insecurity, but I manage to stand my ground. “I intend to do my best, my Lord.”

Erriam relaxes. “Well, we shall know very soon if that is enough. I hope, for both our sakes, that is it.”

The journey begins that afternoon. Erriam himself is coming with us, along with the princess and a whole retinue of soldiers, not to mention the supply wagons and King Leo. The king insists on being included despite nebulous references to the ‘trouble in the elder wood’. And someone else is coming as well…

“Dauntless!” I say, matching my ride’s own enthusiasm as the horse pulls free from his elven handler and charges toward me in the center square. I hug the horse’s neck as it stops before me; his white main feels clean and soft against my face. “I see you got a good washing.”

“I feel reborn, sire,” Dauntless says. “and ready for battle.”

I grin. “Well, I guess you are a warhorse after all.”

“Just point the way, sire,” says Dauntless. “I fear no evil.”

I scratch behind his ear. “You may be the only one, my friend,”

“What’s that, Ehtan?” the king asks.

“Nothing, majesty,” I pause, considering what to say. “Sometimes I just talk to my horse.”

The king nods. “Better than talking to yourself I expect.”

An elven messenger approaches. “We are about to start. I recommend getting in your wheelhouse.”

“Thank you,” the King replies, “but we will ride on horseback for now.”

The elf looks surprised but does not protest. He just nods respectfully and leaves.

Soon our caravan is ready and we move with haste away from the palace. Advance guards keep the paths clear of foot traffic so that life’s regular hustle and bustle doesn’t impede our progress. We’re like some kind armored caterpillar trundling along a narrow branch.

Just don’t fall off I guess.

“So,” the king begins after a time. “Your conversation with Lord Erriam - how did it go?”

“Ugh,” I say not very articulately, “the elf lord has…concerns.”

The king laughs. “I bet he does. About you, or me, or both?”

“Both I guess. But especially about me at the moment.” I pause. “He seems to be genuinely worried about this ‘elder wood’ and something about a dryad.”

The king’s face darkens. “Yes, I imagine he is.”

“Have you heard anything about it? The wood or the dryad?”

The king looks around and keeps his voice low. “I sent Mary out last night to talk to the servants, see what she could hear.”

I can’t help but grin at the thought of Mary as a spy. “Didn’t you tell me to trust the elves.”

“I do trust them, especially the servants. They know more than the nobles most of the time.”

I’m not sure that’s what most people mean by ‘trust’ but I let the subject pass.

“The elder wood is the part of the forest that was never tamed. That the elves never settled. And now it is…erupting.”

That makes no sense to me. “Erupting? Like a volcano?”

The king shrugs. “That’s how it was described to Mary. Something about a long dead spirit….and ghosts. And it all started after the fall of the Tower of Magi and the emergence of the sorceress. ”

I nod. “That’s basically what Lord Erriam told me. But it doesn’t make sense to me. The sorceress didn’t come to the elves. She was never anywhere near here.”

“She was not,” the king agrees. “But maybe she didn’t need to be.”

I squint at the king. “I’m not sure I follow.”

The king’s eyes grow distant, like he is looking away from here, or looking into some other time.

“I believe that evil does not act alone,” he says softly. “I believe that evil has allies, and that some of those allies are old. Biding their time…”