It’s just me at the meeting with the nobles. My dad used to complain about meetings and I never understood why.

Now I do.

We’re in a separate room of the palace, somewhere I’ve never been before, and it feels sort of like the British parliament. Except it’s populated by elven nobles of course. Lining walls on either side of me are nobles dressed to the nines, like they’re going to prom or something. Flashy jewelry, fine embroidery, long dresses, the works.

I’m in the middle standing at a lectern and before elevated, above us all, is Lord Erriam. He gazes down from his position of authority. An authority that is being repeatedly questioned.

How could so much of the army be lost? Did you underestimate the dryad? What is the cost of rebuilding? How many civilians were lost?

Elves stand in-turn, peppering their leader with these sorts of questions, and for a moment the mighty Lord appears more like a secretary taking notes and responding to phone calls. Also, the questions are more than just questions. They are laced with accusation and contain an acid tone that seems more appropriate for the losers than the winners. And not appropriate for a Lord at all. You’d certainly never see this behavior at the Astrian court.

This has been going-on for over thirty minutes now. No word has been sent about me, my success, my magic, or my future.

Why the hell did I even need to be here?

I sense a small disturbance in the air around me. One I’ve unfortunately felt before.

“Look at how jealous they are,” says the demon. “They pretend to care about their subjects but they only care about themselves. They’re only interested in personal advancement. ”

I scoff. “Unlike the sorceress of course. She’s such a sweetheart to everyone. No wonder you liked her so much.”

The demon winces, but doesn’t retreat like last time. “I understand why you’re upset. But it’s only because you don’t understand.”

“I understand you need to leave me alone,” I say, not wanting to get drawn into one of her verbal games.

She’ll just twist me all around until I think up is down and left is right.

The demon sighs and for a moment I think she’ll vanish again, but she doesn’t. Instead, a playful grin winds her way across her face.

Ugh oh.

“You’ll want me yet, Ethan. You’ll see. Once you see how right I am.”

I scoff. “I doubt that very much.”

“Doubt is the beginning of wisdom,” she says with a wink and vanishes.

I turn back to the nobles.

“Don’t you agree, Sir Ethan?” one asks me.

Oh shit.

Everyone is looking at me. For over 30 minutes I’ve been ignored, and I get distracted for one moment and someone actually addresses me.

That stupid demon. She knew this would happen. She set me up for this. That bitch.

“Do you doubt the words of the Marquis?” the elf continues, geturing at one of his comrades. “He has been in the service of this court for sixty-seven years, the longest sitting member of this deliberative body.”

Deliberative? Sounds more like a bunch of whiners to me.

But that doesn’t give me an answer to the glares I’m receiving. Even Lord Erriam is staring intently now, like something important hinges upon my answer.

I lick my lips nervously, and say the only thing my brain can think of. “In my experience, doubt is the beginning of wisdom.”

There is a slight pause and then a chuckle runs through the crowd and I feel the tension dissipate throughout the room. All except for the Marquis, who scowls a deep frown that runes his pristine elven features. Lord Merriam is smiling though and he’s the one that matters. At least to me.

“Sir Ethan is right, Marquis. You and your allies have spent this entire session casting doubt on my decisions, my my actions, and my results. Yet no doubt has can cast upon you and your friends.”

“We were not the ones in charge, Lord,” the Marquis replies.

“Quite so. You were not. And a good thing too because we might very well be dead if you were.”

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

Murmurs permeate the crowd and the Marquis’s scowl deepens.

“My Lord, I object to such a wild, unfounded objection being leveled in the chamber.”

Merriam raises a finger from his lofty seat. “No, you only object to unfounded objections when they come from someone other than yourself.”

More murmurs. Louder this time. The Marquis starts to respond but Erriam cuts him off.

“But since you are so concerned, Marquis, you should know that my accusation is not unfunded. In fact, the evidence stands before you. You, above all others present, have sent me the most messengers to express your concerns regarding my treatment of Sir Ethan. You would have had him dismissed from our woods. Indeed, you would have sent all our human allies away. You, who claim to value Elfdom so highly, would have been responsible for its downfall!”

It’s a mighty accusation and one that leads to an uproar in the chamber as elves begin shouting at one another and even Lord Erriam. There’s so much consternation after defeating the dryad I can only imagine what losing would look like.

Of course in that case no one would be left alive to have these conversations. So I guess it’s a moot point.

The room finally settles and the Marquis points at me, while still looking at Erriam. “I am grateful for what our allies have done, my Lord. My questions were not regarding their actions but yours. Perhaps with better preparedness we would not have had to rely on our allies to solve our own problems.”

Erriam meets the eyes of the Marquis. “If that’s the case, if you are so grateful for their assistance, than why did you object to Ethan’s reward?”

The Marquis clenches his fist. He’s practically shaking in he’s so upset. “If by reward you are referring to his access to the elven tower then I would call that access to one of our deepest secrets and most embarrassing moments from our history!”

Erriam raises an eyebrow “Our secrets. Our history. If he is the prophesied hero of Astria do not the secrets of the Tower belong to him as well?”

The Marquis looks at me now. For the first time we actually lock eyes and, polite words notwithstanding, I see nothing but mistrust in that face. Then he looks away, and scans the elven nobles around him.

“The prophesied hero? I ask you all. Which of you really believes that? This young man, hardly more than a child, is going to take back his Kingdom.” He sneers at Erriam. “And save us as well. Please.”

The chamber erupts in argument again and the Maquis and Erriam glare at each other. I was a little uncertain before but it’s definitely clear to me now: those two elves hate each other.

“I believe it!” The voice is louder than the others, somehow rising above the din. Everyone turns to look. But the sound doesn’t come from the crowd; it comes from behind them, and behind me as well.

At the door to the conclave stands Myran Telos. He is simply dressed, without the usual luxurious attire or glistening jewelry so common among the nobility. He could be a traveling merchant, or even a simple farmer, from all the shades of brown on his pants and tunic. He’s unarmed and his beautiful elven locks are pulled back in a simple ponytail. Myran looks downright ordinary, except there is still a fiery intensity in his eyes, a strength that his plain clothes cannot mask.

The Marquis raises an eyebrow. “My isn’t this a surprise? I thought you’d deemed yourself unworthy for our great halls, Myran. Or has your arrogance at last returned to you?”

The Marquis curls his lips at the end and I hear feint chuckles from the rest of the nobles. Merriam may be controversial but he is not hated as Myran seems to be. I think back to the woods, the meeting with the elven officers, and how much that general disliked Myran. Hell, I think about how much I disliked them.

Is there anyone this guy hasn’t pissed off.

Myran steps forward, walking to my side and I admit I have to work hard not to blanch myself. This guy did try and kill me after all. If anyone has reason to hate him it’s me.

“I was there,” Myran continues,. “In the woods. Facing the dryad. And I tell you that Lord Erriam correct. When the army failed, When I failed, Ethan succeed. We are alive today because of him. He has earned his magic and he deserves more. He deserves our help in retaking his homeland and becoming the greatest hero he can be.”

There is a lot of discussion after that, with elves talking to eachother and over one another trying to respond to Myran, ask him questions, or get Erriam’s attention. Eventually the elf lord raises his hand and babbling stops.

Erriam appears cautious, appraising toward Myra, but not hostile. “Well said, Myran. And what of this ‘help’ you refer to. What else would you have me do for Ethan?”

Myran bows his head. “Lord Erriam, if Ethan succeedss in reaching the other towers I ask that you promise him the aid of the elven army when he marches on Astria. In whatever shape it’s in.”

“That’s outrageous,” the Marquis interrupts. “Erriam almost lost the army against the dryad and now you would have it bound to the fate of Ethan and the humans.”

“It’s not your decision to make!” Erriam’s voice booms. “I am the Lord of the Elves. The decision rests with me.”

The Marquis narrows his eyes. “Yes, that it does. But you would do well to remember from where that authority comes from, and who put your bloodline on that throne.”

Erriam glares back. “Is that a threat?”

The Marquis is about to report when Myran jumps back in. “Also, If Ethan receives the support of my Lord and his conclave than I will forego my betrothal to Princess Lunestrya and promise to never seek Lord Erriam’s title.”

Even Erriam’s jaw gawks at that. And even I am surprised. That was the reason Myran tried to kill me: he wanted to rule that badly. Now he is throwing away his love and his claim on the throne.

All for me?

The Marquis studies Myran for a time and he appears to be weighing his choices. Getting Myran out of the way must be tempting. No one seemed to like the idea of him succeeding Luna to the throne. Even Erriam had been against it. And this would force Luna to pick a new suitor.

I wonder if the Marquis has any candidates in mind.

The elf turns back to Erriam. “I think, my Lord, this may be an option worth considering.”

Erriam scoffs. “That doesn't surprise me. But what does our hero say? Ethan must agree to take Myran with him, or this whole plan is for nought.”

Myran turns to me for the first time. Gone is the pride and arrogance. Just a passionate pleading, a begging almost that I’ve never seen from the elf so far. I think back to Cyrus’s advice and the importance of forgiveness.

Well, I am the hero after all.

“Lord Erriam, it would be my honor.”