Rhaina Winstead looked up at the sky as she emerged from the woods on the back of a piebald mare. It was clear, promising a beautiful spring day. She wore a forest green cloak and carried a longbow slung across her back. Ahead of her, farmers toiled in the fields that blanketed the valley ahead, ploughing the rich black soil, readying them for planting. The more fortunate used ox pulled ploughs while most had to perform the task by hand.
“Humans,” Rhaina thought to herself as she pulled the hood of her green cloak back, revealing a youthful face framed by short, dark hair, and a pair of pointed ears. “How odd that they preferred to clearcut vast swathes of forest and scrabble about in the dirt left behind instead of living off nature’s bounty.”
On a hill in the distance stood an enormous yeryn tree that towered over the loose collection of modest buildings that stood in its shadow.
“The town of Yeryn,” she scoffed. “The people of this region cannot be accused of being creative.”
As she surveyed the valley, she noticed a pair of armoured men hurrying towards her and took a deep breath as her pulse began to quicken. At long last, she had been entrusted to investigate a matter on her own. That it was because everyone else was busy when the urgent plea for help arrived at Dinburn did take the shine off it, but an opportunity was an opportunity, and she was determined to show that her Captain was badly mistaken in not trusting her sooner.
“Oi you,” one of the men began. “The valley is closed to outsiders.”
He then noticed her ears and his jaw went slack. Rhaina forced the sardonic smile from her face and tapped at the gold badge depicting a set of scales pinned to her chest. “I was invited here by your lord.”
The guards’ eyes widened. “Madam Arbiter, I apologize. Yes, our lord is expecting you.”
To her surprise, instead of leading her towards the town, they turned her around and led her back into the forest. Her hand strayed to the sword at her hip.
“Is Sir Ilian not in the town?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
“No madam elf,” one of the guards replied. “He has spent the past few days camping out in the woods.”
“The weather is lovely,” Rhania allowed. She sharpened her senses as they entered the woods, searching for signs of ambush. None of this made any sense.
“We’re surprised you didn’t bump into him on your way in,” the other remarked. “He was camping along the main road.”
“The road meanders,” Rhania said, allowing her to relax slightly. So, their lord didn’t want her to be seen entering the valley. That made more sense. His letter to their office in Dinburn had precious little information and had been one of many requesting their help, but something in it had piqued her Captain’s concern. “Your lord said the matter was urgent, so I took a more direct route.”
“You are a brave woman,” the guard said, his eyes wide with concern. “The Sawtooth Forest can be a treacherous place. Especially in recent times.”
“The forest can be your ally if you would only listen,” Rhania said. “It is a shame that your people have forgotten how.”
The main road was little more than a line of trampled underbrush that wound its way in between towering evergreens. They travelled along it in silence until they came upon a large red tent that had been pitched within sight of the road. A pair of men emerged from the tent as they approached. One was a large, bear of a man, and the disappointment on his face was clear when he spotted Rhania.
“Well, the feeling’s mutual,” she muttered to herself. The taller man forced a broad smile and Rhania did the same.
“Welcome, Madam Arbiter,” he said as he offered his hand to help Rhania down from her horse.
Remembering her Captain’s warning to be diplomatic, she decided to accept his help, even though she could have easily jumped down on her own.
“Sir Ilian, I presume?” she asked.
The man bowed perfunctorily. “I am. Welcome to the Yeryn Valley. You have arrived in record time.”
He paused and looked at her horse for a moment. “You must tell me how you got your horse through the woods. Ours attempt to bolt if they find themselves amongst the trees after dark.”
“They just don’t trust you enough,” Rhania replied and then noticed that his companion, a slender man sporting a weathered face, was staring at her. She returned his look unabashed.
The man blinked. “I apologize, it was rude of me to stare. I am Ricar, Sir Ilian’s steward.”
“Is this your first time seeing an elf?” she asked sardonically.
“No,” he replied evenly. “I just didn’t know elves had dark hair.”
“I apologize if I have broached a sensitive topic,” he added quickly when Rhania’s face coloured. Her hair was the main indicator of her mixed heritage, and she was deeply ashamed of it. Because of that, she wore it as short as she could.
“No, it’s fine,” she said, fuming at herself. “In truth, I am only half elf. My father was human.”
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Ricar’s eyebrows shot up. “I did not know that elves and humans could produce offspring.”
Ilian cleared his throat and Ricar bowed his head apologetically. He approached Rhania and towered over her. He looked around the woods before returning his gaze to her. “Have you come alone?”
“All we were told was that you had lost contact with a village,” she replied evenly, already knowing that many details had been omitted. Probably to save face. When would her father’s people realize that many of their problems could be solved, if only they could cast aside their worthless pride?
“Sending an entire team seemed excessive based on that,” she continued. “Crises have cropped up all along these woods and we are badly stretched.”
“Yes, My Lord, trouble has cropped up wherever the Sawtooth Mountains cast their shadow,” Ricar chimed in.
Involuntarily, everyone looked to the east where the slate grey mountains were visible through the foliage. Despite it being a clear day, their peaks were shrouded in dark clouds that seemed ever present these days.
“However, our situation is dire, and pardon me if I cause any offence, far too serious for a single person to handle. Do you think you could send for reinforcements?” Ricar asked politely.
Rhania planted her feet and folded her arms across her chest. “Only if you show me a convincing need. As I’ve said, our forces are spread thin.”
“Won’t you take my word for it?” Ilian asked. His voice was low and dangerous.
However, Rhania was unintimidated. “I’m afraid I was sent here to assess the situation for myself and decide the appropriate course of action.”
“Madam Arbiter, I assure you that our problem is too much for one person to handle,” Ricar repeated. “And time is pressing.”
“I will be the judge of that,” she replied stubbornly.
When he saw that Rhania wouldn’t budge, Ilian cocked his head as his guards. They both bowed before retreating out of earshot. The lord of Yeryn Valley then waved his hand at his subordinate, indicating for him to explain.
“We have lost contact with one of our villages,” he began. “We sent a hundred men to investigate, and only one returned to tell the tale.”
Rhania raised an incredulous eyebrow. “You sent a hundred men to investigate a village that you lost contact with? Do not take me for a fool.”
“The village is located deep in the forest,” Ricar blurted. “Around a three day walk east from here. Before losing contact, they reported discovering ruins in the forest nearby.”
Rhania’s interest was immediately piqued. “Were they elven?”
“We don’t know,” Ricar admitted. “But they described what sounded like elvish script inscribed around the ruins. We fear they may have unearthed something terrible.”
Rhania nodded and rubbed her chin thoughtfully. Ilian studied her for a moment before scratching the back of his head. “So, Madam Arbiter, do you think the situation merits sending for reinforcements?”
The half elf thought it over for a moment longer before shaking her head. “No, I shall have to survey the situation for myself before making that decision.”
“A hundred men are dead,” Ilian protested. “I have no desire for more senseless deaths.”
“I shall go alone,” Rhania declared. “That way the only senseless death will be my own. If you do not hear from me within a week, inform my order that I have gone missing and then you shall have your team of Arbiters.”
Ilian frowned, clearly uncomfortable with the idea but Rhania showed no signs of backing down. At length, Ricar sighed. “My Lord, I believe it is a reasonable suggestion.”
The large man studied Rhania for a moment longer before heaving a long, drawn out sigh. “Fine, but you will accompany her, Ricar.”
“That really isn’t necessary,” she began but Ilian raised a hand.
“I can’t very well send you out there alone after what happened to my men,” Ilian pointed out. “Besides, you will need a guide to the village. Ilian here is familiar with the territory.”
“Fair enough,” Rhania allowed at length, though she would much rather have gone alone.
She was desperate for a connection to her mother’s people and was keen to see these ruins for herself. The elves had been in decline for centuries and had largely withdrawn to their remote villages where they isolated themselves from the other races, leaving the continent of Gelbrun largely in the keeping of humanity. What elves she had encountered in the wider world had fully embraced and assimilated themselves into human society. Her captain was one such example of what had come to be known as Enlightened Elves by the humans, or the Housebroken by their fellow elves.
As immortals, elves could only die when their physical bodies suffered great trauma, or when they grew too weary with the living world. Human society had not been kind to her mother. She had suffered terribly living among them and their barbaric habits. She had withered away but clung stubbornly to life until she saw that Rhania was capable of fending for herself. Then, she had gratefully passed on into the ever after, leaving Rhania with deep resentment towards her father, who had passed before she was born, and his people.
“Now that it’s been decided,” Ricar sighed. “Perhaps you should prepare your things. Do you have enough food for a three day trip?”
“I can live off the forest,” Rhania replied evenly. “And everything I need is still packed on my horse. I haven’t had a chance to unload.”
“We will have to travel by foot, I’m afraid,” Ricar began.
“My horse does not fear the forest so long as I am by her side,” Rhania retorted.
“But ours do,” Ricar said with a wry smile. “Besides, you will be too conspicuous on horseback.”
Rhania rolled her eyes. “Fine.”
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to gather my things,” Ricar said.
As the Arbiter turned to remove the things she would need for the journey from her horse, Ilian and Ricar retreated to the tent. While his steward packed, Ilian tapped his foot irritably. “How dare she look down her nose at us?”
“Every elf I have ever met is the same way,” Ricar soothed. “But it might be worth indulging her. Who knows, she might help us deal with our Glonn problem.”
“Her?” Ilian scoffed. “I can’t picture her succeeding where a hundred of my men failed.”
“I have difficulty envisioning that too,” Ricar conceded. “However, it can’t hurt for me to assess the situation at Vinholme. We know so little about what he is up to. What do we stand to lose by indulging this one?”
“My steward, for one,” Ilian grunted. “I’ve invested much into raising you into a competent assistant. It would be a shame if you died.”
Ricar bowed his head. “I am touched by your concern, My Lord.”
“And then there is Glonn’s warning…” Ilian continued.
“I think that is just bluster,” Ricar opined as he pulled on a chainmail shirt.
Ilian raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“If he was capable of razing Yeryn, he would have done so already,” Ricar pointed out as he performed one last check of his equipment. “Why risk us sending for help, or coming after him again?”
“Or perhaps he no longer considers us a threat,” Ilian sniffed.
“Oh Glonn is no fool,” Ricar said with a shake of his head. “We are a loose end. I don’t think he’s so conceited to think that no one can challenge him in all of Mindun. At least for now.”
Ilian grunted. “Perhaps.”
He paused and opened the tent flap. Once he saw that Rhania was still preparing, he turned to his steward. “If it looks like she might discover the truth about what we are doing there…”
“I know, My Lord,” Ricar said. He inspected a dagger before sheathing it with aplomb. “I very much doubt our cocksure Arbiter is going to live to tell any tales.”