The table looked at Iridia as she attempted to explain herself but was saved by Gin-rith before needing to; “You defeated his shadow, no small feet mind you.” He smiled warmly and bowed his head. Quietness peaked and the sounds of the distressed wood echoed in the depths of the warped wood.

The village sparkled with bio-luminescent twinkles that flitted amongst every surface, lanterns woven from treated willow hung in front of the huts and sat in the centre of the large table, and burned scented sap; filling their noses with a deep aroma that fought back melancholy with its wholesome homey scent.

“What does that mean?” Iridia probed glumly, the claim to this Necromancer’s head was a proud moment and now she felt it had been diluted.

“This vial,” He waved his hand over it, “It’s part of a phylactery set, The Necromancer has secured his life essence in a master vial and that must be destroyed to end his existence.”

Iridia nodded and looked over at Kaleb who was stroking his beard with a grave concern marked on his brow. “Where would he keep this?”

“Unknown, but you have learned his works I imagine, find the phylactery and destroy it–be warned–the closer he is to it, the more potent his power.”

The maiden who was tending to Morgan’s ear giggled again as he flinched, “What are you putting on my ears anyway?”

“A mixture of stag dung and crushed forest beetles.” She hummed tunefully, relaxing him.

Morgan grimaced as she applied more, sipping his ale and finally catching the stare of Iridia who had returned to observing him. He felt quite silly having the crap rubbed on his ear and embarrassed at being tended to as if he was some kind of lost hero, found by a people as a new saviour. “Enjoying the ale, my lady?” He raised his mug to Iridia.

“It’s fine.” She replied flatly and looked away.

The party ate a mixture of berries, root vegetables and cheese, not exactly an emperor's picnic but welcomed all the same. Gin-rith had been making small talk and sharing flashes of wisdom that they took aboard happily, but it had been clear a deeper desire burned in him, he wanted to ask something. “Do you think the emperor could be compromised?”

Kaleb looked up a moment from his meal and stared at Gin-rith; Emperor Valdin II was rarely mentioned in small talk, he was the master of the armies and commander of the Paladins, he commanded from the central tower of Aventas, a spire city south of Angelspree. Nobody knew what the Emperor looked like or who he truly was, but the orders were called and the deeds were done without question. “I do not rule out any possibility.”

“He is a mystery to me, the Emperor, when I travelled your lands many did not know his name.”

“The current Emperor is Valdin II.” he said pushing a berry into his mouth, “I have seen him by the grace of the divine heart.”

Gin-rith nodded flatly, it was clear he still wasn’t satiated, something else burned inside and finally, he rose to the question or the request he had been eager to make; “May I see the conduit blade? I’d like to hear it.”

Flencer finished another ale and had a perplexed look buried in that ginger ball of hair, “Hear it? Like you want us to bash it on sumfink?” he set his mug down and scratched his big nose.

“If it is Irith-al-Ureth, a singing blade, then it calls out to be sung back to, it sings out in the language of the Elves.”

Kaleb agreed once again, he had a hungering desire for knowledge now. Inside he twisted with a turmoil that could not be tempered, like when he was a child again–thrust into the unknown–naive and bitterly levied upon with tasks too great for his back. He felt shame swirl around the turmoil, he should know more about these things but instead sat as an ignorant fool being lectured to by those who knew better. “Fetch the blade would you, Flencer?”

Flencer grunted, “Why me? I just got comfy.”

“Because you’re the helper Dwarf, remember the deal?”

“Fine, ring please.”

Morgan tossed him the ring and then closed his eyes, receiving the most wonderful head massage from the lovely maiden who was quite enamoured with him. Flencer fetched the sword from the magical chest and placed it on the table before Kaleb, it was still wrapped in the cloth.

Kaleb peeled away the cloth teasingly, unveiling the blade.

“May I?”

“Very well,” Kaleb walked around the table with the blade and delicately placed it before Gin-rith and then returned to his place at the table to observe.

Gin-rith was a picture of pleasure, he glided his hands over the entire sword but did not touch it, he went back and forth with his hands until the blade emitted a low hum, then a high one, and then it sang with steel harmonic vibrations. It seemed to call out foreign words that sounded deep and meaningful. Everyone in the village fell silent until the song finished, daring not to interrupt it with their unworthy oration. When the song had finished a moment of quiet remained, the song sank into the hearts of each person who was lucky enough to hear it.

“What was the song about?” Kaleb spoke when the time felt right.

“I do not know, this language is ancient, we have listened to a song that was sung thousands of years ago. I believe it calls for an evil to slay, that being this Demon’s name.” Gin-rith fell silent. “This blade,” he waved his hands over it. “You carry something so precious that words cannot describe, it is concerning it has been entrusted with you, Kaleb.”

Kaleb’s eyes widened as if to absorb offence, but Gin-rith expanded in time.

“Not…that you are unworthy, dear, Paladin, but that this should be accompanied by an army, a warband with only its protection in mind. Whoever unearthed this treasure from your vaults did so at great risk, I know this, and you are tasked with its safety, If the forces of the Demon know you have it–”

“Which is why I was so resistant to telling you–”

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“Indeed.”

“Which is why I nearly took your life.”

“Of course, you must understand I couldn’t have guessed you and your party carried such a thing.”

Kaleb grunted. “If this blade is lost, all is lost.”

“Not necessarily.” He smiled. “Hope must not be stored in one place, lest that place robbed, yes?”

Kaleb shrugged and nodded to Flencer, “Let’s put it away.”

“This magical chest you store it in, it is not safe.”

“Safer than an old wooden box wiv a latch,” Flencer said as he wrapped the blade up and gathered it in the cloth to return.

“I take your point, Flencer.” Gin-rith nodded richly. “But, the forces you seek to deny entry would pick that magic as a thief may a lock in the middle of the night, worryingly so they may even not need pick the lock, but simply transfer its contents to another location without you even knowing.”

Kaleb folded his arms and grunted. “It’s why I dislike magical things, they are either cursed or they talk too much.”

“Much like our esteemed leader here.” The table and the gathering villager's attention was drawn to Jill-drath, he stood with his scouts who were in a line behind him, weapons drawn apart from Jill-drath who had his arms crossed over his chest, he didn’t sing these words.

Gin-rith smiled. “You have returned, good, please join us we have much to dis-”

“We have discussed enough Gin-rith, Irid-untha-una-rul-ana-anatha.”

Gin-rith rose and held open his palms. “Kirin-rul aman unn-ana-anatha.”

The party looked between each other, a cause for concern for sure, When the melody left their voices it appeared to demonstrate the conversation was not one of harmony but a discordant debate infused with anger, even so, their voices were soft and soothing all the same.

After a conversation in the Half-Elven tongue, Gin-rith looked upon the party with a smile, “It seems I am being exiled.”

Kaleb looked at Jill-drath, “If this is because of my actions and presence, I will leave now, I did not come to sow chaos amongst your people.”

“Spare me your glib retractions, Paladin, You care not for our people and I won’t have you pretend before our village that you do so, the roots would untangle that lie I assure you.” Jill-drath walked around the table. “I also do not seek quarrel with you and your party, you are to leave along with this feeble Elder, frankly it has been a long time coming.”

Gin-rith nodded and stood slowly, “I accept your terms without fight.”

Jill-drath addressed the crowd “Gin-rith demonstrates my point, he is weak and has led our people to the brink of destruction.” Some of the villagers sang a sad song as they spoke amongst each other, sorrowful tunes filled the air while others rose choirs of intensity that harmonised with the glumness, and the different conversations seemed to respond to each other as if they were one.

The lanterns around the village appeared to dim and the starlight twinkles that decorated the area had landed in stillness, their spark fading as if joining in with the sadness that had transpired amongst these ancient people. “You are right, Jill-drath, I have failed you all, and I assure you, Kaleb, this was not your doing.”

Jill-drath drilled the point forward as he staked his claim as leader; “Of course, Morgan, he looked to him, it is tradition and good tidings that I offer you a place amongst our people, I would most like to save you from the path of exile and stewardship to one who looks through his nose at you.”

Kaleb looked at Morgan.

“My promise of none combatance will be relinquished if you do not give Morgan the choice, I will give mind to you.” Jill-drath addressed Kaleb with intensity and scorn in his eye, a potentially foolish move as if even if Kaleb was vanquished, it would come at a cost that could not be afforded at this time. Kaleb knew this as much as Jill-drath, yet he still placed his life on the line, a man of conviction like himself perhaps.

Iridia stood to speak. “This is all–”

“Silence, Iridia.” Kaleb held his hand up and stood himself to address Jill-drath and Morgan. “Morgan, you have served me well, the choice is yours to stay amongst your people or to follow us. Whatever your decision, your part in this quest will not be forgotten.” He bowed his head to Morgan and sat back down.

Jill-drath nodded, “A choice for you then, young Morgan, I would much like to offer you a Sinley name if you decide to stay.”

Morgan looked around the table. “I-I need time,”

“We have little of that.” Kaleb said, “Our stay here ends shortly, I suggest you come to a resolution in haste.”

Morgan left the table and headed to the lake, Iridia made to follow but was grabbed by Kaleb. “Your place is by my side neophyte, Let him decide, it is not for us to fill his mind with doubt lest he take great bitterness to use further down the line.”

Iridia bit her lip, The maiden that tended to his ears followed him, “She goes to sway his mind though.”

“Then let any bitterness fall on her shoulders, we have enough to carry upon ours.”

Iridia wavered and sat, holding her chin in her hands.

Flencer smiled at her; “Morgan will make the choice right for him, lass, and that we can be happy with.”

“As we are abiding by tradition…” Gin-rith smiled, “It is agreed that I am given three things of my choice from the village for my own.”

Jill-drath sneered and stepped back. “Very well.”

“First I will have a pack stag.”

Jill-drath sighed. “A valuable request.”

“There are no rules to what I may choose, I have served our people for long and I choose these things at great pains, pains that mirror your own to sacrifice them.” Gin-rith knew to hold him to tradition as that was what his people needed from a leader. “You wouldn’t want your new reign to begin with throwing our customs to the river?”

Jill-drath wobbled his head, accepting that his new leadership would come at a price to the village.

“Next I desire the azure vault.”

“You ask too much!”

“I ask what I need! You will give me the vault or suffer revolt!” Gin-rith sang in anger somehow, a beautiful riposte that rhymed, even in a language not his own.

“I accept, and I understand these items are not for you, but this party of glory-seekers.”

“They seek to defeat an evil that I believe is behind our homes’ rebellion.”

“What is your third item, Gin-rith?”

“It is your promise, Jill-drath, it is that you promise to lead our people to safety, and do what you must to secure our future.”

Jill-drath waved his hand. “Tis implied.” He clapped his hands. “Prepare the exile's requests, I want these gligs out of my sight.”

They packed up and the villagers helped, not all were for the decision but it is one they accepted by the will of submission by Gin-rith.

Morgan returned with hands behind his back, addressing Kaleb, Iridia and Flencer. “I have made my decision.”