Dull stone bricks stretched upward, towering over the ex-commander. He felt small in the presence of such an amazing wall, a wall that even the orcs couldn’t get through. Selude claimed to be the mightiest city in the western lands, and from a glance, it was easy to believe it. However, Jale knew better. Behind the sturdy structures lay one of the worst places to live in the world. Controlled only by greed and wealth.

A deep breath filled his lungs with humid and sticky air—something he had forgotten he missed. With his head set on one goal, he marched up to the iron gates and cleared his throat. Years of training had not been lost in his year of relaxing, his posture was straight and sure, hands clasped behind his back.

“Men, I wish to see King Maverin.”

One of the guards at the gate looked him up and down. “An elf wishes to see the king? Yeah, okay. Let me just let you right in and to our leader.”

The other man laughed heartily.

Jale sighed and dropped his shoulders a touch. “I’ve been gone for so long, I could see how my appearance may possibly give you the idea of that. However, I’m Commander Jale Vadren, and I wish to see my king.”

Humming with intrigue, the first man tilted his head. “Jale? Commander Jale? How come your prisoner showed up a year late, without you?”

“Well, after being ambushed by the trolls, I…” The ex-commander trailed off, unsure how to even explain his journey. “Please, I have to see him, it’s important. I was with the elves and—…”

“You were with the wild elves? Lord, that would explain the appearance.”

The second man leaned closer to his partner. “And the claims of an elf alerting us of our prisoner being in the grasslands.”

With an uncertain gaze, the first guard pushed the large peg into the socket and began to push it away from the gate. Causing the iron bars to lift from the ground. “You understand how this works then, right “Commander”?”

Jale nodded. “Of course. I’m the one that suggested this change in the first place.”

While the guards seemed doubtful it was him, at least they had let him in. The gate was shut behind them and his hands were bound behind his back. His dagger was removed, but they seemed too scared to touch the pulsating blue wood.

“Come then, maybe we can get you this important audience with our king.”

As he was marched through the streets, people had come out to watch, the gate opening being heard throughout the city. Some of the older folk seemed to get the wrong idea, nodding and jeering at the “caught elf”. While the children looked up at him with curious—though weary—eyes. Every other race had at least asked him what he wanted, these humans had their minds made for them.

They didn’t like elves.

Selude was built so the keep sat in the middle, surrounded by all the citizens living and working areas, keeping a wall of innocent lives between an invasion and the royal family. A very human idea. Zerdals don’t fight wars, they have the openest cities anywhere, not hidden or protected. Trolls had gators and blended their houses into the scenery, not to mention their pure strength that kept humans away. Orcs had no walls, no hiding, but their Monarch sat their house right at the front of the city, being backed by a mountain—if you wanted to invade, you would have no reason to hurt the citizens.

But not the humans. Normal everyday humans, bakers, cleaners, and farmers would be turned into soldiers during wars, and if they died, they died.

A large stone brick building greeted his vision as the hybrid was brought around a turn, and sure enough, it was protected by another wall.

The bridge was down, letting people walk into the keep. Of course, the real illusion in life was freedom, guards prevented the subjects from wandering into the castle.

And now he was being paraded in as a wild elf, a disgrace, an enemy.

Guards of all kinds practiced moves inside the large open spaces inside the second wall, practicing with the human standard swords. While they were good, uniform, and smooth, with the fresh eyes of an elf-trained hunter, Jale could see how their flaws.

Grand grey wooden doors invited them in, positioned open for audiences. Also something Jale had a hand in setting up. Inside the floor was white, exotic marble from the eastern continent tundras, while the walls were covered in red stone from the northern mountains. A large raised stage seemed to command all attention, even without any fancy colors or designs. And in the center of it, sat a red-wood woven throne.

“Who’s this?” A loud, commanding voice called to them as they entered.

“Claims to be Commander Jale, sir.” One of the guards said.

The man who called to them stood from the throne. “He’s dead.”

Jale looked up at the man, a rather average-looking human, brown hair that barely passed his ears. And of course, a suit that bore the mark of the king. “Sir, if I may.”

(Author’s note: I’ll be giving King Maverin a better introduction in the second draft)

The King looked at him for a long moment, before giving him a nod and sitting back down.

Walking forward a few steps, the hybrid watched his old friend. “Maverin, I know how it looks and seems. But I promise to you, it is me. I was sent to deliver a criminal, wanted for Lord Levitt’s death. Along the way, we were ambushed by trolls—…”

“Yes, yes. We were told that by your men. But they told us the trolls killed you.”

“No, they didn’t kill me. I was sent on a… wild journey. Darael was with me the entire time and—…”

One of the kingsmen snorted. “Darael? I didn’t realize you two were on first name bases.”

As the court broke into light laughter, Jale could feel the shame covering him. The only relief he got was when King Maverin silenced them.

“Sir, surely you can understand, a year of traveling with someone. You’re bound to get comfortable with names. And… Not even to mention how he saved my life.”

The King leaned forward in his seat. “He saved your life?”

Jale nodded. “Yes.”

“How?”

The ex-commander shifted and looked down to think. He wasn’t expecting him to ask for specifics. “Several times.”

Maverin sighed and shook his head. “Jale… That warlock is a powerful manipulator, the fact that you can’t even think of one time you claim he saved you is concerning. And that’s overlooking your questionable appearance and timing.”

No, no they don’t believe me… Divines you didn’t say it was going to be so hard… The hybrid stepped forward more. “Let me talk to him, please.”

One of the guards stepped to him and grabbed his arm. “Absolutely not.”

The King, however, seemed interested in the idea. “That wouldn’t be a bad idea actually. We have control over the warlock.”

Scowling, the guard holding Jale let go of the man and walked away, disappearing into a hallway.

“Jale, you still haven’t explained one thing. Why are you dressed like that?”

Glancing down at the exposing, painted, leather, elven armor, the ex-commander shook his head a bit. “Uh, I don’t think you would believe me anyways.”

With a soft sigh, The King shifted in his seat and stood up. “Commander, I think you should know. My elves have a firm grip on that warlock, he will not lie to us.”

Jale brought his eyes back to his superior. “He’s not one to lie anyway. Not even to the trolls.”

The kingsman that laughed earlier spoke up again. “How would you know?”

“We were with elves, trust me, they enforce the whole truth-telling thing.”

Maverin looked on curiously. “Do you trust this warlock, Commander?”

Presented with such a question, the hybrid dipped his chin to think. I do, with all my being. But, if I tell them that, what would they think? They wouldn’t trust me being free-willed would they? Finally, he gave a single nod.

“I do.”

The King ran a hand over his scruffy chin. Thinking deeply for a few minutes. In that time, the light noise from outside was the only sound in the grand hall, men training and chatting about life.

Whatever he was going to say never came, as the guard brought Darael in before he had the chance to collect his thoughts.

“Ah, there he is. Our warlock of insight, please please, bring him over here.” Maverin’s commanding voice came back to address the prisoner.

The pearl-skinned man walked over to the king, followed closely by an elf. His face read one thing only: submission. Along his wrists the clear marks from being chained up, as well as a stiffened gait—perhaps trying to hide a limp or other soreness.

Jale’s heart sank at the sight of his beloved, reduced to a husk of his personality. No unnecessary movements to wave his hair, no cocky expression, no lively energy radiating from him.

“Robyn, if you don’t mind, entertain us with something.”

The elf that accompanied the warlock was every bit a prisoner as Darael, his binds were just prettier. A Kingself is what Robyn was; an elf born to serve the king and nothing else, not even the Divines. Not allowed to leave the keep without escorts and permission, and under no circumstances was he allowed a weapon.

Robyn bowed his head and placed two fingers on the warlock’s forehead. With a pause to collect the focus, he gave The King a nod.

“Jale, why don’t you start with the beginning?”

Jale watched his partner as the elf prepared to extract the memories, the ginger’s body language said it all. It was very unpleasant. I’m so sorry Darael, I shouldn’t have suggested talking to you.

Sighing softly, he looked up at the king. “The very beginning or like, just pick up from where my men left us? I don’t think we have the time for the full story, I mean… You already know how hard I worked when I first joined.”

Maverin wasn’t impressed. “Don’t be smart with me. You know what I mean.”

The ex-commander nodded. “Yeah… After being ambushed by the trolls, I told them they could do whatever they wanted with me if they let my men go. However, I didn’t know what they wanted with us, I just didn’t want my men harmed.”

He rubbed his thumb against his other hand as he went back in time to recount what happened. “I knew what they said was true, they were talking about a hybrid, elf and human, that would relieve the drought and save the marsh. Divinity gracious stuff.”

“Divinity? Sweet gods, what did those elves do to you commander?” the guard asked.

“That is the official term for it. Want to know how I’ve survived being ambushed by almost every race? I do hold some levels of respect for the other creatures on this planet.” Jale scoffed. “They would’ve killed you.”

Maverin held up a hand. “Please, let’s hold off on threats until we get to the bottom of whether you’re a threat or not.”

Rolling his shoulder, the hybrid brought his gaze back to his superior. “Yes, sir.” Recollecting his thoughts, he continued.

“The trolls didn’t know if I, this tall lanky human, or Darael, a very powerful natural warlock, was the hybrid in question.” Glancing away, his voice dropped to add, “I did.” With a head shake, he looked up at the warlock. “I simply asked if they would let me keep him by my side as I went to do what they wanted, as he was still my prisoner.”

One of the kingsmen interrupted again. “Why? The trolls surely would’ve killed him, would’ve been dealt with one way or another.”

Jale expected someone to ask that, and why he struggled to answer right away he couldn’t say. “Well, I didn’t want that. I think I believed him from the start that he didn’t kill Levitt. I mean, the arson to a historic and large building would’ve brought a bad enough punishment. Claiming to not kill the Mage Lord wouldn’t have lessened his punishment very much.”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The King waved a hand to shush his men. “So, you didn’t want the trolls to kill him, you wanted to deliver him to us for a fair trial, that’s expected from you Commander. Why did this task for the trolls take over a year to complete and why did you not drop him off on the way or at the very least, send a message?”

“Well,” The hybrid fidgeted with his hands a bit. “Firstly, I didn’t expect it to take so long, we had some unintended detours. I wanted to get it done as quick as possible, but one of the trolls came with us, and with her, her partner a zerdal. We were headed to the Golden Fields but we needed supplies first.”

While Maverin seemed interested in the idea of a troll and a zerdal being together, he didn’t comment on it. He cocked his head and glanced towards Robyn. “What does Darael say on this matter?”

The elf shook his head softly and looked up at his king. “I can’t—”

“Can’t, or won’t? He knows the punishment for messing with the elves.” The King stepped down the stairs to stand next to the warlock. Taller than the human, towered over by the elf. “Let him in, or we will force it out of you.”

Darael’s green eyes didn’t pierce or glare, they just dropped to the ground. The once bright reflections of spirit lay dull and distant, and with the threat, they moistened.

Jale couldn’t stand seeing him so broken down. His intelligent bright eyes quite literally shone with life before—being a warlock meant they shimmered just like other maegikally inclined creatures—and now they looked almost identical to a human’s. And even from the distance they stood, he could feel the pain and fear coming from him.

Robyn’s blue eyes flickered a bit as they tried again. As he searched through the mind of the warlock, the warlock flinched and wavered.

When he found the memory in question the elf shrugged gently. “Seems good enough. Of course, the warlock has no memory of Jale speaking to the trolls for protection of his men, but the guards themselves back that statement up.”

Maverin was watching the ginger, obviously to prevent any ideas. “What were these “Unintentional detours”?”

Jale took a deep breath, trying to stay focused. “We went to The Market in the Dry Sea for supplies. It was the only place I thought a high human commander, a human warlock, and a troll would be welcomed enough to get supplies.”

Robyn nodded to the king.

“Then… Uh, well then we went to Gorh’un. The head of the market suggested we head there to get some help for Darael. So… So when we got to the elves they wouldn’t, you know, kill us on sight.” The hybrid hoped deeply that this would be enough, but he could feel the grip of doubt grabbing his brain.

The elf took longer to search this time, with such vague explanations, he had to sort of pinpoint details. “Technically, true. From Darael’s understanding, they went to the orcs for help and weaponry. Since… Jale traded his sword for the bow he wears now.”

The King brought his gaze to Jale at this information. “Why?”

Unsure how to explain this without endangering himself, the ex-commander had no choice but to just say it. “It called to me. It’s an elven bow, made from the Bleeding Tree, elves, we can feel the energy from it.”

More laughter from the guards and kingsmen, however, that statement earned him a glance from Robyn.

“Oh, how would you lot know? I’ve always been able to feel things like that. Emotions, strength, maegik. Heck right now, there’s a hidden kingself on the rafters. Even if you look you can’t see him.”

Maverin hushed his men again, looking at his prized commander with a straight face. “We’ve known of your, unfortunate, family tree since you joined us. A super-tall teen joins us, with the grace and power of a trained soldier? Come on, we aren’t that dumb.”

“However, we thought, well my father believed, if we just trained you well enough—like our own elves—we could earn your loyalty forever. Seems like he was wrong.” A gesture to Jale’s appearance was made to emphasize his beliefs.

Jale took a step forward and shook his head. “I don’t want to break that loyalty, but sir, here I stand, bound and tried. With—” He stopped and shook his head. “I’m a Leevier, okay? Laugh, go on. I’m a rare type of elf that can speak directly to the Divines, I had to take part in the elven tradition, it was necessary. And guess what? I saw them, spoke to them. If you hurt that warlock there any more than you have, you will be directly hurting this planet.”

Just as he had assumed, laughter filled the halls once more. Only this time, Maverin joined in.

Darael’s face, which had screwed up in pain with the elf constantly digging through his thoughts, suddenly fell into relief as Robyn pulled his hand away and stepped back a bit, wide-eyed and uncertain.

The King chuckled off and looked at his elf. “What’s the matter with you? If he shut you out you know the drill.”

Robyn shook his head softly. “No uh, it was one of his memories, sir.”

Dread immediately hit Jale, he knew exactly what the elf meant, and judging by the paling of the warlock’s already pale face. So did he.

At least the elf had the decency to whisper it to the king.

With the laughter dying down at the hushed secret, Maverin stepped over to Jale, arms out to the sides in a grand display of freedom. “That explains the missing information as to why you kept him with you for so long.” The King began to walk around his once-beloved commander. “Manipulated? Perhaps. There’s no denying this warlock has the ability, and lack of morality, to brainwash such a figure of power.”

His booming voice carried through the hall, while his thick boots created a background beat as he walked. “My little bird tells me that warlock there has ruined my perfect commander. Mariette was the best offer for you, and now it’s gone.”

Jale didn’t bat an eye at the man, his gaze locked forward, he didn’t want to give this human the pleasure of intimidating someone. He knows how much they love that.

“So tell me, Commander, why? Why throw away this great offer for a princess? It would’ve made you prince, this kingdom would’ve been yours one day.”

The hybrid turned his eyes to look at The King as he reached in front of him. “Doesn’t interest me. Never did.”

Maverin stopped his circling to return his stare. “Who doesn’t want power?”

“Me.” Jale stated as simply as possible. “Your daughter doesn’t interest me either. No woman does.”

The King snorted, huffed a deep breath through his nose. “I told father you weren’t good enough for this kingdom. Hybrid or not, a man with interest in another man is—”

“Is what? A disgrace? You guys really need to work on your insults. I tell myself worse, I’ve told Darael worse.” The ex-commander shifted and looked at Robyn. “Want to know what the Divines said to me at the tree? They told me Darael was a blessing, his mother asked for a son to help the world. I was a gift because my parents believed the truth.”

Maverin opened his mouth, but Jale interrupted him. “No. Here’s something for you King. A highly respected hunter, Sei’naeve, told me the same thing, he attacked me at the tree because of my relations with Darael. Said I was a mutant had no right to be there at the Bleeding Tree, I as a… a, we don’t even have a word for it. Oh, the zerdals do, because they’re the only ones that care.” He growled the word and shook his head. “Sei’naeve was pushed off the tree. Miles high. By the time we got out of the tree, the roots had already wrapped around him to eat him. So please. Try me.”

From the corner of his vision, he saw Robyn look at Darael, before looking back at the two in the center.

The King snarled and hit Jale. His open palm slapped into the hybrid’s cheekbone with stinging strength. “You’re in my house, my kingdom. You listen to me.” He waved over his guards. “Ex-commander Jale Varden, you have been officially relieved of your duties. For treason and contempt of royal trials, you are to be given punishment beyond retirement.”

Leaning in close, he took his dagger and cut the bowstring. “I will hang you, like your mother and father before you.” The bow was pulled free and tossed aside. “Where’re your Divines now?”

----------------------------------------

A flock of humans crowded around the execution stage, hungry for the justice they believed they were to see; a wild and dangerous elf wanted for aiding in the murder of the beloved Mage Lord Levitt. They waited anxiously for the show.

Meanwhile, in the cells below, Jale hung from his restraints, chained by the wrist and suspended in the air. Maverin really wasn’t risking him getting away. Across the way was some thief, wanted for killing for some gold. She watched the hybrid with distrust, as far as everyone else was concerned, Jale was just an elf.

Hearing the crowd speculate how the elf would be killed definitely unnerved him. He had to hand it to the king, he knew how to torment his prisoners.

“Hey, elf, how’d you do it?”

Jale slowly picked his head up to look at the woman across the way. “Pardon?”

She shrugged gently. “I’m curious, how’d you help kill Levitt?”

“I didn’t. The only crime I committed was trusting a human.”

The woman scoffed gently. “Okay.”

Letting his head submit to gravity again, he sent a wish to the Divines and an apology. I’m sorry, not only did I fail, I failed to the point where even you cannot help. Humans are so blind and raged by the presence of stronger races, they didn’t even listen to me. And they won’t come to their senses any time soon. Divines… Just… Just let Darael be okay, give him the strength to resist and make it out of here. And to move on.

With a sigh, he let his senses fill with the memories of the warlock. At least he came to his own senses and got to spend that one night with him, free as could be. Completely intertwined and happy.

A loud squeal of hinges pulled him from his happy place, opening his eyes to look he saw Robyn walking over.

“I’m surprised they waited so long… I’m completely incapable, other people can pry as much as they like. Unlike Darael.” Jale chuckled sadly at the thought of the warlock’s ability to peer into his thoughts.

The elf glanced around, alerting the hybrid to his anxiety. Robyn slid a key into the cell lock and clicked it open. “I may be a Selduancian elf, but I still know our… beliefs. I can’t let the humans blindly kill a Leevier.”

With relief and gratitude in his eyes, the hybrid watched as the elf came close and undid the chains that strung him up. “Thank you, Robyn.”

“Don’t thank me yet. We have to get you out of the city.”

Jale fell to the ground and grunted softly as he moved his shoulders. “No, we need Darael.”

“Sir, that’s not a very smart move.”

“He is mine. I will not leave him here to suffer at the hands of the king.”

Robyn sighed but seemed to understand the importance of the warlock to him. “Fine. But if you get caught. It wasn’t me.”

Nodding to his aid, the hybrid followed him out of the cell and down the corridor. They slipped around corners and under the noses of the guards until they got to the maegik cells. An area specifically designed to hold anyone with the ability to cast spells.

As they walked down the walkway, he saw several grassland elves and even a troll or two in the cells. Each one cowered in fear at the sight of kingselves.

“Elves shouldn’t fear other elves… This is terrible.”

Robyn agreed quietly and kept his gaze to the ground as they passed them.

Jale came to a cell that had nothing in it at all, yet it was locked. “What’s this?”

The elf beside him hummed and shook his head. “I don’t know, it was like that when I was first brought here to work, The King says it’s a Wiked, but…”

“It’s not, we’d be able to feel it.” The ex-commander sighed and kept on his quest to find his warlock.

“Well… Human raised elves, we—we don’t have the full senses a regular elf does. I’m not sure why.”

Jale looked back at his companion and raised an eyebrow. “Really? Humans are barbaric. They’re pretty much breeding elves to be hounds for them.”

Robyn nodded, pointing forward a bit. “He should be on the left around this corner.”

Unable to physically contain his hopes, the hybrid hurried forward and around the bend. Immediately he felt the presence of the rich-with-maegik-energy-warlock. It was undoubtedly his.

“Darael?” he asked, looking into the cell. At first, he didn’t see anything, but the subtle gasp and fear spiking from the corner showed him where the warlock sat.

Darael sat motionless in the dark corner of the cell, his dull eyes barely producing a glow of energy. The red cape of hair clung to his body from the humidity of the dungeons—tangled and oily, and his body was curled into a ball to feel any safety he could.

At the sight of Jale, the warlock only stared. Terrified of the elf in front of him. And when Robyn joined his side, he visibly shook a bit.

“Darael, it’s me. Jale?”

The ginger couldn’t seem to remember, he just quivered at the implied torture the pair of elves gave off.

Robyn unlocked the cell for Jale, who slipped in and crouched in front of Darael.

“Please, Darael, I don’t know what I’ll do if you’re lost. You’re the only thing that made me happy enough to try.” The hybrid begged, dropping his shoulders in defeat.

The warlock watched him, eyes darting to the elf outside the cell and back to the one in front of him. He couldn’t seem to process what sort of trickery this was.

Jale reached forward and grabbed his hand. “Please, we don’t have time for this, please you have to remember.

Darael pulled away, but the hybrid kept his grip, scared for his life, the ginger whimpered and pulled his arm back harder. When Robyn stepped over quickly and pushed his fingers to his head.

The ex-commander watched as the warlock struggled for a moment before relaxing a touch. The elf’s eye glow flickered as he tried to force the memories back to the human.

After what felt like an eternity, the ginger pulled his head away and muttered a soft “That’s enough”

Jale looked on eagerly, hoping his lover had been returned to him, his hand loosening its grip in hope.

Darael was quiet for a moment, before looking up at the hybrid. “Was the tree beautiful?”

Chuckling softly, the hybrid nodded and kissed his forehead. “But not nearly as beautiful as you.”

With a soft groan, the human pushed him back. “You stink, Divines, what have you been doing?”

Jale smiled at the comment, already his partner was returning to his snarky ways. “Rotting in a cell for treason. What about you? You’re a mess.”

“Well, sitting here, being tortured, being neglected, sweating. Home sweet home.”

Robyn shifted his weight, probably a mild bit uncomfortable. “We should go, they’ll be going to your cell to collect you any minute now. If they find you’re not there, they will come here.”

Darael unfolded himself and stood with a soft sigh. “We literally never have time for ourselves.”

“Once we get out of here, I promise you I’ll make time for you.”

The warlock stretched his bones and joints and slid past the hybrid. “Well, let’s get out of here then. I think we’ve overstayed a bit.”

The elf waved for them to follow as he darted out of the walkway and into a second passage. As the trio wove through the cells, they could hear the commotion from the guards and kingsmen who had discovered their prisoner to be executed was gone.

Jale was in the back, not wanting to let the warlock out of his sight, while Robyn led them through the smaller tunnels in hopes of avoiding the guards. With several detours and a few backtracks, they managed to slip out into the main hall, it was empty.

“Wait. Wait this isn’t right,” the ex-commander said. “This room should never be empty.

“You’re right. The King wouldn’t leave the only entrance and exit completely unguarded,” a voice called from above.

Jale hissed softly, he could now feel several people above them. “Well, shit.”

Darael looked around, scooting a bit closer to his lover. “We can take them, I mean. I’m the most powerful human right?”

A different voice from above spoke. “Eh, calm down. We aren’t interested in fighting a Leevier. Or a human warlock. Robyn, what are you going to do?”

Robyn was looking directly at nothing, but from his eye contact, he could probably see one of the elves. “I’m not sure… I want to help them get out of the city, then I’ll figure it out.”

“Brave. Hey, go see the meadows for us will you?”

The visible elf nodded. “I will.”

Jale waved his companions on. “We should go. Thankfully the citizens will be distracted by my execution.”

“They were going to kill you?!” Darael asked, hurrying after him.

“Yep… Mavrin said he was going to hang me, just as his father did to my parents.”

Robyn sighed. “We have a great king.”

“Oh, the best.” “Truly a prodigy.” Both the other men said over each other.

(Apologies for all the notes, but yes the second draft will also include them actually getting out of the city)

As the trio looked at the great walled keep from the distance, Darael clung to the hybrid’s side, the reality of how close they were to losing each other all too real.