In the darkness of a crypt, cloaked figures gathered. They hid their hands in their sleeves and bowed to one another as they met. Only under a ray of concealment spells and whispers did they converse with one another.

“Our queen, we come before you,” said one of the men, his voice echoing slightly in the silence.

The queen inclined her head. “I trust you are both well?”

The two nodded beneath their hoods.

“Then something has occurred, I presume?” she continued.

“Yes, the envoy failed to kill its target,” replied the woman to her right.

The queen’s jaw clenched. “I wish that half-breed and his meddling mother would just croak already. My ex-husband will be on guard now. We may not get another chance.”

“There is a silver lining,” the woman added, lowering her voice. “I have him wrapped around my finger.”

“Excellent work on retrieving the key,” the queen praised with a nod of approval.

“Thank you, my queen.”

A third figure stepped forward, clearing his throat. “I have… additional news.”

“Then out with it,” the queen demanded, her gaze sharp under her hood.

“The King has requested that we only mentor the boy upon his request. It’s as if he suspects something,” he explained.

The queen scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s not him; it’s that angelic mother of his. Adhere to adhere to the order so that any suspicion may be thwarted—for now.”

“But what if he gains levels?” questioned the second figure, her tone laced with concern. “If he’s anything like his uncle, his class could become… formidable.”

A wicked smile spread across the queen’s face. “That will never happen. I have plans to eliminate him. All of you simply stay the course. Soon, I will claim the throne and restore us.”

“Yes, my queen,” they murmured in unison.

“Your will is my will,” the man whispered, bowing low.

With their words sealed in a promise of shadows, the figures turned from each other and disappeared in the blink of an eye. Their words remained entombed within the crypt, yet the actions they set in motion would ripple through the world, casting the dice of fate and altering the course of history itself.

A month later, the prince’s life had taken a significant turn. Mentorship and guardianship were now optional, no longer forced upon him like the chains that had bound him to the citadel tree. His whole life he was terrified to leave the walls, wanted nothing to do with the outside world, yet now, he began to carve out a life a normalcy.

“Thank you, keep the change,” Elron said to the vendor.

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“Come again!” the vendor replied cheerfully.

He now walked the bustling capital regularly, buying his own things with his modest allowance, immersing himself in the vibrant marketplace, and discovering truly new experiences. Just weeks before, he had been too afraid to interact with others, but now, he found himself observing them with curious detachment.

As he wandered, a harsh realization took root—the world wasn’t as grand as he’d once imagined from within the sheltered walls of the citadel. He witnessed stark disparities between the poor and the privileged, glimpsed elves selling everything from drugs to their own bodies, and felt his nose assaulted by the appalling stench of pollution lingering in the streets. Each scene, each encounter, weighed heavily on his heart, leaving him with a sense of disillusionment that deepened with each passing day.

A young boy snapped him from his thoughts.

“What will you be having, mister?” a server asked.

He jolted in his seat. “Oh.” He then responded, “Give me your special today.”

“You got it,” the server said.

Elron worried people might recognize him as the king’s son, but thankfully, few outside the citadel had ever seen him. This anonymity suited him well—any unwanted attention could lead to his guardians being reassigned to him, an outcome he was determined to avoid.

“I wonder how Marcella’s doing,” Elron mused to himself.

“Ah!” he exclaimed as his trousers caught a splash of spilled beer.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! Let me clean that up!” A long-haired elf hurried over, dabbing his leg with a cloth.

“Please, it’s fine. It’ll dry,” Elron tried to assure her.

“No, no. Let me buy you a beer to make up for it,” she insisted, ignoring his protests.

“I don’t drink, really, there’s no need—”

“Can I get an ale over here?” she interrupted, waving down the server as she slid into the seat across from him.

“You really didn’t have to…” Elron said, a bit flustered by her forwardness.

“It’s the least I could do for a fellow half-elf.” She smiled warmly.

The reminder of his heritage struck him; his struggles with being half-elf hadn’t ended outside the citadel, he’d simply found it echoed in the capital’s streets. The pity, the disdain, the sideways glances were a regular occurrence, especially from elves and even some humans who disapproved of half-breeds.

“I think I’ve seen you around before, haven’t I?” she asked, studying him curiously.

“Hm, no, I don’t think so,” he replied, trying to remain inconspicuous.

“No, you’ve been staying at the old tavern next door, right?”

Elron’s heart raced. “For a stranger, you seem to know a lot about me. How is that?” His mind raced, scanning for any clue that might have revealed his true identity. Did his clothes stand out too much? Were his words too formal?

She chuckled. “Alright, you got me. The truth is…” She trailed off, and his chest tightened.

‘What does this woman want from me?’ he thought in a panic.

“I was hoping you could help me get a job at that merchant company you work for.”

He blinked as the server dropped two ales on the table with a thud. She eagerly took a drink, looking back at him expectantly.

“Oh, are you going to drink that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, no, you can have it,” he said, still taken aback.

She drained his mug without a second thought. Elron marveled; he’d never seen an elven woman drink like that. Perhaps it was her human side showing?

“Sure,” he finally replied. “I’ll put in a good word for you. I’m sure they’d be glad to hire another guard.”

“Perfect! Thanks. I’ll meet you first thing in the morning.” She stood up abruptly, slamming her empty mug on the table.

“Wait—what was your name?” he called after her.

“Sylra,” she replied with a grin. “And yours?”

“Oh, it’s… El-ric.” He said, barely managed to stammer out the false name.

“Alright, good night, El-ric. See you in the morning!” she said with a wave before disappearing into the crowd.

‘She’s definitely an odd one,’ he thought, watching her go, and wondered what trouble he just signed up for.