Nearing the palace where Zekatar now resided, Hobble craned his neck to look up at the building.

“Is it really so that this was once an elven city?” he asked.

“Yes, you can see it in the older parts. The architecture is different. Better. Built to last and with beauty,” Gilmir responded.

“What happened?”

As Gilmir and Hobble passed through the main gate, they nodded to the guards.

“I don’t know the details. There was a war, and the dark elves were driven from the land.”

“Shouldn’t you know?”

“I guess. I learned about it many years ago, but I found it frustrating.”

“How so?”

“They say the winners write history. So, I kept wondering what the dark elf version of the story would be. I decided I couldn't trust the old texts, and I lost interest.”

“That sounds a bit immature.”

“It was. Because I was immature. It was decades ago.”

They started climbing the stairs that eventually led to the throne room, walking in silence for a while.

“You think he is right, then? That he is the rightful king?” Hobble asked as they started on the last flight of stairs.

Gilmir knew he was referring to Zekatar and pondered the question for a few beats. “I’m positive that he believes he is. Other than that, I’m not sure about anything. It’s complicated coming back for something you lost so many years ago. Time passes, the world changes, people come and go, and in the end, you may pick a fight with someone who had nothing to do with the original conflict. They don’t remember it and hardly even know about it.” Gilmir shrugged.

Hobble lowered his voice. “And this is the reason you’re worried? You think he will somehow make a claim? For something long lost?”

“Yes, something like that,” Gilmir said as they climbed the last steps.

Two dark elf guards stood outside the first set of double doors leading into the throne room. This was the same throne room where Gilmir had fought and eventually killed Voan, while Hobble had battled several guards. Ada, the human mage, and Tracks, a half-crazed dwarven treasure hunter, had also joined the fray, helping to secure the victory against the half-demon Voan.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“What do you want, ernil?” one of the guards, a veteran named Keradir, asked.

“We’re back from our assignment. We need to talk to Zekatar.”

“King Zekatar,” the other guard corrected.

“We need to talk to King Zekatar,” Gilmir repeated.

“You will have to wait here. He has visitors.”

“Alright,” Gilmir said and moved to the wall.

“Will it be long?” Hobble inquired.

“I have no way of knowing,” Keradir responded.

Hobble sighed and came to stand next to Gilmir, who was leaning his back against the wall. Hobble chewed on his lip and started spinning his staff in his hand. Gilmir crossed his arms and tapped his fingers on his upper arm.

After a few beats, Gilmir spoke.

“I need to sprinkle the plants.”

Hobble’s expression indicated his confusion. “You need to take a piss?” he asked a few beats later.

“Yes. Wait here. I’ll be back soon,” Gilmir said, moving down the corridor.

The first time he had been here, Gilmir had followed a secret passageway that led to a side door of the throne room. If he could use it now, he might learn something about Zekatar’s plans.

Turning the corner, he found the corridor empty. He moved to the wall and examined it. Running his fingers over the wallpaper, he soon found the right spot and pushed. A panel slid inwards, and Gilmir stepped into the passage. He soon stood outside the servants' entrance to the throne room. The last time he had come this way, the door opened behind heavy curtains and would be hidden from view.

Gilmir put his ear to the door and listened. He could hear voices but couldn't make out the words. His hand went to the handle, and he carefully pressed it down. Slowly, he opened the door a crack.

“When we get the shard, we will be able to bring more people through,” Zekatar said.

“Yes, and that will be helpful, of course,” another voice replied. It was an elven voice, one Gilmir didn’t recognize. The voice continued, “But as far as we can tell, we need the artifact to complete the ritual. And before we have done so, there will be no real progress.”

“And where is this artifact?” Zekatar asked.

“We don’t know yet.”

“Then we must work on an alternative solution.”

“Yes, my King, we will continue our research,” the other voice said.

“But?”

“But such things take time. The artifact is the better option if time is a factor.”

“I know. I will work on that angle.”

“My king,” the other voice said.

It sounded like the conversation was ending. Gilmir reached out to close the door when he heard steps. Someone in the throne room was heading towards the door. Gilmir glanced around. The chamber he stood in was almost empty, save for a small table, a chipped vase, and a broken chandelier. There was nowhere to hide. Gilmir glanced back the way he had come, but it was probably too late. The soft sound of a curtain sliding aside came from beyond the entrance.

The footsteps stopped. Gilmir knew he was in trouble. The person outside the door had probably used the same door when entering and was now wondering why it stood ajar.

Gilmir heard another step and moved.