His eyes close, focusing to slow the rate of his heart. Like a rapid beating drum, it was pounding; his eyes open again to the field filled with bodies. Allies mixed thick with the enemy, with beading sweat from his brow were both sight, and thought shrouded. His next move needed to be clear. It needed to be fast. Nothing short of perfection would due. A snap short from his peripheral caught the hidden advance of an enemy unit coming in hard and low. He grips tight to the relic in his possession…it was the most sought after item to the field. I have control he spoke to his own mind; I have clarity echoed back. His vision struck upon a figure baring his allegiance racing down field from him and on his heels, the enemy was. His sight matched as the figure gazed back to his location, holding open arms for the vital transfer. He judged the distance, he couldn`t afford to miss.

It released whistling in a spiral formation closing in on the rear of the figure. The figure locked sight to the relic, the icon wished by all. The shifting air came to a pause, as the beacon was cradled, tucked into protection by the ally.

Thud, Came impact from the enemy that was always to his flank. The ground grew large to his sight as both impacts strike the dirt hard. All went silent in the war as men from both sides crowded around the two fallen. Coiling back his arms from the relic, it lays still to the ground, turning his sight just inches behind he saw it…the goal line.

“He made it, point and match, the win goes to Droghans team” Tristan took first to his feet, extending his hand to his son Casavir aiding him to his.

“Nice catch son” pulling Casavir from the low smoldering dirt cloud

“Looks like young wins over the aged father” huffing in breath

“As it always should be” silence came over the two for mere moments and spinning the ball to his finger Casavir gloated

“According to the stakes, you guys get to cook the evening meal” Casavir watched as his father`s prideful look quickly drained, replaced by a faint grumble, recalling the bet made before the game. Casavir proceeded to re-join his team

“Oh and father, I prefer my boar meat lightly seared”

Lobbing the ball to the air in arc formation was it targeted right to his grip. Looking upon it with eyes made up of ghostly-conjured spiritual energy, Drogahn switched to the coming sight of Casavir. “Nice pass Drogahn”

“Nice catch”

“I think that pair you got now make you better than your old ones” Drogahn stared upon his holding a small grin as the light dissipating excess to his thick misted eyes steamed off just passed his sockets.

“I`ll still take the ones my mother gave me any day” Casavir never changed still childhood, deep meaning conversations were not his specialty nor did he ever try to expand his mastery to them. Holding short timed awkwardness wishing to jet away did a gaggle of young girls spectating the game grant him an outing. Drogahn was left flipping the ball to the air watching him go off, he`ll go for the thin blonde one. Drogahn thought grading the girls by physical appearance. Having the ball only half way in flight, he grips it from the air just ahead of another,

“I`m glad to your sight hasn`t off-keyed any other skills you retain” Drogahn turn hosting the ball under his arm placing his foggy sight upon his father.

“The barrier spell is holding this time, I think it`s permanent”

“Good to hear, don`t want them evaporating from your skull, again” Cloud laughed which ended swiftly as the sound of his grumbling brother was drawing closer

“As I said before it`s not easy to just write such a spell combination” Rain defended “If I had my own magic-

“It would`ve been done right the first time, we know Rain…it was a joke, no need to defend” Rain breathes deep as exhaustion sets in hard “Calm yourself before you drop”

“This ball thing is not my game,” Rain groans out in heavy in sweat

“How fortunate you are that since the ladies are gone to the guild market you can test your hand at the work by a cooking fire” Cloud extends, Rain scowls.

“We only have this opportunity because we lost, brother”

“It must be fate; the girls will be most pleased if you hold talent” Rain issued back a most displeasing glare. Drogahn leads to his father`s ear side

“I think you hit a nerve” Cloud leans back, “Hard not to when he wears them on his skin” Rain shakes his head pacing away leaving his brother open to push a final button.

“At the cooking pit in an hour, honey” Clouds end with laughter catching Rain`s continuing complaints.

The sight of war fills his vision as he looks around to the contact of metal on metal. He has seen enough blood for his legacy and kin…when will it all end. A voice echoes to his mind, never does it end, as mortals are as different as the blades of grass they fight on.

To his left a soldier falls in battle, he bolts to his side. Resting the young knight to a soft silence blood coats the palms of his hands; he was only half his age. A child and wife wait on his return, heartfelt message …another newly appointed widow will shudder out to his ears her aching cry.

Taken angelic form now twice, he sees them as he would any mortal being, the angels of death. The farriers of fallen souls. The brilliant elegance to their very being blinds away the vision of the battle, shading the field of war. Their wings flutter like silk on the wind, she gently offers out her grasp of grace and with great confusion does the passing soul take to its hold.

He grows inner with pain seeing the sight so beautiful, the powers he gave up could`ve saved this man`s life…and so may more others that he now had to watch fall to death`s grasp. He saved the life of his beloved wife, but now at the hindsight of things, he thinks the loss to be a righteous one. The angel looks to his face, seeing Cloud`s self suffering torment shining a grin to his despair.

“Fear not Cloud, he will be in good tidying’s” she speaks across the air, ending with a flash Cloud`s sight was brought again to the view of the war. Cloud moves to the stilled corpse, taking to a knee, grasping the warrior`s hand into his. Cloud says a prayer aiding the guidance to his soul for a little extra light. The soul now gone, the hand tightens to Cloud`s grip. Cloud looks in shock at the man raising his head “Cloud…Cloud” calls Tristan brining Cloud back to the scene of Silverspire`s kitchen, one he never left from in body, only mind. “You awake”

“Yeah, just drifting thoughts” Cloud replies mourning the loss at the healing powers he needed to sacrifice. Putting a platter to his hands the elders to the youth live up to their vow from the bet they made; playing host to the young heroes for the evening before they ate.

Gorging as if he may never see food again Casavir lays thick into his meal put before him. He stops as his audience holds a stare to him with forks and knives to their hands.

“What!” as food drips and drains from his mouth. “Kityana in dragon form eats with cutlery” Drogahn protests in disgust “she uses a lance”

“And in dragon form that`s a utensil” Casavir stops to ponder, shakes his head

“Slows the process,” he continues to massacre his bore meat by his hands. Drogahn, Ason a cuisine to Casavir and half-elven by race joins the dinning at a much leisurely pace. Also to the table sat Slade, a recently new recruit to the Shadowell community who held the race Asmarian. A race thought by many minds and rumours to be forever extinguished.

He raced down the granite steps that spiralled to an ever-descending pattern. Reaching the bottom with a young woman in toe he stops at the sound of guards on approach, both remain shadowed and silent. A door across the way is the target and upon hearing the steps of the guards rounding the corner leaving sight, the two take to a sprint to the room. “A Closet” she laid with judgement looking to him, she grows a sultry smile “it’s perfect”. They engage immediately into fiery passion with a fine crafted room housing their words of constant approval.

A knight of the high noble court he was and she was a member of the Procturn Acolytes, both forbidden to engage in any such relations but it is near treason to do commit together. Finishing their heated moment, they retreat up the stairs entering the great hall. Dark it was having only pillars near lit with simple candle light. Walking from the stairwell did both look to a company of men, waiting for them. They held capes with the insignia of the high guard, same as the knight who looked upon them. There mithril blades still to the cases as the leader to the group motioned a simple hand gesture, the rest to hold of the two into custody. The leader, bound by a shrouded hood to his head had both forced up to his feet beside each other.

“Please…I can explain,” cried the knight in a plea to which the leader shifted his head. Faster than they could react with screams the leader put his blades to his hands, slitting both of their throats. Watching the blood pour from the jugular`s the company waited until death approached them both.

“A plague upon our ways” spouted the leader motioning again for the bodies to follow him out of the hall.

Tolarius; City capital to the Alapicus mountains and coming up on the summer cycle will It mark the 180th when tragedy struck as the last king who held no royal blood to stand in his place took his last breath of life. The King`s death spun a mystery to some on the cause of his death and rumoured betrayal to others. Suffering from a power struggle that brought about the death of the king, one holds the yellow fever strip of guilt as well as the pending judgement.

Before that day, law was by the King. To uphold the good will and protection to all souls that retain in the boundaries, but immediately following his death it was the only law left untouched. The four top families fought with words, titles, armies and weapons, hoping to put their crest upon the royal seal. A state of udder chaos was about to erupt when one unknown to all in name brought about a solution. A chalice grafted, imbued by her with a magical counter weight upon it; names were placed to the chalice rim hosting the names of the four families. One from each family are chosen by the magical cup of wisdom bounding them to the new governing council that was to take the place of the king, two females and two males. The families added to this an act of ceremonial marriage as a diplomatic way of keeping unsettling peace to the families. Life to the high elves now holds this way for the last eighteen decades. Other things have emerged from this city as well, rare metalled item forge by god-like talent, as growing rates of decrepitly and deceit forever widening wedges in the class ranks.

A cold summer chill runs through the high elven city sponsored by low rolling mist, curling waves of live fire heat clashes in conflict exiting from the Silver Falcon. Home to both the art of smithy and ruler to an anvil now approaching it`s 300 year of birth. His hammer falls down hard upon the softened steel tempered to a red-hot illumination, sparks fly to the air landing hard to his hard hide apron that shields from the burn. The forging shape is nearly complete as his eyes lower taking to a hold upon the angle of the corner ridging; it is within six hammer hits. Grasping tongs, he submerges it to the cold-scabbed water bucket, flipping back with strong head shift his sopping sweated hair stream bellows to the air clouding his sight momentary. Applying to the roaring flames again, he takes to a brief rest, having his eyes gaze upon the north weld housing unfinished work. He was one of the most known smiths and forger to the city limits and surrounding towns. Remarkable feat as his age rounds to his twenty-eighth year. Again, to the fire, again to the rattling ping of metal construct he warships as priests to a god.

Night brings the day to a close as he takes his first steps to the tavern, a personal compliment to a hard days’ worth. Pushing open the doors, the smell of sweet nectar hits him fully and the structure made of cedar exfoliates it twice over. Only wishing for a time to his thoughts was in full hope but the chance dwindled with the act of a slight shove. A miniature pushed his way by; approaching the counter demanding a barrel of ale, taking sight of a young girl at a table he wished to claim.

A girl of juvenile age sits on her own hooded and quiet. She sees him approach her and her veins run cold with fear, her eyes measure his height, which comes just beneath the tavern ceiling beams. Her little light blue eyes widen to a panic rendering her body frozen.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“You’re in my chair girl, move” he spoke in aggression but so scared at his image she remained. He looks to the poor thing as he approaches the bar, she couldn`t have been here on good family terms. A run away no doubt but never would that merit the stinking breath of a walking cow in her face.

“If you hadn`t noticed she claimed that seat for the night, find another and leave her alone” taking his first sips of a fresh brew while holding a gaze to the horned bull. The horned beast swayed his sight scanning the room, “who said that”

“Rude and blind, I’m surprised you’re not dead…there`s many who would turn you into a main course meal” the Minatare focuses to the Half-elven smith taking again to his brew. “Care to say that again”, the smith places his drink to the bar table and walks calmly to the beast coming only to his elbow. “Leave the young girl alone”.

The bull was fast driving a gut punch to the smith dropping him to a knee; the smith recovers and retaliates only with a straight stare. The Minatare axe-swings his arm striking him in the high chest putting the smith to his ass, shaking his head the smith goes to his feet. Before a blink to happen the smiths head bounced off the bar table, the half-elf recoils his head straight feeling his face for broken bones. Relieving as nothing showed on the touch the smith brings a smirk to face, he spits blood from the cut gums in his mouth to the floor and faces the bull again. “Had enough yet” the bull strains his arm for another strike when a laugh escapes the bulls’ mouth, he relaxes his arm “You’re tough I’ll give you that, got no sense but manhood where it counts…I like you”

The smith uses his tongue feeling in his mouth for loose teeth, housing an irritated glare. “it takes pummelling me to figure that out?”

“Anyone can fight, but real warriors are the ones who can take hits” the smith looks at the table on the topic, “Leave the girl alone”

“Agreed only by one request, you drink with me”

Nodding the bull grips his ale. Put to a container the smith used as a wash pail in his shop, moving to a table empty in the corner. The smith looks to the girl “Kyle that blade you still owe payment for, square it off by a hot meal and a room for this young girl”

“You got it Ason”, Ason carves his elven eyes to the empty chair at the Minatare table and gripping his brew, Ason moves slow to the table. “Thank you” sparked from the girl grateful to his intervention, he smirks to her with a nod noticing her tiny cute mouth dimples as she bared to him a smile. “ take care milady” he ends in talk.

Mid night rolls to early dawn as Ason takes his first steps to his city sector, a lingering feeling falls to him and passing a look over his shoulder, he sees nothing to his sights. “Who are you and why are you following me,” Ason mouths to his own concern, and continues on to home, the Silver Falcon. Thoughts drain his worry as the itinerary of the coming day surfaces to his mind, recalling a visit from his cosine was coming up Ason tries to remember if this was that day. If a stop at the market was necessary as he knows his companies apatite, but all thoughts cleared from his minds at the feeling of a hit to his back. Stumbling to a hard collapse Ason tried to keep balance and landing to his side, peering back to the sight of three figures emerging from a darkened street side.

“What did we tell you about coming around here” spoke one and as the light struck his face Ason knew his thugs, full-blooded high elves, befriended to one noble brat of a young being who Ason has had offs with before.

Ason knew the proper greeting to him and his friends, “Smilith son of Antone, I was traveling home simply, no other agenda”

“That`s left for me to decide”

“Of course sir” Ason rebuttals, in this city do the high elven families run the show of any street they walk to, all must be addressed to the proper titles and ones who don`t suffer. Ason stares to the ground on the confrontation of Smilith, Smilith looks to him waiting for a reason to strike, waiting for Ason to screw up on educate. Smilith grips Ason`s hair reefing back on it, “Why is your left hand at your side, your right hand is the only one able to have freedom. Smilith drives his foot to the abdomen of Ason dropping him to the ground.

“That`s enough!” echoed across the street way drawing the high elves to the attention of a Minatare on approach. “This doesn`t concern you Minatare, move along”

“I just came from your mother`s she told me for you to come home, and that she took it like the cow she is” No response of aggression came about putting a glimmer of disappointment to him, “Nothing, you beat that half elf over one who disgraces your family”

“You are rude, smelly and a plague upon pure races, but your pure none the less…much higher up that this half tainted thing” spoke Smilith spitting to Ason`s curled up form. “Just go Daryian, you don`t need this” Ason addressed the Minatare.

“The actions you show are ten times anything these will ever gain in life” Daryian spoke folding his arms, “Wait you two know each other, from some run down bar no doubt. In fact you probably just came from drinking” Smilith nods signalling his friends to take up arms.

“And your holding my drinking partner to your mites let him go…now” warned Daryian, Smilith laughs “your bodies filled with ale, we hold fifteen years of soldier training…care to change your tactics”.

Daryian appraises the issue running his hand to his face, “three drums of ale I have in me, but your right I will change my thoughts”, drawing his battle-axe, tossing it to the side he then pulls two hand axes to his grip. “Children deserve to be beaten with toys” he smirks.

At the early merge of the breaking dawn, Ason rounds the final corner holding his shop in sight. To his left was Daryian and with his arm slung over one shoulder he carried a large sac. Heavy weighted it was with sculpted forms to its skin as it barred the three pure blood elves inside limp and unconscious. Daryian had the sac on him as his earlier duties had it filled with fresh manure, but even left to dry in the sun the bag still to its inner held the foul smell thick and ripe. Daryian held a smug grin to the well-rounded justice he thought up, but Ason said not one word to him since the conflict ended.

Daryian grew restless “you know when someone does you a good deed, generally thanks are in order”, Ason looks to him and then to the sac “You shouldn`t have done that”

“Sure I did, these elves were the shitty kind, and they needed to be sorted right. Besides I wasn`t just going to sit to the side watching that unfold as it did”

“They wouldn`t have killed me Daryian, the treatment is only even to embarrass and belittle me”, Daryian aims for a morality check “To most worriers that fate is worse than death”. Ason halts to his steps “You don`t get it do you Daryian, this act won`t go without reprisal. You`ll be hunted until your death now”

“I know the laws of this stupid town and how gutless they`re maintained half-elf, and further more boy this isn’t my first offence here. You go get patched up and I’ll pass by your way in a few days”, taking to motion passing by Ason. “Where are you taking them?”

“To tie these critics to a borderline tree and donate their clothes to the local well-wash” having the sac rebound off a wall side. Ason brings the first smile to his face at the voice of Daryian baring a fake apology to the hit, he takes to his shop door locking it to stop the need of his services for a half day rest.

His eyes widen to the world again to the hearing of a commoner squabble outside his room wall, he takes to a stand from his bed, spotting a figure in the rooms shaded corner Ason grips his blade that leaned to the side of his bed. With demands of intrusion the shaded figure, slowly came to the light, “Is that anyway to treat family”

“Casavir? You scared me shitless what are you doing here?”

“Passing through to pick something up, I`m on Valtesh duties”

“Where`s your better half”

“Sleeping off our fun last night”

“Really, you finally bedded her, isn`t that against the rules”

“It is and he lies, wouldn`t let him touch me with a stolen manhood” carried a voice as Kityana followed in sight entering the room. Ason was quiet fond of the red dragon and her mere sight brought him to an initial fluster in speech.

“Kityana, good to see you again” Kityana glances a long pause to Ason`s carved upper torso as he rests wearing breeches to his bottom half, “Right back at cha” holding a gentle grin.

“So what kind of mission brings you two to this city?”

“A catch and hold safe one” Kityana said back with reluctance knowing the issue that is yet to arise, sighting the sun`s position Ason holds confusion. “What time is it?”

“Just passed mid-meal”

“Shit I’m late, talk while I work at the forge to finish the order” Ason hastes putting on his apron. Kityana held no heart pounding romance for the smith, Ason the gift of conversation when it came to women. With common talk of their hairstyle changes or a new dress, he graft compliments that would make them melt, and being a dragon Kityana was not excluded or immune. Finishing ahead of the pickup wagon Ason started other orders pending and combining his craft with common tongue with his company. The wagon rider lightly gave a knock to the smith wall stopping the chat. Casavir froze to a judging stare; he focused to her golden blonde hair, simple made dress edged with embodied elegance. A well carved bodes combed under the material and her gentle voice speaking out “excuse me” was as soft as a siren`s.

“Ason you have a very important customer” Casavir added and from a turn to his comment, Ason stopped his work. “You’re here, I’ll get your order” she gently smiled waiting, watching him gather the order to a burlap bundle wrap. Ason left one out to admire and appraise but her eyes fixed to a marketing on the hilt, “And this is”.

“The house sign of Belven, during our last talk you mentioned it, so I took the initiative and placed it on their”

“And the extra cost is?”

“Nothing, think of it as a token of gratitude for the constant business”

“I must pay you something”

“Really it is fine, someone as kind as you ending their contracts is more than adequate payment” she beamed a grin as her face warmed from the blush that surfaced, paying Ason he aided in the load of the weapons. Ason quickly introduced Kityana and Casavir and she responded with her identity and name, Ilaya. As Ilaya leaves Casavir watches her depart, “Well she was nice”

“Casavir”, “What!”, “She`s Ason`s girl”

Ason laughs, “No she`s not mine”

“A work in progress cosine” Casavir adds while Ason takes a glance to Ilaya fading on horseback rounding the corner from sight.

“She`s out of my league cosine”

“Come now, you’re a master smith, what is keeping you from hehe shall we say hammering that” Ason looks to him plainly “One word…pureblood” and Casavir loses his playful banter. Kityana holds puzzlement “Pureblood?” Casavir speaks serious “She`s full high elf Kityana”

“What does that mean?” Kityana asks

“These elves run under the old religion, pureblood relations only and only they are allowed and accepted. Regardless the race as long as you’re a pure blood, you can do almost no wrong”

“Almost all towns have half breeds in them, even this one”, Ason looks “And we are segregated to this city sector because of that curse”. Kityana aims her sight while focusing her tone right at Ason “you are not cursed Ason, these laws and ways are unjust and out of line”, Kityana curls a thought “Wait what was she doing here then, if pureblood are so shunned from mingling”.

“We can`t lay footing to their area`s but they may come as they wish to ours”, “They think of the tainted ones as slaves practically” Casavir added

“I mean why risk embarrassment to be here?”, “She`s a servant to the Balven house I think” Ason answered. Kityana shakes her head of the irritating topic she knew would be too big to take on, she rises from her seat reminding Casavir they should get to work on locating their mark. Reassuring Ason, they will meet him later at the gull wing tavern.

With the search coming up empty, Kityana retired her mind to the bustle of the comers market held in the tainted city sector. Combing through Kityana shops for personal items of intrigue, a tap to her shoulder brings her attention to the girl seen earlier at Ason’s shop a day before yesterday.

“Hi, Ilaya is it”, “It is, and could I ask to you a favour, I forgot part of the payment still to Ason, could you give it to him. I would but my duties are keeping me”

“Sure” Kityana takes from her the bag of coins. “Your maiden is one of good honour, most would’ve finished payment, tell her it’s a quality she should keep”

“You just did” Kityana took in the comment and then it hit her, “Wait you’re the maiden…Lady Ilaya” she nods in reply. “And thank you for the advice, I’ll use it well”, Ilaya turns to part at the call of her servant when she speaks again “tell him I like paying in full to see such craftsmanship”. Kityana with an uncovering grin smirks “Oh I will Milady”.

Ason got next to nothing for free time during his career at Tolarius. Therefore, the time he had went to his next favourite pastime, horse riding. Galloping back to the local stable that was only prejudice to those who had no money, Ason turns in his horse. Just stalls over from his own he hears the troubling time one another are having with their horse. Willing to lend an aid Ason halts his offer at the sight of three full-blooded elves; one female two male. Laced with a garment that held enough value to match the stables themselves, she waited as the two others that were her servants readied the steed. Ason`s mind surfaced with private thoughts, the girl was very homely complete with a ridiculous blonde hairstyle and ungodly wide eyes even Ason held trouble turning from. It was like witnessing a collision by two wagons. With a violent pelt from the rear of the beast sends one male to flight, laughter sparks from Ason`s mouth he couldn’t contain. Focusing on the chuckle the male eyes Ason, “something amusing you filthy taint”

“Not at all a thought from my morning sparked humour that’s all”

“Knocking you unconscious should end that annoyance”

“I won`t fight you, I know the laws of this city”

“The laws will not apply here, I am a high lady of the court and contest a challenge of valour, and to the victor will win my company for the night”. The full bloods pull from their sides standard issue blades and Ason eyes up the metal just above the hilt, he pulls a dirk from his ankle and as the two closes in to corner him the chuckle at the match up. They swing wildly as such servant-training claims and dodges, Ason notices them beginning to tire out and as the tenth set of swipes come to him Ason straight strikes with his dirk hitting above the hilt to each blade. The metal breaks at the weakened point of creation Ason knew about and bringing to the fight combat moves leaned at the feet of his great Ranger uncle the servant hit the ground hard. “Let’s go again you can`t get lucky every time” as the two rise again to their feet.

“Tell that to your girl and the services she provides in her bed chamber, theirs more men through her doorway than the city’s main gate”

“Are you insinuating that she`s a whore” Ason readies his body for round two “Tavern`s never lie” he sparked the men into combat that lasted even shorter, bringing them this time to the dirt unconscious. The lady rebuttals with a clap, “The battle is won smith, you have my word and my time for the evening” Ason grade the women up and down, and coming up to her he passes her figure heading for the door. “Smith!” halting Ason`s walk “Your time is mine tonight”

“My time is with my practise and work Milady, besides those horses their look lonely and probably more you’re standard anyway”

“Listen you tainted slave come to my call at once!”

“Listen to me you little dick stable I belong to no one, and as you retold…the city laws right now don`t apply” Ason exits.