The road stretched out before us, winding down from the mountains and bleeding into the flat plains below. Forests gave way to fields, neatly plowed and tended, where workers toiled under the fading sun.

There was no wall between the forest and the city, just a large river shielded by a long set of bridges and people working beneath, women washing clothes, long lines of them holding large vases for water, and human-made canals that led toward the fields.

The sprawling kingdom of Alabenia lay spread out like a patchwork quilt, fortress towns dotting the landscape, connected by a single long road that led straight to the city gates.

As we descended, I caught my first clear glimpse of the walled city of Ala Bin, its tall stone towers jutting against the sky, banners flapping lazily in the breeze.

Nidar marched ahead, holding the banner above his head, its green and gold catching the light.

To be honest, something about our little company felt wrong. My gut twisted with unease as I watched him lead our small group down the road.

I figured, if the elves were these special and mystical people who represented the link between humans and their gods, our reception felt lukewarm.

Some of the Alabenians whispered as we passed. A few saluted the elves, bowing their heads in reverence, though the gestures seemed half-forgotten, as if passed down from old stories. Others simply shook their heads and laughed under their breath. It looked as if they were downright mocking us.

“Was this always the road we took?” I asked Zyra. “We look more like pilgrims than ambassadors.”

“It is the main road, as to the way they treat us, well, what can I tell you? It was different back then,” she said. “They’d come and take us in palanquins, joint armies, and stuff. This is part of the problem. They barely care about us, and if they do, it’s more out of piety, or even formality.”

“And it doesn’t look like the Alabenians are starving,” I remarked. The people in the fields looked healthy enough, and the entire field looked like a beehive. I had seen worse through my travels. And in medieval settlements, I expected more beggars. These people looked well-fed and healthy.

"That’s new," I muttered, watching an old man fall to his knees in a respectful salute while his grandson pulled him away, embarrassed.

“Some still remember,” Zyra said quietly. “A few of them, at least. The ones who lived through the old days.”

“They look at us like we’re ghosts,” I said. “But not the kind that haunts. We’re relics.”

Zyra’s expression darkened, her eyes scanning the faces in the crowd. "To some, that’s what we are. Like we’ve told you, Connor, the late Queen believed in the elves, in our role as protectors. But that faith has faded. The new king—well, he’s barely sixteen. He’s surrounded by voices telling him to focus on trade, to align with Hath Aman’s proxies for commercial gain. Alliances built on gold, not peace. You can imagine where it’s headed.”

I frowned.

“And what do we want exactly? An alliance? To be honest, Zyra, I’m on our side, one hundred percent. But if the whole world is against Alabenia, if opposing the forces of Hath Aman and whoever his allies are means war, even a just war, I honestly don’t think people would want to get involved.”

“People do enjoy getting involved in wars,” Zyra said. “You’d be surprised. Look at yourself.”

“About me, well, you’re right. It kind of worked. Aria showed me a bit of atrocity propaganda; ten minutes later, I was picking up a sword. Which, in perspective, makes me feel kind of guilty.”

“That doesn’t mean we want war. We’re not telling the king to attack. For now. Just to stand strong and not let our enemies influence him. Aside from general morality and the fact that Hath Aman is a literal black wizard, what would his influence mean to our people?”

“Alright,” Nidar said, stopping in front of a large wooden building with a triangular roof and a large carved sign of a bed and a bowl.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Food!” Lariel said with a wink. “Human food! It’s my favorite!” she announced, prancing toward the gate.

The door opened, and a man with a felt hat stepped forward, falling to his knees.

“My lords! What an honor to have you here!” He moved forward, standing next to the door. then bowing and showing us in. “Please, my lords and ladies, bless us with your presence.”

I wondered if the elves always stopped by that inn or if the owners just happened to be believers.

But after an hour, my palate and my stomach were satisfied.

I had a hearty stew with meat and buckwheat and copious salt. And turnips. The ale was strong and thick, like an Irish stout. It would’ve been a high-quality brew anywhere else.

They did, however, cast suspicious glances at Alynna, which was kind of sad. Did they have prejudices against epic barbarian women? She ordered a large salad with cheese and lamb ribs. It was a bit meager, and she shared part of it with me, but she enjoyed it greatly.

Elves ate tons of vegetables and bread, and a tiny bit of river fish. Lariel was really excited about her food and accompanied it with local red wine. I asked for a glass. It was a bit too diluted and acidic for me, but it packed a nice buzz.

We didn’t even have time for a nap; we got up from our tables. The elves did leave tips, so to say, in the form of gold coins that looked pure as hell and would’ve been worth more than a cashier’s yearly salary in America. Our stomachs full and our eyelids heavy, we made our way toward the city.

As we neared the gates, the crowds thickened. We crossed fenced estates as the city rose before us, imposing yet inviting, with its towering walls and ancient stone streets winding toward the palace in the heart of the city.

“Lords of the Verdant Court,” one woman murmured as she knelt, her voice trembling. Her children tugged at her sleeves, trying to pull her away. “Guardians of peace! Please save us! I have seen them come, the followers of the Formless One.”

Zyra looked uncomfortable at the words. It seemed like they did draw her attention. She nodded in acknowledgment and approached the woman.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“We shall speak to your authorities,” Zyra said. “We are working on behalf of the goddess, and we’ll do her will.”

Two young men working in the field laughed at the woman, shaking their heads and pointing at her. I caught some of the words they were whispering to each other. It seemed like they thought she wasn’t at all well in the head.

“My lady,” the woman crawled forward, clinging to Zyra’s trousers. “Please, I can see the darkness growing here. I can feel it! It poisons the air. They’ve already come. They’re taking our people.”

“We’ll do our best,” Zyra said, stepping back.

“Wait,” I said, going down on my haunches and looking into her eyes. Grime marred her face, but her clothes weren’t mere rags. “What do you mean, ‘taking our people’?”

“It’s heard in whispers, my lord. But I know it’s happening. People are going missing—women, children. They’re using them for magic. I lost my home. Lost the roof over my head. But I don’t want to lose my children.”

A laugh echoed behind her.

“Don’t listen to her ramblings, good lords,” a man leaned his shoulder on the wall. The two workers who’d been standing there earlier bowed their heads in front of him.

He was no mere worker; he’d just walked out the door of the villa. In fact, his robe seemed relatively unctuous. Was this the foreman? Or the landowner? I didn’t know what kind of system this was—feudalism? If so, this was probably not a nobleman but an enforcer.

“These people are given to wild fantasies. This beautiful kingdom wants peace. This land wants peace. There’s nothing wrong with wanting peace.”

“Peace with whom, with Hath Aman?” I asked sharply.

“Peace is wise, isn't it? Where are you even from? Are you a northerner? And is that woman an Eastern Barbarian?” His sausage-like finger pointed at Alynna. “What, is she your pet?”

“Now, you listen, asshole,” I stepped forward to punch that idiot in the mouth when both Nidar and Zyra held me back.

The man stepped back, clearing his throat.

“I hope I did not upset my lordships,” he said, slyness in his eyes. “I did not intend to… offend. But… I will be honest. If elves are bringing that scum into the city, you’re no different than Hath Aman.”

I gritted my teeth, and he scuddled backward toward the room.

“I’m a citizen!” he shouted defensively. “I just voice my opinion.”

With that, he shut the door close.

Yes, know your place, little rat.

“We must be going,” Zyra said, signaling to Nidar to give the woman a coin. Nidar nodded.

To be honest, giving her alms seemed insincere and even humiliating.

“Good woman,” I said, raising my voice and going down on one knee, while the other two men go back to their work while shaking their heads. I addressed the woman, her young children standing by her side, watching me with curiosity. “Hath Aman is a demon. And these, and worse things, will be allowed by him in his dominions.”

She opened her eyes.

“You have heard the Lord! Haven’t you, fools?” she said, rising to her feet and pointing at the workers. “You have heard his prophecy.”

Zyra sighed, casting me a hard glance.

“Let’s go,” she said sharply.

***

I had enjoyed visiting former medieval towns and fortresses as a tourist, but I’d never thought I’d see a live, working one. It smelled worse than I imagined. The markets were noisy, with people literally screaming and selling wares. And the filth on the street was nauseating.

Soldiers patrolled in pairs, their eyes scanning the streets for trouble. Drunkards lay down in the sun; others lay face-down. Not so different from any modern inner city, including the filth.

The market was lively, but conversations seemed hushed, transactions brisk and without joy.

I saw people speaking in hushed tones in the corners, making small transactions.

“Black lotus,” Alynna said in my ear. “Stygian. One whiff and you’re never the same.”

“Have you tried it?” I asked.

“Never!” she hissed.

Nidar slowed, glancing back at us. "Do you feel that?" he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded. "Something’s wrong here."

I used Aria’s magic to scan the area. It was interesting to see, but too much to take in. Aria’s magic grid made most of the people disappear, leaving just the guards and those who were visibly carrying weapons.

I saw nothing to worry about, so I faced Zyra again and spoke.

“So now, we just walk to the palace?” I asked her.

“Indeed,” Zyra replied. “They should let us in without asking questions.”

Why did that make me feel like it wasn't gonna go as planned?

The palace was a beautiful tall building guarded by a varnished gate of dark wood. We were met by a group of soldiers in full plate armor, their armor gleaming in the afternoon light, wearing conical nasal helmets and wielding halberds. One of them, a young man with a scar down his cheek, stepped forward, eyes cold. “Elves? State your business,” he barked, though his gaze lingered on the flag Nidar held. “You have not set an appointment, have you?”

“As you can see,” Zyra replied, her voice steady, “we’re here as ambassadors from the Verdant Court. We seek an audience with King Malor.”

The captain’s eyes narrowed. "I am sorry to disappoint you, my lady, but you had to schedule your audience in advance. I can send word, but His Majesty and his advisors have important matters to attend to."

His tone was dismissive, but there was something in his eyes, a flicker of uncertainty, as if he knew the weight of our presence but had his own orders.

Zyra’s gaze hardened. I could see the frustration seep through. “Tell your superiors that this is urgent. It has to be done.”

The soldier shrugged.

“Well, m'lady. There are appropriate channels you should conduct yourself through.”

“Then send word to the king,” she said impatiently. “We’ve been ambushed in our territory by a military force sent by Hath Aman, consisting of fifty mages and mercenaries. We need a quick response.”

They exchanged glances.

“Do what you must,” she said.

One of the guards lowered his head.

“I’ll do what I can.” He turned back, knocking on a small building nearby. His comrade opened the door, and the guard whispered into his ear, then took off through another guarded door.

The remaining guard gave us an awkward smile while we waited.

The gate opened after about ten minutes. The other man returned, accompanied by a regal-looking rider mounting a roan with a beautiful diamond spot on its forehead. Both horse and man were armored, with beautiful patterns across their pauldrons and breastplate. He bowed his head, removing his helmet, revealing short red hair.

“I’m Sir Kent Palnor, Paladin of His Majesty. I’d like for you to be received in our court, but we’re afraid things in the palace are busy. However, I’ve arranged my own quarters for you to stay while we schedule an appointment.”

“With all due respect,” Zyra said, “we’ve got urgent reports to be discussed. We’re not intending for it to remain secret, but we need to speak to him. Now.”

“I’m afraid the secretaries are adamant. And, understand, I’m doing what I can for you. Please come in, and we’ll try to accommodate you.”

“It’s the least you could do,” Zyra declared after a long sigh.

“Thank you for your understanding.” Kent trotted back, clapping his hands and calling for the guards to open the gate. It creaked as they pushed the door open and let us through.

I found the castle grounds pretty and definitely cleaner than the city, with a small arranged garden featuring blossoming flowers and Hellenic-looking statues of robed deities. One, I thought, attempted to depict Aria, sitting cross-legged on a wide flower. She had a childlike appearance and wore a long robe, her hands extended forward as if giving a blessing. To my surprise, there were offerings placed at her feet, consisting of bouquets of purple flowers and candles.

Kent dismounted and guided us through the towering palace doors into a side building, with large stained glass windows, light filtering through and casting beautiful colors. The walls were lined with tapestries depicting battles long past, and the air felt heavy with the weight of history. Attendants and slaves bowed their heads, and a particular group of female attendants received us.

“Morning, my lords. Lord Kent wishes to bid you welcome. Please follow me. I’ll show you to your quarters.”