It was, with great sadness, that Ulric marched alongside the Elven siblings, so dissimilar in nature. To one side the light. Calm, decisive, steady, even handed, and just. To the other side the darkness. Cold, fickle, volatile, calculating, and cruel. The only balm on Ulric's wounded soul was that the two of them paced just ahead of him and he could marvel at the physics of flesh, cloth, shadow, and gravity under motion. The undulation was hypnotic.

"If he keeps looking at me I will be forced to kill him Lumyt'seit." Said his oppressor.

"He does this because he knows it bothers you and he takes joy in your discomfort. It is not his fault you are so easy to disturb. It is his nature to probe for weakness, as to be arrogantly thorn bearing beyond reason is yours Geyrt." Replied his compassionate companion, now steward.

He had to admit he was a little surprised that Brighteyes was so familiar with Ulric's secret joy of prodding people who took themselves too seriously. He'd intentionally smoothed his normally abrasive sense of humor during their weeks of close proximity. A scorpion remains a scorpion he supposed. He pulled his attention from the glorious motion before him and directed it to the surrounding forest which was now clearly inhabited. The game wasn't as fun if they knew about it; the real satisfaction came from finding out how long it took to crack their composure. In the case of this absurdly beautiful, if ultimately toxic, serpent in front of him he was placing bets on another death match before sundown. Until Brighteyes went and ruined it for the sake of keeping their journey free of further bloodshed. Spoil sport.

Now that he wasn't baiting his former enemy Ulric had time to appreciate the wondrous way that the Elves integrated themselves into their forest domain. So naturally did the Elves occupy their lands that Ulric had not, at first, even noticed that they had entered the abode of the Deep Woods Folk. He was amazed to see that no dwelling was built upon the ground, as if they had divorced themselves from the beasts and bugs that crawled.

So unlike his people, who were inclined to fold the land around themselves, carving, layering, blasting, and shaping it to their whims; these folk bent their civilization to the contour of the wood. Homes, shops, smithies, all built around or even of, the large trees of the forest. Every structure was made up of wood. Some rough-hewn lumber, some timbers finished, some hand carved, and still other apparently grown of the living flesh of the trees upon which they were anchored. Bridges spanned the trees, connecting one cluster of platforms to another, like little islands. Amongst these, stairs and ramps brought one collection of buildings to another with frequent changes of levels even within the same set of structures. It was a sight beyond beauty to Ulric's mind. This was a people who were as much a part of the forest as clouds were part of the sky.

If only his kind had learned such unity with the world. Well, to be more precise, the ones who had hadn't been exterminated by the rest in their devouring expansions to rule as much of the world as they could see.

It did bring a measure of peace to his heart to see. These were a people worth protecting, if only to preserve the aesthetic of this fae place. To speak of the people, Ulric was surprised at how few they encountered. Or rather, none. Ever since they'd left the place of their "meeting", returning to the road and traveling at a rather rapid jog, a pace set by the Taipan, to spite Ulric's leg no doubt, they'd entered increasingly "developed" territory. A few crossed rivers, water wheels turning to operate great lifts into the settlements above, had put them squarely in what appeared to be a highly dispersed city.

Ulric had never been an architecture nerd but the elves were astonishing. In some ways it reminded him of what the Swiss carpenters had done with reliefs and inlays but where those had tended to lean heavily on geometric straight edges, with spiraling flourishes, the elves clearly waxed natural. Where a building was jutting out from the trunk of a tree, instead of squared platform and straight walls it was, instead, an arching hemisphere bracings made to look like layers of branches supporting the structure. The same structure would also have a porch around its exterior that was roofed by the woven limbs of the same tree, branches guided underneath the porch to act as its supports, creating a sort of floating effect. And all the while the exposed surfaces were covered by carvings of leaves, vines, and even small birds or animals so realistic as to look like a picture of the raw forest. Round windows, some paned by smoked glass, others shuttered, seemed to be the preferred style, though Ulric saw many arching full exterior walls made up of criss crossed branches. These had to be sitting rooms or something, how would they heat such a place in the coming cold? How long would it take to create such structures, with such immaculate carving? Ulric's mind was awash with wonder as they crossed underneath this tribute to natural beauty. He lost track of time and direction, barely conscious of where his guides led.

Still no people though. What in the hell was going on? Where was everybody?

"Where are all the people? Surely these structures do not sit empty." He voiced his need to know.

It wasn't Brighteyes that answered though, instead, Taipan broke the silence she had almost completely maintained throughout their trek into Iriel proper.

"They have been moved into the deep places of Elven lands, to wait out the war in safety, thanks to your people. Instead of preparing for our festivals and living our lives in peace, we hide and make ready for war, human. This is your fault. You greedy creatures cannot help but covet our lands and our peoples as if you could live long enough to appreciate them. But more slaves to be carted into your mines, ground into the stones to mortar your hovels, you will not have of the Orlethrem. We will water the forest with your tears before we flog you from our lands." She announced, voice dripping contempt.

If he didn't know any better, Ulric thought, she might have a grudge against him because he was a human. Or something. That really did rub him raw, he could give her plenty of reason to not like him just for being himself, she didn't have to be a racist to hate him. Well, so long as she was going to hate him on a categorical basis he didn't mind twisting the knife a little deeper.

"If the rest of them fight like you, it's a good thing I'm here to help." He declared casually.

She was reaching for her knife when Brighteyes stepped between them, scowling.

"This is enough. You two fight like weasels in a sack. I would breath air free from the stink of your antagonisms." the boy prince declared.

Turning towards Ulric, he declared flatly "Ulric, you are ignorant. This is not insult, you know nothing of the history of our people or of the goings on between nations. We have held fragile peace for over three hundred years but always the human settlements of Prespang push, always they test, and it is now that they have brought war to our lives again. They do not even remember the last time we fought wars, it was before their time. For us, it was less than a generation. We tire of their constant trying of our patience, the deaths of kin of hundreds of years. I know that you have a grudge against Geyrt but I will have an end to it, I have taken up responsibility for her in this and that makes your grudge with me." He scolded, clearly fed up.

Ulric took his medicine quietly, knowing he'd earned it through his deliberate taunting.

Just as Taipan assumed a posture of superiority at seeing him dressed down though, Brighteyes turned to her and, in nearly the same breath, admonished her as well. That he did it in human language was intentional.

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"And you, Eldest Sister, have lived longer than any human, but you behave like their children. You abandon your post, you ambush us and lose, and I did not even interfere until you are about to die, you break guest right, and you push our pace to cause an unjust wound given pain on purpose, do not think I do not notice. This is spiteful even for you. In all our time together this human has never once spoken lies. He has offered me his home to be as my own, has cared for me as kin, and risks his life to bring me all this long way from the [Plateau of Ancients] to my own home, for no gain. You will not slander him in my hearing again. If you wish to make settlement with him make the challenge. I will judge it, and account before the Iriel'en, that my dearest kin has been killed honorably because, if you try to fight this man on even ground, he will slaughter you. If that stings your pride then I am gladdened because it was long since due and might allow you to live a while longer."

Ouch. The gloves were off. There was something unusually potent in being treated like a teenager caught sneaking out by someone who looks like they might need help up to the monkey bars. Ulric was determined not to laugh at Taipan's obvious discomfort. Not even a grin. It was hard, but he stuffed it down and instead determined to abide by his host's will. He owed the little Elf that much.

"So be it, Brighteyes. I'll let it go. For you." Ulric intoned deferentially. He would not raise the matter again.

Taipan was showing her teeth and he was pretty sure she wasn't trying to smile. Lady did more with an expression than some butchers did with a cleaver.

"You side with human filth over your own family? What of our dead kin? What of your own friend, murdered by the animals? Father will hear of this Lumyt'seit."

Ulric was able to follow this a bit better than their previous conversations, the flow of syllables congealing in his mind, a now familiar rhythm to them. She was fighting dirty. Brighteyes actually looked like he might throw down for a second before he took hold of himself visibly.

The young lord to be laid out his ultimatum with cold clarity.

"I was captured and my friend killed because of my own weakness, my own overconfidence. I thought I was above some nothing poachers, because of my name. I learned, first hand, what comes of valuing what you think of things over what they are and dear was the cost of that lesson. My name didn't stop them any more than it made the [Golden Heckler Monkey] and his pack not attack. What gave me vengeance and what protects from enemies? Power, Geyrt. Only my own power. I have seen what not having power amounts to now and will not be seduced by arrogance again. I have given you the choice, direct your hate towards the ones who have merited it, leave my protector out of it. Or, if you cannot, then lay the challenge to him and I will see it done. Better still, wait to challenge until we have reached Father so he can see his favored daughter one last time. It is the least you could do for him."

There was something going on here, culturally. Well, a lot going on, most of it over his head. Brighteyes was implying that Elves settled personal disputes through duels, evidently to the death. If he was understanding things correctly, if both parties would not, or could, not resolve things peacefully they went to the knives. That was a useful bit of information. It also placed his habit of ribbing people who annoyed him into proper social context here. What he would normally do to provoke a reaction from some dickhead he thought needed an attitude adjustment was likely literally fighting words. He liked the Elves more and more all the time. They knew how to live with the forest, they knew how to build, and they knew how to settle a fucking problem, once and for all. Now he just needed to not get killed to death by them for an offhanded smartass remark.

Seems like once it got that far, an outside party could demand that you make an end of it, one way or another. Either put up or shut up, sort of scenario. Ulric was feeling the toll of hard travel, wounds fighting the damned monkeys, and the after effects of being envenomed, but his mana was getting towards restored and, if it went that way, he was going to scatter this elf all over the place, Eldest Sister or no. And when the hell had he gotten this aggressive? It was like having an itch down his spine.

There was a distinct part of him that now definitively looked forward to a fight, even if that included killing the fuck out of something. He'd never hunted for the thrill of the kill, it had never even occurred to him to be glad of ending a life. His times harvesting animals was always about trying to connect with his environment, to get closer to it, be more a part of the natural way of things. Just like things used to be.

The impulses he was experiencing were not about closeness. More like territoriality, he felt a budding desire to crush any and all challengers. Maybe that's why he'd been so persistent in goading Taipan, she was making herself openly a threat. Ulric did not like spooky instincts cropping up out from nowhere. Not when they were so clearly divergent from his normal thought processes. He was an asshole, not a blood crazed killer. Was this part of the whole [Lord of the Ancient Glade] thing? He distinctly recalled a sort of oddness when that title had gone into his status. That bore further investigation. Later. For now he was going to get his head out of his ass and pay attention to whether or not he was going to have to kill the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen before she opened his stomach.

What a sonofabitching mess.

Apparently something of the eagerness to do some ripping and tearing was evident in his expression. Taipan, for once, was not looking very keen on the idea of getting that knife out. Or maybe it was the disapproval that radiated from her little brother, covering her like a lead blanket. Whichever the case, crisis was averted when she decided to acquiesce to her brother's bid for peace.

"It is on your head then Lumyn'seit. We will see if Father judges the same. For now I will bide my time but it will come to pass that this creature you harbor will be a cause for grief. And keep your pet away from me, his gaze feels like acid on my skin."

Oof. Brutal. Rejection with racist overtones was pretty definitive. Unfortunately Ulric couldn't respond with his typical needling, he'd given his word. Just going to have to suck it up buttercup, Taipan gets to win this one. Ahh well, the only thing better than getting even was getting ahead and Ulric wouldn't let this hiccup get him down. After all, hadn't she basically chickened out of fighting him? Which meant, at the very least, that he rated as something to worry about, even for the much vaunted Elven Hunters and that wasn't a bad feeling. Sure thing dude, whatever helps you sleep at night, he mocked himself lightly.

The travelers began moving again, this time at a pace that didn't cause Ulric's leg to bleed freely. While they did he tossed around everything he'd heard and observed about the only two members of the peoples who had built this incredible place. One thing that stuck out in his mind. Taipan was, apparently, one of the Elven Hunters.

Curious that. Everything he'd heard about them made out these Hunters as exceedingly competent and she fit the bill. Taipan, for all her hateful attitude, was no slouch in the fighting department. She could stealth well enough to surprise two paranoid travelers, was a lethal shot with a bow, and was, if anything like her younger sibling, absolute hell with a knife. Why then, had she backed down from her challenge, her chance to get him? And why had Brighteyes made it out like she had no chance. From his perspective it seemed an awful lot like the other way round.

Subtlety never being his strong suit, Ulric waved over their resident diplomat for another conference.

"Brighteyes, I couldn't help but notice you were placing some pretty firm bets on me back there. As much as I appreciate the vote of confidence, I'm not sure I agree with you. It was pretty much all I had to keep her from putting arrows through my liver and, if she hadn't been too pissed to see straight, I'm not really sure I could have kept her from knifing me up real good like. So why the hell did you seem so sure?"

The elf actually looked a little surprised at Ulric's assessment. After a short contemplation he set about correcting this strange man's assumptions.

"Ulric, you have weird way of looking at world. You are a single season into your journey. My sister is a master Hunter. Despite, you pull her out of trees, were ready to annihilate her. She has not been close to you, but I have, I can feel when you do this thing with mana. It feels like a readied spear, it is dangerous, even for an experienced warrior." Brighteyes summarized.

Before he could object, the blondhaired Elf child continued, "You are also monstrously fast and strong for a human, and not as clumsy as they normally are. You are obviously not trained, and are sloppy in your movement, but fighting is almost like something you remember, and you press advantages by instinct. Worse, it almost feels like you are not trying, like you are playing. I have not seen you ever tap your deep reserves."

Now, Ulric did object. Not trying? He'd done everything in his power to avoid being very dead. Well, at least up until Brighteyes had declared her kin, but, even then, he hadn't been sandbagging much.

"Lookie here, kiddo, that little dustup back there came real, close, we're talking shaving a frog close, to going just how tall, dark, and blood thirsty over there wanted it to." He told the boy.

"You are like a young eagle learning to fly. You don't know that you have the power to soar so you flutter, think your talons will not pierce. One day you will learn your strength and the world will cower under your shadow. I was not making jest earlier, it is my duty to preserve Orlethrem from your passage." Brighteyes claimed.

That was a hell of a thing to say. He didn't remember the battle that way at all; way more desperation from his end at the least. But Ulric had to admit, even though he was pretty sure he couldn't take Taipan in an even fight, he thought he might be able to rig things in his favor with magic, especially if he saw her coming. Those arrows had been fast but he'd been able to dodge them and now he knew he could dodge her too, just a little. She was quick with a knife but he could see the blade moving, could feel the pulse of things.

He shot a glance towards the hateful huntress and remembered her movements in the trees, the flowing boneless grace that would have put metal through him, if not for the [Forest Lord] bone plates on his chest, in spite of being as ready for her as he possibly could be. No way, he thought, re-evaluating. Not a chance. Brighteyes was a sharp kid but Ulric knew down to his fingernails he'd just about gotten away with murder earlier. There were too many unknowns. He was too slow. There were weaknesses he didn't know he had, gaps in his defenses he couldn't see that an experienced fighter would exploit. So much he needed to learn. Brighteyes was definitely right about one thing: he didn't know how to fly. Yet. But he would. If this kid's family didn't kill him first.

No good deed goes unpunished Ulric, he reminded himself.