"And like I've always been saying, Mister Bailey, there's just never enough hands to go around, but of course you know that, me back in Frostford being responsible for food and laundry and paperwork and the mop and bucket, not that you needed the mop and bucket that much, Mister Bailey, not at all like Mister Slaugh, he was always apologizing..."

The sound of Elara's chattering washed over Topher like a comforting breeze, and he had to fight to keep the smile off his face; the young woman had initially been resistant to the idea of leaving her post ("and without even time to pack, I just don't know what to say to you, Mister Bailey, not that it's not nice to see you all of a sudden...") but once he and Varissian had managed to convince her of the urgency of the situation she'd been much more manageable. Then again, Topher reflected, the opportunity to take a potentially indefinite vacation in the lap of luxury in an elven city had probably helped at least a little.

They'd made it almost halfway to the castle before the young woman had suffered an acute attack of conscience at how she'd be leaving the Adventurer's Guild short-handed and tried to turn back; and now Topher was watching Varissian take the full blast of her distress with the exact attitude of a man who A) is being eaten feet-first by ants, and B) is firmly convinced that he deserves it.

As the young woman finally paused for breath, Varissian stepped deftly into the breach. "Beloved wife, you are right. Let us discuss possible solutions to the problem with the King, when we reach the palace."

The effect this two-sentence salvo had upon Elara was astounding; her eyes doubled in size, and her hands flew to her mouth in amazed disbelief. "The king?! Oh, my goodness, I don't know that we need to go to quite that much trouble, I mean after all His Majesty has to be awfully busy with wars and treaties and executing people and such things..."

"I have it on his personal authority," Varissian replied with utter sincerity, "that His Majesty considers maintaining relations with our family to be of critical importance to the kingdom." He caught Topher's eye and smirked ever so slightly on the side of his face which was not facing his wife. "Therefore, I believe that we should demonstrate the proper respect by presenting these concerns to the king promptly. However, if you disagree, I would welcome your counsel."

"Oh! Oh, well then, of course when you put it that way..." The young woman reversed direction instantly, wrapping her arms around Varissian's elbow and practically dragging him towards the castle. "Well, I must say that he's got a good head on his shoulders, my Ori... erm! My Original Elf, is what I meant to say, Mister Bailey, it's a bit of a little pet name, oh goodness I'm so very embarrassed." She buried her face in Varissian's shoulder, blushing to the tips of her pert pink ears.

"It's nice to see you too, Elara," Topher replied, this being the first chance he'd had to respond to her original statement from nearly twenty minutes ago. As they approached the castle entrance, he raised a hand to the guards and nodded; one of the guards returned his gaze with a quizzical glare of Who are you and what the fuck are you trying to imply, buddy, but the other blanched and rushed to open the gates. Topher nodded again as they passed; guess the word's starting to get out about the Highest Level Adventurer being a bald old Otherworlder in a suit. It's going to get harder and harder to stay under the radar.

"That reminds me," he commented to Elara as they passed through the gate, "I need to update my Adventurer's Guild registration. Level and Marital Status, if nothing else."

Elara's shriek of excitement made both guards wince.

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Zashe was deep in discussion with Quint, whom Topher noticed was now standing upright again; the Archmage's stance and gait were clearly pained and awkward, and Topher guessed that whatever artificial limb was concealed beneath the older man's gray robes would take some time to get used to. Varissian and Elara faded back in trepidation as they entered, but he just caught their attention and bowed as though it were something he did every day. "Majesty. Archmagus."

Quint and Zashe exchanged a look of shock, then both chuckled; Quint smiled deep in his beard, while the King leaned closer to him and whispered loudly, "I believe we may be in danger, Archmagus; it appears Master Bailey has been replaced by a poor facsimile, who addresses us by proper titles instead of 'you shitheads'."

"If you shitheads are done," Topher sighed as the others chortled, "it is my honor to present the Lord Varissian and his wife, the Lady Elara, of House Leafwind." The newlyweds stepped forward awkwardly; Varissian's bow was smooth but hesitant, while Elara's flustered half-curtsy nearly toppled her onto the carpet. "Recent events in the Crypt of Gorduin have led myself and Archmagus Leafwind to believe that they may be in danger here in Strathmore; I think we should relocate them to Kal'Pandu as soon as we can." He paused for breath, at which point Elara gave him an incredibly theatrical shooing motion; trying not to laugh, he continued, "The Adventurer's Guild will be short-handed to lose them, however."

"I am certain alternative arrangements can be made." The king nodded to Quint, who shook his head with good-natured indulgence and then began murmuring runes.

After a few moments, a rippling series of concentric rings appeared to his left; there was a small burst of golden light, and then Kelfir stepped out of the rings with his typical expression of dour endurance. What Topher hadn't expected, however, was that he wasn't alone.

On the older elf's arm was an elven woman Topher had never seen before -- she was tall and willowy, with long, lustrous hair that was not merely black, but instead an actual shade of incredibly dark blue that made her look otherworldly. Her hands were worn and thick-knuckled, but her limbs -- clothed in plain-spun trousers and a blouse -- were springy and limber in a way that reminded Topher somehow of Hana. Her face, though creased with many lines and wrinkles, nevertheless radiated patient beauty, and her eyes were limpid hazel pools of gentle wariness in a way that Topher recognized instantly. Lulein's eyes. This has to be...

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"Elara," said Varissian in a voice that Topher was shocked to notice was choked with emotion, "it is my pleasure to introduce you to my mother and father." Taking her limp and unresisting hands as she gaped, he pulled her gently forward and presented her like a child showing someone a drawing they'd made. "This is my mother, Viannin Leafwind; mother, this is my wife, Elara Gilbert."

Elara stammered, attempting to respond in some courtly fashion, but the older elf woman simply brushed all this aside and gathered them both up in her arms without a single word. She sucked in a huge breath, as though she'd been underwater for longer than Topher could imagine, and held it with quivering stillness for long seconds before slowly letting it out as a grateful sigh. Elara's terrified, confused eyes darted around for an explanation; but Varissian, Topher noted, merely buried his face in his mother's shoulder and spoke not at all. There was a prolonged period of silence, during which Topher had to manfully resist the urge to cough or shift his feet.

Then, with the greatest of reluctance, Viannin released them both and stepped back to Kelfir's side. "Welcome, daughter," she murmured with a voice like the low buzzing of sleepy honeybees. "Long have I hoped to see you."

Elara blushed to the roots of her hair, her hands twisting around each other; and, for the first time, Topher was treated to the sight of the multiloquent young woman being at a loss for words. "And this," interjected Varissian deftly into the silence, "is Kelfir Leafwind, Archmagus of the Golden Tower of Kal'Pandu." He paused for a moment, then said it again: "My father."

Kelfir simply nodded, and for a moment Topher thought that he might not speak at all; but then, just when it was becoming awkward, Viannin elbowed him roughly in the ribs. Kelfir twitched slightly, then coughed and recovered. "Ah. Yes. Welcome to you, daughter." He ran a hand over his face. "Forgive my rudeness. It has been an eventful day." Then, to Topher's continued surprise, a tiny smile split his countenance. "But do not mistake me; my joy at welcoming you into our family is no less than my cherished mate's."

"Yeah, great, we're all real happy and stuff," Topher jumped in, feeling incredibly coarse and awkward, "but I kind of don't want us to be standing here when the bad guy drops a magic nuke on our heads. So how about the four of you get back to where it's safe, yeah?"

"In a moment." Varissian's mother rose up on the tips of her toes; and suddenly, as wind swirled around her from nowhere, she drifted with astonishing speed to his side and took his hand in her own. "Christopher. This is our first meeting; I shall simply say that I do not wish it to be our last. Visit us, when time allows." Her eyes and smile were gentle, but he heard the inflection in her statement and chuckled. She's not asking. That's cute.

He patted her hand gently with his own. "I will. But first I got some stuff to do." Then he turned back to Zashe and Quint; behind him, he felt a rush of wind, then a burst of power that he knew signified the Leafwinds' departure. A breath he hadn't known he'd been holding escaped from him, and his heart loosened ever so slightly within his chest. At least a few of them might be safe now. For a little while.

At least until they get an Edict dropped on them, the distant part of his mind cautioned him. No time to fuck around.

"Small victories." Zashe sank slowly into his throne once more; Topher noticed that the king looked exhausted, as always. "Your return is timely, Master Bailey; Archmage Aumraham, also newly returned, has some news to share with you."

"Would that it were better news," Quint agreed glumly. He turned to face Topher. "But first, your tidings seem more urgent; what have you discovered?"

"The True Demon Lord is the Infinite King," Topher responded without preamble; he moved closer, murmuring the runes to Remove Fatigue before touching both Zashe and Quint. "We found the notes of an old Archmagus from two thousand years ago in the Crypt of Gorduin that finally connected the dots for us, along with a half-finished spell that requires Level five hundred. We also figured out that he wants both Kelfir and Varissian dead -- buncha traps and moves that keep trying for that. No clue why, but it seemed smart to put them both somewhere he couldn't reach them easily."

"Kal'Pandu is indeed well-defended," Quint agreed. "I know of this 'Infinite King' only through your tales of Vashyarl the Black, but it seems noteworthy. Kholoth and his queen may know more; let us share counsel before we reveal this spell to them, however." His eyes turned sad. "But now I must caution you; you must remain calm. Rashness avails us not."

Quietly and slowly, Topher began to notice the color fading from the room; became aware that sounds were dulling and becoming drowned out by the roaring in his ears. "Talk," he commanded the Archmage, barely noticing that his hands were balling into fists. "Now."

Quint sighed. "As you may know, Guildmaster Iolin Ferrin of the Adventurer's Guild led an expedition into the new dungeon forming at the site of the Last Battle -- the Vault of Bones and Ashes -- which your wife was invited to join. The time for them to return was two hours ago."

"And they haven't gotten back yet?" Topher's mind was boiling, starting to calculate the shortest route from Strathmore to the dungeon's entrance despite his exceedingly hazy grasp of the world's geography. Quint can teleport me. I can be there right away. Everything's probably fine, but it couldn't hurt to help.

"They returned shortly before you." Quint's hands were now white-knuckled on his staff; with difficulty, he released one to reach into a pocket of his robes. "The expedition was wildly successful; they cleared fifteen floors of the dungeon without any hindrance, and appeared to reach a portion of its architecture which was still in the process of forming." His hand came out of his pocket bearing a large, extremely clean and sharp-cornered envelope. "Faced with the opportunity to potentially defeat its nascent Guardian before it could even take shape, they descended into an empty area in search of the dungeon's seed chamber; but then an unexpected event occurred."

Unable to even speak, Topher took the envelope and opened it numbly; he was dimly aware that dust and air were beginning to churn around him, but he didn't notice, couldn't care. Within were two sheets of paper; one was thin and battle-stained, but written in the same hand as the letter he and Zanasha had first received three days ago.

Husband of Zanasha --

I pen this to you in confusion and terror. Our party, mid-descent into the void beneath the Vault of Bones and Ashes, experienced a phenomenon I cannot explain; I describe it to you in hopes that it may make more sense to you than to me.

As we crossed the empty expanse into the darkness, Zanasha Jones -- Silver-Rank Battlemaster -- abruptly ceased to be holding my left hand and disappeared utterly, leaving behind only two things. One was the silver sword in her other hand, which fell into the darkness beneath us; but the other was a strange missive which I have enclosed. I suspect it was meant for you; but nevertheless, I find myself stricken. I am at fault; though I do not know how I could have prevented whatever occurred, it cannot be denied that I bear responsibility. If you wish to destroy me, I will await your justice.

-- Guildmaster Iolin Ferrin

The other sheet of paper was thick and solid; five words had been not so much written as burned into it, with large, blocky typography that Topher's fingers could feel sinking sharp-lined into the depth of the paper:

KILL VIUS OR SHE DIES