Pregnant raindrops splashed among the trees putting a damper on the mood inside the outpost. Clearly constructed for defense and lacking many creature comforts, the elevated tree fort was more of an aggrandized deer blind than walled structure. A large platform of woven branches, with a domed roof of the same, the building was seemingly grown from the trees.

The floor bounced under Cire’s foot, the pine and fir branches giving, but supple. Half walls ringed the platform, but all around them large open air windows let in an unpleasant whipping wind. At least the pelting rain was kept at bay. A big metal brazier suspended in the middle of the structure gave off a dull, but welcome, warmth.

Most of the elves Cire had seen wore armor like Lucas and Selene. Tight, interlocking panels of hardened leather sewn in place around a thin shell of padding. They were outfitted with gear that Selene typically employed as well. Daggers, bows, and swords dominated the armament of the outpost’s garrison.

Selene was busy talking with a small group huddled near the brazier wearing thick water slicked cloaks. The patrol had made it to the shelter moments before and another left in their place. Cire surmised that she actually knew some them, but she still hadn’t introduced him. Huddled against the wall, thankful for the thick yeti fur of his armor, Cire kept silent and observed.

Walking over to him from another group, an elf with tawny hair and matching eyes dropped down to sit next to him. He held out a hand and offered a greeting.

“I’m Dimitri. Don’t let Lucas and the others put you off. We’ve had to step up guarding our borders since the incursions from Stymphalian Swamp. Still don’t know what they’re after, but you and Lady Silverstar are lucky we found you before any of those fiends did.”

“Ciresil.”

Clamping his mouth shut after he gave his name, Cire immediately recognized his mistake. Taking up Dimitri’s offered hand, he shook it. Unsure of what to do next, without the crutch of conversation, he took out a small parcel of honeyed spearberries that the chipmunkins had given him. Holding out half of the contents to the inquisitive elf, Cire’s uneasy smile conveyed little confidence.

Brushing past Cire’s awkward silence and actions, Dimitri smoothly took the proffered gift and popped a few into his mouth.

“That’s an odd name. Can’t say I have ever heard it before. Say, these berries are pretty good. Lucas said you were a wildling, you must have a good story or two to share.”

Dimitri’s hanging statement abandoned any doubt that he was trying to goad Cire into conversation. However, his open body language and easy going tone didn’t match his calculating gaze. Striding over, Selene settled onto her haunches and inserted herself into their one sided conversation.

“He does, but he won’t be telling any of them to you. My mother will decide what information gets disseminated after she has had a chance to speak with him.”

Holding up both hands to symbolize his apology and defeat, Dimitri chuckled dryly.

“Didn’t mean to go poking my nose where it doesn’t belong. I was just curious is all. Nice to meet you Ciresil. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around town when I come off patrol,” He stood up and bowed slightly to Selene, his tone turning her title of respect into a barb. “My apologies, Lady Silverstar.”

Watching Dimitri wander off, Selene glowered. Cire waited for Selene to explain, when she didn’t, he decided not to press the issue. It wasn’t only the storm that was causing discomfort in the enclosure. Eyes lingered on him when people looked around, conversations were angled away, and hands rested on the pommels of swords a bit too casually.

No, not only me.

Suspicious gazes drifted towards Selene as well. This was far from the welcome Cire had expected. He had been warned of high protocol and rigid decorum, but Selene hadn’t told him they would be this wary.

Over the course of the evening Cire was glad that his indefatigable trait decreased his need for sleep. While at the outpost they were ostensibly safe from the dangers of the forest, but surrounded by strangers Cire felt on edge. More than once he awoke from half-sleep to catch a pair of eyes dart away from observing him.

The next morning, while rubbing grit from his eyes, Cire overheard Selene arranging their escort to the cities walls. Lucas was insisting on delivering them, having been the one who found them. Dimitri was accusing him of using the situation as an excuse to duck out of patrol. The rest of the twenty odd elves were involved in various tasks from sharpening blades to making breakfast, but their ears gave away their keen interest in the conversation.

Feeling measurably lighter as they left the tree fort and began their trek further into the forest, Cire enjoyed the easy pace and new scenery. Keeping close, Selene stayed a few feet ahead of him. Five elves and a centaur roamed in a spread out circuit around them.

Cire wasn’t sure where the centaur had been during the night, but he would have noticed if it had been on the platform with them. White dappled spots and a matching tail made the light brown coat of the half horse, half man quite striking. His torso was covered in the garrisons matching armor. But his weapon resembled a lance more than a spear. Cire still hadn’t worked out why the centaur carried it in the close quarters of the forest. The list of questions piling up during his imposed silence was becoming longer than he could remember.

Having abated in the early morning hours, the storm left a wet and fresh scented forest in its wake. A giant dragonfly, the size of a hawk, flitted back and forth through the trees. Crooking his ear to the north, Cire could make out the rushing sound of the river. He was amazed when Kepheus, the centaur, literally spoke with a particularly large thicket and convinced the plant to open a path for them.

Late in the afternoon, Kepheus used his trick to create an arched doorway in a massive two story hedge. Based on the surrounding crush of trees and scrub, Cire didn’t expect the wide open space that was revealed beyond. Spreading out on the other side of the wall of shrubbery and vines were lush verdant fields. Thick with sprouting grain, an ocean of vibrant green gave way at the center to the most visually stunning thing Cire had ever seen.

Skyscrapers made out of living wicker baskets towered over a nest of small huts and buildings at their base. Wearing caps of flowering vines, each grove of towering woven trees was marked by a particular color. As they made their way through the farms, Cire caught sight of several small winged figures zipping around and leaving trails of twinkling golden dust behind them. Shortly after the small shimmering figures disappeared a centaur came running from around the side of a barn shouting.

Cire couldn’t help but ask Selene about them with a hushed tone, “Fairies?”

Narrowing her eyes, Selene managed to convey “keep quiet,” while her voice came out banal.

“Pixies. There are some fairies in the central towers, but pixies enjoy teasing the farmers.”

Weaving between the ever increasing numbers of small huts, Cire noticed that few of the farmers were elves. Mainly centaurs, satyrs, and gnomes worked the fields or tended to livestock. The fair folk he did see tended to have the ruddy complexion and earthen tones prominent to Lucas and other wood elves.

Arriving at the first large tower’s base, Cire could make out a vast shaded area beyond. Each of the towers was made up of a grove of native trees, but they were far larger than their indigenous counterparts. He was standing at the roots of a group of oaks that put the height of the Twin Pines back home to shame. Woven together, the trees branches formed walls and clear levels hundreds of feet up. Pink trumpet flower vines hung all around the outside of the living buildings, filling the air with a heady sweet smell.

Beyond the oak tower, he could see a fir tree and pine tree version to either side. Connecting the towers at their second story was a large platform made of branches, effectively creating two ground floors for the town: one under the canopy and one above, bathed in sunlight. The construction was in the same style as the outpost, but far older and better cared for.

Cire wanted to go exploring in the odd space below the towers. He could hear hawkers preaching the value of their wares and the bubbling energy of a marketplace. Better yet, the clanging of pots and pans accompanied by sizzling meat heralded food cooked by skilled hands. But he knew there would be time for wandering later.

Marching into the oak grove, Lucas led them to an elevator made of wood, rope, and pulleys at the center. He exchanged a few words with a pair of attendants, wearing dyed pink tunics, before they pilled onto the hoist. Kepheus waved goodbye to the other guards and trotted away as they went up.

The first floor was still largely open air, with large windows looking out over the farmland behind them. A large promenade stretched out before them connecting the various woven skyscrappers by a massive mat of branches. Poking up at random intervals, manicured regular sized tree-like branches gave an overall feeling of a sprawling park.

Walking out onto the mat, the group made their way along the outer ring. In the center, a massive cedar stand hosted the largest and tallest tower. The trunks of the trees were absolutely swollen and pressed tightly together as they climbed skyward.

Moving past the pine tree tower, it’s blue morning glories closed in the dimming light of the afternoon, the group pressed on. Cire was distracted as usual by all of the new sights and sounds. He didn’t see Selene tense up as they neared the tangled web of willows topped with white honey suckle and asphodel.

Attendants, dressed in white, rushed forward from the foyer containing the willow grove towers elevator. Their hair was platinum blonde and their skin a soft milky white. They hurriedly took Selene’s pack and parted so she could walk into the greeting room.

“Lady Selene, it is a pleasure to see you return home. Your mother awaits you in the gardens. She asks that you attend to her once you have refreshed.”

Lucas and Dimitri stepped forward, having compromised and both come off patrol, and bowed. A twinkle flashed in Lucas’s eye, “Can’t blame me for sending word ahead Lady Silverstar. I knew your mother would want to know of your return as soon as possible.”

Giving Cire a small wave, Dimitri followed Lucas away.

“See you again soon wildling. If you get kicked out of the pillars, come find us down below. We spend a lot of our time at the Pan’s Bounty when were in town.”

Cire waved back and followed Selene into the willow grove tower. The attendants went to take Cire’s backpack as they had with Selene, but he pulled away. After his hesitancy, the two white tunic dressed elves shared a look, but directed them to the elevator.

“Would you like us to guide your guest to the bath?” One of the two attendants asked as they wrinkled their nose. “Or will you be taking him to the guest quarters on your way up?”

Selene exited the platform as it raised up to third floor. An enclosed space with windows covered in gossamer thin fabric, the space was lit with additional glowing yellow bulbs growing right from the walls and ceiling made of branches. Support beams made of willow trunks ribbed the outside of the large circular room. It made Cire feel like he was in the belly of a massive plant elemental and not living architecture.

“I’ll take him up. He’s been instructed not to speak frivolously until meeting with my mother. Keep others from running into him before I am ready to present him.”

Selene took to the side of the room and led him up several flights of stairs. Each floor had a doorway with a hanging curtain separating the staircases and hallway from the space beyond. On the fifth floor she pulled back the curtain and directed Cire into a steam filled washroom.

Baskets holding clothes and shoes were piled up near the wall on an incongruous tile floor. This level was split in two, with subsequent curtained entrances leading to each side. Selene began stripping off her armor.

“Left side is for women and the right side is for men. No one will mind if you keep to yourself. Wash before you soak. It isn’t easy to get water up the tower.”

She stepped behind a standing curtain and quickly tossed her clothing over the top of it, emerging in just a towel.

“You’ll get a chance to ask me all your questions when we visit my room on the way to the garden. Keep biting your tongue.”

Sighing audibly, Cire dipped behind the curtain on his side and returned with his clothes. Dumping them a basket next to the one holding his armor, he chanced a question, not wanting to risk being wrong.

“Its safe to leave my pack here?”

“Perfectly. Now, go wash up.”

Cire entered the washroom to find several small buckets of water, short stools, and wash cloths. No one else was in the cleaning area, but he could make out a couple of figures lounging in the bath through billows of steam. He sat down on one of the small stools and scrubbed himself raw.

Ripples of relaxation ebbed their way through his muscles as he stripped away all of the filth from their trip. Besides his waterfall shower at the naga camp and the impromptu cleaning of his armor, Cire hadn’t been truly cleansed of dirt since his arrival. He lost himself in the process.

After cleaning the detritus from under his fingernails for the second time, he pulled himself into the bath. Knots melted as Cire slid into the hot water and he had to stop himself from falling asleep. The other occupants weren’t any more interested in conversing than he was.

Eventually a male attendant, dressed in white with short cropped hair, came in to inform him that he was keeping Selene waiting. Cire still hadn’t gotten a good read on the servants. They had all been oddly obsequious, more so than he would have expected. It was yet another question to ask Selene about.

Eager to finally get some answers, Cire pulled himself from the euphoric embrace of his first bath in months and toweled off. When he returned to the changing room and picked up the basket containing his discarded clothing, he almost wretched. The stench coming from his armor and under clothes was revolting.

“Whoa. I can’t believe I was that nose deaf. Is there a laundry I can take all this to?”

“Leave them in the baskets and pile them in the corner with the others. Put towels over them to spare everyone else. Hurry up, we’ve tarried too long.”

Already dressed in a simple bath robe, Selene had her pack slung over one shoulder. It was noticeably deflated, having disgorged all her extra clothing into the dirty laundry. She waited impatiently next to the doorway to the stairs.

Cire followed his elven friend up two more flights before they stepped off the staircase and onto another floor. Two kneeling servants greeted them, one opened the door for Selene as she approached. The inside of her room was already lit with soft yellow glow bulbs dangling from the ceiling, and it was everything Cire imagined an elven nobles room to be.

Filling much of the space, a grand four post bed with an over stuffed cushion and mounds of pillows fit oddly against the curved wall. A dresser, closet, and nightstand, complete with mirror, were grown from the wall and burnished to a shine. The room itself only took up half of the floor, but it was still larger than Cire’s entire cabin.

Selene pre-empted Cire’s flood of inquries.

“Turn around and face the wall while I get dressed. It’s already past sundown, so we have delayed my mother, Daphne, too long. I would ask only the questions you need answers to.”

Cire turned and heard drawers opening behind him. He wanted to ask about a lot of things. Why had the garrison had been so riled up? Why weren’t there any roads leading to the Tempest Treetops when so many people lived here? How did they grow trees into buildings? However, he settled on a feeling that had been nagging at him.

“Selene, the servants, are they slaves?”