“Sorry?” asked Istaìnn, not understanding what was going around.

“A beer, cuz?” repeated the elf. “And for everyone, I have plenty of beer for all.”

He produced some filthy looking glasses, most with dents in them, opened the bottles, poured the beer into the glasses, and offered a drink to each of them. No one refused, but mostly from politeness.

“Cheers!” said the elf, and they all drank, first just by touching the beer with their lips, then all the glass in one breath.

“Providence, this is splendid!” exclaimed the spy. “Fabulous!”

“Well, thank you. A refill?” the elf asked, pouring beer again to all. “I do it myself. I teach brewing techniques as my main course. I don’t know if you got it yet, but this…”

“This is no Royal Palace,” stated Heyra. “It’s a University.”

“Indeed, sweet lady!” said the elf merrily. “The Elven University of Agronomy.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Feyra. “We have some urban legends about it. The Lost Faculty of the Forest. It’s supposedly haunted, and it moves from place to place, appearing only every century…”

“That’s a little exaggerated!” laughed the elf. “Actually, not true at all. We stay put all the time, and it’s quite visible. Please, be sited!” he said, even if only one chair was available.

The only solution available was to sit on the stairs of the platform. The elf had the decency to get down from the platform and sit in front of them on the floor.

“First of all, I’m not a king, but the Dean. We elves like to consider ourselves all equals. Dean of the University is the highest title in all Elven Land, thus, the kingship stuff. We use it when we address the other races, saves time, and get things done. You can call me Faredhiel.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t dare to speak so impolitely to a Dean!” protested Feyra.

“Well, I hope you’ll get used to it in time. And you, dear sirs, are?” he asked the rest. “I mean, I know cuz Istaìnn, here, but I’m unfamiliar with you two.”

“Corporal Lau,” said the archer succinctly, and the duelist followed his example: “Diago Guerrefido, judicial assistant.”

“Sorry, can you explain a little how do you know me?” asked Istaìnn.

“ ‘Cus you’re my cuz, cuz!” replied the elf, laughing and taking a sip directly from his bottle. “No, really, we are cousins. And, more, I’m your godfather.”

“Boss is an elven prince with a fairy godfather?” asked Lau, a little dazed by all the new things.

“No. dear sir, I’ve just said, we don’t have nobility around. We are a pure anarchistic society in a good way. No elf is superior to another elf. The only few distinctions are these university degrees, but a Ph.D. here behaves worse than a dictator. I guess human nature, well, elven nature, stayed the same despite our social progress…”

“Err... can you clarify a little the cousins and godfather thing?” inquired the spy.

“Sure, but in short, we have more pressing matters. So, where to start? Your grand-grandmother was also my grand-grandmother. Her youngest daughter moved to Ohst. She was the youngest kid of the family; her brother, my grandfather, was the oldest. We elves live longer, not twice as humans, but let’s say one hundred twenty is a normal elven life span. And while your parents had you at an old age, mines had me at a young age. I’m about twenty-six years older than you. That explains the cousins' thing. As for the rest, well, once upon a time, I was passing by the City en route to the Archipelago. We still go out in the world from time to time; it’s a matter of just covering our ears to pass for a human. And curiosity made me look for my relatives. I looked for the name in the postal address register and found it. Do you still live on Vivaldi street, by the way?”

“No, I just rent a studio near the P...Port…” stuttered the spy, confused by all the news.

“Well, nevermind. I went to the address and knocked at the door. Your mother opened, carrying a baby, you. You were just a few days old and adorable, that’s the word. A – do – ra- ble. So cute, and those eyes… So big, brown, and lively…“

“How nice!” exclaimed the girls in unison.

“Can we skip the adorable part, please?” begged the spy, embarrassed.

“Sure, cuz. I introduced myself, she invited me in, we had dinner, we chatted. It was a lovely night. Your parents invited me to stay, but my ship was leaving. They had been so welcoming to me that I wanted to offer them a gift; I granted a wish to both. Your father had a straightforward wish. I think he just wanted not to impose on me. He asked me to send him some wine from time to time. And so I did; I’ve sent him wine until he wrote to me he will close the shop and move to the Grand South. But your mother, she had another request. She asked me to give you a name. You see, they were undecided; each had its preferred name. I said yes, of course. I thought as hard as possible, and your bright, smart, and big brown eyes inspired me. Maybe I’ve mentioned, but you were an adorable baby…”

“Guh guh guh…” said Feyra, most likely joking, and the spy frowned at her.

“And that’s how I come with your name. It means Smart. Well, it means a lot more, but that’s the essence.”

“That’s so sweeeeeet!” exclaimed Heyra.

“That’s so deep!” nodded Feyra.

“That’s so bad!” replied the spy. “Only I know how many kicks in the buttocks I’ve got in school because of that name. I wonder why my folks never mentioned this story to me.”

“I’ve asked them to keep my visit to the City a secret. Anyway, do you think that having a real elf as a godfather would have helped you with your school problems?”

“Goodness, no. It would have been much worse. I see now your point.”

“Boss is an elven prince. Smart,” said Lau, totally out of phase.

“Do you have anything to eat?” asked Diago abruptly. “We had only some cookies, coffee, and beer today.”

“Sorry! Just a moment.”

From the same drawer which produced the beer bottles, the elf extracted three sandwiches, enveloped in a mushy and greasy paper. He divided them into halves and offered one half each, keeping one for himself. The bread was old, the butter rancid, and they preferred not to know what was in the middle. They just hoped from the bottom of their hearts it was not meat but moldy cheese.

“The servants can be trained better,” admitted Istainn, who usually was on the servants' side.

“We don’t have servants, cuz. We’re all equals; no true elf would accept to be a servant. Some students perform chores on a rotation basis, that’s all. I strongly suggest you cook for yourselves.”

“Too much cleverness is worse than stupidity,” announced Lau, a proverb from his lands.

“Lau! That’s impolite!” admonished him Feyra.

“But true,” replied the archer.

“Let’s get to our point,” said Faredhiel. “Before I tell you why I’ve summoned you here, please tell me about your adventures. Through our network of spies, we manage to put things together until the moment you’ve left Ohst, so that part we already know.”

The spy summarized their adventures, willfully omitting that the nobles were on their side now. It was a need to know basis, he had said to his friends before they left d’Ornia. Even if some of them, especially Feyra, were against the idea to keep secrets from the elves, they trusted him enough to listen to him.

“Now, I would like to know who are these plotters, what do they want, and most of all, what’s about this magic stuff I do from time to time.”

“Of course. But to understand things better, we need to turn our attention back in time, before the Dark Ages.”

“Story is long?” asked Lau.

“Well, my dear friend, all good stories are long,” replied the elf.

“Moment.”

Lau went to the bed, pulled the sheets away, and took the mattress off. He laid it on the podium and invited the girls to sit on it, pulling the desk next to them as support for their backs. Offering the chair to Diago, Lau sat on the ground, on a pillow. In the new arrangement, Istaìnn’s back was now supported by the girls’ legs, and he leaned on them instinctively. A hand from behind him caressed his cheek; he took it and kissed the palm softly. It was as instinctive as his back touching their legs; he didn’t think about it.

“Now the story you can tell!” said Lau magnanimously.