Rovie thought Loverto was huge, but the Free City of Calgone made it look like a rural village. The city was built on the west bank of the Loz River which originated in the mountains that made up the northern border of the Loz Barony. The city itself sat athwart the major highway that connected Nescovia in the west to the fertile Loz River Valley in the east.

“It’s called a Free City because it is ostensibly under the rule of the Holy Emperor himself,” Loric had explained in his usual condescending manner, “however, it’s actually ruled by a Council of Elders whose members are elected by the various guilds in the city.”

Rovie wasn’t sure what a guild was but didn’t want to listen to another long-winded and insufferable explanation. He looked up at the tall stone buildings that stood on either side of the broad tree-lined avenue they were walking down. Their white walls were impossibly clean and gleamed in the afternoon sun and contrasted well with their orange tiled roofs. Loric had mentioned that the city’s council mandated that all buildings within the city limits be made from the white stone quarried nearby and the orange tiles were made from clay taken from the nearby river.

The stones that paved the city’s arteries were in immaculate condition, and Rovie marvelled at the roads that had been laid out in neat grids making navigation in the city simple if you had a basic idea of where everything was. A massive cathedral stood in the heart of the city. It was about as large as the entirety of Lord Coriso’s castle complex and towered over the nearby buildings.

He and Loric pushed through a crowd of people as they turned off the avenue and onto a busy street. He lost sight of Gavik in the crowd several times and was forced to use Loric, who stood half a head taller than everyone else, as a landmark to follow. As they continued down the bustling street, the distance between him and Loric began to grow as he was jostled and cursed at by people entering and exiting the stream of people and began to panic. What if they got separated? He hadn’t a clue how to get back to Gofeldin on his own.

To his relief, he spotted Loric as the tall boy turned into a large stone building up ahead. The sign outside identified it as the Wolf’s Pride Public House. Rovie pushed through the crowd and followed him in. He soon found himself in the tavern’s common room which was larger than the village square at Gofeldin. There had to be chairs for at least three hundred and it was standing room only. Dozens of barmaids moved breathlessly carrying trays of food and beverages from table to table. The cacophony of various intermingling conversations assaulted his ears and Rovie wondered how anyone could have any sort of discussion here, never mind one that would direct the course of their rebellion.

He caught up to Gavik as the older man was scanning the room. “Over there,” he declared and weaved his way between the tables and chairs, leading them towards a room on the far end of the room.

“It’s Gavik,” he shouted through the door, causing Rovie to wince. The name Gavik of Gofeldin was gaining in notoriety, and there were rumours that Baron Loz had set a price of two hundred marks on his head.

Rovie heard deadbolts slam open on the far side of the door before it opened to reveal a burly man with a sword and pistol at his belt. He studied Gavik carefully before stepping aside to admit the three villagers from Gofeldin.

“Hello gents,” Gavik said. Eight men looked back at them. They were all richly dressed, and three had thick gold chains hanging from around their necks. They were seated around a round table with seats for ten that dominated the centre of the room. A fire crackled in the fireplace that was built into the far wall. Two high backed chairs were placed facing one another in a corner of the room for anyone wishing to have a private conversation.

“Which of us gets to sit?” Rovie whispered to Loric.

“I call evens,” Loric said, hiding a hand behind his back.

“Rovie isn’t joining us for this conversation,” Gavik said.

As though on cue, a hidden door disguised as part of the far wall slid open. “Go on then,” Gavik said gently, as he patted Rovie on the back.

Rovie exchanged a look with Loric before walking towards the hidden door. On the other side was a short passageway with three nondescript doors on the right side. The door at the end was open. The hidden door slid shut behind him once Rovie stepped into the corridor. Pushing his trepidation aside, Rovie forced his legs to move him forward. Once he reached the end of the corridor, he hesitantly poked his head through the open doorway and saw a man sitting behind a richly appointed table on the other side. He was sitting on a comfortable cushioned chair and was drinking wine from a crystal glass.

“Come in please, and close the door behind you,” the man said. He was a thin man with thinning grey hair, and he had a distinguished air about him.

Rovie did as he was told and sat in the empty chair opposite the man who studied him with his sharp grey-green eyes.

“May I offer you a drink?” the man ventured, gesturing to a sideboard stocked with liquors Rovie did not recognise, though he was sure they were all very expensive.

Rovie shook his head, deciding it was best to keep his wits about him.

“I am Lepon Wilvist,” the man began, “does my name hold any significance to you?”

Rovie shook his head again, and a bemused smile crossed Lepon’s face. “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t. Suffice to say that I taught Gavik a thing or two about…”

Lepon paused and licked his lips as his voice trailed off, “well, I suppose I taught him a thing or two about leadership, and how to begin a rebellion. I must say he has been more successful than I dared dream.”

Rovie nodded, though he had no idea what the old man was talking about.

“Gavik wrote highly of you in his letter to me,” Lepon continued, “and said that I should teach you.”

“He did mention something along those lines,” Rovie allowed cautiously.

Lepon’s eyes twinkled mischievously, “what do you think makes a good leader?”

“Being trustworthy?” Rovie offered after a moment’s thought.

The older man’s eyes lit up. “Yes, trust!” he exclaimed, causing Rovie to jump, “a man cannot herd so much as a flock of sheep if he does not first win their trust.”

Lepon drained his glass and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “And how do you suppose one gains the trust of the masses?”

Rovie shook his head.

“Through actions, or with charisma,” Lepon answered, and studied Rovie once again, “you, I suspect will have to rely on the former.”

Rovie’s eyes widened. “You want me to be a leader of the rebellion?”

“Gavik thinks you have what it takes,” Lepon said. He paused and gave Rovie a funny look before continuing, “is that something you’re keen on doing?”

“I want to help in any way I can,” Rovie began, “but leading?”

“Well, the idea is for me to take you under my wing for a spell and see if you have the aptitude for it,” Lepon began.

Rovie’s jaw dropped, “I would have to go with you? Leave the rebellion?”

The old man raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want to? It’s quite the opportunity to study under me, you know.”

Rovie shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, and I’m sure it is an amazing opportunity, but I can’t see myself leaving the rebellion. Not now.”

A smile crossed Lepon’s face as he nodded. “I see. You still don’t know what you lack. I suppose leaving you where you are for the time being may have its merits.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Rovie said in a rush, “I really do.”

Lepon pulled a bronze coin from his pocket and tapped it against the table, deep in thought. At length, he pushed it across to Rovie.

“Show that to anyone at the Chancellor’s chambers in Gradja, and tell them you wish to see Lepon Wilvist,” the old man said, “they’ll point you to me.”

Rovie picked the coin up and examined it. Imprinted on one side was the symbol of an eagle with its wings spread over the hilt of a sword.

“You know where Gradja is, don’t you?” Lepon ventured.

“I know it’s the capital of Markvist,” Rovie said, “however, I do not know the way.”

“You’ll find the way when the time comes,” Lepon smiled, “that is if you have half the potential Gavik seems to think you have.”

There was a soft knock at the door. “Enter,” Lepon said.

The door opened to reveal Gavik wearing a sheepish smile. Loric was standing just behind him.

“It went that badly?” Lepon ventured.

“It was inconclusive,” Gavik allowed, “they support us in principle, but won’t stick their necks out. I’m surprised all the bigwigs were there to see me. I suspect your influence had a hand to play in that.”

“It did,” Lepon replied, “that they offered any support at all shows that your movement has come a long way. What have they offered?”

“They’ll hold the crossings from the north against anything short of an army,” Gavik replied, “and they agreed to hire any Landteer bands to ‘increase their security’.”

“Any Landteer bands not fighting in the west will be of dubious quality or morals,” Lepon opined, “but they’d still be a band that Lest can’t hire.”

Gavik poured himself a brandy from the sideboard and quaffed it with relish. “Ah, Lest…”

Lepon’s eyes narrowed, “they said they’d only give you their undivided support if you depose him, didn’t they?”

Gavik nodded. “The movement’s not strong enough to take the likes of him on yet, not even close.”

“And he’s not sent any troops to the west either,” Lepon pointed out and set his eyes on Gavik, “what are you going to do?”

Gavik shrugged. “Continue liberating towns to our west, but even if we were able to get the cooperation of all the people from here to the Nescovian border, it still probably won’t be enough to take on Lest.”

“No,” Lepon agreed, “you’re going cooperate with the resistance in Loz.”

Gavik winced. “they’re dangerous, you said so yourself.”

“I don’t think there’s a choice,” Lepon said, “and, there are some… people, I suppose, who want to meet you.”

Gavik raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“In Soltin,” Lepon continued, “they have a proposition that might help you against the baron.”

Gavik’s eyebrow arched higher. “Soltin… Elves?”

Lepon’s face split into a broad grin, “very sharp. That’s why you’re one of my favourite students.”

“Elves?” Loric and Rovie blurted in unison, “they’re real?”

“Yes,” Gavik smiled, “they’re real.”

He then turned back to Lepon. “What do they want with me?”

The older man shrugged his bony shoulders and made a sour face. “I have no idea. You know what they’re like.”

“You’ve met elves before?” Rovie blurted, staring at Gavik in wonder.

“Briefly,” Gavik said, “I’ll tell you about it later.”

“You’d better,” Loric said.

“Right, it’s been a pleasure seeing you as always,” Gavik sighed as he got to his feet, “I’d better be going then. Soltin’s on the other side of the province. Wouldn’t want to keep them waiting.”

Lepon scoffed as he poured himself more wine. “A human keeping an elf waiting? That’ll be the day.”

Gavik grinned wryly and turned to the two boys. “Come on then, let’s go meet our southern neighbours.”

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” Rovie said as he got up to follow Gavik out the door.

“I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other, young man,” Lepon said, “go with God.”

“We’re going to see elves?” Loric asked, his eyes practically sparkled as they walked down the corridor.

“Temper your expectations, lad,” Gavik grinned as they entered the meeting room. It was empty now, save for a pair of barmaids clearing the empty glasses and flagons and the half-eaten carcass of a roast chicken from the table.

“It looks like I missed quite the party,” Rovie remarked.

“Bunch of snooty gits,” Loric snorted, “who was that old man you were chatting with, anyway?”

“He said his name was…” Rovie began.

“He’s here in secret,” Gavik said gently, cutting Rovie off.

“I’ll tell you when we get somewhere more private,” Rovie said, lowering his voice.

“You met with the Markvist Chancellor of State?!” Loric hissed, careful to keep his voice low.

They were riding in the back of a wagon provided by Calgone City Council and the driver was being paid well to mind his own business, but it didn’t hurt to be cautious.

“Yes, he wanted me to go with him to learn under him or something,” Rovie said, watching the countryside go by.

“And you turned him down?” Loric exclaimed as he leapt to his feet. He wobbled as the roofless wagon went over a rut, and Gavik had to grab him by the arm to prevent him from falling out.

“Sit down,” the wagon driver warned, “we’ve just left city limits, so the roads are a little rough.”

“You turned down the opportunity to learn under the Markvist Chancellor of State himself?” Loric hissed once he was safely seated.

Rovie nodded. “I didn’t want to leave the rebellion.”

“You fool,” Loric huffed, “why didn’t he choose me?”

“Would you have left with him?” Rovie ventured.

Loric looked up at the overcast sky thoughtfully. Autumn had set in now, and the leaves had turned orange and began to fall. The air carried the chill of winter on it, and everyone was dressed warmly against the cold. However, it was still frigid in the exposed wagon, and the boy pulled his cloak tighter around him.

“No,” he admitted at length, “I don’t think I would have.”

Then, wanting to change the subject, he turned to Gavik. “You’ve seen elves before?”

According to the fairy tales every boy was told, elves had once ruled the Continent, but over time, their numbers dwindled and so did their territories until they withdrew into the narrow corridor of pristine forests that lay between the Greater Gothria and the kingdoms of Vetory. They were supposed to be a reclusive race and no one had seen them in centuries. A spell was supposedly cast over elven forests and any who ventured within them uninvited were never heard from again.

“I don’t think anyone has in years,” Gavik replied, shaking his head.

“How did you know they’d be in Soltin?” Rovie asked, “I thought they never ventured out of their forests.”

“Soltin is the only place they interact with people,” Gavik replied, “I heard it was a nice enough place when there was more trade between our people, but they’ve grown more reclusive since, and now Soltin is a backwater. Elves are the only reason our benefactor would send us there.”

Just then, something clicked in Rovie’s mind. Something that had been nagging at him ever since they’d left Calgone. “Can we trust Lepon?” he asked softly.

“Haven’t I told you who he is?” Loric cried, exasperated.

Rovie looked Gavik in the eye. “Isn’t that precisely why we shouldn’t trust him? He’s working for them, isn’t he? Why would he help us overthrow his employers?”

The corner of Gavik’s eye crinkled as he broke into a lopsided grin. “I asked myself that many times after he approached me when I was at my lowest.”

“And what conclusion did you come to?” Rovie ventured.

Gavik looked around to ensure that there wasn’t anyone in earshot, and then cast another look at the driver who seemed focused on the road. He then lowered his head and gestured for the boys to lean in close.

“He believes that the League, as fragmented as it is, doesn’t stand a chance against our neighbours. He thinks the only way to compete with them is to unite the Gothrian speaking lands under one ruler.”

“That sounds all well and good,” Rovie said, “but doesn’t that just mean we’re overthrowing our lords to make it easier for someone else to step in and rule over us?”

Gavik’s smile broadened. “Look at you, asking all the right questions. My hunch about you was right.”

“What hunch?” Loric snorted, “he’s just a know-nothing bumpkin.”

“I know enough to have caught the attention of the Chancellor of Markvist!” Rovie retorted.

“You didn’t even know who he was!” Loric shot back.

“Now now boys,” Gavik said, putting a meaty hand on each of their shoulders, “you both have important roles to play. It’s just that Rovie’s more suited to a role that would benefit from our benefactor’s tutelage.”

“So what are we fighting for, then?” Rovie asked softly once he had calmed down, “to cast off our old rulers to make way for a new one?’

“I suppose in a way we are,” Gavik conceded.

Rovie felt sweat trickle down the side of his face as both boys looked at Gavik, stunned by the admission.

“Who would this new ruler be, the Prince of Markvist?” Loric asked at length.

Gavik shrugged and saw the shocked looks on the boys’ faces. “Perhaps I should clarify. Lepon sold me on his vision for a united Gothria.”

“And what is that?” Loric demanded.

“Something modelled on the system in Fluvia,” Gavik replied, “people in an area electing someone to represent them in a government made up of such nominees.”

“That sounds incredibly complicated,” Rovie remarked.

“It could well be,” Gavik said, “but it’s fairer for us common people than anything we dare dream of.”

“Couldn’t we just keep ruling ourselves?” Loric ventured, “it seems to be working so far.”

Gavik shook his head as the wagon was rocked from travelling over another rut. “Right now, we’re just a loose alliance of towns and villages. Sooner or later, someone more powerful is going to come along and roll over us.”

“We’ve fought off all comers,” Loric scoffed.

Over the previous weeks, they had been rushing about fending off attacks along the northeastern borders of their territories from nobles who had banded together to retake their lands. These attacks had been small in scale and easily driven off, which had raised their confidence and rallied more towns and villages in Boverlind to their cause.

“Our benefactor has been doing what he can to keep the big boys off our backs,” Gavik replied, “I fear it won’t be long before Baron Lest comes down upon us.”

“What’s stopping him from doing it now?” Loric asked.

“Political wrangling with the Nescovian League is what our benefactor suspects,” Gavik said, “without approval from the League, he’d have to hand the lands back to the deposed lords once he took them from us.”

“Do you think that he’ll get this approval to keep the lands for himself?” Rovie ventured.

The rumours were that Lest had a thousand soldiers at his disposal. Fighting against a thousand men was mind-boggling to Rovie. Loverto had been their largest battle so far and there had scarcely been a hundred men altogether.

Gavik leaned back in his seat and stretched. “He’s done himself no favours in refusing to answer the League’s call to arms, and we’ve been careful to avoid any overly threatening moves close to the lands of the more powerful lords…”

Gavik paused and shrugged, “but you’ll never know. Our existence is a threat to them, and as we grow, they will be forced to take us seriously.”

“But you were talking about taking more direct actions against this Lest fellow,” Loric pointed out, “won’t they take us seriously if we defeat him?”

“Because if by some miracle we do defeat him and gain access to his armouries, all of a sudden we have secure borders and arms for a thousand more men,” Gavik grinned, “that will make us a formidable foe indeed.”

“But as it stands, us challenging Lest openly would be like an ant trying to devour a wolf,” Rovie pointed out.

Gavik chuckled and Rovie shrank in his seat.

“We’re more like a shrew. A rabid one at that,” Loric protested, “we can get our licks in and hurt the wolf if he’s not careful.”

“You both have your points,” Gavik said, wiping a tear from his eye, “this wolf has enemies, enemies that are so dangerous that they could hurt us just as much as they could help us against the wolf.”

“Other nobles?” Rovie ventured.

“We can’t work with that lot!” Loric exclaimed, “they can’t be trusted!”

“No, not nobles,” Gavik said. He stared off to the north with a look in his eye that sent shivers down Rovie’s spine, “people far more dangerous to our cause.”

“Who?” Loric pressed, “who could be more dangerous to our cause than nobles?’

Loric swallowed and backed off slightly but quickly regained his composure. “Who could possibly be so dangerous to our cause?”

“Angry men,” Gavik replied, “the people of Loz.”

“You can hardly blame them for being angry,” Loric protested, “the things the baron has done to them.”

Gavik looked Loric in the eye who held his gaze for an uncomfortably long time, “you boys had best remember that no matter how angry you get, giving in to that anger can hurt our cause immeasurably. I lost control of myself with Lorno. We are fortunate that there were no serious repercussions.”

Gavik paused again before continuing, “they could poison our cause all too easily.”

“I don’t understand,” Loric stated flatly, “won’t anger make them more ferocious fighters?”

“That is true,” Gavik allowed, “perhaps too ferocious…”

There was another pause before he added, “I hope Lepon’s fears and mine don’t come to pass because I cannot see a way to liberate Loz without their help.”

The driver announced their arrived at the outskirts of Soltin three days later, and Rovie was glad they had arrived. The air had been heavy for the rest of the trip, and Gavik’s words echoed through his head.

Rovie looked up, excited to see the place where humans and elves met. Upon seeing the town of Soltin, he felt wonder and disappointment in equal measure. Wooden buildings were built along concentric circular roads that were centred around the tallest tree he had ever seen. The roads were connected by broad, beaten earth avenues that were now overgrown with weeds. A large, covered platform was built around the upper part of the tree’s trunk. Wooden walkways circled the trunk connecting the platform to the ground. Beyond the town was a large forest of massive white-barked trees that stretched as far as the eye could see.

The town would have been a majestic sight if not for the state of disrepair everything was in. The tree the town was built around was overgrown with unruly branches growing everywhere. The roads were covered in twigs and dead leaves. Most of the buildings had caved in roofs and rotten walls, and most of the planks of the walkway looked to be rotten, broken or outright missing. Rovie was sure that the view from the platform would be marvellous, but fervently hoped they wouldn’t have to go up there.

“Three thousand people once called this place home,” Gavik said as he climbed down from the wagon, “now fewer than thirty remain.”

“It’s a dump,” Loric remarked, crinkling his nose in distaste.

“I suppose its deterioration is representative of our relationship with the elves,” Gavik mused before breaking into a laugh, “there I go waxing poetic. If our benefactor were here, he’d find twenty things wrong with my comparison.”

The wagon driver cleared his throat awkwardly, and the others turned around, surprised that he was still there.

“Can we help you?” Gavik asked.

“That’ll be four shillings, please,” the driver said, lowering his head to hide his embarrassment.

Gavik’s eyebrows shot up. “Those cheapskates on the council aren’t paying?”

“Fraid not, sir,” the driver muttered.

“Typical,” Gavik snorted and rolled his eyes. He rummaged through his travelling purse and fished out the coins, “here’s five for your trouble.”

“Much obliged, sir,” the driver said. He paused before adding, “say, you’re not carrying any firearms, are you?”

Gavik, Rovie and Loric shook their heads.

“Good, if there’s one thing the elves cannot stand, it’s gunpowder, or so they say.” He tipped his hat and with a click of his tongue, his horses bore him away.

Rovie turned his attention back to the town. The driver had dropped them off on one of the avenues that led to the giant tree. It was the middle of the day, but the streets were empty and most of the dilapidated buildings looked like they had been abandoned for years.

“Are you sure thirty people live here?” Rovie wondered out loud.

“Well that information might be a little dated,” Gavik replied as he set off down the avenue, “let’s get going.”

The avenue was so overgrown with weeds and rushes and covered with fallen leaves that they found themselves straying off it every so often.

“No wonder the driver didn’t drop us off closer,” Loric groused, “would it kill them to have a little pride in their town? It’s not like being a meeting place for the elves is the only thing this place has going for it.”

“It is,” Gavik pointed out, “this place is around ten miles inside the Lud Forest. This town and the road leading in are the only places elves permit humans within their lands.”

“Oh,” Loric blinked, “in that case, why are there still people living here?”

Gavik shrugged. “Some have been here for generations and have nowhere else to go. House Markvist pays a few men to hang around in case the elves ever return.”

“They can’t be paid very much,” Loric remarked, looking around at the town, “it’s practically a ruin already.”

“Why did the elves stop dealing with people?” Rovie asked as they walked past a building with a caved-in roof. The roof beams had been intricately carved with delicate patterns and the ends of the beam were curled onto themselves by some technique that he had never seen before. The town must have been a wonder to behold in its glory years and it seemed a shame that it had fallen this far.

“They always were a reclusive bunch,” Gavik mused, “but the speculation is that they really cut off all contact when gunpowder came into common use across the Continent.”

“Are they scared of it?” Rovie asked.

“It’s hard to say,” Gavik shrugged, “they see us as children, which we probably are in their eyes. I don’t know if they live forever, but they do seem to live for a very long time, and I can see why they’d be wary around children with dangerous new toys.”

Rovie was exhilarated when he learned elves were real and now that they were in a town that had clearly been influenced by them, his curiosity was at its peak. “Are the legends true, that they ruled the Continent before the kingdoms of men?”

“Who can say,” Gavik mused, “perhaps. But there haven’t ever been very many of them. At least not over the course of our written history, as far as I can tell.”

“I hope we get to see a real elven city,” Rovie said, taking in his surroundings, “I bet it would look much better than this place ever did.”

Gavik laughed, “that would be quite something. There has been no record of a human ever entering their lands and returning to tell the tale.”

“Look, a person,” Loric said.

They turned to follow his gaze and saw a frail figure standing outside a large building that like the rest of the town, had seen better days. The façade was weather-beaten, a few of the windows were broken and boarded over and the planked roof had several holes in it. Its face was hidden by the hood of his green cloak, and it was leaning on a walking stick for support.

“Do you suppose that’s an elf?” Rovie whispered.

“Let’s find out,” Gavik said as he set off in that direction.

“Good day,” he boomed, “I am Gavik of Gofeldin and I understand there are those here who wish to meet with me.”

The figure nodded slightly and walked back into the building. Gavik gave the boys a funny look. “I suppose we should follow.”

“Wait,” Loric said, grabbing Gavik by the arm, “what if it’s a trap?”

Gavik gave him a funny look and looked around their deserted surroundings. “They could have already sprung it if that was what they were after.”

Loric released his arm and looked away sheepishly.

“Yeah, Loric, where’s your head at?” Rovie, couldn’t resist getting a dig in, and received a punch in the arm for his trouble.

As they walked up to the once-grand double-doored entrance, they saw that most of the building was taken up by the great hall within. A large table was set up in the middle of the hall which was otherwise empty. The figure they saw earlier was standing by the table, stamping its feet to ward off the cold.

“Please, come in, Gavik of Gofeldin” the figure called out in a man’s voice, “we have been expecting you.”

“It was my understanding that meetings between humans and elves traditionally took place up in the tree,” Gavik remarked from the doorway.

“I apologize, but it is no longer safe for people to climb up there,” the man replied, “the Great Hall of Soltin will have to do, inadequate as it is.”

Gavik grunted and led the boys inside. The floors had been recently swept, but many of the floorboards were rotten, and they had to pick their way carefully across the hall. As they approached the table, they became aware of two hooded figures wearing cloaks sitting at the table. Unlike the person they saw earlier, their cloaks were of a pale brown hue that seemed to blend in with the wood floor and walls of the hall.

The standing man pulled back the hood of his cloak and stepped forward as they approached revealing a lived-in face topped by wispy white hair. “Good afternoon, my name is Selodin Bivro, I am the caretaker of Soltin. Forgive my rudeness earlier, but the cold goes right through you when you get to my age.”

Once introductions were exchanged, Selodin waved toward the two figures. “Thank you for coming, Gavik of Gofeldin, our two guests wished to meet with you quite urgently.”

“I quite wanted to meet our southern neighbours myself,” Gavik said, looking at the two cloaked figures who hadn’t moved yet.

At length, one of them pulled their cloak back to reveal a pale, sharp-featured face that looked neither young nor old. He had short-cropped pale blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that appraised each human in turn before speaking, “my name is Lamak and this is Ila.”

The figure next to him pulled back her hood to reveal an ethereal beauty that took Rovie’s breath away. Her long pale blonde hair was tied in a braid and fell down one of her shoulders. Both had the fabled sharp pointed ears of the elves. She looked at the men and her lips curled into a sneer.

“This is the Holy Calfurion Emperor? How far your ‘empire’ must have fallen for the emperor to appear here in rags.”

Rovie looked down at his clothes and reddened. They were dressed against the cold as peasants would, wearing multiple layers of their everyday clothes under a thin travelling cloak.

“Ila, you forget yourself,” Lamak hissed.

“Sorry,” Ila muttered half-heartedly.

Lamak turned to Gavik. “I apologize for my companion. She is young and is only here because she insists on seeing the human world with her own eyes.”

“It’s quite alright,” Gavik said, dropping himself carelessly into one of the chairs across from the elves, “I am no emperor.”

“This man,” Lamak said, gesturing to Selodin, “says you are in charge of the lands around the…”

Lamak paused to think of the name, and Selodin interjected, “it’s a small wood near the border between Boverlind and Nescovia.”

“It seems they change the names of places with the seasons,” Ila muttered under her breath.

“I suppose you could say I’m in charge of that region,” Gavik allowed, “though that depends on what you need with it.”

“I was under the impression that it was under the rule of the Holy Calfurion Emperor,” Ila remarked.

Gavik leaned back in his chair and let off a belch. “No, the Continent has changed considerably since a Calfurion Emperor ruled. He’s now more of a figurehead.”

“Your people change rulers with the seasons as well,” Ila blurted.

“I can send you back to the village right now,” Lamak warned.

“Fine, I’ll hold my tongue,” Ila sighed.

Gavik laughed heartily, “there may well be a new person in charge by winter.”

He paused and then leaned forward, looking Ila in the eye. “But for now, I am in charge, young lady.”

A look of disgust crossed Ila’s face, and Selodin smiled in spite of himself. “The ‘young lady’, as you put it, is by my estimation three hundred years old,” the old man said, wiping away a tear.

Gavik’s eyebrows shot up. “You have my apologies.”

“We mature slower than your kind,” Lamak said, “she is still very much a child in our eyes.”

Three hundred years old. That was mind-boggling to Rovie, the things she must have seen in that time. So much had changed over the past few weeks that his head was still spinning trying to remember it all. He then looked at Lamak and wondered how old he was. Had he seen the birth and fall of human kingdoms and dynasties with his own eyes?

“What do you need with that area, then?” Gavik asked to Rovie’s disappointment. He’d wanted to know more about the elves and was fearful Gavik would bring this rare meeting with them to a quick close.

Lamak blinked as though surprised by the sudden change in topic. “We need to investigate the woods there.”

Gavik nodded. “I suppose it’s nice of you to ask permission. Sure, but we want something in return.”

Lamak’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Permission for our armies to travel through your lands,” Gavik beamed.

“That’s sacrilegious!” Ila cried as she leapt to her feet.

Gavik’s lips twisted into a sly smile. “Seems fair enough to me, we allow you through our lands and you allow us through yours.”

Now, why did Gavik want passage through elven lands? Rovie wondered to himself. Then, it all fell into place. The Lud Forest ran along Boverlind’s southern border and turned north up to the Loz River Valley’s southeastern border. If they could march an army through there, they could appear on Baron Lest’s back door and achieve complete surprise. That meant Gavik was determined to make the attack. Or did it? He wasn’t conceding much to the elves, after all.

Gavik’s grin broadened. “And perhaps this deal could rekindle the relationship between our people. We can return the lands taken from you in the last compromise.”

“What possible benefit could that bring us?” Ila scoffed, “even if you are true to your word, you humans have short memories. This promise would last a few hundred years at most.”

“You ask for much,” Lamak remarked, his eyes wide at Gavik’s brazenness.

“Something tells me you need more than our permission,” Gavik countered, “or you would have already gone without first asking us.”

Lamak levelled his piercing blue eyes on Gavik who returned his gaze without fear. At length, the elf sighed. “The lands have changed considerably under your people’s stewardship. So much so that we are no longer confident we can navigate them without your aid.”

Gavik leaned back in his seat and bit his lip. “That’s quite the admission. What you’re after must be very important. What is it?”

Lamak hesitated before sighing. “The place we want to investigate is an ancient holy site. We have reason to believe it has been disturbed.”

Gavik raised an eyebrow. “Seems innocent enough. We lead you to the woods, investigate the site with you, and in return, you grant my army passage through your lands.”

“Passage to where?” Lamak asked, taking Gavik off guard.

Gavik cast a glance at Selodin who nodded and excused himself before making his way out of the hall. Once he had left, Gavik turned back to Lamak. “I intend to march a thousand or so men from here to the northeastern extent of the forests.”

“I believe that place is… or was called the Loz Valley,” Lamak observed.

Gavik nodded.

“And what do you intend to do with that army?” Ila demanded.

“Well, it won’t be to spread goodwill and cheer, eh?” Gavik smiled thinly.

“Fine,” Lamak said, “one thousand men, not a single one more. They adhere strictly to a fixed route and be under escort at all times. If any of your people deviates from the route we set out, not a single one of your men will leave our forests alive.”

“Done,” Gavik said, and solemnly extended his hand.

“Won’t the ruler of this Loz be furious at us if their attack fails?” Ila protested.

“Let him be furious,” Lamak said, “you know what’s at stake. Besides, you know how short-lived human grudges are.”

He turned back to Gavik and shook his hand.

“Here’s to a long and fruitful relationship between our people,” Gavik grinned toothily, “if only we had something to toast it with, eh?”