The pounding of hooves echoed through the trees as six people rode on. It had been three days since the group had departed Gray Den, the capital of the Graywolf territory. However, they had not caught up to their quarry they were in pursuit of.

“The last village said that the hero was definitely headed this way. Fortune seems to be on our side since I know these woods,” said the young elven man of the group.

Wyen, for that was who was in the lead at the moment, tucked a strand of his shoulder length silvery gray hair behind his elongated, pointed ear. Despite the color of his hair, Wyen was merely eighteen years old, still considered a child among his race despite the Kingdom of Sengar’s age of adulthood being sixteen.

Wyen had grown up in the primarily elven town of He’Madeel which functioned as the local capital of the Wethra territory. As elves had an innate tendency to be reclusive, the few elven communes that resided in Sengar kept to the forests and thus were charged with the careful powering of Sengar’s lumber industry. Of course, there were elves who, like Wyen, shook off their reclusive nature and traveled in the more populous cities or took up adventuring.

“How does it feel to be back home?” asked Quinn.

“I do occasionally miss these trees,” Wyen replied, “But I do not miss the people.”

“What about your parents?” asked Adelade.

Wyen audibly sighed, “You’ll just have to see.”

The group continued down the vague pathway through the trees.

“The narrowness of this road should have slowed her down, right? She would not be able to use her carriage,” shouted Fang.

“I do not think so. The magic carriage she used was a little smaller than the typical one, so it would not hinder her so. It is bigger on the inside than it appears though,” Adelade responded.

As the town of He’Madeel appeared in front of them, the group slowed their pace and, officially, arrived.

Elven architecture was unique in that it heavily relied on magic to create structures out of trees. As such, one could say that structures were grown rather than built. Although occasionally other architectural elements and styles were incorporated. Elven towns, because of this unique style, also were unique in that they boasted two layers: the forest floor and the treetops.

“We should visit the Count’s estate,” said Wyen, “He will provide us shelter.”

Quinn glanced at his friend.

“Are you sure? You constantly mention how you would rather avoid the place.”

“I will deal with it.”

The group rode up to the estate’s grounds to hail their arrival. A bit further on sat the estate mansion, grown from five large and ancient trees. The structure contained five stories, making impressive use of the size of these particular trees.

“The Crown Prince of Sengar has arrived to visit. Inform Count Wethra at once,” Wyen stated.

The guards at the doors rushed into action and both the head butler and maid arrived quickly to welcome the prince and his entourage.

“We welcome you to the Wethra territory Prince Quinn. It is an unexpected pleasure to have you arrive,” said the butler with a bow.

Quinn, however, was distracted by the sight of the maid. She had a young look to her, a common trait of the elves, which made her appear to perhaps be in her early twenties were she a human. Her figure was mostly obscured by her attire, but it was clear she was lithe. Although she carried a gentle expression on her face, there was a subtle hint of fierceness beneath.

Wyen gave Quinn a smack upside the back of the head.

“She’s taken you idiot,” he said as he looked at the butler and maid, “Hello, Father. Hello, Mother.”

“Wait, these two are your parents?” asked Adelade.

“Indeed. Our family has served as butlers and maids for the Wethra house for generations.”

“And that is why, Your Highness, we must ask that you return Wyen to his proper station,” said Wyen’s father, the butler.

Between Wyen’s chastising remarks and the request, Quinn took stock of the elven man before him. Wyen’s father was sharply dressed in his pristine looking suit. Glancing up and down, not a wrinkle could be seen despite the countless movements that the man had likely already made that day. His gray hair was slicked back with something that held it in place, but left no evidence of excessive grease or usage. Much like his wife, he too carried a hidden fierce expression, though the visible one remained flat and neutral.

“Give me your names,” Quinn said, “Then tell me why it is so important that Wyen be removed from my presence when he is so invaluable to me.”

“I am known as Terric, and my wife here is Terra. With your acceptance, Your Highness, Wyen is both the youngest of our children and our only son. It is imperative that he return so as to carry on our charge to Count Wethra and his family. He must be reeducated, and once he is of age, continue our line.”

“Wyen is already of age,” commented Adelade.

“By human standards, yes,” added Terra, “But by elvish standards he is still a naive child. It is now past the acceptable time for him to act so rashly and disobedient.”

“Wyen shows the most promise to be my prime minister when I ascend to the throne. Are you intending to steal him from me?” asked Quinn.

“With respect to Your Highness, we are merely acting to discipline our child,” said Terric.

“I see now. Wyen has told me that he does not enjoy thinking about his hometown. I see that it is perhaps not because of the town itself, but rather the two people who are forcing expectations upon him.”

“Your Highness, please,” said Wyen, placing a hand on Quinn’s shoulder, “I will deal with this on my own. For now, it is uncouth for us to keep Count Wethra waiting any longer.”

“Indeed. This way, Your Highness,” stated Terric.

Together, Terric and Terra led the group to where Count Wethra was receiving them. Phillippe and Vivette took up guard positions outside of the room while Fang silently stood by within.

“Greetings, Your Highness,” said the count with a bow, “I am surprised by your unexpected visit, but it is most welcome. If I may, what brings you my territory in such a matter?”

“Count Wethra, I must first apologize to you because of the unexpected nature of my visit,” Quinn said, “To both explain why this is and to answer your query, I can only say at the moment that the elusive person we have been following seems to have made their way here.”

“An elusive person you say? It is quite unusual for the prince himself to pursue a criminal. Let alone with two said to be privy to spaces in his administration and such a light guard.”

“This person is no criminal.”

The count raised his eyebrow in a show of surprise. Such a tell from a member of the nobility could only mean that what Quinn had just said was truly a surprise.

“This mysterious person only intrigues me more now.”

Quinn glanced at Wyen, asking an unspoken question of his friend and advisor. Wyen responded with a slight nod.

“We have reason to believe that there is a hero in the kingdom. It is this person that we are following,” Quinn admitted.

Wyen apparently trusted that Count Wethra was loyal to the Crown, this despite the tendency of elvish isolation.

“That truly is news that I have not heard before. What makes you think that they are here though?”

“This person, who we have been calling the hero, has exhibited many traits similar to the heroes of the documented past. In particular, she carries a title which she calls ‘doctor.’ It would seem that this ‘doctor’ title is something akin to, yet also greater than, that of a physician.”

“Fascinating. You have been trying to improve public health amongst the commoners as of late, Your Highness. I can certainly see why, if this woman is a skilled physician, she would be useful to your endeavors.”

“Greater than a physician. She has said that her skill compared to our physicians would be like a child just learning to walk racing against a sprinting adult.”

“If this is so, then it is even more impressive. But still, why would she come here?”

“If we take some of the legends of past heroes as fact and apply them to this hero, then she has never encountered races like elves, dwarves, or beastfolk,” Adelade interjected, “I have heard her state as such. However, her knowledge of humans is extensive. It sounded to me as though she intended to come and learn more about the elves so that she might provide her advanced care to elves she might come across in the future.”

“So she has come to learn of the elves and the ailments that afflict us?”

“It would seem to be the case,” concluded Quinn, “With that in mind, please allow us to utilize your estate as we search for the hero within your territory. Once we have either secured her or determined that she has moved on, we shall depart.”

“Of course, Your Highness. My resources are at your disposal while you are here.”

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The Royal Room at the Wethra estate had been grown out of the great tree which formed the northwestern corner of the mansion. It was situated on the third floor and was circular rather than rectangular in shape. An overlooking balcony gave the user a place to rest outdoors if they desired.

Quinn moved over to the desk setup within the room upon entering and immediately started.

“Phillippe and Vivette, go and search the town for signs of the hero either being here or having been here.”

The two Shadows nodded and swiftly departed.

“Fang, I apologize for the workload on you.”

“Hey, if it’s friendly territory, there isn’t as much to worry about,” he replied with a smirk.

“Do not let your guard down,” Wyen said, “While Count Wethra is loyal to the Crown, elvish isolation makes elvish rulers easy targets of outside influence.”

“Ah, I see,” Fang acknowledged, though how much he actually saw was questionable.

There was a lengthy pause in the conversation. All of those present, aside from the man himself, was staring at Wyen and waiting to broach the subject they truly wanted to discuss at this hour.

“You only have sisters?” Adelade finally broke the silence.

“Yes,” Wyen replied, “You will surely get to meet them someday.”

“Are they attractive?” asked Quinn.

The others slowly turned and looked at him instead. Were the moment a scene of animation, there likely would have been the audible creak of their necks.

“I mean, almost all elves are I would expect. And you mother certainly is. Do they take after her?”

“Quinn, even I know that what you just said is too much,” Fang muttered.

Both Wyen and Adelade had a disgusted look on their face. This was a new low for Quinn, even in their experience.

“You will not be associating with my family in such matters,” Wyen finally uttered, barely containing his anger.

Adelade took Wyen’s hand and dragged him out of the room. Quinn looked both shocked at the reaction and contemplative.

“Perhaps you are right, Fang.”

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“This is your childhood room?” Adelade observed.

“Yes,” Wyen replied as he glanced around.

Wyen had not truly occupied this space since before he had left for the Royal Academy over eight years ago, but it was still as spotless as ever. No doubt his mother and the other maids kept it in the routine cleaning so he could use it upon his return. Due to his family’s close ties with the Wethras, they were permitted quarters within the estate so as to more efficiently serve the Wethra’s family.

It was significantly smaller than the Royal Room, or many of the other rooms, but it was committed solely for Wyen’s usage. As such, there was a significant amount of open space, giving the impression that the room was larger. There was little decoration aside from a single painting hung on the wall. It depicted a young elven boy hugging a wolf pup.

“That’s you?” Adelade asked, pointing to the painting.

“Yes. Since I was the only son, my parents were incredibly strict in my training to succeed within the family. I had little in the way of freedom. However, I grew up alongside Thia and so I lived vicariously through her.”

“Who is Thia?”

“Ah. One of Count Wethra’s daughters.”

“Oh,” Adelade thought for a moment, “Where is she now?”

“She became a Speaker of the Forest. You do not have to worry,” he replied with a smile.

“What is a Speaker of the Forest?”

“Elves worship the spirits of nature more so than the gods. Not that there are not several notable gods we do, but the spirits are said to have a more active role in the daily lives of elves. Speakers commune with the spirits and help bring balance and life. You could say they are like priests or priestesses.”

“I see.”

“The wolf pup there was her companion for many years. For some reason though, she always liked me more than Thia. Her father, the count, had this painting commissioned and presented it to me as a thank you when Thia joined the Speakers. That was just before I myself went to the Academy.”

“So the count is fond of you?”

“He did sponsor my enrollment at the Academy.”

“Then would he not try and arrange a marriage with Thia?”

“I said you need not worry about her. Speakers are not allowed to marry.”

“Sounds a little counter to their goals.”

“Yes. I have witnessed enough that I cannot deny the existence of the spirits, but I am not particularly devoted. The Speakers can carry out their message if they so choose.”

“So Thia is not who your parents were referring to?”

“The count’s family is entirely out of the question from my parent’s perspective.”

“They do not want to move up?”

“No. They consider serving the count’s family the highest honor possible. Since I carry the family line, they intend me to continue the family.”

“Will you?” Adelade asked, slightly embarrassed.

“Not on their terms,” he replied, turning her face towards his.

The two stared into each other’s eyes and slowly drew closer. Each could feel the breath of the other coming out swiftly and shallowly. Their eyes began to close on instinct. And the door to the room burst open as someone barged in.

“WYEN!! You’re back!” the female elf shouted.

Adelade and Wyen practically jumped apart as the door was flung open and this woman entered.

“L-Leewa?” Wyen stammered.

Leewa leapt at Wyen, who was forced to catch her lest she awkwardly crash to the ground, and started nuzzling against his neck. He quickly pushed her back, leaving a pout of disappointment on her face.

“What are you doing here, Leewa?” he asked.

“I’m going to be your wife. Why wouldn’t I be here?”

Adelade stood in shock, but Wyen’s face contorted in anger. It was the second time in just a few hours that Wyen had gotten genuinely angry when he usually had excellent emotional control.

“No you are not,” he coldly stated.

“Yes, she is,” said Terric, who appeared at the door, “We have arranged it to be so.”

“I am not staying here. Prince Quinn made that perfectly clear to Count Wethra, and you have already undoubtedly heard as such.”

“Stop this pointless arguing,” Terric stated, “I permitted you to attend the Academy on the condition that you return home after your graduation. You have continuously defied your mother and I for two years. You will come home. You will take up your position. You will marry Leewa.”

Wyen and Terric were glaring at each other. The tension in the room had skyrocketed beyond anything Adelade had ever witnessed from Wyen before.

“Lady Ghele, with you as my witness, I formally disinherit myself from my family,” Wyen declared.

Shock registered on the faces of Adelade, Leewa, and Terric. None of them were expecting Wyen to make such a drastic move.

“I hereby renounce all inheritances that may be owed to me either now or in due time. I renounce all oaths which bind me to legacies of my forefathers. And I hereby renounce the name Silverwing.”

Wyen sneered at Terric, who had grown paler with each statement Wyen made.

“Now your family’s legacy dies because of you, Terric.” Wyen said as he walked out of his old room. Adelade followed after.

The dignified and composed butler named Terric fell to his knees and wept.

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“Wyen, I can understand your frustrations at things. Is this a wise decision though?”

Count Wethra and Wyen were sitting alone together, having practically the same discussion as they had had multiple times over the last two days.

“Count Wethra, the debt I owe to you may have been started by Terric and Terra, but it is something I have always considered my own. I will continue to repay that debt, just not as a Silverwing. My former sisters, though not in name, will continue the oath that the Silverwing family once swore to your ancestors.”

“So you have said at every meeting,” the count sighed, “I am speaking not as your lord, but rather a parent.”

“You tried to stop Thia when she said she would join the Speakers.”

“Yes. I would gladly take her back from them too.”

“But you relented and allowed her to join them. I believe the reason you did is the exact reason Terric and Terra can not see.”

The count was silent as he thought.

“You are intelligent, Wyen. You always have been. But you still lack wisdom.”

“Both have always placed the oath above all else. Family has only ever been important to them as a means to carry on the oath. When is the last time the Silverwings had three children? It was generations ago. It was only when the first child was a girl that a second was conceived. And the same for a third like myself.”

“It is no different for a noble family.”

“I admit that sentiment is true. Logic dictates that it is an acceptable course of action. However logical I may be about such situations, there is always a nagging feeling within my mind though.”

“So you do have feelings.”

“Of course I do,” Wyen retorted.

“You misunderstand. Indeed, your family has always placed a high value on the old oath. You are different. You have never been content with your position once you understood it. I noticed that long before you did. I turned you towards the life you now have, though I admit it did not go the way I would have liked either,” said the count.

Wyen said nothing, allowing Count Wethra to continue.

“Upon your graduation, I was going to force Thia to leave the Speakers and marry you. I was going to lift the oath from your family, bringing you into the Wethra line, the start of a new branch family. When you did not return, instead finding yourself at the prince’s side, I was both proud and jealous. I did not carry through with my plan because I hoped that the oath would leave you with a sense of obligation. I was a fool. Here I am speaking of wisdom, yet it is I who am trying to manipulate the knowledge. ”

The count gave a self derisive laugh.

“I would still give you Thia and break release the oath. But I have realized just in the last few days that would never work. You have someone your heart is set on.”

Wyen said nothing, but was put on guard.

“Lady Ghele is a lovely young woman. I wish you well. Perhaps the future of the Ghele and Wethra families will hold promise.”

“How did you figure that out?”

“As intelligent you are, you can not see all. Interesting,” chuckled the count, “I will release the Silverwings of the ancient oath. Will you then not abandon the name?”

Wyen was silent in thought.

“I would give it up anyway upon my marriage. So there is little benefit in reclaiming the name.”

“But it would put your heart at ease.”

“What do you mean?”

“Wyen, the only reason you have indulged in discussing this with me is because you still care about your family.”

Wyen sat in silence, unable to deny the count.

The next day, the lasting oath that bound the Silverwing family into servitude to the Wethra family was deemed to have been fulfilled. The declaration previously made by Wyen renouncing his family name was erased as though it had never happened.

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“The blackmane wolves cause that many injuries a month?” asked Quinn.

He was staring at a collection of reports taken from the physicians, alchemists, apothecaries, and healers in He’Madeel.

“They are large,” Wyen remarked, “That it is only injuries is what you should be impressed by.”

“The elves here in the Blackmane Woods keep the population of the wolves contained and controlled,” Adelade commented, “If they were to spread beyond the forests to our farmlands, the injuries would be the least of our concerns.”

“Why not just kill them all?” Fang asked.

“Balance. The wolves control the boars and deer, among others, that would cause even more crop damages should their populations get worse,” Wyen stated.

“I am not familiar with this disease though,” Quinn said, pointing to one entry, “The Fading. What is it, Wyen?”

“Ah. The Fading. Yes.”

Wyen went on to describe the Fading to the others. Elves were known to have a lengthy natural lifespan, at somewhere around two hundred years, although most did not reach such an age due to disease, fatal injuries, and other such maladies.

The Fading was a disease that affected many elves in their later years, although there were occasional instances of those under one hundred suffering from the disease too. No potions, tonics, or magic had any significant effect on the disease, and it was deemed incurable. Those suffering from the Fading frequently found their ability to learn new information reduced, which would extend further into loss of their memories, until finally it would consume the victim’s bodily functions. Were someone on Earth to give the name of this disease, they would call it Alzheimer’s.

“As they progress through the final stages, they are left helpless, barely moving bodies. There are some who call those at that stage living corpses,” concluded Wyen.

“That is terrifying. Slowly losing yourself until you can not remember those around you or even function,” said Adelade.

“Is it contagious?” asked Quinn.

“Not as far as we elves have determined. Caretakers of the afflicted do not succumb to it, at least if they are younger.”

“Maybe the hero can cure it with her knowledge?” Quinn pondered aloud.

“It seems she was here for several days, but left the day after we arrived,” Wyen stated.

“And it has been three days since then,” Adelade added.

“We are catching up!” Fang said.

“I would like to see some of those the hero treated while she was here. Let us meet some tomorrow, as well as the caregivers. We shall resume our travels the day after.”

“I will arrange things with Count Wethra,” said Wyen.

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“The hero taught you more about the Fading?” Quinn asked the physician they were currently meeting with.

“Y-yes Your Highness,” the nervous elven man stammered.

“She did not cure it?” Adelade added.

“She said that not even she had a cure for the Fading. She mentioned she would try to find a cure though.”

“Then what did she teach you about it?” asked Quinn.

“She talked about the origin of the disease, as well as ways to slow its progression.”

“What did she say? Did she tell others?” Wyen asked.

“She held a small speech for those of us willing to listen. She said the disease was a part of aging, that if a parent had the disease, it was more likely a child would develop it, and it could be slowed by keeping the afflicted active in mind and body as much as possible.”

The physician they were questioning gave more details to the best of his ability as they asked for them. Eventually though, he was getting stressed by the inability to answer their more detailed questions.

“Did the hero ask to learn anything from you all?” asked Wyen.

“Yes! She spent many hours asking about and listening to us talk about ailments that affected only elves. She also asked about our bodies, examining several patients alongside several of us.”

“How did she examine them? And who did she examine?” asked Quinn.

“They were men and women of all ages. When I was with her, she used touch and several tools I’ve never seen before. Then she used a tool which she placed over her eyes to look at them from all directions. The last bit was quite strange, but she seemed satisfied afterwards.”

“Her peculiar habits grow more intriguing each time we learn of them,” murmured Wyen.

After thanking the physician, the group met with other caretakers and several of the patients that the hero had interacted with during her time in He’Madeel. There was one question that none of those that they met could answer.

“What is the hero’s name?”

It was, in every case, some variation of the fact that they did not know. She once again had referred to herself by the strange title of ‘doctor.’

Returning to the count’s estate, for the volume of people that they had met with was too large to summon instead, Quinn was frustrated.

“Are all heroes this stubborn?” he asked no one in particular.

“Not stubborn,” said Wyen, “She is impressive.”

“She is a hero, of course she is impressive.”

“Not because she is a hero. She is capable of passing on her knowledge. Every story I have read about the heroes, they were often reluctant to share their knowledge. The only place where they seem to have been unrestrained is the distant isle where the heroes frequently went,” said Wyen.

“The city ruled by the bloodline of heroes?” asked Adelade.

“Yes, that is the place.”

“It is said that those who travel to the city have no desire to leave after arriving there,” Quinn said, “We can not let her go there.”

“While I agree, since she can bring much to the kingdom, she is not going to bow to force,” said Adelade, “If anything, it will push her away.”

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Six horses again sat ready for their riders.

“Your hospitality has been most appreciated during our time here, Count Wethra,” Quinn stated.

“Your Highness, it is only to be expected when the Crown Prince visits my territory. I bid you all safe travels.”

“Thank you, Count Wethra. Our journey surely shall be pleasant.”

Wyen stepped over to Terric and Terra.

“Mother. Father. I know this may not have been what you wanted, but it is the path I am going to take forward.”

“We expected things of you,” Terra said, “And perhaps it was unreasonable to put such burdens on you. We can not express how much it means to still be able to call you son. You take good care of her.”

Wyen froze up.

“What are you talking about?”

Terric leaned in, “Lady Ghele obviously.”

Wyen paled.

“How did you know?”

“We are your parents. The only one who does not seem to realize is your friend, the prince,” Terra smugly replied.

“I shall write,” Wyen forced out as he hurried to his horse.

The group rode out of He’Madeel after spending just six days there. While they were not much closer to the hero, they had determined her next targets.

“The beastfolk,” Fang said, “It’s a pretty broad race compared to the others.”

“The nearest beastfolk territory is past the capital,” Quinn said, “She will probably stop there first.”

“Perhaps she might stay in the capital long enough to allow us to catch up and escort her further,” Adelade commented.

“I somehow doubt she will,” Wyen concluded.

As the group rode off towards the capital, only Wyen glanced back at the receding Blackmane Woods.

“Maybe I will go back for a time someday,” he murmured to himself.