Gil and Kayla were approaching the Gate of the second wall. This wall was higher than the last, and also thicker. This time there were eight guards, and they didn’t let anyone in without sufficient motif, unless you lived inside. And the only ones living inside were the rich merchants, nobles and their servants, which was why it was filled with villas, mansions and even palaces.

The Crown didn’t allow them to have private guards, if they felt they needed any they could pay the king who would assign soldiers to their protection. Private armies was not something the High-King wished to nurture in the very heart of his realm.

“Halt!” One of the guards of the gate shouted out. “What is your business in the upper-town?” The man had long black locks falling in cascade on the shoulders of his plate armour, and blue eyes under the helmet. The Tarnorians all usually had slightly curly hair, which they wore long.

Gil took his hood off, revealing his ears, and his supernatural face traits.

“Good Lord...!” The guard let out, making a few heads turn in the populace, who then stopped up to see the commotion.

“I am Gil of Silvanwood, son of Ismar’iel and heir prince to the Silvan Elves. I have come as an emissary to speak to you king.” He spoke out loud and clear, so all could hear him.

The crowd that had surrounded him was talking furiously. It had been more than a two thousand years since last time an elf had set foot in Andrath. Some started to approach to touch him, making Kayla highly uncomfortable, but Gil stood straight and proud, completely ignoring their very existence.

One of the guards sent a messenger to report to the king, while four men positioned themselves around Gil and Kayla in a square and began leading them through the upper town. Only four were left to contain the crowd, though reinforcements from on top of the wall were quick on their way.

“You’re a lord?! You’re an elven prince?” Kayla said, excited though intimidated by the tall guards around them and the attention they were attracting. Gil just smiled back, looking self-confident and completely in his element.

They soon reached the third wall, which was even bigger than the last two, though much shorter than the others, as it only surrounded the citadel itself. A few hundred feet behind it were the immense white castle, with seven towers and huge walls and halls. As the enormous steel gate slowly opened, a tunnel through the wall opened themselves to them. Right in the middle, there was a big fountain, the first thing the eyes fell upon when coming out of the tunnel-like gate.

They walked through it, and on the other side they arrived in a flat pave courtyard, which was huge, easily able to contain thousands of people. At each side, tall and large structures that were built up against the wall stood perfectly symmetrically one to another. Soldiers were sharpening their weapons and fighting mock battles besides them. This was the Citadel’s barracks, which housed hundreds of soldiers and knights.

There were probably more barracks across the immense city, to house the city guards, and sometimes temporally gathered armies.

They began walking straight through the courtyard. Gil smelt the stables before he saw them; and he heard the smiths before he saw them. The stables were smaller than the barracks but still very impressive, located right after the barracks on the left side, leaning against the wall of the castle itself, like the smiths on the other side of the courtyard.

The smiths were hammering and melting, full at work to produce armours and weapons for the vast and powerful Tarnorian armies.

When they eventually reached the castle, they let them in through its gate, they emerged in a large garden with pavement, grass and trees disposed in geometric forms around another magnificent fountain, even higher than the last.

Nobles, judged by their expensive and beautiful clothes were discussing and exchanging pleasantries in different parts of the garden. They were members of the king’s court, and had residences in the castle, though most of the powerful families had palaces and mansions in the upper-town too.

A group of ladies in intricate and complex dresses were chatting and giggling, sitting on borders of the fountain. One of them saw Gil, and pointed at him with a comment to her friends, to which they all turned around and looked at him.

Gil smiled to them, to which once again small giggling and talks erupted. They all had long hair in different shades of brown, tied up in complex and impressive styles.

The guards eventually led them to another group of five men. Those were knights with full helmets, making them faceless fighting machines in battles. The rest of their armour was pure and heavy plate, with intricate patterns on it. In battle, only heavy maces and morning stars were effective against that kind of armour.

They also carried claymores instead of spears, and had a mace in the belt and heater shields strapped on their back. Heater shields were much more useful on horseback than oval or kite shields, and knights were much more effective on horseback. It would be exhausting for them to run around on foot in that kind of amour.

“We will take it from here. Return to your posts at once.” A knight said with a muffled voice from under the helmet. “Your servant will have to wait here.” The guards bowed their head and turned around. “

Kayla swallowed her outrage at being called a servant; she had just gotten used to be a lady with Gil, but she nevertheless complied to wait in the courtyard, with one knight as her guardian.

They entered the great hall of the castle, where at the end of it there was a great marble throne. An old man was sitting on it, but else the hall was empty apart from the knights.

The knights left him at the gate. He slowly approached, with every step resonating in the hall. It was huge, easily thirty feet to the ceiling and had huge columns at each side, which still allowed ten large men to walk side by side straight to the stairs leading up to the throne. It was all made with the same white rock as the outer walls. As he approached, he got a better look at the king.

His name was Aëndil, the King of Tarnor. He was old, with a full white beard and bald head, on which he carried the Crown of Amondil. In his right hand he held the Sceptre of Harmon, and on his left hand’s ring finger he wore the Ring of Geilin. They were the Sacred Relics of the High-King, which supposedly granted longevity, strength and wisdom. Only the first was true, however; king Aëndil was 150 years old, if the rumours were true.

“Welcome. I have been anxious to meet you, Prince Gil.” The king said in a deep but raspy voice.

“Thank you, your Majesty.” Gil said with a light bow.

“Now, tell me what brings an elf here after so long.” He stood up and walked down the steps. He was tall and thin, and looked quite diminished by age.

“Times are changing. Soon, the Silvan elves will go out of hiding and claim our rightful place. I am here to announce it, so as to not surprise our closest allies.” Gil had no ideas if they even still were allies; two thousand years were a long time, and much had changed since the elves had reclused themselves in the Silvanwood.

“And what exactly is your rightful place?” The king said calmly.

“The Silvan elves will claim the lands north. We will bring order and civilization to the northern clans, and a durable peace.”

The king spent a few seconds evaluating Gil.

“If the archives are correct, then your numbers rapidly dwindled with the death of the mage-king Gala’ad and the wars in the mountains of Halabor. That was why you took refuge in Silvanwood in the first place. What makes you think you have the strength to conquer the vast North?”

“We are more than you think. For two thousand years we have dwelled and hid in Silvanwood, slowly recovering. But now we are enough, and we have a mage amongst us again: me. With enough time, I believe I can lead our people to victory!” Gil said passionately, but Aëndil didn’t respond.

“If you can get me tutelage of a competent wizard, then you will soon obtain a powerful ally in the north.” Gil said with a confident smile. “The situation of Tarnor will be largely strengthened and left in a better state than how you found it.”

“I will find you a wizard, but I cannot guarantee that he will accept you as a student. There are few of them, even amongst humans.” Aëndil announced, before turning away. “In the mean time, I have arranged quarters for you and your... companion.”

“Ah, if is not too much to ask, could you take care of her ?” Gil asked, to which the king nodded. Gil then bowed once again, and went out of the hall, accompanied by the knights. From behind the columns, a young man came out of the shadows.

He was tall and fit, with silk clothes and a blue cape attached with golden strings. He had brown wavy hair which reached the shoulders, and brown eyes. He was quite handsome, with a square jaw and a perfectly symmetric face.

“So, what do you think, my son?” Aëndil asked, without looking at him.

“An ambitious elf, but with the power to realise those aspirations. I would be willing to send an army to support him; the elves would make a excellent allies in the wars of the East, particularly against the Sa’aran Empire.” The son said without hesitation.

“Yes, perhaps he will obtain victory.” The king took a breath. “And what happens then? Even at the times of Gala’ad, they didn’t have the numbers to maintain control over such huge territories. That was why they allied with us, and guided us at the earlier days, leading to the creation of the kingdom of Tarnor.” He furrowed his brows. “If he fails, this could be the demise of the Silvan elves.”

“Gil knows his people better than us. If we give him time, as he says, he may succeed. We don’t have much to lose by giving him a chance.”

“I suppose you’re right. You will make an excellent king.” Aëndil said with a tired smile.

“Father, are you well?” His son asked, although knowing the answer already.

The old king sighed. “My bones are aching, and my mind is tired. For 146 years I have ruled, thanks to this crown.” He pointed at the crown on his head. It looked more like a diadem, but with a small silver leaf on which a swan with spread wings was represented on the front. “We humans are not supposed to live this long.” He pondered for a moment. “Elves are.”

The king took a long pause, and his son respected it, not willing to interrupt his father thoughts.

“The kings of old fought alongside the elves.” Aëndil said, lost in his thoughts. “Perhaps such a time will come once again, in your rule Wellan.”

“That would certainly be an honour.” He said. Aëndil sat on his throne and closed his eyes for a second.

Wellan knew that Aëndil was only a shadow of former self. He had seen his first wife slowly age and die, and the second one die at Wellan’s birth. On top of that, Aëndil had buried two sons in war and one by age, who had been infertile.

This had been the fate of many High-Kings, to see their loved ones die while they only aged slowly. A gift from Gala’ad to the first High-King Amondil, ant though the will was good, the gift in itself revealed itself to be a curse to many. A curse Wellan would soon share.

*

Gil walked out of the door while hoping the king hadn’t seen through all his lies and half-truths, and then spotted Kayla. She looked like she was going to explode from curiosity, barely able to stand in place.

The knights left them, after telling them to wait for servants who would show them around.

“What happened? Come on, tell me!” She nearly pleaded and begged to the Gil who falsely looked thoughtful and solemn, before giving in to her while laughing.

“Nothing really. We exchanged greetings, I asked him to find a wizard for me, that is all.” Gil said with an falsely apologetic smile.

“That’s boring...” She said, disappointed, and turned around and admired the Citadel again.

“Well I’m sincerely sorry for disappointing you. In the future, I will make sure to make things more... interesting.” He said with a knowing smile.