“Dawnedge, Leafsong, Dreamstar, Baneberry, Redroot, Raindancer, Breezerunner, and…” Young Koda furrowed his brow trying to remember the eighth noble elf tribe. His teacher whacked a ruler down upon his old wooden desk. The desk rattled with the sharp noise as wood met wood. Koda snapped out of a shallow trance and rapped out the final tribe, “Moonfall!”

His teacher smiled, clearly pleased with her young student. She strolled casually to the blackboard and chalked out the eight tribes. She turned her head, glancing keenly at Koda. Tipping her spectacles down, she asked her next question.

“Young Prince, of all elven tribes found in Long Whisper, why are these eight particular tribes considered to be noble?”

Koda pondered this question, but only momentarily.

“These were the tribes that joined together to form an alliance to create Long Whisper. They elected my trib-, I mean, the Dawnedge tribe to lead the alliance. All other tribes wanted no part in the creation of a nation.”

“Excellent! Now, for a harder query: Which tribe betrayed King Jaelyn?”

Looking at the blackboard, Koda carefully read each name written there. He carefully considered his choices. He knew the answer, but it was asked confusingly.

“Ms. Tabitha, you asked a trick question.”

Tabitha smirked; the prince was keen.

“Did I, young Prince?”

“Yes, ma'am. There were no tribes that betrayed my father, just a single elf. He attempted to poison my father while at a dinner party. However, my father's would be assassin was betrayed by his own tribe.”

“Very good, what was his name? What became of him?”

“His name was Ryjin. Ryjin Leafsong. His own tribe shunned him, stripping him of his nobility. Father exiled him from Long Whisper. What happened to him from there, I wouldn't know. I know the Leafsongs were forgiven for Ryjin's deeds. Though I hear there is still mistrust among the other tribes.” Koda gave a quick glance at the clock that quietly ticked above the doorway.

Tabitha began to erase the board, chuckling, “You're right, my prince, time is up. Go meet up with that wolf of yours. She must be dying to see you again.”

***

King Jaelyn strolled the bustling streets of the new city still undergoing construction. Everyday the city's economy grew and a new shop sprouted up. The gigantic tree at the heart of the city was once the elder tree of all the elven tribes. However, once the eight noble tribes crowned Jaelyn as their leader and king of their alliance, he made the unpopular decision of constructing a city around it.

Lost Dawns, you will be my shining legacy.

“My King!”

Jaelyn turned to find his brother and adviser briskly jogging to catch up to him.

“Tull, Brother! A fine day in Lost Dawns, eh?”

Tull, waved a hand, and bent over to catch his breath, “A fine day indeed, I have your report, it’s not good news.”

Jaelyn waved his hand ignoring the last part of Tull's response, “How goes my son's teaching? I feared Koda wouldn't pay attention to Tabitha Breezerunner unless she floated the chalk with the Magi. That boy's head is stuffed with all those magic lessons from our father.”

Tull frowned at the subject being changed. He answered quickly, hoping to catch Jaelyn’s attention with the content of the report, “Koda's teaching goes well. He’s picked up on history and politics quickly. Now for the report, my King–”

“Where is my son? No doubt his class is over by now. I want to show him the new bookshop that opened today.”

Interrupted again. It was as if Tull's brother was doing this on purpose, “I saw Koda walking around with his familiar. Now, about this report, it’s very important–”

“Ah, yes, a familiar. I’m not sure I like him being raised to take on our old man’s role as Arcane Guardian. It may have been a dream we once had, but we grew to realize it was nonsense. Remember, Tull?”

“Indeed, life changed fast when the tribes chose the Dawnedge to lead. Fiona would be proud that her son is spending time with you…take advantage of that and remember he is not some heir to be groomed.”

Jaelyn raised an eyebrow from the remark, “My son will choose the proper path; he doesn’t need to be led.” Finally, Jaelyn eyed the parchment with a worried look. Since the beginning of Lost Dawns’ construction, workers and townsfolk had been dying in mysterious accidents or falling ill. What kind of horrible news would befall his city today?

Tull took the silence as a cue to read, “My King, as of last night, three construction workers have fallen ill after a night of eating out. They did not survive the sunrise.”

“Enough! Enough of all of this. They did not fall ill, they were poisoned! They did not die in some mysterious accident, they were sabotaged! They did not go missing, they were murdered! I am no fool, so do not treat me as such!”

Tull rolled the parchment back up. He attempted to avoid his older brother's gaze, but to no avail. Tull spoke quietly, “Brother, the White Cloak that you sent for has arrived.”

Jaelyn clapped his hands together, “I’ve heard much of this Marcus Newsun. His exploits are what legends are made of, let’s go meet him. Where has he set up?”

“The old Ruens’ temple, my King,” Tull said, hiding a stressful look.

***

Ruens was the patron god of magic and insight, a favored deity of worship for most elves. The temple was a small, run down abbey that had been long abandoned after the Arcana War. It now served as a base of operations for the White Cloaks in Lost Dawns, as a proper barracks was yet to be built.

The rickety floorboards creaked as rats scurried away from the opening oak doors. Jaeyln strode in, his face plastered with excitement. Tull hung his ears low, avoiding any eye contact from his brother.

Jaeyln bellowed out a long call, which bounced and echoed amongst the large interior, “Hello, Captain Newsun? It is I, the King! I’ve come to welcome you to our great city!”

Avren popped his head around the corner, dressed in simple civilian attire, a pencil in the fold of his ear and a look of exhaustion strewn across his face. In his hands were several scrolls. Upon seeing the king and his adviser, he immediately dropped his papers and ran to the presence of the elven king, bowing graciously.

“My King, forgive me, I’ve been hard at work since I arrived yesterday morning. I inherited this mess from whoever handled the scrolls, blueprints, and documents of the city’s construction.”

Jaeyln looked Avren up and down. A look of confusion replaced his excitement, “You are younger than I imagined you, Captain Newsun.”

“Sergeant, my king; I am not an officer just yet.” Avren corrected.

“You’re only a Sergeant? You were hailed as a hero during the war against the Queen of Chains. You lead Varis through the Baneblood plague. You battled the pirates on the Serpent Sea. They’ve written plays about your exploits and you are still just a Sergeant?”

Avren raised an eyebrow.

“My King, this is not Marcus Newsun, this is his son, Avren Newsun.” explained Tull.

Jaelyn clicked his tongue in a mixture of disappointment and annoyance.

“His son?”

“My king, he came highly recommended, from Captain Marcus himself.” Tull said.

“My King, I’ve successfully led patrols all across Varis. I know I’m up to the task of dealing with Black Rabbits!” said Avren zestfully.

Jaelyn cocked his head. He knew of the incidents happening in his city were the work of ill intent, but he never could place a face or name for that which ran rampant in his city, “Black Rabbits? What are they?”

Avren grew serious, “Not a ‘what’, but a ‘who.’ They are a clan of assassins who operate exclusively in Long Whisper. We have been doing our best to look into their activities, but they have proved to be an extremely elusive foe. They are deadly and not to be taken lightly. I know, without a doubt, at least one is in Lost Dawns.”

Jaelyn furrowed his brow as his temper rose, “Who leads them?”

“We don’t know who leads them, but we are aware of how their infrastructure works.” Avren paused before answering the leading question, “They have two high ranking officers: a High Blade and a First Blade. The High Blade works as a captain, giving out orders with the First Blade serving as a lieutenant.”

“If the High Blade is just the captain, then who is the general?” Jaelyn asked, very interested in the information.

“Someone called ‘The Silent Master’ whose identity is still a mystery.”

“These Black Rabbits, how long have they been operating in our country?” it was Tull’s turn to ask a question.

“We don’t know exactly. We are under the impression that it has been as long as the Dawnedges have been in power, but this is just hearsay. Since they operate only in Long Whisper, we wouldn’t know for sure since we haven’t been assigned to this country for very long,” Avren responded, slightly wincing at the king’s agitation with the lack of knowledge Avren had of this enemy.

“Well what do you know? Do you have any idea where they might be operating from?” The king’s frustration was clearer than clean water.

“My King, we still know so little of them. We have only what we’ve heard from word of mouth to go by.”

“Well, who hired them to sabotage my city?” the king roared back in frustration.

“We don’t know that either. I suspect one of your lords.” Avren said, quickly regretting his most recent response.

“How dare you accuse my nobles of such treachery!” Jaelyn hissed.

Tull was quick to step in, “Brother, it is not far-fetched that one of your noblemen could be behind this; do not forget Ryjin. He was a Leafsong. It was an unpopular decision to unite the tribes. It was an equally unpopular decision to build a city with our Elder Tree as the centerpiece.”

Jaelyn rubbed his chin in thought.

“If I may, my King,” said Avren, “You have many enemies; The Guard knew that coming here. We must suspect everyone, but I will not take any action until I have proof. Until then my number one concern is the safety of the people of this city. Trust me when I say that these Rabbits will be caught, and hanged,” the young White Cloak had determination overflowing in his voice, “As we speak I have my men scouring the city for any information on these vermin.”

Jaelyn spat on the ground, “Good. Rabbits make for a fine stew.”

***

The crashing sound of leather boots and heavy armor bounded through the small abbey. Shouting echoed around the foyer as the cries of agonizing pain spilled through the halls.

Avren raced to meet his squad of White Cloaks, and his eyes widened when he saw the scene that was before him. Two Cloaks braced a third man who was bleeding heavily from his neck and left side. Blood soaked through his tunic and trousers, dripping into a puddle forming on the ground.

Behind them was a Cloak holding a chain that bound a shifty looking elf. He had clearly been beaten up a bit, judging by the welt under his eye and the lower fat lip that matched the shiner.

Avren assessed the chaos of the situation and first barked commands before asking much needed questions, “Clear that table, put Jefferson on it! There are towels and bandages in the storage! Grab them and get him patched up!”

“What of the prisoner, sergeant?” asked one of the men.

“Tie him to a chair. Once Jefferson is patched up, I want a full report of what happened!” Avren said.

An hour went by before the injured Jefferson’s cries were just groans and he slowly passed out. Avren dried his bloodied hands and changed his shirt to a fresher one before addressing his corporal.

“Higgins, what in the name of the All-Father happened out there?”

Higgins’ weary face was pale and tired from the events that befell him and his men, but he swallowed his exhaustion to unwind the disastrous tale, “Sergeant, we were following a tip that this elf: Remmin Fairfollow, was at several places before they were hit by recent tragedy.”

“The Mystic Fang, the clock tower site, and Madam Sasha’s Bordello?” Avren asked, listing the three most recent places a worker’s murder had occurred.

“Yes, though he was spotted at the bordello thrice.” Higgins said, glancing back at the bound prisoner.

“Hey, an elf has needs!” Remmin called out. An armored fist rocked his jaw, shutting him up.

“Continue, Higgins,” said Avren nodding at the Cloak that socked the prisoner.

“We did some quick investigating and found Remmin’s apartment in the Roots. We broke down the door and barged in and found him speaking to – and possibly doing business with – a hooded figure. Female…”

“You Cloaks are in a heap of trouble. The people I work for–” A swift backhand kept Remmin from interrupting again.

“We rushed to arrest Remmin and apprehend the hooded figure. We were four and highly trained. They were two, we didn’t think…” Higgins lost his train of thought as he looked at the mangled Jefferson.”

“She did that number on Jefferson, but you took care of her?” Avren filled in the blanks the best he could.

Higgins was silent.

“Corporal Higgins, is the hood figure dead?” Avren asked again, his voice raised this time.

“She escaped, sergeant…” another man piped up.

Avren looked at Higgins frantically, “Higgins, were you followed?”

Remmin started to laugh. Some of his teeth were missing, blood bubbled through the gaps. It was unnerving for Avren, who realized the full gravity of his situation.

“Shut him up!” Avren commanded. He looked back at Higgins, but gasped as the soldier collapsed in his arms. A dagger was stuck in the back of Higgins' neck. From the rafters, a shadow moved quickly from one wooden cross beam to another.

Remmin continued to laugh as Avren scrambled to shout commands at his men.

“Draw your blades! Circle around the prisoner, we need to keep him safe! Banner, fire your bow and take her down!”

Banner was a crack shot sharpshooter with any type of projectile. Within a minute he had fired off an impressive volley of arrows that darted into the rafters.

The assailant somersaulted off of a beam, narrowly missing the attacks, and landed mere inches away from Avren. She removed her hood revealing her stunningly beautiful shadow elf features. Her deep violet eyes locked with Avren’s dark brown ones. There was a moment of infatuation between the two before the assassin spoke.

“Well, aren’t you a handsome soldier.”

Avren shook off the charm, “Arrest her, I want her in shackles, now!”

The assassin laughed as she skillfully danced around the men, stabbing them in the thighs and backs.

“Shackles? My, you like it rough. You’re a keeper, darling!” she laughed as she cartwheeled right up to Avren, pushing her breasts into Avren’s chest.

Avren gawked at the gorgeous woman, stumbling over his own words, “W-who are you?”

The shadow elf gently brushed her fingers up his chest and nipped at his ear, whispering her name, “Elisa.”

Avren swallowed hard before tripping backwards. Elisa back flipped away from Avren blowing him a kiss, “Until next time, lover!” she said in a sultry tone before vanishing into the city.

Avren shook his head, sweating from the encounter. He rushed to check on his fallen men, inspecting them for injuries before walking over to a surprisingly silent Remmin.

“Damn it,” Avren sighed as he pulled a dagger from the throat of the now dead elf.