"... for that which is a disgrace to human nature, throws something of a shade over all the human character, and each individual feels his share of the wound that is given to the whole. " - Thomas Paine

Aedan and I walk back in shame and silence. He doesn't protest when I stop and ask for directions to the palace.

The cobbled road takes us to the broadest peak of the Hiraebav, but not the highest. Hiraebav once only had a fort, a monastery and a hospital atop its heads with stretches deserted stone spanning between its valleys. The first noteworthy Vaubadon had smoked the inhabitants of the three structures out, burned them to a crisp and then claimed the valley for his descendants. He built his castle overlooking his impenetrable fortress on the remaining mountain and had declared that Raven's Peak would stand until the end of times.

The wrought iron gate with specks of rust doesn't look to keen on standing for any time to come, never mind the end of times. Ardam-clad guards in rose and gold stop us at the stone arch supporting the gate. "Your identification papers."

Aedan and I exchange looks. We do not have identification papers.

"We are with the Second Order," Aedan says, indicating to his clothes, and then realising he is dressed in the green of the First, not our rightful blue.

"The Second Order does not reside here."

"We know, but we are with them." I am sure our parents said we would reside here, otherwise how, for holy Alachna's sake, will we have enough opportunity to befriend the Prince?

"I cannot allow you to enter without presenting identification papers."

I lose it. It has been a long day and it didn't turn out as I expected it to.

"I am princess Laelia of the family Darkwood, princess of the elves. This is my brother Aedan Elderlight, prince of the elves. I do not have the identification papers you desire, but you will allow us to enter. Please?" I humbly beg as an afterthought.

The guard looks at us. "Please remain here. I will ask someone to vouch for you." He enters the gate, leaving his companions to awkwardly stare at us until his reappearance with Elorhim Strongwind at his side.

Elorhim nods to the guards. The other guards step away and allow us to enter.

I can imagine that Aylissa's face would look exactly like Elorhim's face does; complete with the disapproving scowl. "I should have left you outside."

"Yes, you could have, but Faolan would have come to get us anyway," Aedan replies with a shrug. "Then you would have been the one in disgrace as you had willingly failed the one task he entrusted to you."

Strongwind's grey eyes turn to steel: "Where are your horses?"

Aedan and I exchange looks. I gulp in preparation for answering, but

Aedan dares it first. "We misplaced them."

Elorhim's scowl deepens, then he remembers that he shouldn't be showing so much emotion, and he withdraws the scowl - replacing it with a forced cool exterior. "I will report this to Faolan."

Elorhim would desire nothing more than to kill us himself and selfishly spare Faolan the trouble.

"Of course you will, you geli-adBrae!"

Elorhim's shoulders tense at Aedan's unwarranted insult, but he doesn't answer as he picks his pace up, leading us across the empty courtyard to Katel Vaubadon.

Palace is the last word that comes to mind when describing Katel Vaubadon. Harsh angles jut from the mountain rising into various oblong towers. The impressive and looming façade of what I guess must be the main hall, does little to soften the disagreeable stone structure. Scenes from the bloody and blazing Ardam conquests are carved into an enormous slab resting atop the arch of the main door that consists of more steel than wood.

The palace looks vaguely familiar, but the Vaubadon-glorifying wall was definitely not here before. It wasn't here before the Second War of the Council but was only made sometime after the War was won. I am exhausted. My thoughts do not make sense to me. Usually, they follow at least follow some kind of pattern that I can discern.

We enter the brooding hall and my sight-seeing is cut short by Elorhim hissing at us to join him at a side door across the hall.

The Map Room of Ardam is characterised by its masterpieces in gilded frames stretching from floor to ceiling. Detailed maps of all the territories, including that of Darke, enabled its owners to conquer Ligtland. The maps are older than I am, yet their faces are unblemished and without wrinkles.

Faolan is seated on one of the matching six enormous viridescent velvet chairs arranged around the circular table in the centre of the room. The thick green curtains are drawn closed. Sunlight streams in through a dome in the roof.

Two human men are also seated at the table. One is quite young, and the other has ebony hair hinting towards silver. His midnight eyes are sharp and analytical - those of a general. He is well-groomed, yet neither attractive nor plain, though his bushy eyebrows could do with a trim.

The younger man is looking out through the window by slightly parting the worthy curtains with his feminine hand. His narrow face is illuminated by the faint sunlight. A rosy blush hinting to good health colours his pale features. His raven hair is tied into a neat ponytail at his nape with a crimson ribbon matching his crimson waistcoat. The crisp collar of his white shirt hides a part of his long and slender neck.

At first glance he reminds me of my brother - brothers - I correct myself, but the second tells me that none of his features, except his dark hair, are similar to Aedan or Faolan's.

The two men stand up - the older bowing first. My best guess rates him as a duke or something. I've studied human etiquette extensively, but I would have to practice it in order to become familiar. Their different stands and titles are hopelessly foreign to me.

"I am Lord Gibbon Donado, son of Duke Gilon Donado." The towering man with square shoulders would make a great guard - even more so with his wild bushy eyebrows. Perhaps that is why he doesn't trim them.

The second man, lanky with spidery limbs, introduces himself before we can acknowledge Gibbon Donado. "I am prince Pa'Drig, son of the King."

He is only a bit taller than I am, which makes him about the same length as my brothers and Elorhim and the rest of the elvish race. Elves are all just a bit taller than tall humans, but still shorter than the tallest of humans. If I was human, I would be tall, but I am an elf, and thus short.

I am glad that he introduces himself as simply as possible. I had his whole title memorised, but that is not the main reason why. It spares me from introducing myself with my full title, which is more than a mouth full. You have to take at least two breaths while saying it.

His beady black eyes lock with mine as he takes my hand and kisses it. The kiss is light, like a feather falling on the grass. He hints towards a bow, proudly staying as upright as is politically acceptable. "I am enchanted, absolutely enchanted, princess Laelia Darkwood of Elderlight, of Alachna the Holy Lake, in the magnificent ArBrae, daughter to King Eoghan, son to King Faelan, and Queen Aylissa the mighty seer, descendants of the First of Elves."

A chuckle follows: "I am sure that was only half of your title and in the improper order, but who really cares anyway?" He doesn't break his gaze. He knows he is royalty and equal to me in standing and pedigree, and he isn't shy about it.

I forget the correct words I should answer with, as he had taken my carefully practised introduction and unexpectedly verbalised it to me. "Prince Pa'Drig, I was quite disappointed by the landscape coming here, but I'm glad to be here now. Your charm and imposing city redeem your stoic country."

Elorhim's eyes shoot poison arrows to me.

Prince Pa'Drig laughs. "I'm glad that you are not disappointed by Raven's Peak and the Blood of Ardam, but I offer you a true apology regarding the accursed landscape. You will have to travel to Ligeia and the rest of Ardam with me so I can make up for it. I assure you, my country is not as forsaken and unkempt as Raven's Peak. This is just the corner that everyone would like to forget about."

I smile at his honesty, and he returns a flashing smile before he realises that he still has to greet Aedan. He offers my twin a slight inclination of his head. "I am Prince Pa'Drig. It is an honour to welcome you to my home."

Aedan bows stiffly. "I am Aedan Moonshine, also an owner of a mouthful of titles."

The prince ignores him and claps his hands once and then clasp them together. "Now that that official, exhausting business is over, we can talk and exchange gossips! I must apologise for already offering Prince Faolan and Lord Elorhim tea and treats. I couldn't have them starving in my castle, could I? But I made sure that we saved some for you. I will ring for a tray just now, but first what flavour tea will you like? Or would you like something stronger? Yes? Maybe not. We are all too young anyway, but not that that has ever stopped me from getting what I want. Then tea it is! We have a selection of teas from all over Ardam. There is a peach tea that is quite delicious. The peaches were grown in Alesam. We even have a very strong coffee. Then there is also the raspberry and mango tea, which is one of my favourites. The jasmine tea is not that good. Prince Faolan and Lord Elorhim, would you like another cup?"

I stare at him and feel winded from the long speech that he said in seemingly one breath. There were so many questions and statements, that I have no idea which to address first.

Luckily Faolan clears his throat and shoots me a reassuring wink."Another pot of that delicious peach tea would delight us all, wouldn't it, my dearest siblings?"

Aedan and I give him grateful smiles and vehement nods.

"Excellent! I was hoping you would want more of that one. If princes were allowed to have favourites, that would be mine. My father always preaches against favouritism, although nepotism doesn't seem to be such an evil to him. I guess that is acceptable in a monarchy," Pa'Drig says with an uncaring shrug, turning around to pull a thick cord.

A few seconds pass before a young maid enters the room with a sweeping bow. "Maid, prepare us a pot of peach tea and the delicacies I ordered for our guests."

She nods and curtsies, and then disappears silently.

"Your brother was suspiciously vague about the reason you would only be joining us later on." The statement meant to be a question settles on our heads.

Aedan, being the better liar, answers without ado: "We were absolutely enticed by your beautiful city and all it has to offer."

I feed Aedan's lie. "I have to admit that both my brothers and I suffer from insatiable curiosity."

"We cannot contain ourselves when we are faced with the unknown," Faolan says with an alarmingly mischievous grin.

"Then, I fear that I am forced to forgive you. I also suffer from this affliction. I fear that it is something that all those of higher intellectual abilities suffer from. I fear I will allow you to indulge in this fault when I show you around Raven's Peak tomorrow."

"We will be delighted to have our affliction cuddled," Aedan says and wipes his pesky silver lock from his conniving eyes.

The maid returns with a tray with a pot of tea and an assortment of mouth-watering treats. We finish the tea over polite, yet meaningless, conversation.

The prince informs us that no formal dinner would be held tonight, but that a splendid and unforgettable one would be hosted tomorrow night. This is because "you probably are too tired and would like to retreat early, and you better be well-rested for the spectacular ball I'm hosting in your honour tomorrow. "

We do not protest. Aedan and I had had more than enough excitement for one day. I don't think we would be able to even manage to be polite, not even mentioning diplomatic.