rawing the bowstring back with a deep breath, his soft copper cheeks brushing against the goose feathers, Mey landed an arrow right at the centre of the scarecrow, delivering what would've been a death blow had it been an unarmoured, living target.

"Good job, prince," echoes of clapping filled the barracks; Mey parted his vision to look at the young woman leaning on the wooden pillar.

"Be silent, you're bothering me."

"Oh, is she?" her twin sister appeared out of nowhere, "or is it something else bothering you."

Mey drew a sigh of frustration, "Arial, Niall, why can't you two just leave me alone?"

"Because we are your companions, and we do not want our precious prince to get hurt," said Arial in an annoying voice.

Mey flinched his eyes, "I do not need protecting, I'm a warrior!"

"You're not," Niall chuckled, Arial joining her. "You're a harmless little kitten, what will you take down your foes with? Those meagre arms?"

"You clearly haven't seen me in combat," Mey replied, "have you seen how I fight?"

"Fighting? Is that what you call it when you run away with him, go into the depths of the woodlands, lean against a tree, and exchange sweet words and kisses and hallowed responses like that?"

Mey's face went pale with horror. "You spied on us?"

"Of course we did, what do you expect us to do? We're master scouts."

Mey lowered his head, "please don't tell father."

"Of course not, wouldn't want to ruin the chemistry between the two of you, especially since it's Lord Vilyánur we're talking about. I swear if you were a maiden, he'd have married you off to him, the way he looks at the grand-centurion himself."

"Damn it, now I feel left out." said Niall. "Spare no details. Tell me of him."

"Prince Meneldir will do that for us," said Arial. "Oh please, describe him."

"Fine," said Mey, throwing his head back. "Well . . . he is tall and graceful and charming, skin like snow on alpine tundra, his hair long and black, smooth and silky, hanging down his gallant head and onto his lithe, nimble body, one of the best hairs I have ever seen, that too: embroidered with the many jewels of fantasy, his eyes shine like stars of pale blue, burning with the voltage of his soul through the hollow cavities and out."

The two of them stared attentively, a nimble sparkle in their eyes. "How was the kiss?"

"This is my first kiss ever so I can't compare," Mey replied, "but it was wet and soft and warm, I felt like I was soaring through the heavens."

They squealed aloud. "You are one lucky prince!"

"Please don't," Mey requested.

"Fret not," said Arial, Niall continued, "we won't tell anyone. Also, have you seen him without his armour on?"

"Well, once..."

"Tell us more," they demanded.

"He has a lean frame with battle-scars all over, not very broad and chiselled but not my level either, but despite all of that he's as strong as an ox. It was a surprise to see him wrestle elf-men larger than him and come out on top."

"That's expected of a soldier," Arial replied, "they can walk for three days straight without food or rest, and still manage to defeat a numerically superior foe in battle."

"They can?" asked Niall in awe, "not like I don't trust you, sister, but that seems too much even for someone of their potential. How do they survive like that?"

"The high-elves of the Minyär Clan are hardy folk," Arial answered, grinning at Mey, "do not worry though, I have a feeling Lord Vilyánur will not make our prince bear that labour, not when they can stop at night to have some fun by the campfire."

Mey gawked, "demon-spawns, avaunt!"

Like a gust of the wind, the two disappeared, leaving Mey alone in the barracks once again. He dropped his bow and respited upon the crate, his hands burying his weary face. I can trust them, he thought, they shall not tell father anything, maybe I can use them to my advantage too.

...

"My prince?" an old voice called from the halls outside, breaking his reverie.

"Come in."

In came Daeron, Mey's second-in-command, lord of his chaos-hunters – the esteemed band of daemon-hunters known throughout the continent. "What is it, brother?" questioned Mey.

"We need to talk about something, 'tis a matter of concern that I must summon over now."

"Lead me," he said, following Daeron to the Chamber of Strategy. Five hunters stood there, gathered in a semi-circle around the table.

"My lord," they bowed half.

"What news?"

"We investigated the site of the meteor crash, as you asked us to, my lord, and even beyond."

"Well done, what have you learned from it?"

"This was not the first, nor the last of them."

A strange fear swept up Meneldir's eyes, "have you news of more of them?"

The chaos hunters looked to each other in caution, turning back to him and nodding thereof. "A hundred miles south of thus, roughly a month ago the envoy tells."

"How big was it?"

"As big as an elk, blackish blue with veins of pale green sundering the skin, or so he says."

Mey ground his teeth in dismay, "shadow-spawn, this is ill news indeed."

"And what do you think these symbolise?" a hunter questioned.

"I do not know yet," said Mey, "but something so fell, it would hush the wind and still the water as it passed by, even cow the trinity of nature under its unholy influence."

The others looked at him in fear, "what should we do then?"

"Prepare," said Mey, "in two days, I shall be leaving for my friend; by the end of the month I shall be back."

The guards nodded, "do you need us to give you company?"

"No, my good men, I do not, for my plight is of utmost secrecy, and so the duty remains that you too must be silent, let bird nor beast know of this talk, save for those in this circle."

"Understood!"