Alone, Cire felt like an intruder as he wandered the twisting claustrophobic corridors of the Undergrowth. Musty and stale, the air almost had substance. His new weapon was far too cumbersome to bring down to these tight confines, but he was hardly concerned, anyone who accosted him would find him more than armed.

The Pan’s Bounty was somewhere near the administrative pillar, close to the guard headquarters and Adventurer’s Guild hall for good reason. It catered to the more rambunctious clientele of the town and had a staff equal to the task. Cire was able to hear the commotion from far enough off that it spared him getting lost during the short traverse.

Cire walked in through the open archway made of huge twisting roots and found that their group had taken over a large swath of the establishment. Chloe was standing on one of the tables with a member of the guard who had a bit of girth for an elf, her heavy plate and great sword no where to be seen. They each dropped an oak leaf off the side of the table. Leaning down, they scooped up shot glasses of a glowing green liquid from the table and threw them back.

Laughing, Chloe flung herself into a waiting Iaso’s arms who looked like he was afraid of what he had just caught. Cire made his way to a table with Fizz, and two guards. By the time he got to an empty chair the heavy set guard had hopped off the table with more than expected grace. The pair had been replaced atop the apparent alters to Dionysus by a set of one guard and Philip who repeated the leaf dropping display.

“What’s that all about?” Cire yanked a thumb in the direction of the drinking game.

“We have to keep the leaves falling all night,” Fizz practically groaned through a puff on his pipe.

“What he means to say, is that we keep the leaves on the wind for our brethren. It is a wood elf tradition sunny.” A hiccup interrupted the shorter guard’s explanation. “One we should have thought about this afternoon when those silk bed clothes wearing nobles treated us to such a fine swaray.”

“Too true brother, but it would have been a shame to waste all that fancy liquor they were pissing away.” Smearing her hand on her tunic, the taller guard reached over and clasped Cire’s forearm. “We didn’t get a chance to really talk, with the fighting and all. I’m Charis and this here’s Myron.”

Cire clasped the vigorous and clearly inebriated Charis’ forearm, very happy that he had kept his drinking previous to a minimum.

“Well met, I’m Cire and it looks like you already know Fizz.”

Before he could ask a follow up question Lander had come over and clasped him by the shoulders and hauled him to his feet. Fizz began cackling as he saw a look of terror wash over Cire’s face as Lander began marching him up to the table. He called out to the vampire, “I hope your regeneration powers work on wine pointy fingers because there are less students than guards, and we each have a leaf.”

Proceeding to successfully complete his first round, Cire hoped down from the table and handed the leaf to Fizz to pay him back for his laughing. The gnome pretended to be put out, but eagerly made his way up. Following him went Ambrose, Honeydrop, and so on.

Once all of those expected had arrived the jovial nature of the drinking game shifted. After each shot the person standing on the table would make a toast to one of the fallen. They often told a quick story, recounting a fond memory or shared adversity. It was in the midst of these eulogies that a surprise puzzle piece slide neatly into place.

Erinna, the glade elf had begun her toast with Calix’s full name. “Calix Morningdew, may he swiftly transition through the planes and find this realm again. He was at times a difficult man to serve as retainer. He had a short temper, but quicker sword. In his end, he died while those pledged to him lived.”

Cire had barely heard the rest of the tribute, he was preoccupied by the shattering of his own blinded assumptions. Calix hadn’t been jealous of him dancing with Katherine, well maybe, but he had most certainly been being protective. The Morningdews had lost a child, but they had still hosted tables earlier. A wave of dysphoria bubbled through his wine soaked stomach.

Just when I had started to think I was understanding how things worked and I am spun for a loop again. Selene told me I didn’t think like an elf yet, she sure was right. Well, maybe I don’t think like a noble.

I don’t know if the Morningdew’s had to host tables or if they insisted. Not every person looked upset, mainly the people at Katherine’s table. I don’t even know if I want to understand that.

Tributes and homages complete, the previous pace of non-stop drinking continued. Cire managed to pull Fizz and Honeydrop aside right after the fairy had completed a turn. There was no point in delaying letting them know, or asking them to come along.

“So, I think I’ll be leaving the academy soon and heading back to the mountains. I’ve been giving it some thought and I am going to be traveling around a bit while the weather welcomes it. Figured the best way to fill my coffers and build my skills would be to sign up at the Adventurer’s Guild.” Cire took a bite of a piece of crusty bread he was hoping would sop up some of his over indulgence.

“Would you two be interested in joining up with me?”

A full belly laugh shook Fizzilius until he flopped out of his chair, a somewhat perilous height given his gnomish stature. Honeydrop managed to avoid the gnome, but not her own mirth as her giggling and distracted flying caused her to flit headlong into Cire’s chest. The sun elf’s brow knitted and his expression turned as sour as three day old milk left in the sun.

Looking up from his lap, Honeydrop started in with another round of giggles as she rolled around a bit holding her stomach.

“You’re serious?!”

Wheezing in between words, Fizz started slapping his knee, “By Demeter he is!”

Folding his arms across his chest, Cire tried not to be offended, and failed. Selene had warned him, and he gone made a fool of himself.

“Okay, fine, I get it. Forget I asked.”

Climbing back up into his seat, quite literally as the chair was not made for gnomes, Fizz wiped tears from his eyes. “No, Cire, it’s… well I can’t say that it’s unusual, for you, but it is surprising. Sounds fun! Count me in.”

Honeydrop seemed to sober up in a lightning flash. The situation no longer as potently hilarious to her. She buzzed straight into Fizz’s face with her hands on her hips all bluster and puff.

“You can’t leave me in a class full of elves by myself! I’ll never have any fun.”

Fizz leaned forward with glazed eyes and poked her in the tummy with his long nose.

“Maybe you should come with us.”

“I can’t leave until I graduate and you know it. The frollick would never allow it. I’m too young!”

Cire had a leaf thrust into his face by a dangerously unsteady Iaso. Snatching it up, he nodded and gave the moon elf caster a friendly pat on the back.

“I’ll be right back you two, keep it civil til I return.”

The wake kept going until late into the evening and right up to dawn. Eventually, members of the guard started to pitch in and passed the student’s leaf for a round or two. The bartender even broke out a special drink mixed with stamina potion to keep them going for a few extra rounds. It wouldn’t be until hazy purple light broke on the summer morning that Cire stumbled, in the wrong direction and alone, out of the Pan’s Bounty.

Moving silently through the administrative tower was often appreciated, that was if in its execution nothing nefarious was underway. Selene wasn’t exactly breaking any rules, but the time and hour dictated discreet actions on her part. It wouldn’t do for any untoward gossip to be stirred up in the wake of their exit.

Ascending the stairs to the guards headquarters, Selene passed by several dark and quiet floors of the academy. It wasn’t until the last floor of the place of learning, the faculty and headmaster’s level, that she saw soft orange light and heard muffled conversation. The voices were not being purposefully quiet, simply carrying through walls and fabric, with a little focus and twist of her ears she was able to pick up bits and pieces.

“...really am… Eli, but you know… the Morningdew’s have… don’t you think it’s the best solution for everyone involved?”

The headmaster and a retainer of House Tempestnight, Cyril, was explaining in a tone that suggested resignation and a sense of the inevitable. Selene had heard him give uplifting speeches to new classes, terrible warnings to rule breakers, and, most importantly, supportive cheers to a certain downtrodden student. This, defeat and capitulation, riddled in Cyril’s voice plucked a chord of sorrow deep within her.

“I know Cy, I know. Someone had to pay a price for the young nobles blood, the five houses would never accept the loss without recompense. I prefer it to be my penance instead of that young guards. I simply wish it had been on my own terms.”

Eliana’s voice was even more familiar to Selene, and when she realized what they were talking about she froze mid-step. Of course someone would be punished for a failure to protect Calix. The most likely culprits were the lower class officers of the guard patrol that had led the gnolls to the students. The palaestra must have stepped in front of the proverbial axe.

“I am sure Lucas and his family are immensely grateful Eli. Instead of reassignment to one of the northern outposts near the Jungle of Serpents he was promoted. We both know those patrols have... a harder time than most with the servants of Phobos growing in strength.”

It’s just retirement from the academy. You can still do plenty of other things. Like tutoring or travel. By Aeolus, you could visit some of those islands from centuries ago we quested on when we were both young.”

Feeling the impropriety of what she was overhearing creep up the back of her neck like an unseen pair of hands, Selene crept up the remaining stairs. Selene released her held in breath as she pushed the curtain leading into the foyer of the guards headquarter aside. In accordance with the late hour only a single moon elf stood ready at the reception desk.

“Good evening, how can I assist you?” he said.

Folding her hands over the front of her waist Selene gave a demur downward tilt of her head. She had to phrase this just right otherwise she would be severely overstepping her bounds. If she had learned anything from her mother, it was how to be as deft and delicate with her words as her arrows and blades.

“I am Selene Silverstar, fourth child of the Duchess. I have come this evening to request a report on the remnant gnoll force that our guard engaged with in the south. It is our understanding the scouts have been reporting back.”

Looking from side to side, causing his silver-white hair to fall past his shoulders, the guard made a too ostentatious display of checking for others. Apparently satisfied, he placed a small hand held bell on the counter and ushered her back. Taking her to a private office, he drew a curtain and ran his thumb over a small inset pink gem in the doorway.

“A veil of silence is now active. My pardons Lady Silverstar, the duchess requested updates once per day. Has this changed?”

Her first impulse had been to obfuscate, it hadn’t gone as well as Selene hoped. It was obvious that this moon elf guard was loyal to, or had ambitions towards, her house. This meant there were other tools at her disposal. Ones that in hindsight would be rather unpleasant to remember.

“Guard, I didn’t ask for your pardons. I requested a report.” Selene remained standing, her hands placed firmly on her hips, her timbre scathing and haughty. “You will present me with all current information for me to return to my house, immediately.”

Selene knew she would get what she needed the moment the guard turned white as a sheet, his jaw working to answer her before she was done berating him.

“Yes Lady Silverstar, right away. Please take a seat, there is not much to relay, but I would be remiss if I did not offer the courtesy. Perhaps a cup of tea?”

Waving her hand to dismiss the ill begotten start, Selene modulated her voice and resumed a more conversational approach as she sat.

“Thank you, but the refreshment will be unnecessary. Please convey all current intelligence that his been gathered. Perhaps a pardon is necessary, what is your name officer?”

“Rastus, Lady Silverstar. I will endeavor to provide you with what you seek, but I caution you. We have not had any updates since the scouts broke off their pursuit and sent in their lone messenger squirrel. The gnolls made their way into the Chimera’s Mane while the scouts followed. It was in the south of the territory and they did not want to stray so far without support.”

Selene tried not to give away her relief at the news. There were no easy routes to cross from one part of the Mane to the other. An inexperienced group would not fair well, even in summer, and there were no southern entrances into the Valley of Sunset as far as she was aware. Then again, she hadn’t known about a lot of things in the valley.

“Their numbers? Provisions? Likely intent?”

“Close to a hundred, counting the young. They moved slow, hampered by their wounded. Well rationed for gnolls, more stored food and general tools than any raiding group in the last decade. The scouts saw them setting up camp in a gorge. They left before it could be ascertained how permanent.”

“Follow up measures by the guard? Any intention to rally a force to hunt them in the mountains?”

Shrugging, Rastus dutifully replied. “None as far as I am aware, but they likely wouldn’t tell us until deployment or upon issuing the orders. It’s not likely. There’s been too much movement to the north with the serpent folk. As long as the gnolls stay out of the forest I doubt the guard will devote resources to it.”

Everything she had learned pointed to circumstances she had generally expected. Those results weren’t positive or negative. On one hand, the gnolls were most likely not an immediate threat. On the other, the Tempest Treetops wasn’t going to do anything to resolve the issue either. They couldn’t let the threat fester too long, leaving a group that large unaccounted for was asking for trouble.

Rastus relayed a few more odds and ends, but there wasn’t much other news of note. After promising to deliver the report to her mother personally, Selene departed the administrative tower and headed to the willow tower. The one problem having used this tactic was that she couldn’t hide it from her mother.

Sitting comfortably at the center of her web, Daphne would inevitably discover her actions. Selene would put them in the best light possible while she could control the narrative. It was late, but she could tell that her mother would still be up. The day had presented much for the Duchess to consider, and the moonlight would provide the clarity she required.

Rounding a corner, Cire found himself outside in the brightening dawn. The tall trees encircling the whole town and the towers in the center kept it darker at this hour than in the mountains. He hadn’t noticed during his time in the towers himself.

Cozy cottages and shops ringed the main circular road around the towers. Cire’s intoxicated state made the prospect of navigating a wide open thoroughfare preferable to the twists and turns behind him. The peaceful caress of morning pulled at his senses with blooming flowers and musical birdsong. Without many pedestrians awake the town really was beautiful, an ordered, manicured garden blending seamlessly with a wild and untamed forest.

Standing in front of him at the entrance to a small alley was a most peculiar character. What stood out the most was the cloak, a mass of pure white feathers draping all the way to the ground. Next was the golden hair mirroring Cire’s own. A beckoning hand waved Cire over, but he hesitated.

It felt like he knew this person. Cire still hadn’t been able to peg whether the elf was male or female, perhaps neither. He was absolutely positive he had never seen this elf before, but the feeling of familiarity grew as he found himself walking towards them. One step followed the next until he was at the friendly persons side.

Their voice was melodic and captivating as they called out, “Good, good. Come with me darling. We have so much to discuss and it wouldn’t do to be seen about.”

The stranger took Ciresil by the hand and led deeper into the back of the alley. A throaty chuckle preceded their next words, “You were so hard to get alone. I’ve been watching for sometime you know, and you’re always keeping people about or running from one fire to the next.”

Cire followed in a fog, he found himself nodding along with the elf’s statements and agreeing with them. He had been going from one emergency to the next without stopping. It was nice that he had found people to travel with. Cire kept listening dutifully.

“But Selene has reached out to you directly. That means there is no more time for observing or testing. Perhaps I should have come to you before now, but I played the slow game dear. That means I have some catching up to do.”

Cire and the mysterious individual reached the dead end of the alley by all appearances, then the elf dressed in white feathers snapped their fingers. The entire street was bathed in a flash of brilliant bright light. When the radiance cleared, along with the vision of Elias, the Silverstar family slave tasked with following Cire, was left staring down an empty street. A pure white swan flew away over the tops of thatch roofed homes towards the forest with a small brown bat in tow.