“Men, in general, judge more by the sense of sight than by the sense of touch because everyone can see, but few can test by feeling. Everyone sees what you seem to be, few know what you really are; and those few do not dare take a stand against the general opinion.”

Niccolò Machiavelli

They stood in a silent standoff, neither one of them moving as they assessed the other. I had never seen Arawn so focused before. Finally, they relaxed an infinitesimal amount, but neither put away the daggers they were still holding.

“Who is your guest?” he asked, addressing his question to me, who had been leading the party, but he did so without taking his eyes off the new arrival. At least, that is who I assumed he was addressing. Unfortunately, nobody else bothered to respond, so I was left to speak carefully in the tense atmosphere.

“His name is Namir.” So far, so good. No explosion of violence.

“He is here to see Lady Elan,” I answered for the group. That was all I knew; he had not volunteered much more than that. Did we need to start screening visitors to our town? Holding them for some form of inspection before allowing them in. Seneschal Smit and Adal Silverkin seemed equally surprised by Arawn’s and Namir’s actions. He was staring in shock between the suddenly threatened violence and seeing it unexpectedly bursting forth from our grandfather, who was generally as lazy as he could get away with being. They had not been there to face off against the Mosau Eels and had only heard the story second or third hand. It was different seeing it in person.

“I’ll escort him to the isle. We will wait for you there. Before going to visit Lady Acacia.” He told us, leaving no room for disagreement. He also did not give us the time.

“After you, Namir.” He gestured to the lagoon keeping himself between the beastkin and us as he approached the water’s edge. With a sigh, Namir put away his daggers, braced himself and set off toward the water’s edge and over it. Skipping off the water with each step, he was soon running over the water to the isle in the middle of the lake. That looked like a handy skill to have if it was one. However, I wondered how fast your dexterity had to rise to do it off pure stats alone.

“I’ll see you in a few minutes,” Arawn replied before dashing off after Namir. I noticed that despite Namir putting away his daggers, he had not thought to put away his own. He was also aiming at a slightly different angle to land on the isle sufficient distance away so as not to crowd the beastkin.

“I suppose we must pick up his boat on the way then. Seeing as he seems to have forgotten about it.” Uncle Aaron pointed out the now drifting boat in the middle of the lake that had been left to its own devices, while Arawn had focused solely on the beastkin to the exclusion of all else. So we set sail, heading to the drifting boat. It was unlikely to get smashed on the shore as the water was reasonably calm, but it could get blown anywhere if left to its own devices for the whole day.

“We always thought he had swum to the isle when he first appeared all those years ago.” Grandpa groaned to himself. “He just ran there.” He muttered to himself, re-evaluating our grandfather’s arrival. I realised that while our immediate family were now aware of how he had crawled out of the depths with a baby tied to his back. His arrival to the rest of the elderly members of the town was still a mystery. He had shown up one day. It had been years before the city realised he had a daughter, adopted or not. “We always knew he was the strongest of the town but did not know to what degree.” He continued his commentary.

Uncle Aaron had a separate comment as we made our way across. “Well, judging by Arawn’s reaction, perhaps the guards were not being as silly as we first assumed. Now it seems their response was perfectly justified, even if it was a beastkin monster rather than a beast escaping from the Lodestone depths.

“A little practice at ringing and responding to the alarm is perchance warranted.” Grandpa Smit agreed. “There were certainly a few things that could have run a little smoother. Not least the packing up of the market and everyone returning home. By now, the guard should have reassured them there is nothing to worry about, but perhaps we need an all-clear signal and a call to arms.” He thought through how to move forward after the mini panic caused by the bells this morning.

Eventually, we sidled up to Arawn’s boat, and Aleera transferred across with Grandpa Smit to sail it back to the isle. This left me and Uncle Aaron to continue on our way. Arawn and Namir were still in a subtle standoff on the island ahead of us, but they had not come to blows yet.

As we approached the isle, Aaron shouted, “An exciting morning, eh?” starting the conversation again. Aleera and I were filling the sails of our respective boats with wind and making speedy progress toward the isle. It was not quite a race, as we would have driven the boats onto the rocks, but it was close enough for the moment as we sped across the water.

“Yes,” I shouted back. As exciting as the bells and the new arrival had been, Arawn’s reaction had emphasised the possible seriousness of the matter, and it was a relief to have family taking up the burden and making sure it all worked out okay in the end rather than leaving the weight of it all on my little shoulders.

“Impressive entrance.” He added, referring to how I had fallen from the sky to land before the guards and him.

I grinned unrepentantly, “Well, it was the quickest way to get there.” I answered, omitting the fact that I had been watching the whole process of the beastkin’s arrival from above before dropping in.

“Why exactly did you think rushing toward the possible monsters would be a good idea?” Uncle Aaron asked.

“Well, I thought it would be good to know what was coming, and then I could let Grandfather and Lady Acacia know if they were needed,” I answered, fully aware that there would have been little I could have done from the air. Instead, I needed to develop some form of ordinance, spells or weapons to use from a distance or height.

“You need to be careful chasing monsters or your future. You don’t just represent yourself but our families’ dreams as well.” He cautioned. Reminding me that it wasn’t just my close family relying on me to become a Lord in truth, not just name. Our subordinate Adals looked for support from the central Silversea branch just as they supported us.

“I will.” I agreed seriously. I had no intention of passing away anytime soon.

. . .

Eventually, we arrived on the isle and with Arawn escorting Namir in front of us, we made our way through the Parthenon-style entrance into our mountain hall. Namir seemed to take the sudden splendour of our architecture for granted, as if such edifices were wholly expected of a Noble family. But, unfortunately, it was only possible to infer a little from this other than that he was used to either interacting with nobles or the towns and cities of the compass kingdoms were far grander than the town of our humble origins.

There was no petitioning session today, so the hall stood empty. Father was probably out sailing. Mother might be working on a couple of her projects, and without us to tutor, seeing as we had visited the town to trade meant that Lady Acacia herself could be anywhere between her room and the Elendil tree.

“If you would not mind waiting here with us for a moment while Seneschal Smit and Adal Silverkin request her attendance.” Grandfather Arawn was being far more formal and careful in his speech than we had ever heard him before. However, it was reciprocated in return.

“It would be my pleasure to wait in the Silversea hall. There is so much to feast my eyes upon.” He replied, referring to the coats of arms for our Adals on the banners mother had woven or the song ensouled in stone, their patterns decorating the floor. We had even had a little time to add the odd decorations on the columns, but we had mainly stuck with the majestic serenity of simplicity. Encouraging our visitors to understand this great hall was hewn out from the mountain's core. We even left the odd natural stone surface on a corner or wall to reinforce the original nature of the cavern we had created.

Left to our own devices Aleera and I ascended to our seats at the end of the hall. Grandfather Arawn was careful to keep himself between our new visitor and us. We both had projects of our own hidden in the arms of our miniature thrones. Methods for keeping us happy between petitioners or simply doodle pads to help alleviate the boredom.

The magic of my doodles now was that they were practised for all the magic I had learned. Each page was filled with glyphs from the giants, enchantments from the elves, runes from the dwarves and sigils from humanity. I spun up my other half to watch Namir while I worked on my fine motor skills and memory as I practised them.

We waited silently, but not long before four sets of footsteps reached our ears. My reaction to their approach caused the first glimpse of surprise from the stoic Namir, who had also noticed their arrival but perhaps had not expected me to in turn.

First came Mother with Uncle Aaron, who joined us on the dais to stand alongside Aleera and me in my father's absence. While Arawn still stood on guard at the foot of the stage. He still stood with his knives out despite his empty hands of Namir.

“Is it necessary to keep your knives out when he has put them away?” I asked, concerned. There was a lot I did not know about etiquette, but that struck me as a poor example of being a welcoming host.

“The metal may be missing, but Namirs claws are still extended. So he is hardly unarmed.” He replied without turning to face us.

“ . . .” Aleera and I were speechless as we focused on our guest's hands, finding that his claws were indeed still partially exposed rather than retracted.

“That is simply a fact of life for all members of the Duma Tribe of beastkin. We cannot ever retract them fully. I am certainly not leaving them out to be threatening by choice. I simply hope to meet with Lady Acacia and have her speak on my behalf.” He answered our quiet conversation, clearly able to hear it perfectly despite the approach of our mother and Aaron and their own conversation.

Speak of the devil, and she shall appear; finally, Lady Acacia descended the stairs to her corridor with Seneschal Silvertongue in tow. A small smile grew on her face as she recognised our visitor.

“Splendid, splendid, you finally deigned to grace us with your presence.” Then, as she descended the stairs, she declared that he was at least known to her.

“It was hardly a short journey. I had returned to my ancestral roaming grounds in the Kingdom of Ostro. It has been over a decade since I last saw you in person or even travelled as far north as Ponente. There has been plenty to keep me occupied with at home.” He defended the length of time his trip had taken.

“Even though you are familiar with Namir, that does not change the fact that we are not.” Arawn interrupted the subtle squabbling. “Would either of you care to enlighten us about who Namir is and what he hoped to achieve by visiting Lady Acaia?” While we experienced some relief that he was known to Lady Acaia, at least Grandfather was still focused like a laser on the individual in question and his reasoning for being here. He also seemed incredibly unsettled by someone he perceived as a credible threat to our safety.

Namir decided to answer his question to the pair of us sitting on the dais. “We met while I completed a circumnavigation of the compass in the Kingdom of Maestro. She was able to help me out of a spot of difficulty, and in return, I promised to help her tutor one individual if she ever found a pupil worthy of my time. Perhaps she has; considering the little I have seen of you from your entrance by air and your base sensory stats alone, I am intrigued and even willing to repay the favour. Not all of us will live for centuries more, and it would be pleasant to have a protégé I could be proud of rather than a favour owed dangling above my head.” He gave us a little nod of respect as he answered the question. Either paying respect to our position or the inference that we were the pupil's Lady Acacia had spent her favour on.

Lady Acacia added to his statement, explaining. “I have taught you much of music, history, literature, mathematics, how to be a Lord and Lady, even my magic. However, I have given you the basic entry-level skills for each weapon. I would choose Namir to take you further in your martial skills. Your skills, while they are many, and indeed magic itself is a weapon, your basic martial skills with real weapons outside of your daggers will need significant development before ever attending the Ponentian Court, where duels can be called for over the littlest slight and called to be settled with the strength of your arm rather than the might of your magic. Lord Silversea requires this education, and I am not the best qualified to give it. This man, Namir, is.” Her addition was passionate and powerful in arguing the importance of his instruction.

However, Arawn had yet to relax. “This is one tutor that I am not confident I can dispatch without the element of surprise.” His brutal honesty was as blunt and refreshing as always. Lady Acaia seemed to silently bristle at the implication that he considered her dispatchable despite her smooth polished face.

“Thank you all for your honesty.” Aleera started speaking for the two of us. “If Lady Acacia could escort you on a Grand Tour of our home and Isle while we consider our response. We may have to wait for our father to return, but we hope to get an answer back to you before the sun sets.”

Without much further ado, the Elf and the beastkin departed the hall to explore, and Arawn finally began to relax.

. . .

Back at the eastern gate

Meanwhile, several slaves and their enslaver had finally reached the eastern gate of Wester Town. Despite the steps carved into it, it had been a long climb up the cliff face. Sadly, this was followed by an equally long descent into the inner island. He was not looking forward to the reverse on their return journey.

“Ho the town.” The captain raised his hand in greeting his slaves, limping after him, laden down as they were with his goods. There were not all that the ship held, but certainly enough for a small town, and if he managed to sell more, he could always send them back for more.

“Welcome, merchant.” The gate guards stopped him as he arrived. “Where do you hail from, and what are you selling?” they asked as his darker skin tone, compared to theirs alongside his almond-shaped eyes, differentiated him from the average sailor or merchant from Ponente. People travelled, it was true but mainly stuck to their towns, isles or kingdoms. It was rare to see someone from outside them.

“We have travelled far and hail from the southwest kingdom of Libeccio.” He answered with a short angled tilt of his head. “I sell only the finest gold, ivory, spices, beads and ceramics wares. Can you point me in the direction of the market square?” He asked politely.

“Straight ahead, due west, but you will be out of luck today.” The younger guard answered.

“Why?” he asked, confused as it was not too late in the day for some more trading to be done. He had hoped to be back on board his ship by the time night fell.

“Well, the market closed for the day after the scare and the alarm bells being rung.” He answered honestly, even if it was not helpful to the captain with the well-practised experience gained over the last couple of months of sailing with a specific passenger to imagine the problem.

“Was it a beastkin?” He asked to confirm his suspicions with a sinking feeling.

“Yes.” The younger gate answered enthusiastically. “He came down from the cliff at such a frightening pace I doubt even the walls would have been able to stop him had he hit them or jumped. We couldn’t tell from the distance that he was a noble race. It is rare to see a beastkin this far west. So, we made the call.” Before adding the rhetorical question, “Better safe than sorry, right?”

The captain sighed, the benefit of which was it could be taken for agreement, disagreement or sheer frustration depending on the listener's belief. Of course, he was full of anger and frustration, but there was no need to reveal that to the two young guards, who seemed somewhat lacking in experience.

“And when will the market open next?” He asked the follow-up question because that was all that truly mattered.

“Tomorrow morning bright and early.” They answered that they were happy to help.

“Then, could you direct us to the nearest tavern instead?” He asked, disappointed that he would have to spend some money in this small town before he could start making some back. Hopefully, the tavern was not as inexperienced as the town’s guards, and he could enjoy his night there.

“Same as the last set of instructions straight ahead due west. The Compass Edge Tavern is right on the market square, can’t miss it.” They answered with a quick nod in that direction.

“Thank you.” He answered before leading the way into the town. It was a quaint enough town. Shielded from the sea by the towering cliff walls, it had grown well in the shade of their protection. Thriving well in the shelter, he saw far more prosperity than he might have hoped for on the way to the tavern. It was a sprawling building that had been clearly built in sections but had also clearly claimed sufficient and significant space within the town to do so.

But whether there was a market for his goods or not was something he would find out tomorrow. First, though, he needed to find out the lay of the land, seeing as they would spend their night in the tavern. It might be a long night, being a little early in the day to start drinking, but he had skills for that, and hopefully, it would be informative.

. . .

Back on the Isle

We waited for Father to return, but our answer had never really been in doubt. If we needed to enter the court of Ponente, then this was what we needed to do. It looked like it was back to physical training for me. A few years older, a few feet taller, with my family to support me, hopefully, it would be a little less brutal this time.

“We accept.”