Thaleles Darenal

Thaleles
Never did I expect that I would be writing my tale in a villa in Icemule Trace. Certainly, I always wished to depart from my homeland to live a life of adventure, but I did not expect to receive the opportunity to do so.

I was born in Ta’Illistim, the city of learning, in the year 4850 of the Modern Age. My parents were Aramar and Xanaphia Darenal, two prominent, wealthy scholars. Though they always strove to be members of the nobility, they remained in the common classes. This was truly fortunate for me, as it granted me certain privileges in choosing my path in life.

Ever since I could walk, the librarian Drunal educated me daily. I learned much of the Elanthia’s history, the different peoples of the land, and even some esoteric information on the Arkati. My true love, however, remained the great epic tales of past heroes. I would scan the pages of numerous stories, gazing with awe and reverence at immortalized names such as Taki Rassien.

Not surprisingly, when my parents asked me what it was that I wished from this life on my twentieth birthday, I responded that I should like to become an expert in the ways of the blade. Thankfully, my common lineage made it possible to achieve this goal. Had I been born to a station my parents wished to hold, this would no doubt be a controversial choice in a city famed for scholars and artificers.

Naturally, my parents were a bit leery of my decision, but did do all they could to help me become what I wished. The best swordsmen were not to be found in our city. The search for my mentor took us to Ta’Vaalor. I will never forget my first glance within the walls of that fortress-like city.

In what seemed to me a strange place, I could almost feel the presence of the spirits of ancient warriors. I could imagine the rigorous training sessions of the Sabrar, the clash of steel as master schooled apprentice. My emotions immediately took a turn after the initial wonder. Why would an expert from such a place ever agree to lower himself by taking on a pupil such as I, a foolish boy from Ta’Illistim who had little regard for the ways of his own people?

Though, at first, it seemed as if my fears were justified, we did manage to find an excellent tutor. His name was Sareus, and he wished to train me for the exact reasons I thought made me seem a poor prospect. He was mentor to numerous nobles in Ta’Vaalor. Over the years, he grew frustrated with spoiled children who thought that, due to their lineage, they were already master swordsmen. The Vaalor elf even agreed to return to our city with us.

I was a bit surprised that for my first lesson, Sareus asked me to envision what I sought to be, what I sought to do, and how I wished to achieve it. I had not thought much beyond being an admired fighter, like those I read about for years. I could not envision any of what Sareus wished me to, and I told him so. Merely nodding, he took me on a walk outside of the walls of Ta’Illistim.

After traveling a few moments through the forest, we stopped at a nearby brook. My teacher told me to observe the water. Though I was confused by the command, I did as I was told. He explained that like me, the water did not know where it was going. It merely followed the course set before it and it arrived at its destination, as is the case with all of us. He continued to tell me that I had the right answer. We continued like this for my next few lessons, and soon grew to be good friends.

A week of such lessons ensued. When he felt he knew enough, Sareus brought me to a large, open room of my home that he had prepared just for me. Here, he taught me numerous movements, strikes, and blocks. To my own shock, I found I had an amazing talent for fighting with a weapon in each hand. I was ambidextrous, and it truly made even my nascent skills formidable. I learned my lessons quickly, and could see that Sareus was pleased with my progress.

During this time, I continued to study under the tutelage of Drunal, in the local library. I even learned a bit of the nature of magic. I knew much of what some of my childhood friends were practicing in their dedication to things arcane, but had little ability with it. I must admit, I was something of an oddity, but my martial pursuits gave me a sense of fulfillment of which most spend a lifetime in pursuit.

It was around the time of my fiftieth birthday that Sareus presented me with my first set of true weapons. They may have been only practice blades, but to me they seemed the instruments of a hero. The gleam of the steel was like the glitter of gold to me. Looking over the swords, I knew the future of my training would be much different. The wooden sticks I used to master movements were things of the past, and I knew this change carried with it new challenges.

How right I was. After allowing me a good week to grow accustomed to the weight and balance of the blades, Sareus approached me to try something different. We were going for a short walk, but I was to carry my new gifts. Leading me to small glade near the brook he showed me when I began my training years before, he stopped suddenly. He explained that the only way to master my techniques would be to put them into practice.

That was the first sparring session of my life. Needless to say, it was quite short, and my arms ached for the next several days. With time, these sessions grew longer in duration. At times, I would spar with different combinations of weapons, and even barehanded, to learn to defend myself should an opponent disarm me. I learned to make the best use of my agility and soon found my favorite style to be using two short swords.

The next few decades passed quickly. My skill at arms increased dramatically with such an experienced sparring partner, while Drunal’s scholarly tutelage expanded my knowledge. I was happy to lead this life unchanged. However, happiness was not contentment. Still, in my soul remained the yearning to one day have songs sung about me, to have stories of my deeds told around the fireplace. The heroic epics that influenced my life from my early youth held unyielding to the very core of my spirit.

Unfortunately, life always brings about its share of changes, and many of them are not only unexpected, but also unwanted. Mine came in the guise of an Imperial merchant named Natir.

He was a greedy, pompous man. I have, etched indelibly into my mind, the image of him standing with his son, Selar, in the library in which I would study. His bulbous, overweight form garbed in silks and gems, with his hand constantly reaching for the hilt of the jeweled dagger he carried. Of the few in the city who met him, a very small number were able to stomach his presence, let alone find his company enjoyable. While I did think him a rather unpleasant visitor at the time, my thoughts toward him were going to grow much worse.

One day, while reading over a tome that Drunal recommended, I heard the wise librarian call out for aid. Rushing from one of the library’s private reading chambers to one of the back storage rooms, I found Natir and Selar threatening the scholar. He had denied them a book, and I found that truly odd. The elf always wished to share knowledge. He must have had a good reason to motivate his actions. The two humans were quite irate. They were prepared to kill for the book, if necessary, but Drunal refused to back down.

Thinking me little more than an apprentice mage, still unaccustomed to the simplest cantrips, Natir drew his jeweled dagger and tried to frighten me away. I drew my blades, and before he could react, sliced the wide brim off of his hat. Looking up at his now-ruined headgear, he scowled at me. I was prepared for him to attack, but instead, he grabbed Selar and fled the building. He left the city the very next day.

Life continued normally for the next few months. The daily routine of training and study continued. My more magically inclined friends began to master their powers. Still, some mispronounced incantations led these burgeoning spell-casters to rather comedic outcomes. I forgot all about the incident with the merchant in the ornate halls of the library.

Reminders come in many forms, and the one that came to me at this point was without a doubt the worst moment of my entire life. I can remember the entire day more vividly even than the last five minutes. It started like any other, with Sareus and I sparring in our chosen glade.

All of a sudden, my mentor’s concentration shifted from our mock battle. He told me to listen, and I, too, soon heard the rattle of a blade in a poorly made sheath. Thanks to our elven senses, we were prepared for unwelcome visitors, but not the cloaked assassins that stepped out of the trees. There were five of them, and they all had their blades drawn, poised to attack.

They answered no questions. They said not a word. Sareus pushed me to the side, and told me to stay away from the melee. I wanted to stand by him, but he would not hear of it. Before I could push the matter further, four of them closed in on him.

Their attack was disorganized, and Sareus was able to parry their blows easily. He even managed to trip one. Seeing this, the one who remained in the background called them to regroup. My instructor prepared for what he knew was coming. I began to do the same, until I caught the stern look in his eyes. This was a matter of honor to him, and he would rather die than have me interfere.

Our attackers renewed their strikes, their blades now coming in neat, cooperative strikes. Though Sareus still avoided the brunt of their attacks, his arms were soon filled with wounds. However, after one of the cloaked figures fell, it seemed he would come out victorious.

He defeated the second of his opponents more quickly, and the third even sooner. I almost smiled, seeing that only one of our assailants was still fighting him. My smile faded quickly, though, remembering that there were five. To where did the apparent leader disappear?

My question was answered when my master’s fourth opponent joined the others. Sareus took a short pause to catch his breath, thinking all was safe. A sword entered his back, and his battles were ended. Rage filled me as I tightened my grip on my blades. My fists were clenched so tightly that my knuckles turned white. I lost not only my mentor, but also the one man I admired more than all others in this world.

I could see the cold grin form under the hood of the murderer before me. I charged in, but in my anger, did so with no regard for the years of Sareus’ tutelage. The man easily dodged my attack and dashed me against a tree. My longswords clattered to the ground, and the cloaked figure rushed in to finish me.

Thankfully, I was once again thinking lucidly, and my years of conditioning took control. I waited for the last possible moment, and then drew my dagger, thrusting it forward. This final attacker impaled himself upon it. Slumping to the ground, his hood fell away, revealing the face of Selar.

The danger now ended, walked to the middle of the glade, where Sareus’ torn body lay. I folded his hands over his heart, placing his sword in his hands. This was not a time for grief, as Natir no doubt had a something to do with this, and Drunal could also easily be target. At least I was able to take small comfort in the fact that the Vaalor elf died as he always wished to; in battle with right on his side.

Truly, the walk back to the gates of the city was hard. A sense of duty drove me on, overcoming the anguish and exhaustion I felt. What could be waiting at home? Could Natir have already achieved his revenge upon Drunal? Could he have sought to attack my family? Questions like these pushed me to increase my pace.

A sense of relief flooded me when I finally arrived at the gates. Drunal was waiting there, speaking with the guards. A look of obvious concern greeted me. It was then that I noticed the bandage on the scholar’s arm.

His first words were that of an apology. He claimed that this was his fault. For years, he had been entrusted with guarding an ancient tome. Even he, one who spent his life studying such things, did not know exactly what it was. It was a manuscript of some sort, the pages forged from thin sheets of golvern. On the one occasion he attempted to read the mysterious runes within, a great feeling of uneasiness kept him from translating anything significant. He sensed great magic within, as well as great evil.

Drunal felt that by making the book seem a worthless manuscript in a crowded storeroom, he would avoid those who sought to uncover its dark secrets. Natir proved him wrong months ago, however, and did so again on the day Sareus fell.

While Selar’s assassins kept my master and I occupied, Natir and a small band of thieves entered the library. Finding that the librarian still refused to give him the book, the merchant stabbed Drunal in frustration, and simply took it himself. Before anyone knew what happened, he was outside the walls of the city, heading quickly west. Should the tome fall into the wrong hands, there was no telling what tragedies could come about.

My family, to this point, knew none of these occurrences. Drunal accompanied me to speak with them, knowing well my love of the heroic epics of old. Even before I did, he knew I would insist upon setting out after the merchant at once. Though the walk to my home was short, the librarian appeared physically worn afterwards. His wound must have troubled him much more than he would admit.

Clearly articulating my wish to leave in pursuit of Natir, Drunal and I explained the circumstances surrounding the missing book, and the horrific backlash that could occur should the librarian’s suspicions be verified. I could tell they did not wish me to leave on a quest so dangerous. In fact, they would not be pleased if I was in a situation containing any peril at all.

It was my decision to make, though. My family gave me their support, despite their advice against my choice. It appeared I had my chance to indulge my adventurous spirit. Quite frankly, at the time I would have gladly traded it to return to my normal life. That was not possible, and I set out for the western lands the very next day.

To say the journey was difficult would indeed be a gross understatement. In my haste, and due to my pride, I would not hear of waiting for a caravan. I traveled unguarded, and arrived on the western side of the DragonSpine by sheer luck alone. Still, I do not enjoy speaking of the harsh journey, and the dangers I faced then had little effect on the events that followed my arrival in Icemule Trace.

The northern gaming town provided the perfect place to stay. I could make the trip south to the Landing when I needed to find information on Natir’s whereabouts, and return to the frigid north before I aroused suspicion amongst his rather large group of employees. The almost mechanical nature of my actions, like everything else in my life, was not to last.

When I left my homeland, all I could think of was revenge. I wanted to see Natir impaled on my blade, just like his son. My thoughts soon softened, though, and I felt myself unsure if his death would be just. Perhaps I should only retrieve the book, and let the human live, as I already took the life of the one who killed Sareus. I felt the need to look to others for advice, and one of the first I spoke with was an elderly human priest of Lorminstra.

I freely admit that the teachings of the Arkati in Ta’Illistim were quite different than those in the west. It is doubtful that anyone who did not learn the ways I did would understand why my people do not see the Arkati as gods, but that had no effect on my decision to speak to Truekillr.

Naturally, it was not his faith that caused me to seek out this man. Even I, a native of Ta’Illistim, heard much of his deeds in the struggle against the Vvrael. If anyone knew the proper course of action in situation, it was he. However, why would he listen to one such as I?

He did listen, and seemed quite happy to help in any way he could. I told him my entire tale, and he sat for a moment in silent contemplation. The truly worthwhile answers are never the easy ones, and I was not to receive a simple answer that evening. In short, he told me that I must seek the answer in my own conscience, and that, because of my search to take the truly just path, I should speak with those of House Onoir.

I thanked the man, and though I did not know it at the time, his words would help me much in the future. I intended to speak with House Onoir soon, and on my very next trip south, I did so.

Needless to say, I was quite nervous on the evening I met with the paladins. I had no idea what these individuals would think of me. My anxiety only increased as the night wore on. The hosts of this meeting would want to know of their guest, and I did not know if they would accept me.

My time to speak did come, and I told of myself. I was somewhat surprised that they felt my task was one of more than simple revenge. Some even pledged to aid me in any way they can, and others even invited me to try becoming a squire. An organization of others with like minds was indeed something I yearned to find. I immediately began the process of joining the house.

For the next few weeks, my life progressed uneventfully. I attended another meeting of Onoir, and assembled new information on Natir. Still, I sought the answer to his future within my soul. At this point, I was almost expecting to find a new influence to change everything. It arrived in the form of a sylvan bardess named Chutnee.

This worshipper of Ivas knew of my past, and often spoke with me of what I thought to do. Unlike Truekillr, she wished for me to make one decision: that I make the merchant pay for what he did. While this forest elf’s counsel was towards vengeance rather than mercy, there was something far less than completely malevolent in her words. She intrigued me, almost seeming as conflicted as I was, if not more.

After a few months of getting to know the members of Onoir, the Lord Paladin, Tebon, told me that he was going to take a trip to my homeland. I felt I should let my family and friends know that I was at least safe. I was truly glad that he agreed to convey a message for me. I am still surprised at the outcome of this.

To my surprise, just days after Tebon’s departure for the eastern lands, an elven messenger came to me in Icemule. He had a message from my parents. It was the normal letter you would expect from ones who missed their only child. I was happy to hear it, but happier still to see a property deed enclosed in their missive. I now owned a rather stately marble villa in the Ice Gardens just outside of Icemule. My family wished me to at least present an image they felt was more fitting during my stay in the western lands. It certainly made my life more comfortable.

In time, I had enough information on my human foe. I could act, but I still had no idea how I should do so. Should I truly kill this man? My decision grew even more important after I was accepted as a squire of Onoir. This great honor called for great responsibility, and I felt it was my duty, especially now, to take to correct course of action, but I could not decide which course that was.

I returned to Icemule, knowing that I had the chance to make my move to retrieve the book from Natir. He was planning to sell the book to a small group of elves in Wyrdeep, who sought to punish the Empire. If Drunal’s fears were justified, this tome could cause a very large loss of life. Though they were elven like me, I could not allow this band to do such a thing, even to the Empire. Something had to be done, but was I prepared to do it?

Chutnee came to visit me while I was contemplating this. I believe her multihued eyes gave her sight into my very soul, as she knew exactly what was troubling me. I told her something to the effect that I wished to do what was right. The almost childish stories of the actions of heroes filled my mind as I thought what they would do.

It was this very night that the sylvan I was confiding in gave me the most valuable advice I have ever received in my life. She told me simply that should I do nothing, I would have no chance of making the right decision. I could achieve nothing without action, and I had to take it now.

The clarity of these words was what I needed to hear. Sitting there, safe in a winter wonderland, I could feel free to worry about which course of action was best. Those to the south did not have that luxury, and the longer I remained in thought, the more likely I would lose my chance to stop the great loss of life that was most likely approaching. I headed south at once.

Soon, I was speeding towards the south. Natir was near Gallardshold, camped outside of Wyrdeep Forest. I soon found myself looking down upon his tent from a nearby hill. In the distance, a small troupe of performers was traveling eastward. Natir’s camp, itself, was a bit less elaborate than I expected, and this was fortunate for me. In his own land, he felt no need to keep guards on duty, so he had only a few servants. His pompous nature would finally cost him.

These servants ran off rather quickly as I approached the tent with my swords drawn. Natir’s voice called out from inside. It was an angry tone, demanding silence from his aides. I almost smiled as I entered.

At first, the human looked up with a disgusted look. Quickly, though, his expression changed to one of almost pure horror. I saw him tremble as he reached for his sabre and jeweled dagger.

Certainly, the man had some basic skills with his blades, but they were far from the refined abilities of one who spent many years studying. His considerable girth and awkward movements were not assets either. I easily disarmed the man and I was prepared to make my choice. I knocked him unconscious with the pommel of one of my swords, and grabbed the book.

After this rather short duel, I knew exactly what to do with this thug. I dragged his unconscious form to the performers that were still quite close. They were quite surprised to see an elf dragging an unconscious human in Imperial lands, but I trust that would be the case no matter the region and no matter the races.

I made a deal with the troupe’s leader; a human dressed in clothes that were each a different color. They would take Natir to Ta’Illistim, provided that when they arrived, they would be greatly rewarded for this trash delivery. I made certain to stipulate that I wanted him caged with a group of performing kobolds, as well.

My troubles had come to an end, or so I thought. I rushed to the east, even though I knew that I might now be without a reason to continue adventuring. My skills aided me much in the return journey, making it much less difficult. It did not seem as though it was very long before I was in the familiar surroundings I left only months earlier. In a way, I was happy to be back home, even if I had to stay.

The first place I went was my parents’ home. My mother and father were overjoyed to see me, and could not cease expressing their pride in what I had done. I also learned that they had succeeded in their own quest to become noble, and my father was to be made a baron later in the week. I looked forward to the celebration, and wished to be present for Natir’s arrival.

Later that day, I went to see my tutor. Drunal’s reaction was similar to that of my parents. He asked me numerous questions about every little detail of my journey. Satisfied after quite a long while of speaking, the scholar wished me a good evening, and assured me that he would take care of the tome I worked so hard to retrieve. That night was the first night in many that I slept well, my mind clear of all worries.

The next morning, I awoke in the room I had slept in since I was a small child. In the first few groggy moments of consciousness, it seemed like the remnants of a pleasant dream. The events of the previous day flooded my mind, and I dressed quickly, not wanting to waste a moment. I wished to enjoy my time in my homeland, even if I did intend to leave again to seek my future.

Surprisingly, Drunal was waiting downstairs with my family. Over breakfast, he informed the household that he had told some quite influential people of my actions. I was to be granted titles along with my father.

Imagining the look on my face, I can see why those assembled found it humorous. This was hardly a pleasant announcement for me, though. Lands and a title meant my career as an adventurer had come to an end. I had to ask a boon, but hoped not to insult the nobility by declining their extreme generosity.

Fortunately, they did not see this as an insult. Rather, they added my prestige to my father’s, so that when the time came, and my spirit was calmer, I could still inherit it. Of course, this did bring his position to the level of what one would consider an earl. Upon hearing this, my father’s expression rivaled my earlier one.

The next few days were a blur. Celebration after celebration commenced. The festivities were enjoyable, and my parents reveled in the attention they received. Dancing about with girls I had never dared to speak with as a commoner, I actually forgot about Natir.

His memory came flashing back into my mind quite vividly when a local farmer reported some wreckage a few miles west of the city. It was the performance troupe, or more accurately, what was left of it. Some bodies, including that of the troupe’s leader, were strewn among the broken boards of the wagons, but not nearly enough to represent the entire party. Natir obviously bribed a few members to make his escape.

More than ever, I knew I needed to return to the west. I not only wanted to, but now I needed to return to adventuring. The human would seek revenge, and I would not let any harm come to my family and friends. My mood was much different than the festive one of earlier in the day. I somberly returned to Icemule the next morning.

One of the first people I saw upon my return was Chutnee. She seemed slightly surprised to see me, but I believe happy nonetheless. Naturally, she asked what happened, and we spoke for some time of it. Though she did not say it explicitly, I received the impression that she felt I failed. My conscience felt justified at the time, so I felt comfortable taking the more difficult path to my goal.

I was quite happy to return to my friends in House Onoir. Things were quite hectic, so I did not explain completely what happened to me. Though advice was something I always liked to receive, I felt it better not to trouble my friends when there were so many other things to trouble them. Besides, I truly did not need it at the time. The only true puzzle that remained in my life was Chutnee, and I was slowly piecing together her true nature.

Several weeks passed, and I began to feel that Natir might not make a move against me. Perhaps he would just live as the coward he was, forever shirking from the punishment he deserved. Clearly, I could not allow that, but I did not have to search far to find evidence of the man.

While preparing to leave the Landing for Icemule after a meeting of Onoir, a man leapt out at me from the shadows of an alley. He appeared as little more than an elderly beggar. The few teeth in his head were clenched into a nervous grimace. Obviously, this was an act of desperation. Perhaps this was a robber’s last chance to buy a meal.

I knocked him off of his feet, and he ran. He did drop a letter when he fell, though. Curious to the man’s motivations, I picked it up and read the rather heavy-handed script. I understood completely when I saw it was a bounty notice for my capture or death.

Indeed, Natir sought revenge. I was far from shocked. A bounty would not be an easy thing to rid myself of, especially when the one paying it was hiding in the strange and unwelcoming land of the Empire. The attempt I had just foiled was one by a desperate, starving man who had probably never drawn blood before. With Natir’s connections, I knew professionals would come, and they would do so after observing me.

All I could do was prepare. I redoubled my efforts at increasing my skills. The merchant knew my skills firsthand, and would be sure to find someone who could overcome them. I would need every advantage if I intended to meet this challenge, and I needed to meet it well if I were to end the threat hanging over me.

Fortunately, my assailant did not come swiftly. As I expected, he took time to observe me, learning of my skills and my methods. This delay granted me the time I needed, and I made full use of it, training each and every day. I almost had a sense of confidence for what lay ahead. I was to meet the greatest challenge of my life.

It came in the form of a solitary figure standing before me one morning on the trail to Icemule Trace. I had just left Wehnimer’s Landing, looking quite forward to returning to what had become my western home. I did not suspect anything at the sight of this man standing near the fallen tree near Icemule’s south gate. Adventurers traveled this road often, and some were as eccentric as this almost apparition-like figure seemed to be.

His build was obviously that of a human, though somewhat compact. He wore all black, with a scarf across his face. It was not for warmth, but rather for disguise. I greeted him, only to be answered with two drawn daggers.

I drew my own blades, and the fight began. I suppose, had my training not been as focused as it had been over recent weeks, I would have fallen easily. The advantage was soon mine, though, and he continued to move backwards, toward one of the nearby evergreens.

Something was wrong. This seemed too easy. I could not have increased my skills to such a degree. I realized with horror that I was being led, but it was already too late. I was under the tree, and net fell on me.

The man in black laughed. It was a hollow, mirthless sound. Another cackle answered his, from in the branches of the tree above. Looking up, I saw the assassin’s partner in this endeavor: a short, stocky human. I was disgusted with myself for being fooled by these men. I should have known better.

The two bound me hands behind my back and put me in the back of a nearby cart they had hidden in the forest. The blades I had chosen to carry with me at the time, a longsword and a main gauche, were cruelly left in front of me where I could see them, yet not grab them to use against my two captors. The short one guided the horses while the tall one sat staring at me with his daggers in hand.

We rode south for what seemed an eternity. As we passed farms and fields, rivers and dales, it grew gradually warmer. Finally, when we were a few miles to the south of Vornavis, the sun began to dip behind the horizon, and it became too dark to continue travel.

The two men set up camp and built a fire, laughing about what Natir would do to me when we arrived at our final destination, which for me, it truly would be. After this, they pulled me from the cart rather violently and brought me to a tree nearby, far from the warmth of the fire. They sat me down and bound my hands around the trunk, making certain I could not flee while they slept, which they did so quite noisily after what appeared a disgusting meal. They did not bother to offer me any. I had not eaten all day, and in my hunger, I would have ingested even their slop.

Despite their snoring, I must have drifted off, as the next thing I remember was a soft voice in my ears, urging me to awaken. It was a young elven girl. I gathered, from her appearance, that she was from one of the local farms. Over the years, she probably saw many of her own race led south in such a fashion, and knew what lay in store for me.

My young savior cut my ropes with a small knife she had. Giving me a quick smile, she ran off into the woods. I had been pushed too far at this point. Natir and his associates could not simply walk away, and I would not let them think I merely fled from them in the night.

I walked to the cart and retrieved my blades. The assassin’s daggers were there as well, and I also collected them. Still, my captors slept. I walked to the tall one, and looking down, I thought this coward would run off at the first threat of true danger, so kicked him awake harshly.

He first looked up in shock, but then leapt to his feet, looking around for a means to defend himself. The short one aroused at this noise, but seeing me with my blades drawn, ran behind the cart, out of the way of danger.

I threw the assassin’s blades at his feet. I told him the choice was his. He could leave or fight. He chose to fight, and it was the wrong choice. The short one remained behind the cart with his hands over his head. I told him to get out my sight, and he ran into the forest, heading south. Perhaps after others heard his account of this night, my worries about my bounty would be over.

Icemule Trace never so inviting as it did when I arrived the next evening. I went straight to my villa and slept for several hours, awaking the next afternoon. I did not wish to leave my home just yet, and remained inside the next day, sitting before the fire, lost in thought.

In the back of my mind, I wished that the assassin, despite all he did, chose to run. I had only killed a human once before this, and I truly hated it. Now this man joined Selar, and I felt no better. The best thing I could do was just to get my mind off of it, and I thought I could do so by speaking with Chutnee a bit. Now, after I had spoken for her for many weeks, I felt even more strongly that there was something good in her, peeking out of the cloud of darkness she used to conceal it. Maybe she would prove me right on this day.

Unfortunately, our conversation was completely based around my capture. It did not take my mind off of recent events, but actually focused it more closely upon them. The bardess did believe it was foolish for me to feel guilty about my actions, though, as, according to her, it was a deserved punishment. I merely brought justice down upon my captors. I was not so sure, and no longer wished to carry my main gauche. I left it with the sylph.

More weeks passed. I had been in the western half of Elanith for nearly five months, and was growing accustomed to it as a second home. It seemed that, as I intended, once my stocky captor returned to his own land, his tale made the price on my head seem much less inviting to those who would try to collect. Could I have achieved peace in my life at long last?

Onoir soon held a trial for Lady Kadesha. Apparently, a calculating woman, Sheka, goaded her into attacking her solely so that she could bring charges against her. The opinions of this trial indeed had a large impact upon my life. Some of my friends of Onoir, people I respected for their honor and judgment, felt that Kadesha was not at fault for what she did. Perhaps my views were too idealistic, as Chutnee told me often. Action is sometimes necessary.

I felt better about my assassin’s fate after this trial, even going so far as to reclaim my main gauche. My mind turned to more cheerful thoughts. The days were growing shorter, and I knew that my family would be hosting its annual celebration of the harvest. Now that they were noble, it would only be larger and more elaborate. I looked forward to returning, and taking part in the festivities. I also planned to bring a friend.

Upon hearing my invitation, Chutnee almost thought it ridiculous. She felt that a sylvan would be completely out of place in Ta’Illistim. It took some time, but after assuring her that she would not be laughed back to Icemule, she agreed to accompany me. I did, to be fully honest, have an ulterior motive in all of this. Perhaps if this bardess saw some of the more refined joys in life, she would turn a bit away from her current ethical path.

I went to help her prepare early the next morning, as she was quite unsure of what to bring. To simplify things, I decided to take her to a tailor when we arrived. Having nothing left to delay us, we left immediately.

The journey was pleasantly uneventful, and we soon found ourselves in the eastern lands. It was all quite new to my companion, and she seemed to enjoy the surroundings. We had a day before the celebrations would begin, so I brought her to a local tailor I knew.

Of course, by the end of our visit, the young order clerk was quite flustered. It took quite a substantial amount of argument to convince her to create the styles Chutnee wanted, but it was for the best. If she were comfortable, she would have a much better time. There was no point in having her wear something she hated.

My family did show a bit of shock at my choice of company, but after a bit of private explanation, they seemed to understand. They showed her to a guest bedroom and were quite cordial. Chutnee seemed to take something of an interest in a servant named Hekanes that my family acquired a few months beforehand. I even saw him bringing her a drink late one evening.

I tried to sleep that night, but I was kept awake by a mixture of joy at being back for a celebration I enjoyed since my childhood and apprehension at how the bardess would be received. Before long, I actually saw the sun filter in through my windows. The head servant came to wake me, as I instructed him to do. There was much to do before the festivities.

My normal morning routine went quickly. I dressed swiftly and ate a light breakfast on the balcony of my room. Below, I could see the servants preparing the grounds for the many guests we expected in the coming hours. Heading towards the main entrance was Hekanes. It seemed odd to me that he, a servant that lived with us, was not already inside, or making preparations for the party. No one had sent him on an errand, but seeing the tailor’s boy running up the path soon after made me forget about our wandering servant.

Hours later, the party of the first day was in full swing. It appeared that Chutnee, after a few awkward moments, began to enjoy herself. I decided to ask her to demonstrate her talents as a singer for some of those assembled.

I should have realized the subject matter for her song would be a bit inappropriate for the situation. There was nothing overtly lewd about it, but it did bring about a few shocked looks. Drunal heard some of it, and the scholar began stifling a laugh.

Aside from that one incident, I think the day actually went well. I do not know if the sylph would agree with me, but she certainly was not one to regret a party. At the close of the evening, it seemed all enjoyed themselves, and that was really the whole intention. Some would have, no doubt, viewed this as a method to gain favor with other nobles, but thankfully, few of those guests did so to the point that the party became more of a political outing.

Chutnee made her way to her room, and I went to mine. Before I went to sleep, I saw Hekanes heading towards hers with a glass of wine, just as he did the night before. I thought she drank a bit much during the day already. For a relatively small creature, she could certainly consume quite a lot of alcohol. That night, I slept well, as my worries for the day were somewhat unfounded.

The next morning, I awoke to the house in disarray. Servants were rushing back and forth in the hallways. Rushing out to see the cause of this, I noticed my father standing near the door of Chutnee’s room. He asked me to come look inside.

At first, the room appeared like any other in which someone had slept. The covers were turned down on the bed, and the pillows strewn about slightly. I then noticed the open window. I began to think that the bardess had left, not enjoying the city, but then I noticed the shattered glass on the floor. It was the one Hekanes delivered last night, filled with wine. It looked as though someone dropped it.

It was then that my father explained that Hekanes was missing, and showed me the note that was left on the bed. It was a simple message. If I wished to see the sylvan again, I was to head to the glade in which Sareus fell. It also asked if I had the courage to come alone.

Perhaps the most disturbing of all of this was the signature at the bottom of the note. It was Natir’s. I recognized it from the bounty note I read weeks ago in the Landing. I should have known I had not heard the end of him. Anger filled me, and I marched to my room. I would answer no questions. I collected my blades and left for my old practice area.

The walk to the small area felt much like the one away from it on the night Sareus fell. I did not know what I was walking into, and it was most likely some type of trap. No matter what happened this evening, the merchant’s involvement in my life would end one way or another. My thoughts were focused on that idea, and that one alone. I just wanted it all to end.

I had nearly arrived at my destination when a cloaked man, similar to those Natir employed many months ago in this same place, leapt from a tree at me with a long-knife aimed for my heart.

Luckily, I was able to react in the last second, maneuvering my body away from the drawn blade. I was not completely successful in my dodge, as the man still landed on me, and we were both knocked to the ground. He was not the most dexterous opponent, though, and I was able to flip him over to the left. I rose to my feet, ready for his next attack, but it did not come. Confused, I moved closer to the prone form, and saw a trickle of blood running across the ground. He impaled himself when he landed from my throw.

I continued heading towards the glade, now with my longswords drawn. This was fortunate, as another cloaked form ambushed me. I managed to just barely parry his attack with my right blade, and gave him a deep cut down the length of his bicep with the other. The man’s short sword fell to the ground, and he ran clutching at his wounded arm. I heard Natir’s laugh from the glade, and I readied myself for what lay ahead.

Stepping into my old sparring grounds, I saw the merchant, but he had changed much. His once considerable girth shrunk much, and he looked more haggard. Worry lines creased his features. The jeweled dagger remained the same, and it was drawing close to the bound form of Chutnee. I saw he intended something far worse than killing her, and my rage only increased.

Seeing me, Natir stopped, cursing what he called my incredible relationship with luck. He took the dagger and, standing over the sylph, pressed it close to her neck, telling me that it would be one life for another. She would go free, if I were to take her place.

Chutnee kept his plans from succeeding at this point. Her knee shot up, and Natir stumbled back in pain. I positioned myself between them. Muttering in pain and frustration, the human unsheathed his sabre. Our battle was on.

I learned that my opponent’s weight loss was not due only to worry over his continual failures. He had honed his skills much over the past few months, and though he was still outmatched, not to the degree that this fight could not end in simply knocking him unconscious. One of us would fall this eve.

That one was Natir. He lunged heavily at my left side, and dodging to the right, trapped his sabre with my left blade. I will always remember the look of hatred in his eyes as he brought his dagger around to stab at me. Before he could do so, I brought my right blade around for a backhanded slash at his throat. It hit, and he collapsed forward.

I untied Chutnee and brought her back to the city. The guards at the gates were quite puzzled at our appearance, and even more surprised when I told them about the two bodies in the forest. I continued on to my home, and told the sylph that I would take her back to Icemule the next morning if she wished. Then I collapsed in my bed.

The two of us rode swiftly to the west. I remained silent for the journey, this time not guilty with the act of killing someone, but guilty at the satisfaction it brought. With any luck, my companion did not take it my unusually taciturn nature to be an expression of irritation with her for making me leave the harvest celebration a few days early.

In the days following our arrival, I spoke with her often. She actually gave me gifts for my deeds. I did not feel like a hero. I felt more like a murderer who put my friends in danger. Chutnee said this was absolute nonsense, but I would not believe such.

Another message from Ta’Illistim reached me that very night. Natir, due to his deeds, from the theft of the tome to the kidnap of a guest of a noble family, was considered a great fiend and menace to the city. For my actions in apprehending him, I earned much prestige. According to my previous request, my formal titles were conveyed upon my father, who now, with this promotion, held a title the equivalent of duke. Hekanes was also found and punished fittingly.

After a day or two, I decided it best to speak with my friends in House Onoir. I was most interested in the advice of Morgiest, who recently requested me as a squire. He actually looked upon my actions quite favorably, and said that I should feel satisfaction for what I did. In his mind, I brought a great criminal to justice and protected my friends and family. It sounded almost like he too, thought me a hero.

Perhaps my friends are correct in their beliefs. While I am still not pleased that I was forced to perform some of the deeds I did, I do realize that I have also been far too idealistic in the past. I do not feel nearly as bad about taking pleasure in Natir’s death as I did before. Certain actions are necessary, and not all of them can be benign for all, especially in the pursuit of justice. Heroes will always fight villains. Good will always face evil. It is as it always was, and always will be.

Yet, can we ever truly be certain of which we are? If we can, then we only fool ourselves. It is enough for us to stay true to what we believe, to guide our lives by what we feel is right. Though we strive to reach ideals, we must realize that, at times, in order to reach them, we must deviate from them.

Thus ends my tale.