That same morning, Anvar awoke in his cell and felt decidedly colder than normal. He was short and frail, even as elves went, with silver-grey hair on his head and beard. His clothing was a fine white linen robe gloriously accompanied by iron shackles connected by a chain on his wrists. They prevented him from having free use of his hands and using his orange magic.
He threw off the rag he used for a blanket and rushed to the wall of his cell. There was a small barred window at the top of the wall too high for him to reach. Anvar stood on the edge of his bed as he had done on every cold morning and reached out to the window. This time was different than the others as his fingers felt the icy, wet sensation of frost on the bars which proceeded to melt against his skin. Anvar stepped down and looked at his hand in disbelief.
Linvin had months to arrive here and yet here we are. How could he forsake me? We have been so close for so many years. Did I mean so little to him that he would not come for me? No…No…No…That surely cannot be why. Something must have happened to him. Perhaps he was sleeping one night and a thief snuck into his camp and killed him. Maybe he was overcome by superior forces on the journey here. Mandrean might have already killed Linvin. That can’t be it. The whole point of this is to create a spectacle for the world to see so everyone knows he is better than Linvin. A quiet victory defeats the purpose of all this. Mandrean would have also used me as a bargaining chip in an altercation and clearly that has not happened. No, Mandrean has not seen him. So where is he?
Anvar sat on the edge of the bed with despair tugging at his elbow. Think of the situation like a general. If Linvin were to attack Mandrean, I would be used as a shield to prevent his action. Then my hostage status would be used to force him to capitulate. If all emotion were removed from the equation and it was looked at from a military point of view, Linvin would be better off to let them kill me first and then seek his revenge for my fall once their bargaining chip was gone. Then he could kill Mandrean and end their vendetta against him. It is logical. He is a great general. Such a plan has undoubtedly come to him. The question is whether my nephew would do such a thing to me. It seems either he would or he is dead. There was a sound of soldiers on the stairs. Either way, Mr. Greenlith, your time is up.
He threw off the rag he used for a blanket and rushed to the wall of his cell. There was a small barred window at the top of the wall too high for him to reach. Anvar stood on the edge of his bed as he had done on every cold morning and reached out to the window. This time was different than the others as his fingers felt the icy, wet sensation of frost on the bars which proceeded to melt against his skin. Anvar stepped down and looked at his hand in disbelief.
Linvin had months to arrive here and yet here we are. How could he forsake me? We have been so close for so many years. Did I mean so little to him that he would not come for me? No…No…No…That surely cannot be why. Something must have happened to him. Perhaps he was sleeping one night and a thief snuck into his camp and killed him. Maybe he was overcome by superior forces on the journey here. Mandrean might have already killed Linvin. That can’t be it. The whole point of this is to create a spectacle for the world to see so everyone knows he is better than Linvin. A quiet victory defeats the purpose of all this. Mandrean would have also used me as a bargaining chip in an altercation and clearly that has not happened. No, Mandrean has not seen him. So where is he?
Anvar sat on the edge of the bed with despair tugging at his elbow. Think of the situation like a general. If Linvin were to attack Mandrean, I would be used as a shield to prevent his action. Then my hostage status would be used to force him to capitulate. If all emotion were removed from the equation and it was looked at from a military point of view, Linvin would be better off to let them kill me first and then seek his revenge for my fall once their bargaining chip was gone. Then he could kill Mandrean and end their vendetta against him. It is logical. He is a great general. Such a plan has undoubtedly come to him. The question is whether my nephew would do such a thing to me. It seems either he would or he is dead. There was a sound of soldiers on the stairs. Either way, Mr. Greenlith, your time is up.
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