In a rocker near the door sat an old elf of unremarkable size
puffing a long pipe. His hair was that cross of silver and gray,
which proved to be so difficult to determine. A slowly sloping
beard extended from his face past his stomach. His stature was
small even by elf standards. The elf’s grand blue eyes were
captivated by the sunset over the city as seen through the orchards
in the back yard and did not notice Linvin’s entrance.
Linvin looked at the nearby table and found a tea setting with
one cup poured and another overturned on its saucer, waiting for
use. “No ale, Anvar?”
The elf’s concentration was broken, and he regarded Linvin. He
set his pipe down hastily and leapt to his feet. The two men
embraced for a long, respectful moment. Linvin held his closest
family member and dearest friend.
“My boy,” Anvar said with tears of joy. “It has been far too
long since we saw one another. I would offer you a pint of ale, but
that stubborn butler of yours refuses to tap a keg without your
permission.”
Linvin released his uncle and poured himself a cup of tea. “You
know better than to cross Theisen. This may be my home, but he
runs it his way. For right now, tea will suit me just fine.” Linvin
sat down in the rocker next to Anvar’s. The old elf returned to his
seat and pipe as a servant brought Linvin his own.
Once the servant had left, Linvin chided his uncle. “I say would
you be good enough to light this for me?”
Anvar looked humorously annoyed. “You do not need me to
light that, Boy.”
“Of course not,” Linvin agreed. “But it is more enjoyable to
watch you do it.”
Anvar squinted at his favorite nephew but could not help but
oblige him. He tapped his forefinger in midair and a small ray of
orange magic flew in a line directly to Linvin’s pipe and lit the
tobacco.
Linvin took a long drag and blew a smoke ring. Then he
dropped a lemon slice in his tea and took a sip. “Thank you for
that, Anvar. So tell me, what is new in Fraylic?”
Anvar relaxed and returned to his own pipe. “What can I say,
my boy? The money flows and the population grows. I imagine
business is good?”
“That would seem to be the case from the ledgers I have read. I
am auditing the main store and the company as a whole tomorrow
while meeting with the accountant and banker. After that, I have
an audience with the king and assembly to address some matters.”
Linvin stopped as if there was more to say but instead just drew on
his pipe and watched the sunset.
Anvar scrutinized him carefully. His jovial expression changed
just as his nephew’s had. Then he noticed the armor and sword.
“You have not worn arms since our return from our trek to the
north. What has happened?”
Linvin rubbed his face with his hand as he was prone to do
while searching for the right words. “I had another visitor the night
before leaving Missandor.”
Anvar’s face became solemn as he peered forward and spoke in
a low, monotone voice while rocking. “From your appearance
here, you are no worse for wear. Was it a male or female this
time?”
“Male.”
“Did you get a name?” asked Anvar.
“Five. That was all he would say. He made it all the way to my
bedroom.”
“That is the sixth assassin since our return,” Anvar noted. “Do
you have any idea whom we have to thank for all of the visitors?”
“I have many guesses,” Linvin answered. “Clearly, the same
party is behind them all. That party is well funded and obsessed
with killing me without stirring up trouble with Sartan. I know it
sounds insane, but this is just the line of thinking of Lord
Mandrean.”
“How can you say that?” queried Anvar. “We do not even know
who the new Lord Mandrean is or what he is like.”
“That, good uncle, is the insane part. It feels like the work
of Lord Mandrean the Thirteenth.”
“How could that be? You killed him in the valley. Maybe his
successor was like his father?”
“Perhaps,” Linvin said as he sipped his tea. “Something just
feels familiar about all this. I cannot shake this feeling that my old
nemesis haunts me still.” Both men were quiet for some time
before Theisen appeared in the doorway to announce that dinner
was served.
puffing a long pipe. His hair was that cross of silver and gray,
which proved to be so difficult to determine. A slowly sloping
beard extended from his face past his stomach. His stature was
small even by elf standards. The elf’s grand blue eyes were
captivated by the sunset over the city as seen through the orchards
in the back yard and did not notice Linvin’s entrance.
Linvin looked at the nearby table and found a tea setting with
one cup poured and another overturned on its saucer, waiting for
use. “No ale, Anvar?”
The elf’s concentration was broken, and he regarded Linvin. He
set his pipe down hastily and leapt to his feet. The two men
embraced for a long, respectful moment. Linvin held his closest
family member and dearest friend.
“My boy,” Anvar said with tears of joy. “It has been far too
long since we saw one another. I would offer you a pint of ale, but
that stubborn butler of yours refuses to tap a keg without your
permission.”
Linvin released his uncle and poured himself a cup of tea. “You
know better than to cross Theisen. This may be my home, but he
runs it his way. For right now, tea will suit me just fine.” Linvin
sat down in the rocker next to Anvar’s. The old elf returned to his
seat and pipe as a servant brought Linvin his own.
Once the servant had left, Linvin chided his uncle. “I say would
you be good enough to light this for me?”
Anvar looked humorously annoyed. “You do not need me to
light that, Boy.”
“Of course not,” Linvin agreed. “But it is more enjoyable to
watch you do it.”
Anvar squinted at his favorite nephew but could not help but
oblige him. He tapped his forefinger in midair and a small ray of
orange magic flew in a line directly to Linvin’s pipe and lit the
tobacco.
Linvin took a long drag and blew a smoke ring. Then he
dropped a lemon slice in his tea and took a sip. “Thank you for
that, Anvar. So tell me, what is new in Fraylic?”
Anvar relaxed and returned to his own pipe. “What can I say,
my boy? The money flows and the population grows. I imagine
business is good?”
“That would seem to be the case from the ledgers I have read. I
am auditing the main store and the company as a whole tomorrow
while meeting with the accountant and banker. After that, I have
an audience with the king and assembly to address some matters.”
Linvin stopped as if there was more to say but instead just drew on
his pipe and watched the sunset.
Anvar scrutinized him carefully. His jovial expression changed
just as his nephew’s had. Then he noticed the armor and sword.
“You have not worn arms since our return from our trek to the
north. What has happened?”
Linvin rubbed his face with his hand as he was prone to do
while searching for the right words. “I had another visitor the night
before leaving Missandor.”
Anvar’s face became solemn as he peered forward and spoke in
a low, monotone voice while rocking. “From your appearance
here, you are no worse for wear. Was it a male or female this
time?”
“Male.”
“Did you get a name?” asked Anvar.
“Five. That was all he would say. He made it all the way to my
bedroom.”
“That is the sixth assassin since our return,” Anvar noted. “Do
you have any idea whom we have to thank for all of the visitors?”
“I have many guesses,” Linvin answered. “Clearly, the same
party is behind them all. That party is well funded and obsessed
with killing me without stirring up trouble with Sartan. I know it
sounds insane, but this is just the line of thinking of Lord
Mandrean.”
“How can you say that?” queried Anvar. “We do not even know
who the new Lord Mandrean is or what he is like.”
“That, good uncle, is the insane part. It feels like the work
of Lord Mandrean the Thirteenth.”
“How could that be? You killed him in the valley. Maybe his
successor was like his father?”
“Perhaps,” Linvin said as he sipped his tea. “Something just
feels familiar about all this. I cannot shake this feeling that my old
nemesis haunts me still.” Both men were quiet for some time
before Theisen appeared in the doorway to announce that dinner
was served.
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