Valadel

Chapter XXXIX

Prince Agner II had been hunched over his command table for hours, reading over the letter he had received earlier that day from a messenger. It was marked confidential, for eyes of the king only. He wasn't the king, but he might as well have been. There wasn't a way in the abyss his demented father could hold his eyes open long enough to read the words of the letter. If Joras Freemane believed the contents of the letter to be so severe that only the King may know of them, it was a matter not to be taken lightly. He read the words over and over again. The words restoration, peace, redemption ran through the entirety of the letter. But it was one word that made him shiver more than anything the north could hurl at him. The word he had known all of his life, the word that was synonymous to monster: Elf.

Joras had one. Well, two. One male and one female. The letter read that he had them safe and locked away, wanting the input from the other kingdoms. And what was he to expect? For the kings to welcome the elves with open arms and make all bad things good? It wouldn't happen. Imagining the wars and battles that would follow made Prince Agner sick to his stomach.

The end of the letter was an ultimatum. Either to accept the elves or reject them. A blue flag for acceptance, a red flag for rejection. Apparently, he wasn't the only monarch to make this decision. Arnland had raised a red flag and Valdor had yet to raise one. Jorden was blue. He would be a deciding factor.

A knock on his door had interrupted his thought. "Enter," he said.

Nolan Whitelocke presented himself, his black cape lined with blonde lion fur flowing behind him. His hair was a platinum color and his eyes were a soulless black, contrary to his son's piercing blue eyes. His face had shown signs of aging, evident of his deep crows feet, and his sword, Lockette, hung from his waist. He approached the table and placed his palms flat on the surface.

"Why have you summoned me?" He asked.

"Read this," said the prince, shoving the letter in his face.

Nolan whisked the letter out of the prince's hand. He held the paper in front of him and his eyes darted back and forth, reading the words carefully. His expression remained as steel as he read the the letter, his emotions hidden. He tossed the letter back on the table and shook his head.

"Is this a joke? Elves? Where did you get this letter from?" He asked, his voice unforgiving, as it always was.

"The seal is authentic. This was sent from Joras himself. What he speaks of is true, he would not lie about such a thing. He's a Freemane."

"Because every word that comes out of his mouth is the golden truth?"

"He is an honorable man, not a deceitful one."

Nolan shook his head in defeat. "Fine. A fair point." He picked the letter up from the table, skimming through it once more.

"If what Joras speaks of is true...if elves walk the land again, then the choice is clear. We raise the red flag."

"The choice is for my father to make, Nolan."

Nolan scoffed. "The king doesn't even know he's the king, his mind is long gone, you think he can make a decision such as this?"

"Be it as it may, I do not wish to war. Marching on Jorden is foolish."

"I control Jorden," said Nolan, as if it were a matter of fact.

"They have your son, Nolan."

"Yes, and they can keep him. I've just taken a new, younger wife, she'll give me sons far more capable and honorable." He said, his tone cold as the lands that bore him.