Valadel

Chapter XLI

"Are you sure? I cannot risk something on a mistake." Said King Joras as he stood in his refuge. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away the sweat that dripped into his eyes. The sun poured into the room, heating everything inside. The king cooled his insides with a drink of water from his mug and set it back on the table. They were in the midst of a blazing summer, and the heat rose everyday.

"I'm a seasoned scout, your highness. I know what is at stake here. I would not make such a costly mistake," said the scout, standing with his arms behind his back.

The king nodded. He wiped his forehead and massaged his temples. "Thank you, scout. You are dismissed."

The scout nodded. His arm went across his chest as he bowed. He came back up and spun, exiting through the door.

"What does this mean, Joras?" Said Aldrien, who stood off to his side.

"The world is divided...that only means one thing," said Tytus, who sat in a chair next to the window. He wore the uniform of the Arch Ranger and his mantle. His sheathed sword rested next to him on it's point. He uncrossed his leg and sat forward. "My rangers will be ready at your word."

"Let's not jump to conclusions, Sir Baronstone," Joras sighed. War was the last thing he wanted, but it was coming.

"If we go to war, Joras, thousands will die. Our soldiers and our citizens, all in the name of these two elves!" said Aldrien.

"You think that escapes my mind, Aldrien? Do you think that's what I want?" said Joras, his voiced rising with every word.

"That's what nobody wants, we can safely agree to that, but...Joras, perhaps you should consider...another course of action when it comes to these elves," said Aldrien. 

Tytus cocked his head with suspicion at the advisor. "What course of action do you suggest, my Prince?" 

Aldrien sighed. "Perhaps we should simply execute them, and be done with it." 

Tytus stood from his chair. "Not a chance. I didn't lose all those men and put my life in jeopardy just for those elves to be slain. They're only children."

"Children with the powers of a god! I read your report, Sir Baronstone! Bringing dead men back to life, spewing fire from their hands! How are we supposed to make these beings heel with mere swords and arrows? What if they turn on us? Think of the lives that would be lost in the wake of their wrath!"

He turned to Joras with pleading eyes. "Brother, please, listen to reason! A war between the four Kingdoms will destroy us all!"

Tytus stepped forward. "My King, those elves are alive for a reason, far beyond me and my rangers! Just think what we could-"

"Enough!" shouted Joras. "The both of you are giving me a headache." He took another sip of water and ran the ever wetting handkerchief across his face. Every minute of every day, it was the same argument, either from those he surrounded himself with, of from within.

Aldrien took a deep breath, having more to say. "Your Grace, you must remember it was Jorik Freemane, our ancestor who sought their destruction all those years ago!

"Aldrien..." Joras started. He sighed and rubbed his temples. He thought of those who had died for these elves, as Tytus said. His closest friend, Gallador, the Magus Irving, a scholar who's work he had always admired, Edwin, whom he entrusted some of his power too, and the Stormwell boy, the one who gave him another day to reign. They all gave their lives for these creatures. He would honor their final wishes, even if it demanded his own life. "The elves will survive. Prepare a court speaking. I will notify the public of their existence. They ought to know why we are going to war."