Janelle Chevalier

5. The Kingdom of Erenael

Underlined: Elven tongue.

✽

The Palace of Saaer

The smooth red liquid ran warm down his throat; thick and sweet on his tongue. He took a last sip from the golden goblet before wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. He looked up as he did, smiling at the guests who accepted his invitation to have a delightful dinner with him. They were of noble ranks as him, from Lords of different regions to Magisters of various Studium Generales.

His kingdom was prosperous; something that his grandfather thought impossible but there he was, ruling the kingdom that his grandfather had managed to bring together. Erenael, the name of his kingdom, was once a forsaken place made of divided lands; lands that battled for years and years after the Great War. His grandfather's dream had been to stitch those torn pieces in hope of making a beautiful kingdom; a sanctuary to all Elves around the Great Orb.

A kingdom hidden from the Human eyes.

"King Tekaron," one of the servants came into his line of sight, bowing down respectfully and didn't straighten up until he gave a cough of acknowledgement. The servant stood straight but her eyes were still downwards. Her clothes, a fine beige robe made of silk, brushed against the ground when she moved, concealing her sandals-clad feet from view. She was holding tightly a rolled piece of parchment close to her chest as if her very life depended on delivering it. "I was given this message by the High Priest and was asked to deliver it to Your Highness. He said it was of great importance."

Tekaron quirked a white eyebrow at the girl even though she couldn't see it. His pointed ears twitched, however, when he heard murmuring and hushed laughter across the long dining table. His ears managed to hear what the murmurs were about: his servant's clothes. He looked up to see Lord Nassi hiding his smile with his red-gloved-hand and Lord Grov smirking at the girl, who by now was completely uncomfortable to be standing in a room full of people of power.

"I don't know how you dress your servants, Lord Grov, but I dress mine as I would like to be seen; a man of power and elegance," Tekaron smiled mockingly at Lord Grov, his smile grew when Lord Grov's face flushed in embarrassment as the seven other men, excluding Lord Nassi, laughed heartily, raising their goblets to the King. He looked down at the blushing servant and smiled reassuringly. He stretched his hand to her and she took no time in handing him the parchment, then with a quick bow, she collected her robe and left the dining room.

All eyes were on Tekaron when he unrolled the parchment, all were curious as to what the High Priest wanted the King to know immediately. When he let his eyes skim over the words, he felt the blood drain from his face. He stood up suddenly from his chair, surprising his guests, and with a long look at each one of them, he said:

"The Grim Reaper has made his choice."

✽

"The King is going to lead us all to damnation."

Lord Nassi looked over at Lord Grov who was gazing through one of the windows of the palace. The window itself was huge, floor-to-ceiling in height and it had the width of five adult elf men standing next to each other. The drapes, made of Mulberry silk, were of a dark shade of red. They had a nice complementarity with the cream coloured interior of the palace. They were pulled aside, however, to let the warm summer sun shine through the hallways of the palace.

"What brings you to say that?" Nassi asked, fiddling with the hem of his red damask tunic that had soft yellow floral sprigs. The tunic reached to little above the Lord's ankle and was trimmed by dark grey fur that was inlaid with round pieces of rubies each half a meter or close to that.