Restoration

A summer's night in Iliuna

It was dusk on midsummer's eve when three strange men walked in the local inn. A fortunate time to arrive, as villages across the land were heralding the end of the longest day of the year. In the centre of the room, some local girls were dancing to a simple tune played on a fiddle. The hearth was burning brightly, creating a certain atmosphere among the customers. The ale helped as well. The three strangers weaved their way to a small table in an alcove at the back. They took off and folded their long coats and began ordering dinner.

After a while, and a few more ales, the youngest man looked over to the centre of the room longingly. He started to rise. The man to his left grabbed his shoulder.

'If your father hears of what you intend to do, it isn't your arse he'll tan. Sit down.'

At that precise moment, a flautist joined the fiddler, struck up a fast and merry tune, and then the young, untried men of the village gave a cry and joined the girls in a new dance. He used this as a distraction and tore away, bounding across the floor. 'Damm that boy!' Said the second man. 'He'll get us both killed!'

Finally, the last and oldest man spoke. 'Leave him. He will either have a wonderful, enlightening time or get his heart broken. Or possibly get killed.'

The second spoke again, grudgingly. 'I will trust you on this, even though I have never trusted a Suvenite before.'

'Nor I a Berioran.'

Meanwhile, the first man was having a great time, meeting dozens of new girls and dancing with all till suddenly, he crashed into one. She had long, black hair and deep pools of dark brown were her eyes. She was tall, skinny and quite attractive in all.

Their eyes met, and she pulled him out of the crowd. They sat down at a table, had a few ales and began to talk.

'So, what's your name?' Said the young man.

'Emma.' She replied. 'Yours handsome?'

'Me, um, I, uh, I'm Arnildir' 'Oooh. Aristocracy?'

'Uh'

'Ooh, are you Aurenian?'

'Uh, I suppose....'

She laughed. 'I suppose! You forgot where you left your head today?'

'At the bottom of that tankard probably. Why am I so awkward?'

'It's alright.' She said. 'Funny though. You know, the more I think about it, the more I think I've heard your name before.'

By this time, the young man was getting nervous. 'Are you the son of that Barodan feller?

'Oh gods. What do I do? She's guessed I'm the king's son, what do I do?!'

'Yes, I am, Arnildir son of Barodan, king of Aurena.'

All the colour drained out of Emma's face.

'Oh, brilliant. Now you've killed her you idiot!

' She made a choked laugh 'You're joking, right.'

'No' He draws his long-sword and lays it on the table. 'I am not. Look at it.'

She looked and saw a blade that had a very faint blue tinge to it, looked easily sharp enough to cleave a man in two, had a sapphire inlaid pommel, the metal of which flowed from the hilt down like a river of steel and was, in total, nearly half her hight. This was elven work, custom made for him. And all this was blindingly obvious but supposed to be kept so secret that the only ones who knew, were those about to die. 'What did you just do that for?! Oh I am on form tonight!'