a civil tongue in your mouth. Especially when speaking with your betters.”
“Betters Y’aris of no name?” He struck deeply with his barb, reminding everyone of who Y’aris was, and Y’aris of his lack of a house. He could see the flash of anger in the high commander’s eyes. But the black blood controlled himself.
“High Lord, while I truly accept that this poor human is distressed, I beg of you not to allow him to speak to you in this way. It is an offence against all of Elaris. He should return to his quarters and stay there until he is calm.”
The high lord nodded and that was as much as it took. A heartbeat later Iros felt strong hands grabbing him around the shoulders, and was abruptly pulled from his seat.
“What! Unhand me!”
But instead of unhanding him more of the guards arrived and suddenly he was actually lifted off the ground and then carried out of the Royal Chamber to the sound of thunderous applause. Hundreds of elves applauding his eviction. This, Iros realised as they passed through the double doors at the rear of the Royal Chamber, was not a good day for diplomacy.
And then when they actually threw him out, tossing him on the ground like a piece of rubbish, he knew that it was worse than that. Diplomacy had completely failed. He had completely failed. He had allowed himself to be out-manoeuvred by a sewer rat.
And he had to report his failure to King Herrick.
Chapter Eleven.
All was quiet in the forest as the troop leader gave the signal for his watchmen to advance. No beasts heard them. No birds were startled and made a noise as they flew away. No twigs snapped underfoot. Terwyn was pleased with that. His watchmen were well-trained, good soldiers, and they understood what was needed.
He would have liked to have been able to claim the credit for that, but in his heart he knew that it was simply that they were elves of the purest blood. Lord Y’aris was right in that. Their skills came naturally to them. Not like the foul outsiders they were advancing on.
He could see them so clearly as they crept closer, and the sight was sickening. Human for the most part, though there was other blood in some of them. Their brutish forms were an offence against decency, their rough speech more so. And of course the natural savagery of their animal nature shone through. The sooner the world was rid of these things, the better.
But he was nervous these days. He had not heard news of the main strike force for some time. No doubt they were simply advancing too far and too fast into the enemy lands to send back messengers, but still he would have liked to know of their mighty victories. And then he knew that it might not be an easy fight. There were soldiers among the enemy. Not true elven soldiers, but still wild men a step up from the simple beasts and barbarians they had encountered thus far. Men in armour. Men carrying weapons, crossbows with almost the same range as a proper longbow.
Fortunately they were unprepared. They didn’t know that his troop was nearby, and they were distracted. Loading up wagon after wagon with the loot that they had no doubt plundered from decent elves. Maybe even the loot from the obscenity that had been the raid on Lady Elwene.
Just thinking of that attack threatened to drive his sense away. The very idea of an unclean human forcing himself upon the purest of the pure, defiling her, and then foully killing her. It was all he could do not to just scream with rage and charge them. He so wanted to stick his sword into their still beating hearts and watch them die screaming as he twisted the blade. But that would be a mistake. It might get his watchmen killed. And the filthy humans might even get away.
He had to be disciplined. He had to follow the plan.
And so even though it took all his self control, as he knew it did that of all his watchmen, they continued their cautious advance
“Betters Y’aris of no name?” He struck deeply with his barb, reminding everyone of who Y’aris was, and Y’aris of his lack of a house. He could see the flash of anger in the high commander’s eyes. But the black blood controlled himself.
“High Lord, while I truly accept that this poor human is distressed, I beg of you not to allow him to speak to you in this way. It is an offence against all of Elaris. He should return to his quarters and stay there until he is calm.”
The high lord nodded and that was as much as it took. A heartbeat later Iros felt strong hands grabbing him around the shoulders, and was abruptly pulled from his seat.
“What! Unhand me!”
But instead of unhanding him more of the guards arrived and suddenly he was actually lifted off the ground and then carried out of the Royal Chamber to the sound of thunderous applause. Hundreds of elves applauding his eviction. This, Iros realised as they passed through the double doors at the rear of the Royal Chamber, was not a good day for diplomacy.
And then when they actually threw him out, tossing him on the ground like a piece of rubbish, he knew that it was worse than that. Diplomacy had completely failed. He had completely failed. He had allowed himself to be out-manoeuvred by a sewer rat.
And he had to report his failure to King Herrick.
Chapter Eleven.
All was quiet in the forest as the troop leader gave the signal for his watchmen to advance. No beasts heard them. No birds were startled and made a noise as they flew away. No twigs snapped underfoot. Terwyn was pleased with that. His watchmen were well-trained, good soldiers, and they understood what was needed.
He would have liked to have been able to claim the credit for that, but in his heart he knew that it was simply that they were elves of the purest blood. Lord Y’aris was right in that. Their skills came naturally to them. Not like the foul outsiders they were advancing on.
He could see them so clearly as they crept closer, and the sight was sickening. Human for the most part, though there was other blood in some of them. Their brutish forms were an offence against decency, their rough speech more so. And of course the natural savagery of their animal nature shone through. The sooner the world was rid of these things, the better.
But he was nervous these days. He had not heard news of the main strike force for some time. No doubt they were simply advancing too far and too fast into the enemy lands to send back messengers, but still he would have liked to know of their mighty victories. And then he knew that it might not be an easy fight. There were soldiers among the enemy. Not true elven soldiers, but still wild men a step up from the simple beasts and barbarians they had encountered thus far. Men in armour. Men carrying weapons, crossbows with almost the same range as a proper longbow.
Fortunately they were unprepared. They didn’t know that his troop was nearby, and they were distracted. Loading up wagon after wagon with the loot that they had no doubt plundered from decent elves. Maybe even the loot from the obscenity that had been the raid on Lady Elwene.
Just thinking of that attack threatened to drive his sense away. The very idea of an unclean human forcing himself upon the purest of the pure, defiling her, and then foully killing her. It was all he could do not to just scream with rage and charge them. He so wanted to stick his sword into their still beating hearts and watch them die screaming as he twisted the blade. But that would be a mistake. It might get his watchmen killed. And the filthy humans might even get away.
He had to be disciplined. He had to follow the plan.
And so even though it took all his self control, as he knew it did that of all his watchmen, they continued their cautious advance
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