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In The Mist Of The Erie Isles

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode Thirty-Seven: The Best Kept Secrets

The crew glance around the room, sitting at the bar of the first tavern they could find on Mishgan. They were met with an eerie silence as soon as they set foot in the establishment, and now the patrons stare. Some appear to be almost in awe of the group, consisting of Steingar, Naemen, Kirsta, Jarae, Mairlynn, Salasha and Valan.

“I wonder what their problem is." Mairlynn thinks quietly aloud.

“It's hard to say. Could be that they don't like outsiders." Kirsta remarks in a near whisper.

“Naemen?" His sister turns to him.

“I never had this kind of reception when I was here. It seems... A little eerie."

Returning from the back room, the bartender passes by the group, his hands laden with the cleanest pewter mugs. Reaching Valan, who sits at the end of the bar, he sets a particular mug atop the counter.

“This is the best I have, sir!" He nervously exclaims.

“That's just fine, thanks." Valan replies.

“Oh, thank you, sir!" The barkeep bows his head, before serving the others.

He promptly darts away, disappearing into a back room.

“Huh... That was odd." Steingar remarks.

“Good service, though!" Valan chirps.

“Thank you, sir!" The barkeep shouts from the back room.

Lifting his mug, Steingar's arm brushes against Naemen, who by chance had to sit beside him. It pushes his arm and spills the half breed's drink onto his shirt.

“What the hell?!"

“Sorry."

“You can't humiliate me enough; you gotta do this, too?!" Naemen growls.

“It was an accident! This bar is crowded!" Steingar retorts.

“Then scoot over! You have the room!"

“Hardly, you being such a massive failure..." Steingar smirks as he takes a drink.

With his lips curling around his snout in a vicious snarl, Naemen slaps the mug from Steingar's hand. It flies past him and smacks Valan in the shoulder.

“Hey! Watch it!" Valan growls.

Suddenly, the patrons in the bar jump from their seats, turning on the pair. They ignore Valan and the girls, who watch in shock as Naemen and Steingar find themselves no longer battling each other, but a score of random men. Fearing for their safety, Valan begins to interject, as do Kirsta and Jarae. Seeing Valan and the women as they step forward, the gang of patrons almost instantly backs down.

“We don't want any trouble!" Kirsta exclaims.

“This was all just a misunderstanding!" Valan adds.

“The hell it was!" Naemen shouts.

“Shut up, Naemen!" Salasha covers her face with a hand. “You're making it worse."

“Yeah, be a good boy, Naemen." Steingar teases.

With a loud growl, Naemen swings a fist and punches Steingar in the face. Caught off guard by the sudden attack, the Helngar falls back, bumping into Valan. As the pair wrestle, Valan catches a strike to his back. The patrons again explode into violence, doing their best to subdue the pair. Valan, Kirsta and Jarae push their way toward the center of the crowd. A patron lands a punch on Valan's face and immediately freezes. Angered, Valan punches back. Joining the fray, the patrons seem confused, unsure of what to do, but soon enough is enough, and Valan is beaten alongside Naemen, Steingar, Kirsta and Jarae.

Suddenly, a detachment of guards barge into the tavern. They're not Crown soldiers, but local men who've pledged their allegiance to Mishgan's Lord. They bash the fighters with clubs and throw them aside as they make their way toward the cause of the ruckus, the five crew of the Arona-Dahl, who occupy the nucleus of the scuffle.

“Stand aside! Yield! Put down those fists or I'll cut off your hands!" They yell, making their way deeper into the crowd.

Seeing the five as they stand battered and bruised, their backs to each other and their fists raised, the guards freeze in place. They turn toward each other, as if they are unsure of what to do next.

“Y-you need to stand down. Right now!" A guard demands.

“Like hell I will! I was just getting started!" Naemen growls.

“I think I have a couple more rounds in me." Steingar adds, flexing his clawed fingers.

“That's enough, boys." Kirsta sighs, lowering her hands.

“Yeah. We've been caught." Valan says as he stands down.

“What is it with you? Why aren't you so eager to fight like you used to be?" Steingar asks, glancing over his shoulder at Valan.

“And be arrested? No thanks. The last place I ever want to be is locked up in Hirus' dungeon again." The human speaks quietly to the Helngar.

The guards look between themselves for a moment. One of them lifts a set a shackles, while another shrugs. Why aren't they acting?

“Well, aren't you going to arrest them?!" A human patron with a bloody nose suddenly asks the guards.

“Are you crazy?!" A guard gasps.

“I'm not getting into trouble!" Another exclaims.

“For arresting outsiders?!" Jarae raises a brow.

The guards seem surprised. One of them approaches Valan, becoming uncomfortably close to him. He reaches out a hand and waves it beneath his chin, brushing his long goatee, to Valan's confusion.

“Did you come with them?!" He points at the other brawlers, a newfound sternness in his voice.

“Uh, yeah?"

“On a ship?!"

“Yeah... Why?"

“Thank the Seraphs! It's not him!" The guard laughs, turning back and announcing it to his associates and the crowd.

“Him, who?" Kirsta asks.

“You're under arrest for disturbing the peace!" The guard snarls.

Without another word, the five fighters are taken at swordpoint and shackled. As they're led away from the bar, a patron reveals Salasha's and Mairlynn's relationship to the five, as they try to slip away. They're also arrested. Marching with their prize, they lead them through the darkness and toward the castle. As a minor island, and without much crime, it's likely that they have nowhere else to take them. Walking by the wrought iron arch that stands before the modest harbor, a guard glances toward his companions.

“That must be their ship."

“The funny looking one?"

“Yeah. Should we tell the rest of their crew?" He asks.

“I suppose, but be quick about it, Fulson." The premier guard waves his hand.

Racing away, he dashes into the harbor, making his way for the Arona-Dahl. Meanwhile, aboard the ship, Lutala stands at the head of Irzain's cot, her finger glowing with Halcyon magic and resting on his temples. Roak watches, huddled in the corner, his brow softened and a frightened look on his face. Slowly, the light begins to fade and Irzain's eyes begin to flutter. Opening them, he slowly rises. Roak slinks back, as if trying to scurry away, though he's blocked by the wall.

“It's alright, Roak." Lutala speaks softly to him. “He's fine. I'm making him better."

“Yeah." Irzain nods, wincing from his mild headache. “I'm just fine."

“Bad lights, bad hands." Roak murmurs.

“These aren't the bad lights, Roak. I can show you."

Lutala reaches out a hand, her palm upturned. Roak looks utterly terrified.

“Would you like me to help you?"

“No lights. No hands. No. No!"

“Wait!" Irzain exclaims, resting a hand against his head. “I think... I'm remembering something!"

Roak falls silent and Lutala races to the middle-aged human's side.

“What did you see?"

“I saw nothing during the treatment, but... I remember... An island! Deep in the tropical regions! It's overgrown and lush, with a structure sticking out of the forest. Tall, stone, and strangely shaped. It's like a lighthouse, but not... It's hard to explain... It has something to do with what I did, before King Euralian died."

“Do you remember where it is or what it's called?!" She asks, a hint of excitement in her voice.

“No. I remember something else though."

“What's that?"

Irzain turns to her, a worried look on his face.

“It wasn't on any maps... King Vasar erased it from the records early in his rule."

“That'd be several hundred years for people to forget about it. There may not be any records left." She remarks.

“There aren't. When Naoma's brother, Bremen, warned us of King Vashalak's impending purge order, I burned them all. The location was protected by my order, and King Euralian swore me to secrecy. I remember his face when he made me take an oath, on behalf of my Scribes."

“You met the King?!" Lutala gasps.

“We'll just have to do more treatments, so I can remember where it is!"

Irzain lies down atop the cot, motioning to her and silently instructing her to continue.

“I'm sorry, Irzain, but you can't handle another session just yet. I don't want to cook your brain."

“It's right there! I can feel it!" He exclaims.

“And it won't be if you're dead, or left a vegetable. Take a break." She says, holding out a hand.

With a frustrated sigh, he sits up once again.

“All done? Is the light gone now?"

“Yes, Roak. It's all gone." Lutala speaks softly to him.

“Hello? ... Anyone here?!" A strange voice calls out.

Footfalls approach and Irzain grabs a wheellock pistol from a drawer in the nightstand beside his bed. Stepping forward from the hallway, a strange human in what appears to be official armor raises a hand.

“Hello! I'm Fulson! Sorry for the intrusion, but no one was on the main deck." He says with a smile.

“That's alright. How may we help you?" Lutala asks.

She motions for Irzain to lower his weapon, and the Scribe slips the pistol back into the drawer before sliding it closed.

“Do you know a group of people who were in the tavern tonight?"

“Possibly... ... Could you describe them?" Lutala asks with a little giggle.

“Right. That would help, wouldn't it?" An embarrassed Fulson scratches the back of his head.

“It would." Irzain remarks.

“Well, let's see... There was a Helngar man, a human guy with long hair, a Jaliscan woman with crazy, pink hair, two half breed Lahnyt with a funny coloration, like a pair of watermelons, some kid, and a good-looking human woman with long, blond hair and huge..." He motions with his fingers near his chest. “Er... 'Tracks of land', if you know what I mean."

“Yeah, we know them." Irzain silently chuckles.

“What have they done now?" Lutala asks.

“They got themselves arrested for starting a bar fight. I'm just here to let you know they're in the keep." He says as he steps toward the doorway.

“Why the keep?" Irzain raises a brow. “You aren't going to..."

“No, no! It's just that we don't have-"

No sooner than Fulson steps into the room, Roak leaps from the floor and attacks him. Screaming, he falls against the door as Roak bites his ear, snarling like a rabid dog. Lutala and Irzain rush to the guard's aid, grabbing Roak and in the process putting their hands on the guard, causing him to panic. He manages to shove Irzain back and throw Roak from his body, before darting out of the room and drawing his sword and a dagger.

“You're all under arrest for assaulting an officer of the peace!" Fulson growls.

“We're sorry! He's a little unstable!" Lutala turns to Roak, who once again cowers in the corner.

“I'll say! But what's his excuse?!" Fulson glares at Irzain.

“Huh?!"

“You put hands on me!"

“I was trying to help!"

“Yeah, you were trying to help him!" The bleeding guard points at Roak.

“No, I was trying to help you!"

“We'll just see about that... Get up! You're all coming with me!"

“By the Seraphs!" Irzain sighs, infuriated by the turn of events.

Lutala is quick to surrender, raising her hands high. Having grown closer to her in the time that he's known her, Roak rises to his feet and imitates her movements. Irzain joins them as they step out into the hall. With Fulson holding his weapons on them, and keeping a good distance, they're marched up the stairs, into the darkness, and led from the Arona-Dahl. Other guards wait near the wrought iron arch, and upon seeing Fulson's wounds, swiftly shackle the trio before taking them to the keep. Reaching the dungeon, they're reunited with their friends, who occupy a single, large cell.

“This is where we place the drunks and assholes for the night. Enjoy all the comforts of home." Fulson growls, still clutching to his bloody ear.

“We've already called Nazir. He's coming down to help us sort this all out." Another guard remarks.

Lutala looks overs Fulson as her shackles are removed. She enters the large cell last, stopping just beyond the threshold.

“May I?" She asks, glancing back at him.

“May you what?" Fulson raises a brow.

Lutala lifts a hand slowly, her palm and clawed fingers glowing with the distinct, white light of Halcyon magic. She carefully reaches out, and the others look on in shock as the healer waves her hand over Fulson's ear, healing him. As soon as his flesh has mended, she pulls her hand away and steps further into the cell, allowing them to close the door.

“Uhm... Thank you..." An ashamed Fulson slowly locks the cell.

The guards walk away, leaving the entire crew of the Arona-Dahl to stew inside of their large cell. Kirsta sits on a bench, her head resting against the wall. She opens her sapphire eyes, turning them toward Lutala and Irzain.

“Well, it looks like you had yourselves a good time, too." She remarks.

Lutala shakes her head as she looks over her bruised and bloody friends. She moves between them, from closest to furthest, her hands glowing with her Halcyon magic.

“I thought I told you not to get into trouble this time." The blue and orange Lahnyt remarks, healing Jarae's split lip.

“We didn't do anything!" Jarae exclaims.

“Yeah, it was him!" Mairlynn points to Naemen.

“Hey, don't blame me for this mess!" He growls defensively.

“But it's true, Naemen. This is all your fault... Again!" Salasha exclaims.

“It doesn't matter whose fault it is. What matters is how we're going to get out of here." Steingar says to the group.

“Let's just... Quit while we're ahead." Valan sighs.

“What?!"

“Let's wait for this guy, Nazir, and explain the whole thing." He clarifies.

“I agree. This was all just a stupid mistake." Jarae joins in.

“Why break more windows if we're only going to let the cold air in?" Kirsta remarks.

“... Huh?!" Steingar and Naemen both cock their heads.

“Something Elder Matius used to say... Let's just try talking it out."

The others are all in agreement, and soon Steingar and Naemen find that they're the only two who'd rather fight their way out. Sitting in silence, outvoted and upset, the two men sit near each other, both glaring with a seething hatred. A doorway creaks from the end of the hall and they can hear footfalls approaching.

“And that was when we brought them here, sir." Fulson speaks to someone.

“I see..."

Mairlynn approaches the bars, grabbing hold and peering between them. An old man, a Falmun with ruby eyes and silver hair, walks between Fulson and a few other guards. They usher him to the cell, where he lays his eyes on Mairlynn.

“Oh! A young Falmun! Isn't she a sweet little thing! Why is she locked up? We don't imprison children." The old man remarks.

“Hey, asshole! I'm not a kid!" Mairlynn growls, glaring at him.

“... But there's always exceptions to the rule, isn't there?" The old man teases.

“This is the one we needed to show you, Nazir. The human in the purple shirt!"

“That's burgundy, but alright..." Nazir remarks.

The guards point at Valan, who stands to his feet.

“What's so special about-... By the Seraphs! Who else has seen him?!"

“Isn't it bizarre?!" A guard remarks, ignoring his question.

“Answer me, damn you!" Nazir grabs a guard's armor.

“Er... Well, everyone at the tavern tonight, and my detachment, sir."

“By the Seraphs... What's your name, mister?"

“... Why?" Valan looks the elf over suspiciously.

“Don't make us beat it out of you! Answer him!"

“It's Valan... What's this all about?"

“By the Seraphs! Split them up, right away! Keep that one at the end of the hall. I'll be back with Lord Donogew!" Nazir exclaims.

The guards obey his orders, drawing their swords and moving the prisoners into different cells throughout the dungeon. As the castle's dungeon is quite small, they place them in twos, with Kirsta and Irzain being left behind in the largest of the cells. Steingar and Valan are stuffed into the cell at the end of the hall.

“What the hell is going on? What's all this about?" Irzain asks, growing increasingly anxious as he paces about the cell.

“I'm glad you asked that, because I'd love to know the answers myself." Kirsta grumbles.

“I'm just saying..."

“Well just don't. Either shut up, or walk faster and dig a hole in the floor so we can escape."

“Sorry..."

Sitting beside her on the bench, Irzain taps a foot. He taps it again and again. Soon he begins tapping his knee with a hand, and the buxom woman turns her sapphire eyes toward him. Seeing her angry and frustrated glare, he tries to control his nervous tics. A now familiar sound, the squeaking door opening and closing, draws their attention. Irzain begins to rise, but as he looks to Kirsta, she scowls and shakes her head. He quietly sit back down.

“And that was when the guards brought them here, sir." Nazir speaks to someone.

“I see..."

“Here they are!"

“So, why come to my island and cause all this trouble?" A soft yet familiar voice asks them.

“Well, it's about ti-... VALAN?!" Kirsta gasps.

Raising his eyebrow, Valan stands before the cell. Something is different about him, however. Though he's the same height and has the same frame, his skin is exceptionally clean, as are his clothes, which are also expensive and impeccable. He wears a deep purple shirt made of silk, ruffled at the breast and on the cuffs of his sleeves. His pants are black and made of a thin, flowing fabric. They pull close to his waist and ankles, while billowing out over his legs. It's a common style among the non-humans of the mainland, especially the Jaliscan.

His hair is nearly identical to Valan's but a little longer, and his goatee is neatly trimmed; it isn't nearly the length of Valan's, and shows off the soft curvature of his face rather well. He looks at Kirsta with his blue-green eyes, and flashes a very warm, kindly smile. He radiates an innocence; she'd dare say that he's “cute", and for a split second, she finds herself attracted to the man. She begins to imagine him succumbing to her strength as a warrior; in her mind, she pins him down on the floor of the dungeon. Snapping out of her trance, she blinks and shakes her head.

“Is... Is that you, Valan?" Irzain asks, slowly approaching the bars.

“Who's 'Valan'?" The man cocks his head.

“H-he's, uhm... He's a friend of ours. You look... K-kind of like him." Kirsta chokes out.

“Kind of! He's a mirror image." Irzain turns back to her.

“What're they talking about?" The man turns to Nazir.

“I'll show you, Lord Donogew." Nazir holds out a hand, presenting the hallway to his master.

“Alright, but drop the formalities, Nazir. You know how I hate that."

“Sorry, Salman. Formalities are best kept in front of strangers."

Standing before their cell door, Mairlynn and Jarae gasp at the sight of Salman Donogew. Jarae brings her clawed fingers to her face, covering her gaping maw. She's speechless.

“Oooohhh! I didn't know Valan had a double. Are you exactly like him?" Mairlynn coos.

She stares at a familiar bulge in Salman's flowing, black trousers, making her way closer to the bars of her cell.

“What do you mean?" He innocently asks.

“Well, are you as... Let's say, 'well equipped' as he is?" She asks, standing before the bars.

“Er... In what way?"

“It's a simple question. What's under there?" She gently grabs his groin through the bars, feeling his immense manhood. “Ooohhh!" Her face lights up.

“Woah! Aren't you too young for that?!" He jumps back, startled by her sudden touch.

“UGH! I'm not a child!" She growls.

Mairlynn's face turns red from anger as she lifts up her wavy, golden hair. Turning her head, she shows Salman her pointy, elven ears. He then looks closer at her ruby eyes, finally realizing that it isn't a deformity of some kind.

“Oh..."

“I thought I mentioned her, my Lord." Nazir remarks.

“Did you? I was focused on all of the action."

“Figures! No one thinks about me..." Mairlynn whimpers.

“I'm sorry... I-"

“My Lord?" Nazir interrupts Salman.

“Hm?"

“You should really see the rest of them..."

Reluctantly following Nazir, Salman looks back at Mairlynn, watching her until she's out of sight. He visits Roak and Lutala, who both mistake him for the man they call “Valan", as well as Naemen and Salasha, who make the same mistake. Finally, the guards unlock the final cell, a room built for solitary confinement. Stepping into the light of the hall, by order of the guards, Steingar and Valan freeze as they look at a man who is nearly the spitting image of Valan.

“By the Seraphs! You're exactly alike!" Steingar exclaims.

“That's... Unnerving." Valan remarks, eying Salman.

“Tell me about it..." Salman murmurs, eying Valan.

“What shall we do with them, my Lord?" The premier guard asks.

Salman glances back to Nazir, who nods his head. Turning back to Valan and Steingar, he takes a deep breath and slowly exhales.

“Well, now I can understand the mistake. No one was killed or seriously hurt, so! ... You're free to go!" The Lord chirps.

“Seriously?!" Steingar asks in shock.

“Or would you rather sleep in that hole?" Salman smirks, pointing at the cell.

“No! We're ready to go!"

“Alright. Guards! Open the cells!"

With Salman's order, the crew are released from their cells, reunited in the hallway of the dungeon. Salman, under heavy guard by the apprehensive soldiers, approaches the childlike Falmun.

“What was your name, miss?"

“Mairlynn..." She grumbles, still visibly upset.

“Well, Mairlynn, to apologize for the treatment that you and your friends received, if any of you would like to spend a night in my castle, as my guests, you're free to do so. Otherwise, you may return to your ship, rent a room at an inn or whatever else."

“That's very generous of you." Irzain remarks, a hint of apprehension in his voice.

“I try to be a generous man. It's better than being a tyrant. My father always used to say 'there isn't enough good in the world, that's why it's always so dark'. That stuck with me."

Valan is struck by his words. Turning his back on the crew, Lord Salman Donogew, his elderly elven manservant, Nazir, and the swarm of guards all depart. The crew stand dumbfounded in the hall of the dungeon for a moment, wondering what just happened.

“I'm not sure if I trust him." Steingar remarks.

“Agreed. I've never met a Lord that kind." Naemen adds.

“Well, what should we do, then?"

“I like the floating house. The boat floats on purity, a purity that holds the fire." Roak replies.

“Er... Yeah..." Irzain raises a brow. “Valan? What do you think? Do you trust your double?"

The gunman silently shrugs his shoulders. From his distant gaze, he's clearly deep in thought. Without a proper answer, Irzain turns toward Kirsta, but as he opens his mouth to speak, he's frozen by a strange sight. Kirsta stares at the stairway, where Salman and his entourage had left through. Her eyes are narrowed, her mouth hangs slightly open and she looks overcome with lust. It startles Irzain, and the other men. What's more, she isn't alone. Both Salasha and Lutala, of all people, gaze down the hallway with similarly stimulated looks.

“Lutala? Are you okay?" Jarae asks.

“Sis?" Naemen turns to Salasha.

“Hey, Kirsta? ... Kirsta!" Irzain waves a hand before her face.

“Huh?!"

All three women snap out of their trances at once. Nearly all of the men, along with Mairlynn and Jarae, look to them with raised brows.

“What do you want to do?" Irzain asks once more.

“I-I'll, uhm, I'll go back t-to the ship." Lutala answers, her voice softer than usual, her cheeks darkened as she flushes.

“Y-yeah. Th-that sounds like a good idea." Kirsta murmurs, the alabaster skin on her cheeks taking a soft, rosy hue.

“Well, I'm staying here!" Salasha exclaims.

“Wait, sis! Are you sure that's a good-"

“Shut up, Naemen. I'm not a little girl; I know what I'm doing."

“A soft bed sounds nice." Mairlynn murmurs.

“I'm a little curious." Valan finally remarks.

Immediately after Valan's response, Jarae turns toward the others.

“I suppose I could stay for a night."

With their decisions made, the crew march through the hallway and up the stairs. As they move through the corridor and reach the grand entrance to the castle, they find Nazir waiting at the foot of the grand staircase leading to the second floor, the living quarters of the castle. He leads Valan, Mairlynn, Jarae, and Salasha up the stairs and through the hall, while the rest of the crew quickly make their way back to the Arona-Dahl. Each of the crew staying at Lord Donogew's castle receives their own room, all along a single hall.

“If any of you are hungry, I can have the cook make you something and send it up for you." Nazir remarks.

“That's a very generous offer. Thank you." Salasha replies.

“Yes. We're very grateful." Jarae adds.

One by one, they each enter their rooms. Valan, the last to be given a room, stands before the ornate, cherry wood door. He peers into the room, hesitating to step inside.

“What's going on, Nazir? What's this all about?" He asks, turning toward the old elf.

“Valan..." Nazir flashes a strange smile. “I..."

“Please."

“Alright..." Nazir sighs. “Let's talk inside... You're going to want to sit down."

Entering the room, the old Falmun points to an ornate chair near an equally ornate table. Across from it is another chair, identical to the other. The old Falmun sighs as he makes himself comfortable. However, the look on his face is grim. Why does he appear so troubled?

“What's going on? Is something wrong?" Valan asks, taking a seat in the second chair.

“Something's been wrong for decades, but it's only now become a problem..."

“I don't understand."

Nazir turns in his chair, resting his hands upon the table as he looks at Valan. His ruby eyes become glossy with tears and a strange smile graces his face.

“I never thought I'd live to see this day." The old elf remarks.

“Please, tell me what's wrong. What can I do to help you?"

“You can listen and answer a few questions."

“Alright..."

“Your mother... Was her name Valina?"

Valan's eyes grow wide.

“H-how did you-"

“And your father. His name was Falidad, correct?"

Valan springs out of his seat.

“Who are you, and how'd you know that?!" The human gasps.

“Please, sit... There's something you need to know."

Horrified but curious, Valan obeys, slowly sitting back down in the chair. Nazir takes a moment to collect himself, taking several deep breaths before finally speaking.

“Valina was a beautiful and vibrant woman, and she loved her husband... He was a noble Lord from Ogrodin, a man named Ivan Donogew."

Valan's eyes grow as wide as saucers as Nazir speaks.

“He was granted Lordship over this land by King Euralian himself for... An act of extreme kindness... It left and impression on King Euralian, and so he rewarded Ivan... Lord Ivan... I was his butler, and served him before we ever came to this place, back when we lived in Ogrodin, on his family's lands. At that time, Valina was just a pretty, peasant girl who lived here. She was nobody, but Ivan didn't care. He loved her from the moment he laid eyes on her, and he treated her like royalty. She wanted for nothing, and was never forced into anything; that's rare for a Lord, to not take as he pleases. Ivan was a very special person. I can honestly say that he was my best friend..."

Nazir pauses to wipe a solitary tear from his eye. Valan sits in silence, both appalled and enthralled.

“Soon, Valina became pregnant, and they were overjoyed. We all were, to be honest. Their life was like something from a child's storybook. When the time arrived, she went into a powerful labor, and out you came. Valan, her son. She named you after herself, you know!"

“I-I... Uhm..."

“Anyway, after a few minutes of adoring you, her labor returned. She was carrying twins... She soon gave birth to your brother, Salman, who came out only a few minutes after you."

Valan's head spins as he listens to the old elf. He feels a rage building, but it's not anger at the old man for telling him such a fantastic story. Valan's rage is directed at his deceased parents. Somehow, he feels that Nazir's tale is the truth. It's as if the old Falmun is taking a veil away from his face, and showing him the world as it truly exists. He'd felt a strange connection to this land, the castle, and to Lord Salman, the moment he'd seen them. It was a connection that didn't make any sense to him at the time. Now, however...

“Valina was so absorbed with you that after Salman was born, Ivan had to name him. That should've been the first clue..." Nazir sighs, a look of fury in his eyes. “Falidad was never your father. Before you knew him as such, he was just a soldier, a man serving under Ivan. He came here when your mother was already pregnant, and took a job as a full-time town guard. He was a popular and influential man, with a tongue that could charm the Seraphs, but he was still a nobody. This didn't sit well with him. He was ambitious, always looking for more, and he knew just how to get it...

Not long after you were born, he managed to seduce your mother. I caught them myself, consorting in the marital bed. You and your brother were still just infants then. I told Ivan right away, but rather than kill that worthless pig, Ivan was very forgiving... That was a mistake. Falidad convinced a handful of guards, and your mother, to back him in a coup. He tried to kill Ivan, but he failed. Too many subjects appreciated Ivan's kindness, and for good reason; his benevolence made it hard for them to turn away, even to follow a popular and charming man like Falidad.

The few of his men who weren't killed hastily fled with him in a stolen ship, one of our first whalers. Your mother kidnapped you from the nursery, but she left Salman behind... She never did care about him as much as she did you. For some reason, she only ever loved her firstborn. Poor Salman... When I found him, he was crying in his crib, built for two but left all alone. Ivan was certain that she took the both of you, but I knew better." Nazir explains.

“I can't believe this..." Valan murmurs.

“It broken Ivan's heart. I'm not sure what hurt him worse; her betrayal or her abandoning her second son like he was nothing. To this day, I still don't understand why she did it. When all was said and done, we left him alone for three days and two nights. I and a midwife cared for Salman until Ivan could collect himself. When he finally left his study, half-starved and dying of thirst, he asked us, all of his subjects, to honor a single wish; he never wanted to speak of Valina or Falidad again, nor did he want Salman to know the truth of his abandonment or his missing brother. Out of respect for him, we all agreed to keep the secret, a pact that I'm breaking now."

“Wait... Why would he let her get away?! Why not search for them? For me?!"

“He did! He petitioned the Crown, and both Falidad and Valina became wanted for kidnapping, but they were long gone. There are so many islands in the Erie Isles, and with a ship like a whaler, they hardly needed to go ashore. After a few years, their bounties were revoked and they were presumed dead or escaped to the mainland." Nazir answers.

“But... But why tell me this?! Why do this to me? To us?!"

“The best kept secrets are the ones no one knows about, and secrets are more dangerous than poison. I detest them... Salman has a right to know who you are, and I intend to tell him tonight, as soon as we're done here."

Valan's mind reels from the disturbing revelation. Suddenly, years of Falidad's abuse, his insults, are beginning to make sense. While a part of him desperately tries to reject what Nazir has said, a larger portion latches on, accepting it wholeheartedly.

“... What do you think he'll do when he finds out?" The gunman finally asks.

“I don't know, but knowing Salman as I do, you have nothing to worry about." Nazir says as he rises from his seat. “Try to get some sleep, Valan. We'll speak again."

Walking through the halls of the castle, Salman holds a silver platter. He passes a door, hearing Nazir's muffled voice as he speaks to someone. He leans in to listen, before remembering how rude that is. He continues down the hall and knocks on a door, mentally preparing himself. The ornate knob turns and the door swings open. Little Mairlynn stands before him. Frozen with surprise, the four-foot-nine Falmun with youthful looks, gazes up at the five-foot-eight Salman.

“Here... This is for you." He presents her the platter.

“Thanks, Va-... I mean, Salman... I'm sorry, but you look so much like him."

“Uncanny, isn't it?" He nervously chuckles. “I added a sweetroll for you, too. As a way of saying sorry."

“Hmph..." She looks at the platter. “I'm not sure I'm even hungry anymore..."

“That's alright! ... Would you like to take a walk with me?"

Mairlynn's brow raises.

“Yeah... Why not?" She murmurs.

Traversing the hall in an uncomfortable silence, Mairlynn stares blankly at the fancy, red rug that covers the dark, hardwood floor of the castle. Salman glances toward her numerous times, a tension in the air.

“Are you alright? Are you still mad about before?" He finally asks.

“Meh..."

“I didn't mean to insult you earlier. It was an honest mistake."

“It's always an honest mistake..." She growls. “I look like I've just begun puberty, as though I'll bloom at any moment, but I don't... I never do, and it's maddening; I look too young to have a normal life, and too old to be babied..."

“Well... What do you want out of your life?"

“Hmm... A husband, some kids... Lots and lots of great sex!" She chirps, her eyes lighting up.

“That's very forward." He chuckles. “I'm not used to that."

“You don't like it?!"

“It's kind of refreshing, actually." He says with a smile.

“You don't think it's abnormal?"

“I've grown up as a Lord. I'm not entirely sure what's normal for everyone else."

“I can imagine..." Mairlynn snickers.

“You still sound mad..."

“It's hard to let go of that specific slight. It happened three times today!" She growls. “When we walked into the tavern, the guards, Nazir, you! ... Wait. That's four times! RRRR!"

Stopping in the middle of the hall, Lord Salman turns toward Mairlynn, looking down at her with a very soft, empathetic expression.

“What can I do to make it up to you? Name it."

Mairlynn looks at the Lord, seeing his expression. Her ruby eyes slowly scan him for a moment. If she's going to have a miserable time, she might as well enjoy toying with him. She takes a breath and responds.

“Well, if it really matters to you... ... You could bed me." Her lips curl into a twisted grin.

“... What?" His expression changes.

“I'm not actually a young girl; I'm a woman. I'm forty-five! I bet I'm older than you!"

“You are."

“Great! Way to make me feel worse! Thanks!" She angrily exclaims.

“I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean-!" He exclaims.

She crosses her arms before her modest bust and grumbles to herself, staring at the floor. Salman feels such sympathy for her, his brow softening as he watches her. Looking over her form, she looks like a thirteen-year-old girl. However, he continuously reminds himself not to trust his eyes; Mairlynn is a woman, and her life couldn't have been easy.

“Can't ever catch a damn break... This always happens to me... Should've been taken by a fever when I was little..." She grumbles.

“Alright..." Salman says with a sigh.

“Alright, what?" She snarls.

“If that's what it's going to take to prove my sincerity..."

Mairlynn is flabbergasted. She stands in silence, gazing up with wide eyes at the extraordinarily handsome human. Reaching out, he gently rests a hand on her shoulder and coaxes her as he continues walking down the hall.

“Ah-are you serious?!" She chokes out.

“This is what you want. You said it." He replies.

“I did..."

“I can't imagine you enjoy that often. If that's what you want as an apology, then..."

Standing before a door, he grabs the handle and turns the knob. Pushing it open, Mairlynn's eyes grow wide as she looks into an extravagant bedroom. She steps inside, only to hear the door close behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, her ruby eyes nearly pop out of her head as she witnesses the Lord slowly and nervously removing his silken shirt. She bites her bottom lip with anticipation, her lips curling sinisterly at the corners of her mouth.

“I hope you have stamina... It's going to take a lot of effort to make it up to me." She sweetly coos, slowly stripping her clothes from her sleek body.

A short time later, Nazir walks through the hallway, heading for Salman's bedroom. He turns a corner and then another, nearly reaching the door. As he comes upon the closed door, he reaches out a hand, only to pause when he hears something coming from inside. He leans closer, placing his elven ear against the door.

“Nngf! Hhff! Nngf! Ahh-hah!" A high-pitched woman's voice grunts and squeals.

Overcome with curiosity, Nazir cannot help himself. Slowly and quietly turning the knob, he pushes open his master's unlocked bedroom door. Peeking inside and looking through the crack, his ruby eyes grow wide as he gets a view of his master's bed. Lying naked and on his back, his feet sticking out from beneath the silk covers, Salman looks up at a small, nude girl who straddles him. It's Mairlynn. She rams herself down atop his long and girthy shaft, every bit the equal to Valan's, stuffing his manhood deep into her taut loins. It's as if the dainty Falmun is taking her own forearm into her womanhood. Plop, plop, plop; his large and full balls smack into her small and unimpressive buttocks.

“Oohh-yeah! Mmm-you're so tight!"

“Nngf-ahh! You're, ahh, so, ahh, big!"

Overcome by embarrassment, Nazir backs away and silently closes the door, his face turning as red as a beetroot. He clears his throat as he traverses the hall.

“I'll just tell him in the morning..." He says to himself.