Agrathias

By Conor Nicholl

It wasn't his fault...It couldn't be his fault...

Arone was nine when his parents were taken after an Arcam attack. Now, ten years later, the memory still haunts him. If only he'd helped them instead of hiding, maybe his parents would still be with him and his older brother, Toaran. But he was just a kid. How could he have helped?

Toaran was brave. He'd fought that day. But every day since then both strived to better themselves with the sword, and for Arone especially, to make fighting second nature. He would protect those around him. He would protect his town. He would reach for a sword the next time instead of a corner to hide in.

Oaths, though, no matter how noble, are sometimes impossible to keep. One day Arone sees a man conjure lightning in the woods, and that night an Arcam attack, possibly the largest one Agrathias had ever seen, obliterates his town. Arone has to move onwards despite being completely devastated at his failure to protect those he cared about again.

Arone decides to head to Bengaul, the place he had once called home. Tragedy, though, harbors itself once more, but something spectacular comes from it: Arone finds out he can control fire. The power comes with the expectation he will one day face the man he saw in the woods. He must choose if he will do this, or if he would give the power away to someone else.

Arone has been afraid nearly all his life. He's had to watch everyone he said he would protect either die or lose everything. So now, when the greatest test to his promise and nerves presents itself, he will accept it. He's thrust into a journey to destroy a demon with strength that terribly resembles the sorcerer Dogane from long ago, and Dogane had reigned Agrathias for hundreds of years.

Arone will persevere through all this. With everyone he meets, he becomes closer to facing that man. Arone might die, but he will first do everything he can to stop him. He will fight.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Conor Nicholl
• Release date: Dec 14, 2017
• ISBN: 9780997896251

Conor Nicholl

*For a pdf version of Agrathias, email me at [e-mail]* I have always enjoyed writing fantasy books since I was five. It wasn't until I was 12, though, where the idea for Agrathias first came to me, and I promised myself that I would see this work through to the end. Now, 11 years and many rewrites later, I have finally finished and published Agrathias! I hope everyone will enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! In my spare time, I also love to run and rock climb.

Book preview

A Brother’s Regret

A creature stalked along the forest ground, a small horn clenched in its hand. Its dark, rugged skin made it look almost invisible as it moved in the night. Its bony shoulders swayed with each step, and all the while it looked to the trees, searching for something.

It stopped. Slowly, it reared back its head and brought the horn to its large mouth. It blew air through its long, spindle-like teeth, and a low drone chilled the depths of the surrounding woods. The creature’s eyes closed to relish the sound as its echo died down. It then continued to creep forward, but only for a few steps. It blew another haunting moan, its black eyes reopening wide this time, allowing the night sky above to be perfectly reflected within them.

This small creature was surrounded by countless others, and a young man crouched in a tree high above all of them. He was dressed in a dark cloak, and his hood was pulled over his head so that only his mouth showed. A long, steel sword hung from his side. His hand gripped the hilt of it tightly.

The sound terrorized the young man. His mind flashed back to two days before. The first thing he had heard in the distance was this noise. It came just moments before the legion of these things everyone called ‘Arcams’ flooded his town.

You shouldn’t think about it, the young man winced.

But the image resurfaced. It was his entire fault the Arcams came, even though he didn’t mean for it to happen. Still, his sister was taken, and he and his parents were forced to watch as a knife was raised high for all to see. Everyone else in the town would be spared, but his sister…His mind froze at the thought of the dagger that swiftly cut through the night and pierced her chest.

NO! His mind screamed as despair started to seep into it.

The effect of this thought was almost instant: The air chilled and a light mist sprinkled the ground. He stared at this sudden change, his stomach plummeting. He failed. If there was any chance of escaping these woods, it was now gone. The young man knew, as he was sure the Arcams did, that this rapid change was not due to nature. He caused it, and it meant he was within ear-shot of the horn.

The lurking of the Arcams ceased. The jagged ridges on their backs arched as each one looked to the trees. The young man, who had at first tried to stop the oncoming cold, abandoned his efforts in order to give himself extra cover. He slowly lowered his chin to his chest and waited.

His heart hammered wildly inside of him; he was going to get caught. Of all the things to chase him, why did it have to be these monsters? They searched endlessly for him, never sleeping. His body felt so tired now.

They were going to wait in that spot until he was found. This scared him even more. He did not know how much longer he could last. He craved to fall asleep, but he knew there was a chance he would fall and make some noise. His heart raced faster. This was his death sentence.

He had to hope, though. It was all he could do. Even with the Arcams gazing into the trees for the next few minutes, he held on to some hope they would just move on. He hoped to get up from this spot and leave the woods. But where would he go? He was no longer welcome from where he came.

There suddenly came a rustling from below. The Arcams had started to move! He tilted up his head to get a better view. Several of the creatures were grouping up with each other, and it looked as though they were actually going to move on. Yet still, he remained completely frozen in his spot. His breath was almost non-existent. If this were to be his chance, his silence was most important now.

Then they spread out. Most had grabbed what looked like long sticks. He slowly closed his eyes, hoping. Just hoping they would move on. He didn’t want to be here anymore. He wanted to be somewhere else… just anywhere else…

An awful cackling noise came from below. The nose-less faces of the Arcams lit up as the sticks became ablaze with fire. His jaw nearly dropped seeing all the Arcams below. There must have been thousands of the creatures stretching the length of the forest. They tilted their heads toward the sky again. Instead of just peering, though, each began to laugh with an awful gargle.

He should have seen it coming. The Arcams threw their torches into the trees above. Many became caught in the branches above him. It was slightly raining, but somehow a fire began, and it slowly approached him.

This was it… any effort to put out the fire would give away his location, and letting the fire reach him would force him from the tree and into the mass of Arcams below. Which should he choose? He could fight below; he lived and breathed through his sword. He felt much more comfortable battling with it, though it was riskier being on the ground. He would be safer up here, but that would mean using his magic. He had it for quite some time now, but not nearly as long as his sword.

Before he made his decision, another horn sounded. The sight of his sister being stabbed flooded his mind again. As he scrambled to discard the memory and focus on the flames that were now so close to him, the barrier that kept his misery at bay crumbled away. His sister’s gut-wrenching scream echoed. Sadness overwhelmed every part of him.

A raging downpour began. His hood flew back, and his normally brown eyes were now a glowing blue. Power shot through his veins, but it was not at all comforting. His entire body felt a great shock. So much so, his sword was forced from his hand. He could only sadly watch as it disappeared below among the Arcams.

He reacted with his only other option. He flung his hands toward the canopy of the tree, and two jets of water shot forward, extinguishing the flames.

The Arcams cackled maniacally at the long-awaited discovery of their target. Without hesitation, they swarmed the tree, hurling their bodies into the air to try reaching the young man. Their jumping ability was incredible, but he was just out of reach for every one of them.

A massive wave of icy wind suffocated the ground below with an unrelenting force. He tried to contain its reach, but his sister’s screams of pain crumbled away any attempts at restraint. He was beginning to panic; he could feel his magic warping out of control.

All the faces of the Arcams below contorted into their last hideous expressions as they were frozen solidly into their places. The arctic wind then blasted the ground and raged outward. He was doing much to obliterate the Arcams, but it all did not matter. He wanted control. He needed control.

The remaining Arcams weren’t deterred the least. Nearly all took out bows, the others still attempting to jump. Arrows twanged through the air.

Several waves of ice and water battled back. The arrows were shredded by the incredible force, and countless more Arcams were killed. As the wind continued to surge, the iced bodies shattered, and the remnants were tossed among the bark of the trees.

The Arcams were the loudest they had ever been. They jumped up and down in excitement. Their black eyes rapidly searched for another way to attack, finally resting on the surrounding trees.

The Arcams were upon him in seconds. They jumped up from lower limbs on further trees to make large bounds to the branch he was crouched upon. This time, many made the jump, and he soon had dozens of Arcams flying toward him every second.

As much power as he had in his unstable state, he couldn’t account for all flying at him. His arms flung about in wide circles, slicing through any Arcam he could with thin sheets of ice. But a few made it through, and he was knocked from the tree as their bodies collided with his.

He quickly tried to slow his fall with a strong wind he had conjured below him. A sharp pain shot up his side as he landed on it, and the surviving Arcams collapsed in heaps around him. He sprang to his feet, knowing full well other Arcams would soon be upon him.

They rushed at him recklessly, slamming into each other as they stormed onward. Each Arcam was only half his height, but they were very much faster than a human. And the wide, hateful looks given from their black eyes gave even him a quick feeling to turn and run.

A stampede of bodies roared at him. Countless arrows whistled through the air. He did his best to rid the air of them, but their massive number was like the many bounding Arcams. One lone arrow flew through the horrific freeze and struck him in the shoulder.

He grunted and doubled back. The screaming in his head grew louder, and it was soon all he could hear. His sister’s face was all he could see. He felt the magic coursing through him. He didn’t think he could contain it. He was afraid it would explode from him, and in a last effort at quelling its power, he formed a shield of solid ice around himself.

All was quiet, but he knew the storm was about to break from within. He thought the absence of the noise would allow him to calm his mind, but even he knew deep down that this desperate attempt was only to try delaying the inevitable. There would be no solitude. There was never a chance at solitude. There was only pain. And the screaming… it was making him cringe now more than the arrow protruding from his shoulder. It wouldn’t stop, either. It just grew louder and louder, and he just couldn’t make the sound go away! He couldn’t stop her from dying!

Then, she was right next to him, and he saw the knife in her chest and heard her scream the clearest she ever had. In that last frantic moment, his grief and fear of his power completely consumed him. As his sister collapsed to the ground for the last time, the magic inside him violently expelled outward. The ice protecting him shattered. Freezing, blue energy blasted deep into the ranks of the Arcams, utterly shredding apart any creature or tree in its wake.

All of this was too much for him. When the blue light faded, he found that his body could barely stand. He looked at the frozen landscape. He noticed that for once the Arcams weren’t quick to rush at him. They were hunched low to the ground, crawling steadily forward. Now would have been the best time to try and escape, but his legs didn’t have the strength to move.

His vision started to blur. The glow from his eyes faded.

"Ravella… I’m so sorry," he whispered as he collapsed to the ground, darkness completely enveloping him. His last sight was of the Arcams scampering over the tundra. Their faces were taken over by the utmost joy at finally securing the person that took so long to capture.

Arone

One was taken, and the other one had been found.

It was time to set forth the plan.

It was not unusual to see the two brothers dueling in the forest just outside of town. Every day they tried to be there, tried whatever they could to overcome one another, tried to forget...

Clang!

The younger brother, Arone, was forced off balance. He twisted in a wide circle, his white hair swaying to one side, and his foot caught itself on the other.

This would seem like a setback, at least for this fight. But this wasn’t the first time he’d been knocked to the ground. As he fell, he thrust out one arm to break the fall and the other with his stick to cover his back.

Rolling through the fall, he felt a heavy strike on his stick, one that nearly jerked his weapon from his grasp. He clenched his hand tighter, lurched around, and propelled himself forward.

This time Toaran, his older brother, was caught off guard. He took a few steps back, but one of his feet snagged on a root, and his body toppled downward.

For the first time in a month, Arone was on the offensive. Even before this, he’d hardly ever won. Arone, aged 19, may be only two years younger than Toaran, but Toaran had always seemed stronger, bigger, and taller. So now he really needed to push this through. It might not happen again for a long time.

Arone’s focus became solely on movements, yearning to beat his older brother. This was it. Today, he was going to beat him!

Toaran’s back slammed against the ground, but his upper-body stance didn’t falter. Each attack Arone gave, Toaran deflected it.

Toaran soon smiled, and his foot suddenly kicked out. Arone, too focused on Toaran’s hands, had no time to prepare as his legs were swept from under him. The surprise caused his stick to fly out of his hand.

He couldn’t believe it. No! He was too close to lose this! Yet, Toaran was now hovering over him, stick held out to Arone’s face. The excitement in Arone came crashing down as the realization that he had lost seeped into him. How could he let this happen?

Almost, Toaran said. Almost.

Again, demanded Arone. He’d be more careful this time.

I don’t think so, Toaran muttered, grabbing his back. I think I’m going to head back to town.

Arone laughed, thinking it was a joke, but Toaran was already turning away and leaving. This was definitely odd; they’d just begun, and Arone couldn’t remember a time where they stopped after one round of sparring. Maybe the fall did hurt more than Arone thought.

Falling has made you weak! Arone called after him, trying one last time to get him to come back.

You lost! Toaran answered. If I’m weak, what does that make you?

He started to snigger, and Arone just rolled his eyes.

And remember not to stay out here too late, Toaran said before disappearing from view. The Anorati still haven’t returned.

I know, Arone said. He thought back to two nights before, when a glowing red light appeared on the horizon. It was followed by a blinding lightning flash. Arone had never seen it so bright and close before! All were advised to stay in town until the Anorati found the source, but this wasn’t enough to keep the brothers from dueling. Nothing had really stopped them before, because...well...

Because you were a coward once when people needed you most.

He shuddered as he thought back to the day nearly ten years ago when an Arcam attack broke through Terrifor’s walls. He could still see Arcams running, leaping, killing. His mother was taken then, and where was Arone? He was trembling in the corner of his room.

The screams of death from outside his room got to him that night. He could only rock and tremble, wishing the murdering would stop. He should have moved. He should have done anything to help his mother instead of being in that stupid corner. If that weren’t enough, later when the battle was over, he found out his father had been taken as well. Then, he and Toaran were alone...

Toaran fought that day. He was brave...unlike Arone...but they both wanted to fight from then on to be tougher, and for Arone, to make fighting second nature. He would reach for a weapon the next time instead of a corner to tremble in.

Arone glanced around where they fought and saw his bow resting against the tree. Although it was unusual for Toaran to leave so early, it wasn’t unusual for Arone to stay after and practice with his bow. Even when he was just a child learning to walk, he’d shown interest in it, and since then, he excelled. He needed the sword for short range, but it was always the bow he wanted, and it’s what he wished he had used in the Arcam attack.

He grabbed the bow and started walking. There was one spot he knew by a lake he had found years ago. Some great targets were there, and he’d usually shoot a few volleys there before returning home.

He felt the wind pick up on his way there, and his eyes closed when feeling it sweep over his skin. He listened as the leaves jostled in the trees, and for the first time that day, his mind cleared.

A bird tweeted above him, and he glanced up. The bird had been flying around this spot for as long as Arone could remember. He felt comforted whenever he saw it. It zipped from the branches and circled around Arone a few times before landing on a branch, eye level to him.

Had a good day so far? Arone asked. The bird shook itself before tilting its head. Mine was fine, although I can’t speak much for Toaran.

Arone half-smiled and continued on. A few minutes later he saw the first shine on the water’s surface. This is where he stopped for his first target. He was far from the other side of the water, but that was the point. Branches, twigs, and bramble obstructed his vision just enough to see a small glimpse of the tree branch over the water. He quickly let two arrows fly, one after the other, and saw both land, one on top of the other.

Of his targets he could hit, that one was by far the most difficult. He’d been hitting that branch for nearly a decade now, and it wasn’t until two summers ago he’d been able to consistently split the first arrow with his second. He smiled at how hard it’d once been, and how easy it now was, strangely.

The bank of the lake was where he took the rest of his shots. He started striking knots in trees eye level to him, hesitating only to make sure no one was in the way.

Gathering all his arrows, he turned his attention to his final target, the one he had never hit consistently before. It concealed itself beyond the steep hill to his right: a ring of flowers that rested on the shoulder of a large waterfall.

The wind lightly swept across his skin at that moment. His eyes closed, and he saw the flowers in a circle, and he saw the tree branch beyond sight that gave him the most trouble.

Today would be it. He would hit that spot twice in a row; he could feel it. Never mind he felt it on all the other days. The scene was more vivid in his mind today, and his body seemed to know just how to move with the wind’s touch...a deep breath...and two arrows flew. He followed the second one until it disappeared from sight. Hopefully...

He went on his way, looking at the lake, where just beyond he could see the high path that would lead to the flowers with the two arrows in the center. They just had to be there. And while wishing this, he glanced to the right.

And stopped.

Something weird was happening next to the tree closest to him. The foliage behind it was twisting around itself. Right away, Arone was rubbing his eyes to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. But when he was done, the twisting was greater. Its reach created a circle about Arone’s height where the edges eventually blurred back into the regular sights of the forest. The dirt around it wafted into the air, slowly creeping onto the spot. It eventually disappeared altogether into what Arone could only see now as melded colors.

A hand appeared suddenly, and Arone grew cold. He slid behind a tree just near enough to see what was happening at that spot. By now the hand had reached far enough for an arm to appear, and the first hint of red glinted.

A man showed himself. He looked around as he stretched his neck, his dark red clothes swaying with his movements. As he did so, Arone caught glimpses of the man’s eyes, but what stuck out most was the large scar that covered some of the left part of his face and ran down the back of his neck. It was black and looked as though the skin there had burned and died long ago.

Arone’s heart began to thump faster. Who was this man? What was he doing here? Above all, what did he just walk through to appear here?

As he thought this, the man raised his arm, and he turned his head slightly to the right. Suddenly, two bolts of lightning rocketed from his hands and flew out of sight!

Whatever surprise Arone had from the melded colors was forgotten. The loud sound made him collapse, and his hands quickly covered his mouth to stop part of the gasp he began to make.

He didn’t know how the air could be so still after the lightning flashed. He thought that it, too, should be screaming in disbelief like Arone’s mind. How did the man do that? How could he have done that?

But now the man was looking around. Arone had to duck behind the tree every once in a while to avoid being seen. It was hard to keep his breath calm, and as he stared with his back against the tree, he was never more thankful his beating heart couldn’t be heard.

On one of his turns, the man’s gaze stopped. At first, Arone thought he’d been spotted, but the man was looking over Arone’s left side. The clench on his nerves loosened, and he breathed easy.

Then he saw his bow where the man was looking, and the clenching that returned nearly paralyzed him.

The man smiled fiendishly.

Where are you? he whispered.

Now Arone didn’t care what the man did from there. His back was pressed against the tree, waiting for the dreaded moment when he’d hear the footsteps and feel a hand grasp his shoulder as he was caught...He couldn’t imagine being hit by lightning.

Arone was trapped. He didn’t dare look, but if he never did, he would wait here forever.

He heard footsteps, and his hope crashed down. His head lifted. Please, just walk away from this tree. Walk anywhere else but here.

But the more he wished, the more the footsteps neared him. He could now painfully feel the bark on the tree as his back pressed onto it harder and harder.

The footsteps crossed by his right, and Arone’s eyes pinched shut. The foolish thought that maybe he would be hidden by doing this crossed his mind. He didn’t care if it was pure fantasy; he was now in full view if the man turned his head left, and hope was the last feeling he wanted before being struck by the lightning.

There was silence as the steps halted, and then–

Arone?

A Pale Reflection

He felt more shock, and the hold on his nerves released so suddenly that his shoulders slumped forward.

Lynn, he gasped as he looked to his right and saw not the man, but a woman who’d looked after him and Toaran since their parents had been taken away.

Arone, are you hurt? she asked, hurriedly approaching him.

No, I’m okay, but the man who was there–

He stopped when Lynn helped him up, and looked around the tree. The man was gone, and any sign of the melded colors had disappeared.

Man? What man? Lynn asked.

Never mind, Arone said. There was no way he could convince her without some sort of proof. Where did that man go?

Lynn’s eyes narrowed.

"Are you sure you’re fine? Nothing’s troubling you? Because, well, it certainly just looked like something was."

I’m fine, Arone lied. It was best to fake it and not seem more deranged than he already felt.

Okay, she said slowly. Then why were you crouching like you were hiding from something?

I was just...resting...Toaran and I sparred longer than usual, and I was just resting before working with my bow.

Toaran is out here too? she asked, looking around.

No. He headed back a short while ago.

Good, she responded. You should do the same. I don’t even know why you chose to come out here in the first place! You know the Anorati haven’t returned yet!

Yes...I should... Arone replied absentmindedly, looking at his bow and walking toward it.

But when he grabbed it and turned around, Lynn just stared at him.

What is up with you? You always want to practice with your bow.

Nothing’s wrong, Arone muttered. I’m just tired is all.

He wanted to get away from this place for now. He needed to get somewhere else and think about what happened. Maybe even consider the possibility that he imagined the whole thing. There weren’t any signs of it left, after all. And a man that controls lightning?

That couldn’t be, though. It was all too real, especially the lightning. In the likely case he wasn’t imagining things...

Lynn, he called back, and she turned to him. Make sure to watch out for yourself. Like you said, the Anorati haven’t returned yet.

I will, she whispered, now looking confused. Just...get to town and be safe.

Arone nodded and ran from the spot. It would only be a few minutes, and he would be out of the forest’s edge and running around the town’s walls. He was soon at the gate that had been reinforced since the last battle all those years ago.

After slowly waving his arm to the Anorati atop, the gate opened slightly and he made his way inside. Right away, he saw the blacksmith where he and Toaran had worked a few years after their parents’ disappearance. It was also where he made most of his arrows.

His hut was toward the center of town, and there he headed. When he entered it, he saw Toaran lying on his bed, his hands underneath his back. There was a pained expression on his face.

Toaran? Arone spoke.

What do you want? he wheezed.

...Never mind... Arone sighed. Now wasn’t the time to tell him. Especially since he wasn’t even sure it all happened in the first place. But...it had to have happened...

Okay then... Toaran said, as Arone made his way to the small staircase leading to his room. And you might have to cover for me tomorrow. I don’t know how long this pain will last.

Arone mumbled in agreement and climbed the staircase. Extra work was nothing compared to what he’d just seen. His mind was thinking rapidly and taking in everything. His bed awaited him, and he lay down on it.

Never in all his life had he seen something like that. Sure, there had been tales of people controlling magic. He’d even heard that a group of sorcerers controlled a region far north of here. Yet, none of them, as far as he knew, could strike out with lightning.

He could still see it streak into the sky. And the noise it created was powerful enough for his entire body to quiver. Or that could have just been the shock...

It wasn’t usual for him to fall asleep so early in the day, but as his mind continually replayed what he saw, he had no idea his eyes had closed. He suddenly was in the woods again, his back practically being imprinted by the tree’s bark. His heart was racing again, and he became aware of the blackness that slowly crept in from his outer vision.

Once again he closed his eyes, but they would not remain shut. A few seconds later they sprang open, and there was the man. Arone yelled, and the space between him and the man expanded. This calmed him, but even then he could see the man lifting one hand. Then came the glow.

A loud bang and white light, and everything turned into fire. Arone gagged and choked on smoke. His hands moved up to protect his face as much as possible, but his arms were already blackened with ash, and the pain was too much to handle. He screamed and choked until death came in a cloak of white light.

The smothering subsided as he opened his eyes. He was in the forest again, though this time he was lying on his back. A woman was running to him; she was weaving among the trees that were quickly dissolving around him. A familiar place, a room, was materializing.

Arone bolted upright, awake. Lynn had rushed up the stairs.

Lord Pivincy wants to speak with you, she breathed. Hurry. Now!

She rushed back down the stairs, leaving Arone still dazed from both this and his dream. What happened now?!

He stood up in his groggy state and stumbled down the stairs. Toaran was already gone; whether to see Pivincy also or not, Arone didn’t know.

Only a small hint of red was left on the horizon as Arone dashed through the streets. His sleep-like state was quickly lifting; his entire dream was a blur now except for that fire. He could still feel it lashing his body as it turned it into ash.

The manor house was at the outer eastern part of town. Lynn was respected by Lord Pivincy, and she was able to have Arone and Toaran eat there often. It was then that Pivincy learned of Arone’s skill with the bow, and after seeing it, appointed Arone as an archer on the wall. Everyone else thought it was funny to see a ten-year-old boy there who could barely see over the wall. Once they saw Arone was much better than most of the archers already there, however, all talks and snickering behind Arone’s back ceased.

Arone approached the gate to the manor house and slid his finger down the gate’s lock. The gate dissolved, and Arone passed through before the metal began reforming itself, twisting into its place as before, recreating the same gate as before.

Arone knocked on the door, and as he waited, he noticed the small, black Broolana to his left and right that lined the base of the manor house. A sudden calming feeling overcame Arone when he remembered these flowers were rumored to shrivel and die within a day before disaster struck. He didn’t necessarily believe the superstition, but it still comforted him to see them all alive and well.

When the door opened, Arone was surprised to see not an Anorati answering it, but Toaran. Any grimace he had from the late afternoon was gone as he gave a half smile.

You don’t have to cover for me tomorrow, after all. The pain just vanished after that small bit of rest I had.

Arone returned the smile, but he was already looking around for Lynn or Lord Pivincy, wondering why he’d been summoned so quickly. All he could see were Anorati posted at each path through the manor.

Lynn and Lord Pivincy descended from the staircase next to the entrance door. They were furiously whispering with each other, but upon seeing Arone and Toaran, they cut off their voices.

Come, Arone and Toaran, Lord Pivincy said with a smile. We shall eat before discussing other matters.

Of course, the first thing on Arone’s mind as they walked through the large, oak doors was what they wanted to talk about. He thought it had to be about what he’d seen, but he hadn’t told anyone about it yet. Maybe Lynn had also seen the man?

The feast hall had a cobblestone floor, and its walls were some type of blackened rock. One long, thin table rested in the middle, and four plates were already prepared in the center. Arone and Toaran took the two seats opposite the fireplace. As Arone sat down, he looked upon the mantle and saw two golden goblets on the left and right sides, with a shield hung above. It had a coat of arms with a blue eagle on the left surrounded by fire and a red lion on the right amidst a sea of shimmering water. Between the two creatures, a sunset shone in the distance.

So, Toaran, I suspect Rondor has been treating you and your brother well at the blacksmith? Lord Pivincy asked.

Toaran answered with a yes before he and Lord Pivincy began talking about other things, like the new steel at the blacksmith. Arone was glad Toaran was there to answer all the questions so Arone could start eating.

Arone was not the only one out of the conversation. Lynn was going back and forth between eating and glancing at Lord Pivincy. With each look, her face grew more impatient. It was during their talk about Prellacistine, the celebration of late Autumn, that Lynn finally spoke up.

"Lord Pivincy, if I may, I think it’s time we got to the point of