Across the Lake

King Sorian, the king of elves. Long platinum blonde hair that fall straight like his emerald green robes. An androgenous beauty with flawless skin that seem to glow. He sits with poise that is commanding, but not domineering.

"I've been told you are the sole survivor among those who fought."

"I... I've been told that as well, my king."

I meet his gaze from where I kneel. The throne is made of intricately carved wood flowing with magic. The magic stems from the rest of the perfectly circular room. We are within the trunk of the Great Tree, at the very heart of it. The walls flow into the floor, the floor flows into the throne, and the magic of the Great Tree all flow through it to King Sorian.

"I commend you for your bravery sir..."

"Mielaro, my king. Mielaro Overon. Ranger and Scholar."

"Sir Mielaro, tell us of the attack. Tell us of this so-called 'red orc'."

My body shudders instinctively just from the mention of that thing. The deep red, the blazing fires, the smoke, burning wood and snapped arrows. Memories surface with the increasing pace of my heartbeat. Despite the harrowing emotions it invokes, I recount the events of the attack to King Sorian and the few others present. When I finish, the room turns still with a heavy, thoughtful silence.

"Two dozen guards and rangers aided by three shortblades. All for one orc and nothing to show for."

"It was no mere orc, my king! It-"

"I know... I know."

The king's tone is soft and calming. Despite the horrors I've just shared he remains unmoved, but not dismissive. His eyes were locked onto mine the entire time I told my side of the story, now they fall low with deep thought.

"'Leave the Deepwood' is what it told you, yes?"

"Yes, my king. I cannot claim to be proficient in deepfolk but, that much I can be sure of."

"Have you spoken with the orcs of the Deepwood before, Sir Mielaro?"

"No, my king. Across the lake it is common knowledge to run away from any orc you encounter in the woods. Fight only in numbers, in defense for your lives."

"Mm. That is unfortunate."

It's slight, but there is a tinge of distress in his voice... or is it disappointment? He looks past me, to the man standing behind me.

"Assemble your best scouts, grandcaptain, and half the army."

"My king, isn't half the army a bit much?"

"Half might not be enough, but any more and the whole Deepwood might go to war. Have the scouts leave three days ahead to track the orc. See if it is just a rogue anomaly or... someone's messenger. If it is acting on its own, kill it. If not... call in the other half."

"Understood, my king."

"You are free to leave, Sir Mielaro. Spend a night here in the Great Tree if you wish, a good night's rest is the least you deserve."

"Thank you, my king."

I give King Sorian one final bow before standing up and leaving the throne room with the grandcaptain. I lag behind him a couple of feet. His hair is cut short, unusual for an elf. His skin is tanner than most too.

"Shall I escort you to the guest bedchambers Sir Mielaro?"

"No I, I think I'll..."

My thoughts trails off with my words. I saw glimpses of it earlier but my mind was so preoccupied with meeting the king that it didn't register the landscape in front of me. The throne room is within the Great Tree of the Elvenwood, so upon exiting we find ourselves standing on the wide winding path that spirals up the Great Tree. Opposite the doors of the throne room is a viewing deck, and beyond it is the entirety of Everen, the capital.

Much like Deepwood, the trees grow tall and thick. Thick enough to support multiple homes and establishments attached to its side, like mushrooms. A web of wooden bridges connect one tree to another. Busy elves stream through the bigger bridges and I spot some jogging on the smaller ones. The leaves cover much of the sun, making what sunlight that passes dance around in flickering rays when the wind blows.

The Great Tree Stands almost twice the height of the most towering trees. The throne room lies near the middle, so we stand close to the top of most other trees. Just below eye-level there are few people and the buildings are on a different level of craftsmanship. Beneath is where the bigger and busier parts of the city lie. Never in my life did I think I would catch a glimpse of the king's view, but now I can't help but wonder what lies on the path that leads further up the Great Tree.

"It's a gorgeous view isn't it?"

"Y-Yeah..."

The grandcaptain rests his forearms on the railing of the viewing deck. His body seems relaxed and there is a change in his tone, he sounds more... casual. Right now I find it hard to view him as a person of authority, as the grandcaptain of the shortblades.

"You know I used to do patrols up and down these stairs. This spot was my favorite but it always got me worried that maybe the king or someone important would come out of the throne room and catch me slacking off."

My boots thud against the wooden boards as I step forward and join him on the railing. I take a deep inhale. The air is different this high up. Slightly colder with almost none of the earthy or foresty scent you normally get.

"I'm starting to regret getting promoted. A red orc. I've fought a war orc before but never any of the non-green ones. And from how you described it, I don't think I want to."

"I wish I didn't have to."

What followed was the sound of rustling leaves and distant bird. It was a beautiful view of Everen. Busy, yet peaceful. It made my wounds itch and my head throb. The disconnect between what is in front of me now, and blazing destruction then, is too much. I notice only now how white-knuckled I am from gripping the wooden railing.

"Mielaro."

I flinch.

My eyes blink a few times and a sigh escapes me. I bury my memories. I bury my darker worries. I need to focus on the present. If I don't...

"I will escort you to the guest bedchambers."

His voice is forceful, commanding. The grandcaptain steps away from the viewing deck and takes the path down. I follow closely. We pass by a few people. Those of high standing the grandcaptain gives a polite bow to while soldiers and the like he is given salutes.

Soon enough we find ourselves on a side of the Great Tree facing the thicker part of the Elvenwood. No larger buildings or cluster of houses in sight. It is quiet and despite the open area, it gives an air of privacy.

"If you walk down this way, one of the servants should be there to help you with your room."

"Thank you, grandcaptain."

I give him a bow, as sincere as I can, and maintain it.

"Is... there something else, Mielaro?"

He notices, as I'd hoped.

"I wish to ask a favor, grandcaptain. Allow me to join the scouting party tracking the red orc. I've been through the Deepwood many times. I am familiar with many paths and can help navigate the unfamiliar ones."

The brief quiet that follows makes me uneasy.

"Raise your head Mielaro."

I meet him face to face and now, from the front, I finally see why I thought he looked unusual for an elf. The contours of his face remind me of a beastfolk's. He's of mixed blood.

"Mielaro, did you... lose someone?"

The weight of his words make my heart sink to the empty pit of my stomach. Flashes of red and fire... and the faces of... those I knew.

"I lost everyone."

I clench my jaw. I hold my tears from falling from my tired eyes. I purse my lips. Anything to keep me from breaking down. Anything.

"I... I had... I have a daughter. She went missing during the attack. I was told that by the time someone had come to my house, to look for her, it was... it was already on fire. Struck by a stray fireball."

A stray fireball. The words feel ridiculous coming out of my mouth. It takes years to be able to produce a magical blast that large. A fireball is carefully aimed not haphazardly flung like a random stone. That thing is no mere beast. At this point it is a force of nature, better weathered and avoided. And yet... And yet I...

"You said you were a ranger yeah?"

"Yes, sir. I finished ranger training here in the capital over twenty years ago."

"Here? ...Does the name 'Relia Erawen' sound familiar to you?"

"Y-Yes. She was my instructor. Do you know her sir?"

"Mielaro my friend, you and I share a lot more in common than you think. Promise me that you will not let yourself loose any more people than you already have, no matter what, and I will gladly have you on the scouting party."

My throat feels dry. I swallow and steel my words with resolve.

"The forward scouts will find the red orc swiftly, and return safely. On my honor as a ranger, this I swear."

"Then on your honor as a ranger I will hold you to your word. Your first order as pathfinder of the scouts: rest. Let vows and duty, not sorrow or vengeance, lead your actions. We leave tomorrow at dawn."

With those parting words he turns and leaves without waiting for my reply. The moment he turns the bend and disappears from sight, I reach into my pack slung across my shoulder. I clutch in my hands the one thing they managed to find outside the burning wreckage of my home. It fills me with fear, sadness, hope, and will. A glass orb with a large crack running across it, still whole, still trapping snow.