Arinthal's eyes fluttered open slowly. His vision was blurry, but as it began to clear, he found a beast-kin attending to his injuries. Normally he would have attacked on the spot, but he didn't sense any killing intent from her, so he lay back quietly and let her help him.
"It seems that you are back with the living," she said quietly, not looking at his face.
"So it seems, Aetheris," he responded, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.
"You remember my name. Impressive."
"I never forget a face."
This time she didn't respond but wiped the gash on his abdomen with a clean towel and stood up.
"You're all good. You seem to heal fast," she said and turned to a shelf lined with books. She took one out, sat down, and began to read.
Arinthal stood up slowly and walked towards an open window. There was a street below, bustling with human activity. Traders were trying to sell their wares to irate passersby, prostitutes were silently gesturing to dirty old men, and alcoholics were heading home from their drunken stupors from the night before. Arinthal looked on with great interest and found himself muttering.
"So this is life in a human kingdom."
Aetheris looked up from her book. "By the way, I meant to ask, what are you?"
"I'm an elf, obviously," he responded.
"Oh, so you're one of those beings the gods trapped in Aetheria, huh. Always wanted to know what one looked like," she grinned, and Arinthal felt an unexpected shiver run down his spine.
"Anything wrong with that?" he questioned, a brow raised.
"Not at all. So what brings you to Aberon?" she asked, her face buried in her book again.
"That's the name of this kingdom? Aberon. Sounds weird," he murmured.
"You didn't answer my question."
"I came here to prevent a catastrophe from happening. That's all you need to know."
"Well then, can you please tell me your 'mysterious' name, Mr. Catastrophe?" she asked cheekily.
"Arinthal Sel Calonthir."
He noticed that she seemed way friendlier than she had been earlier. She also now looked completely human, with her wolf ears and tail completely gone. She was dressed in a regular shirt, petticoat, and skirt paired with boots, which made her look like a normal teenage girl—but she most definitely wasn't.
"And also, I must say, the tattoo on your back looks a lot cooler than I would expect," she said out of the blue.
"What tattoo? I don't think I have any," he frowned.
"The one that looks like the head of a dragon. Dude, did you hit your head or something?" she sighed, shaking her head.
He ran towards a mirror, removed his shirt, and turned to look at what she meant. True to her word, a dragon's head had been imprinted in black ink across his back. He recognized the dragon immediately.
Alpheus.
<........>
Ivor looked at the protesting men below his balcony and sighed. With a short jump, he landed on the ground before them and stretched out.
"Men! I understand your concerns, but this is getting out of hand."
"You can't just tell us to abide by the king's laws when we sit here in the undercity, starving!" one of them exclaimed.
"Yes! I agree with At'ki. We've depended on you and the Sarvski for ages. Now it's time for us to act!" another yelled.
"Yes!" the rest of the men chorused.
"Ok!" Ivor said, an evil smile plastering across his face.
"Really?" At'ki smiled, a wave of relief flashing over his amber eyes temporarily.
"Yes. And when you old men get killed by the king's soldiers one by one, I'll be sitting in my house watching the parakeets fly." Ivor shrugged and turned towards his tiny house, walking away steadily.
"W... Wait!" At'ki called out.
"Yes?" Ivor turned, smiling as he did so.
"We might have said some unprecedented things... Forgive us, Lord Savis," a middle-aged man apologized profusely and bowed. The others followed suit, including a shamefaced At'ki.
"Your apology has been accepted, people of Mandavorth. For your humility, I will personally lead the Sarvski into battle against the king's first regiment in a few days," Ivor said seriously, giving a curt bow of his head.
The men gave appreciative sighs and soon they were chatting heartily, a sharp contrast to the tense mood they had just disrupted the long-haired teenager with.
After they had left, Ivor donned a cloak to conceal his identity and trod down the dirt path towards the Dust Sand Keep Inn, a popular joint for thieves and hooligans.
The inn was busy as usual, filled with the rejects of society drinking their hearts out with ale and beer. They recognized him instantly the moment he removed his cloak and started socializing with him.
"That's good, Lord Savis!" "How's life, Lord Savis?!" and similar greetings started going around. Ivor responded to each question and even returned a few queries of his own.
After a while of conversing, he went over to the counter, called for a waiter, and placed a strange coin on the table. The waiter inspected it and nodded in approval. Ivor walked past the counter, and the waiter led him to a secret door hidden behind a shelf of drinks. Ivor opened it and disappeared down the stairs it revealed, eventually coming out at a secret opening carved directly into stone.
The chamber was circular, with several intricate rings carved into the floor. Ivor stood on one of the rings and started to channel his velori. It manifested as lines of sand, intertwining over the geometric patterns. A golden glow began to emanate from the rings, and the ground suddenly started to move downwards like a massive elevator.
When it finally stopped, another deep pathway was revealed. Ivor passed through it quietly. The end of the passage opened up into a massive, wide cavern with thousands of houses carved directly into the rock walls. These subterranean shelters were lit by thousands of lamps. In the center of the enclosure was a colossal chasm, making the entire area look like a mountainous, inverted storey building stretching down for hundreds of levels.
"Sarvski! I'm back!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.