Work in progress. The paragraphs are separated by line breaks to prevent it looking a bit like a single wall of text. It is written in British English (though I am American), so if anyone spots any mistakes or inconsistencies, please tell me and I will fix it as soon as possible.
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1: The Village of Men
There once was a time, many years ago, when few had Magic ready at their disposal, and those who did were almost considered to be of an Elite species. Still there were many beings who had this power: there were dwarves, though they were interested only in gold and riches; there were Elves, though they were protective over the gift and would not share it; there were Dragons, though they did not know how to use their Magic; there were Sorcerers, though they could not teach it; and lastly there were beasts, whom you could not approach and escape from unscathed. Thus the only way one could learn the ways of this gift would be to go to and to learn from a faerie.
The men at this time had no Magic, nor were they dominant of the world as they are today. At the time of this story villages of men were few and far between and even the largest of these towns could not be compared to the villages of the goblins or of the Elves. The men had little homes nestled all close together for heat and protection and whatever else this closeness could provide. However this gave each house a very small perimeter that was often lined up right as a border with another's yard. Even then men were constantly squabbling over who owned which piece of land, and there was rarely peace even in the smallest of these villages. While all or most of the land had originally been divided equally, there were always little bursts of arguments about how this was in fact not equal, and these arguments led to compromises, compromises that made these new territories unequal. And every year or so one of the men would grow tired of this and leave, only to find that the same thing was happening many miles away in the next village.
This story starts with a traveller, but he was not a man as you might expect. No, this traveller was an Elf, and a most noble character he was. For this Elf went by the fine name of Alerio, and this was the name that meant "eagle" and the name that was respected by all throughout any land, be it a land of dwarves or beasts or men.
It would be most unusual at any point in time for an Elf to be wandering as Alerio was. For you see, Elves are a very proud and comfortable folk, unwilling to leave their luxurious homes when travel only offers extreme hardship, and often for little or no reward. And of course it was even more unusual for a noble such as Alerio to be travelling, for Alerio was no one but the descendant of the great Alaricus, the first leader of all the Elves and the sole being who had the power to do whatever he wished whenever he wished. Though Alaricus was no more, Alerio was his great-great-grandson and was treated as a prince in the land of the Elves. So one would think that he would have no need to travel, what with all that he had without needing to step foot outside of the Elf Palace.
But Alerio was still a very young Elf and took all of his power for granted, and would easily cast it aside without realising what he had done. And this is what he did, slinging a satchel over his shoulder and setting off in the direction where the sun set. He did not particularly know or care where he was headed; all the Elf knew was that he would like to go off to someplace wonderful and earn jewels and riches of his own instead of the hundreds of gold pieces he had inherited. Though Elves are not normally a greedy folk, Alerio had been living surrounded by wealth for all of his life and had learned that it was the thing to desire most in life. Also Alerio had a strong ambitious side and was determined to prove that he was valuable not only as a prince but also as a warrior.
So he set off on the first of November. The Elf Palace where Alerio had come from was a grand place, in fact it was the place where the very Throne of Alaricus still stood, tall and jeweled as it had been so many hundreds of years before. The building had many levels and was surrounded by a deep moat and a drawbridge. Truly the only way to enter the Palace would be by invitation from a noble who lived there, and even then the guest was unlikely to be allowed inside.
It was this Palace that Alerio left, waking specially in the middle of the night when no other Elf could be seen who was not asleep. He had shut himself into a room several days before and packed a satchel for his travels, pretending that he was preparing a servant's bag for some messenger to carry off to a distant land. Once he was done he hid the bag in his room for safekeeping, and took a day to decide for certain where he would go and when he would depart. He chose the day well for someone with no experience journeying: November 1st was also the day when the dwarves came to barter with the Elves, and the drawbridge had been left down in the excitement of trade. There were occasionally late-comers to the gatherings who arrived only in the dead of night, but Alerio was lucky and he saw none.
Alerio had arguably given too much thought to avoiding being seen and not enough to actually surviving the fierce weather of autumn. Everyday the breezes were growing stronger and frost had already begun to coat the windows and the ground each morning. The Elves had settled in a land with such formidable winters as a way of defense from the weaker species who had no Magic or fire to warm themselves with. And while Alerio brought with him a long conjuring staff, he in his youth knew little Magic and wasn't altogether sure of how to use it. But he didn't know yet of his mistake and continued across the drawbridge and down the hill until he reached the base of the forest.
Here Alerio bit his lip in mild nervousness, for he rarely ventured this far out of the Palace, and the few times he had the Elf had been accompanied by guards. Alone in the dark the trees seemed much taller and much more intimidating, the tangled branches stretching from every tree in every direction and twining together like a box of loose necklaces. The moon cast dim light onto the wood but the shadows only made the forest appear more intimidating. They doubled the images of the gnarled roots and the tangled twigs, creating yet another maze to slowly work one's way through.
Alerio used his conjuring staff to force a makeshift path through the worst of the thorns and branches, clambering clumsily over fallen logs and struggling to watch for animals scurrying past in the darkness. It took him all the rest of the night to work his way through the forest, and he managed to find the way not without tearing his royal blue robe and putting small nicks in the Magic staff. When morning came Alerio was nearly at the edge of the wood and could make out grass and the horizon through the thinning trees. He quickened his pace as much as he could and finally broke through the last of the branches, squinting at the newly-risen sun and the bright light of day.
As an inexperienced traveller Alerio was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to rest somewhere where the nights were not quite as bitterly cold as the forest had been. But there was nowhere that he could see and the Land of the Elves had ended with the forest. Though Elves were of course trustworthy creatures, Alerio was not so sure that others would manage to pass a sleeping prince such as he without attempting to rob him. So he continued on his way, lengthening his stride as he could now without branches constantly reaching out to trip him.
The sun had reached its peak in the sky when Alerio first ran into someone other than himself. They were two other Elves by the names of Aimé and D'artagnan, and Alerio drew his gold-trimmed hood over his head in the hope that they would not recognise him. He pulled the conjuring staff nervously closer to him as they approached and did not say a word.
"Greetings." The taller of the two, D'artagnan, was the first the speak, and as he did the other reached into his long coat and pulled out a flyer of sorts. Aimé passed the paper to Alerio, who took it and read it with slowly shaking fingers.
"I am D'artagnan and my companion is known as Aimé," continued the Elf, nodding curtly at Alerio. "We come as messengers from the nearby town, Onzeville. As you may have heard already the Elf prince, the descendant of Alaricus, has gone missing during the night and all the Palace, or rather all of the Elves, are in search of him." By this they meant Alerio of course, who looked up at them and hesitated before replying:
"I only wish that I could be of some use. But I am only a messenger like yourselves, sent from the distant City of Undici, travelling apparently the same paths as you do to deliver the same message."
And they parted with quick good byes and not a backward glance. But after that Alerio always kept his hood down and switched directions towards the nearest town of men, where he knew the news of Elves was always slow to travel. Without stopping he reached it at the end of the day, around the time of twilight, when the sun was just disappearing behind the horizon. Alerio was surprised to find the village guarded, but he dipped his head to the men at the gates and they allowed him through with no questions.
Inside the village there was hardly anyone awake, and Alerio realised with a start that he had been travelling with no sleep and no food for nearly two days. It was hardly a second after he thought this that he felt the hunger that had previously made itself unheard, and he sat down against the stone wall of the village and took out meat and bread from the satchel. And when the sun went down completely Alerio found his pack considerably lighter and his stomach full. Satisfied he began to think of sleep, and no sooner had he thought of it than he drifted quietly into it.
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When Alerio woke he found eight spears pointed directly at him. He scrambled up against the city wall and groped behind him for his conjuring staff only to find that the men had taken that and were pointing it at him as well. The men surrounding him were taller as most men were, but their clothes were tattered with many tears and rips. Their skin was dusted with dirt and few of them wore any shoes; their feet were covered with small scratches and cuts. Alerio tensed swiftly and prepared for flight, the little Magic he knew running again and again through his mind in case he should have to use it.
"What business do you have in the Village of Xopa?" one of the men demanded in a voice gruff and proud. He was the Captain of the Guards in the village and spoke with a tone that suggested great power and authority, though truly he had little to speak of.
"No business other than food and rest," Alerio relied mostly truthfully.
The Captain just laughed, and Alerio could see light chuckles shaking the rest of the guards too. "You expect me to believe that an Elf is in honest need of food or drink? Especially one dressed so finely, and coming from the direction of the Palace? Perhaps your species is richer than mine, but you are hardly smarter."
To this Alerio had no reply and could only frown and bite his lip in frustration and slight guilt. "It is true that I am in no desperate need," he admitted, "and it is also true that I come in the direction of the Palace. And if you would like me to leave then I cannot see myself in any position to refuse." This however was not entirely true, and Alerio was sure that if he managed to snatch back his conjuring staff he would most likely be able to fend off two or more of the guards. The only question was whether or not he could retrieve the staff, as it was now tightly clutched in the hands of the Captain.
The Captain laughed again and drew his spear back. "I do not believe you, Elf, but I will take you to the leader of this village and let him decide what to do with you." Almost in unison the rest of the guards set down their spears and took a step or two back, allowing Alerio some room to edge away from the city wall. He noticed for the first time that his satchel, too, had been taken from him, but he didn't dare ask for it back.
"You will follow us and you will do nothing more," said the Captain warningly, and the party of nine began a solemn march towards the leader of the village, wherever he may be. Alerio took this chance to look more carefully at the village and take note of the details that had been invisible yesterday in the dark. It seemed all of the houses were made from flimsy wood and thatched roofs. Few had windows and some of them lacked even doors. Alerio shuddered involuntarily, remembering the coldest nights in the Palace and trying to imagine them without a fire or a blanket to hide underneath. For the first but not the last time he felt a stab of pity for the weaker species.
Alerio glimpsed women and children peeking out at him from windows or uncovered holes in the wood. He pulled his hood up higher over his head self-consciously and pointed his eyes towards the ground, embarrassed to be seen as anything remotely lowly. He was not just some prisoner or some peasant; he was an Elf, not only that but he was an ELF PRINCE!
They soon came to the only stone house in the village, larger than the others and set several yards apart from the others that were clustered tightly together. Its roof was built from plain wooden boards nailed to some sort of structure or platform. A few thin shingles still clung to the top, and it looked like once the whole roof had been covered in them. Ivy twisted up and down the rock walls and crept silently into an open window. On the top of the house perched a rusting weathervane with peeling gold paint. The Captain of the Guards knocked once on the wooden door and stepped back hastily with a nervous expression set on his face.
It took several minutes for the knock to be answered but to Alerio it felt like much longer than that. The seconds dragged by tediously and Alerio could have sworn he saw the sun move at least an inch during all the time he spent waiting. But finally the door opened and there stood a man in the doorway, broad-shouldered and scowling. "Here is the leader of the village," thought Alerio, "and he does not look like the friendly sort. I only hope that he is not as hostile as he appears." But to his surprise the Captain shrugged by whomever had opened the door without anything more than a nod in his direction.
The stone house looked even larger on the inside than it did on the outside. The door led into a cavernous hallway with smaller rooms across from each other on either side; only one of these rooms had a door and this was the room that the Captain led them into. The hallway opened into a small square chamber, almost empty except for a large chair at the back and rusted or bent spears hanging on the walls. Coloured light streamed into the room through stained glass windows. The Captain of the Guards shut the door behind them and stood resting his fingers lightly on the handle, the anxious expression still frozen on his face.
A booming voice interrupted the restless silence that had settled over the room. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, echoing tremendously and surrounding all of them like heat and fire licking up the walls. The sound was deep and boisterous and full, hitting Alerio's ears like sunshine bouncing onto a patch of snow or like the first drop of rain into a desert. It was laughing and crying, cheering and mocking, shouting and whispering all at the same time, a voice that could never belong to any man or any mortal.
The owner of this spectacular sound appeared suddenly with a flash in the middle of the room. A human stood tall and smiling, wearing a deep purple cloak and carrying a long cane. His eyes were an intelligent green-grey similar to the colour of laurel, and he wore squarish glasses with metallic silver frames. His face was pale and he had dark grey stubble covering his chin and jawline, but no full beard. The guards that had escorted Alerio all bowed when he entered, but Alerio stood still, taking in every detail of the man's faintly creased face.
"Greetings!" said the man suddenly, giving a broad grin and looking curiously at Alerio and the guards. "What brings an Elf to my domain? It is rare that this town receives any visitors at all, and especially rare that one of an Elite species should come here! What is your business?"
Alerio did not respond. The Elf was taken aback by the man's appearance: he looked nearly as normal as any other man! Alerio was certain that he had heard the voice of some immortal, some Elite breed, but he found only an ordinary man looking back at him. At the very best this leader could be a Sorcerer, though his cane appeared normal and did not look like it had any magical qualities, and Alerio had never heard of a Sorcerer who could conjure without the aid of a wand or staff.
When Alerio said nothing the Captain of the Guards spoke for him: "We found him, sir, asleep resting on the village wall. He had with him a satchel and a staff. When he awoke he claimed to have come here for food and rest." The Captain smiled crookedly as he recalled this, still finding it a hilariously unrealistic story. The village leader nodded but his eyes shifted over to Alerio, unsatisfied. However much he trusted the Captain he wanted to hear the story from the Elf himself.
"Well then, I thank you for bringing him to me and for telling me what you know of this Elf so far. If you would not mind I believe I can handle the rest myself."
The Captain squirmed noticeably at the dismissal. He did not want to leave a stranger alone with the village leader but more than that he felt he was being pushed aside, and as Captain of the Village Guards he could not tolerate that! "But sir, we still have not searched the Elf himself; we do not know what weapons are hidden in his pockets or robe!" He made as if to continue but the leader raised a hand and interrupted him:
"If he is a powerful Elf then neither of us will be able to stop him, and if he is weak then I will be able to stop him on my own." The Captain nodded at this and opened the door, letting the other guards out first and leaving with an unhappy backwards glance into the room. "Before we go any further I feel obliged to introduce myself," he continued. "My name is Ezequiel and I am the leader of this village. Nothing passes my attention. I keep eye over the guards when they are foolish enough to let a stranger into the village and I watch them when they turn a friend away. Now tell me, what business do you have here?"
Alerio hesitated for a long time before replying. He found himself strangely unwilling to lie to this man, but was just as unwilling to spill out the whole truth. "I am called Alerio by my friends and enemies alike," he said, deciding to at least be honest with his name. "I am the messenger from a city known as Undici. I travelled to the Elf Palace to learn of its latest news, and on the way back I decided to break here and finish the journey when the sun rose."
"Your story is false."
Silence fell once again over the chamber.
"I do not give away my whole life to strangers," said Alerio stubbornly. He somehow fell implied to trust this man, but maybe it was this urge that was making his suspicion increase with every passing second.
"Then let us be acquaintances, and with luck we will soon be friends." A patient grimace shifted onto the man's face. He saw as he said this that flattery or empty promises would get him nowhere with this Elf. He turned and strode over to the great chair at the end of the room. "I see that I will have to do more to convince you to tell me anything. I would offer you a seat, but it appears that there is only one in the room."
"I can provide for myself." Alerio clenched his hands together, entwined his fingers then undid the knots of flesh, pointing his palms to the ground and pushing outwards. Gentle tongues of fire fell to the floor and slid along the ground for about a foot, then twisted together and welded, climbing up into the air and suddenly extinguishing, steaming, as if a gallon of water had been dumped over them. And there on the floor stood a chair. Alerio stepped back sweating but with a proud smirk on his face. He realised he was shaking slightly with effort and tiredness, and sat down in the newly-made chair in an attempt to hide his exhaustion.
"My name is Vritra," said the village leader, "and I hope that by telling you a bit of my story you will begin to share with me at least a part of yours. This is the Village of Xopa. It is a humble and unimportant place today, but it has a rich past that its people are immensely proud of. Xopa was founded long ago by a dwarf called Torrian. Torrian cleared away the trees that had once covered the land and dug into the ground in the hope that he might find treasure, but the land was poor and thought worthless by the dwarves, so they spat at it in disgust and handed it over to humans. But Torrian stayed, and for a long while he was the village leader, until he gave his life defending the town he had founded. There were repeated attacks from a Chimera, a beast of fire and venom, one that no one was able to stop.
"These attacks went on for many months. The village guards tried in vain to kill or just fend off the Chimera, but it was no use. Xopa was crumbling and its people were dying. Then one day a Dragon came, one of great strength and experience. He chased the beast across the sky and shot flames at its tail, until one day there was a magnificent and terrible Battle, and the Chimera was killed while the Dragon got off with hardly a scratch.
"There was great excitement in Xopa after this. Only one person was unhappy: a Sorceress by the name of Mariel. And the next time the Dragon flew over the village she cast a wicked spell in its direction, and the Dragon fell to the ground as a man, normal as any, unrecognisable as the hero he was. But Mariel's sister, Sarina, realised what had been done and begged the villagers not to turn away the man as an outsider. Sarina was trusted well in Xopa and they believed her. She could not undo the spell that had been cast, but the Dragon-turned-man was treated well and once he had earned his place as more than a lost guardian, he became the village's leader, and he has been ever since."
Subject: Alerio, Prince of Elves 
