The courtyard was now dark, the fountain’s water reflecting only the thick gray clouds that laced the sky. Out over the railing, the land was blanketed with shadow, the sprawling fields nothing more than stretches of blackness. A chilly breeze rolled across the fields, rustling the grass gently. Far off, lightning flashed, followed by the ground shaking boom of thunder. Seregor’s eyes stared out into the night, his hands upon the rail. He shivered slightly as the wind swept over him, cold against his cheeks. Feeling a soft hand upon his back, he turned his head to glance over his shoulder.

Anylia’s eyebrows were raised slightly in concern. Her hand brushed across Seregor’s back as she stepped to his side. The touch sent a warm tingle through his body, his face still fraught with confusion and sorrow, a deep frown across his lips. She wore a grimace of her own as she looked into his eyes. “Why are you so gloomy on such a wonderful evening?” she asked in a mild voice. “Are you not happy receiving so high a title, milord?”

Seregor turned to face her, his gaze roaming over her features, studying them carefully. Had she really believed what Rathernal said? She hadn’t appeared to object to any of it. His hand rose to her cheek, pressing against her smooth skin lightly. Her brows furrowed in confusion, her eyes searching his. She sparkled with such innocence and purity. She placed her own hand atop his.

“Those things Rathernal said…do you share his beliefs?”

Anylia tilted her head. The confusion remained evident on her face. “What do you mean?”

Lightning streaked across the sky in a brilliant burst of light, followed by a cracking roar of thunder. She jumped, turning to look out over the plains. He gently directed her face back to his own with a tender hand. “About the drow being racially superior. About our divine right to rule the world and all its people. Do you really think that is true?”

The look she gave him was a questioning one. She tucked some of his long white hair behind his ear as the wind blew it into his face. “Lord Rathernal said it, why would it not be true? He is an honorable man. You should not question him,” she replied.

Seregor’s heart sunk into his stomach, weighed down by her words. She was loyal to Rathernal. “Anylia, how long have you worked here, for Rathernal?” He wouldn’t give up yet. She already meant too much to him for that.

Her gaze rose for a moment as she pondered. “As long as I can remember, since I was a very young girl. Why do you ask?”

Pity for her swelled in his gut. She had served Rathernal for decades. “Have you ever been outside this castle?”

She shook her head from side to side. “Not really. I have been out in the fields on occasion, but never any further than that.” Seregor’s frown deepened. “What’s wrong?”

Anylia didn’t know any better. She had lived the secluded life of a servant girl, given nothing to believe in other than Rathernal’s rhetoric. “What Rathernal said earlier, about our superiority…there was no truth behind it.”

She gasped, as though he’d committed some kind of horrible crime. “How could you call him a liar?” She glanced to the doorway before lowering her voice to a whisper. “He would likely punish you for such words.”

Seregor’s eyes burned. Rathernal had created a kind and benevolent image for himself and forged a castle of loyal drones. He had made himself out to be the shining light, the brilliant leader of his people who would smash through the unholy foes in their way and bring the drow to the promised land.

“Anylia, Rathernal is not the spectacular war hero and leader he makes himself out to be. He just seeks power, nothing more.” Simply speaking the words sickened him, memories of the dinner seeping over his vision and haunting him.

Anylia’s eyes widened in shock. “Master Seregor! Please, I beg you to stop this talk!”

Seregor sighed heavily. Was Rathernal’s influence so great that he could blind the masses with a few elegant words? Anylia was so caring and innocent, naïve to an extent. Rathernal had molded her to be another of his unquestioning subjects.

He suddenly realized that the very traits which had allowed her to become what she now was could also bring her to see the truth. To open her eyes to the realization that Rathernal oozed deceit. He thought back on everything he had done thus far in his life. Rathernal had dug his way into Seregor’s head, however, overpowering all other thoughts. The same nausea from the dining hall continued to set in. With a sharp shake of his head, he tossed the thoughts of the Lord of Castle Raynes out of his mind. He wished no such feelings upon any other. Sympathy overwhelmed him as he took in Anylia’s flawless features once again.

“Tell me…have you ever known a person who was not a drow? A light skinned elf; one of the sun or moon, perhaps?” he asked her, searching her sparkling orbs.

She nodded slowly, unsure of her reply as it passed her lips. “Yes. I have treated a number of other elves here in the castle. They were all horribly wounded.”

Seregor shook his head quickly. “No. Have you ever known any? Actually gotten to know them; their names, ages, personalities? Have you talked with them, comforted them…heard their dying wishes?”

Anylia bowed her head slightly, shaking it in shame. She seemed smaller to him all of the sudden, not unlike a child who had just been scolded. “No, I have not milord. Lord Rathernal informed us not to associate with the enemy, only to treat them.”

Seregor had thought as much. Rathernal’s treating of the enemy wounded was likely naught more than a front to bolster additional support. Keeping enemy soldiers alive created an aura of compassion about Rathernal, helping to create the illusion that he was some kind of sympathetic and generous lord, the ideal leader. Pretense for a power-hungry, manipulative monger of hate. What bothered Seregor the most about it was that he had never heard of Rathernal prior to waking up deep within the castle. He wondered how so powerful a person could go unmentioned amongst the nobles of Denmas. It was as though Rathernal had materialized out of thin air when Seregor was injured.

“Anylia, I have known many a sun elf and a moon elf in my youth,” Seregor looked down to her as he spoke, and she up to him.

“You have?” Her face seemed brighter. Perhaps she was not as far gone as he thought. She seemed to harbor some hidden desire for change. He nodded lightly.

“Aye, I have. And I swear by my sword that we are no better or no worse than they. The only difference between our races is appearance.”

She tilted her head, waiting for him to continue explaining.

“I know you’ve not been outside this castle all your life, and that you’d likely have never seen a sun elf were it not for this war. But where I come from, in Denmas, our races lived together. We were like brothers and sisters. Having lived alongside them for so long, I know that they are no different from we drow.”

“But why would Lord Rathernal say those things if they weren’t the truth?” she asked him.

He directed his gaze to the ground for a moment, piecing together a reply. “Because some people, people like Rathernal, want only to control others. Making people think themselves better is one way of manipulating them.” He doubted she would have any idea what he was talking about. She had grown up being told that the lies she was being fed by Rathernal were purely factual. He could understand how hard it would be for her to see through he thick fog of deception that had been surrounding her for years.

“How is that manipulating people? Isn’t it good that they feel better about themselves?”

The question, of course, did not surprise him. “When you make a person feel better about themselves, they usually feel in some way indebted to you without realizing. Not only that, but they will feel more capable. They will feel superior, and thus will more readily face an enemy. Rathernal is taking it to the extremes. He’s trying to make an entire race feel superior, and in doing so he’s making them devoutly loyal to him. Because he’s pointing out such amazing aspects of the drow, they are embracing him and his forced leadership.”

Her thin brows were now drawn together, and she tilted her head to the opposite side. The corners of Seregor’s mouth remained turned down. He leaned his head back, looking up at the abyssal sky with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I suppose I’m not very good at explaining things.”

“It’s alright. This is just a lot for me to take in,” she looked away to the ground briefly before turning back to him. There was a twinkle in her eye, and hint of a smile on her lips. “But you’ve really been friends with sun elves?”

He smiled softly and nodded. “Aye. Many. I’ve known all sorts of elves. Sun elves, moon elves, wood elves, mountain elves. I’ve met a couple humans in the past as well.”

She hung her head. “I should like to meet so many different people as you have. You must truly be blessed.”

“You still have many years of life ahead to meet new people. I’m sure you’ll meet many of interest. There’s a whole world out there to be explored.”

She raised her arms, crossing them beneath her breasts and placing a hand on each shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll get any time to do that.” She frowned in sorrow, as did Seregor.

He glanced out over the stormy plains in thought, trying to look beyond the war, to a life that he might one day be able to call his own. A peaceful life, one of happiness. But there seemed to be no hope of that, at least not any time soon. He knew that Rathernal would use his silken tongue to prolong the war, for the twisted drow had nothing to lose. For Rathernal, there was but more power to be gained. If the drow won the conflict with Rathernal as their emperor, his kingdom would indeed be massive. From the calm, clear waters of the ocean beyond the mountains to the east, to the wavy green tides of the westernmost shores; Rathernal’s empire would have engulfed all the lands the elves could still call their own.

Crimson eyes moved back to Anylia. She was just as involved in the war as he was, whether she knew it or not. She’d not have even an ounce of freedom until arms were laid upon the ground and elves embraced each other as brothers once again. Seregor suddenly felt a surge of determination shoot up from his feet and swell his heart. His goal of bringing the war to an end as soon as he could instantly had a new meaning.

“I will take you,” he said to her in an uncharacteristically confident voice. Her gaze rose, locking with his.

“Take me? Take me where?” she inquired.

“Anywhere and everywhere you wish,” was his response, his words slowing as his eyes searched her. “I will take you to see the world.”

Her face lit up, a smile stretching across her lips and her eyes sparkling happily. “Really?”

He nodded earnestly despite his own joy. “Yes. You have my word. Once this war is over, we shall together bear witness to the wonders and people of this world. I swear it to you.”

Tears welled in the corners of her eyes. She was stricken, speechless, able only to fall forward and embrace him tightly. He staggered back slightly as she did so, the action surprising him greatly. He had wanted her to be happy. She was overwhelmed, in ecstasy. He wrapped his arms around her gently, holding her as she pressed her face against his chest. Seregor bowed his head, his eyes closing and a faint frown crossing his lips. He had begun to realize what he had told her, and that it was likely he’d not be able to fulfill his promise. The war was not nearly over. There was much to be done, many more battles to be waged in the eternal and ignorant struggle between drow and their light skinned brethren.

“Seregor.”

He turned to the entrance to the courtyard, his thoughts smashed immediately to pieces. He was still holding Anylia in tender embrace. She too looked to the source of the noise, pulling her head back slightly, her face damp with tears of joy. In an all-to-familiar scene, there stood Aertha, a smug grin upon her face. She leaned against the entryway, arms folded across her chest in the exact same manner she had the first time she interrupted them earlier in the evening. Seregor ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back over his ear and releasing Anylia. She stepped away a bit reluctantly, but turned to face their visitor.

“Yes, Lady Aertha?” Seregor asked a bit shyly, his eyes moving off of her form to focus upon a sculpture that rested slightly to her right. Another flash lit up the courtyard, and for a split second he thought he saw kindness upon the archer’s face. His gaze floated to her for a moment, though by then it was already too late. He blinked, and turned his eyes away once again.

Once again, Aertha’s thin brow arched. Pushing her weight off of the archway, she began to slowly walk towards Seregor and Anylia, her eyes looking over the leader of the new army in scrutiny. He jumped with the clap of thunder, shutting his eyes and swallowing as his cheeks darkened with embarrassment. Aertha came to a halt with a disdainful snicker. “I can leave and allow you to consecrate your love for each other in peace if you’d like.” Now Anylia was blushing as well, a hand rising to her hairline as her face was lowered.

Seregor bit his upper lip, his eyes falling to view the ground. He certainly hoped that Aertha’s worth in combat would outweigh her stuck-up demeanor. Perhaps getting away from her would be another reason to end the war. Shaking the thought from his head, he looked up to her. She had suddenly grown quite impatient, her smirk erased and eyes narrowed. “What is it that you want, Lady Aertha?”

“We’re having a meeting. You’re to follow me there.”

“A meeting? About what?” he asked in curiosity as she turned and began for the door. He began walking as well.

Aertha stopped, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder. He paused in his movement, Anylia coming up behind his shoulder. “You’ll find out when we get there. And you’re to come alone. We don’t want an audience.”

Seregor blinked and twisted to look at Anylia. She was once again the silent, shy girl that she seemed to be around anyone that wasn’t Seregor. Aertha moved to the doorway, leaning against the frame once again as she awaited Seregor. “You should be getting back to your duties anyway,” he told Anylia regretfully. “I will see you when this meeting is over.”

She nodded slightly, her eyes downcast and her petite shoulders hanging low in disappointment. He stepped closer to her, a feeling he could not identify coming over him. He leaned forward, tilting his head to the side and placing a soft kiss upon her cheek. Uncertain of his own actions, and uncertain of what drove him to do it, he set off after Aertha. He exited the courtyard behind the archer, fighting the urges to turn around to see Anylia’s face once more as a foreboding burst of thunder echoed in the sky.