Geyrt stood up woozy, and wiped the flecks of remaining vomit from her lips. She could do nothing for the ecstatic grin that beamed from her face. Striding over to the rest of the party, who was still recovering their collective breath from the much longer, and far faster, traverse, she broke into hurried exclamation as if she had not just been violently sick.
"I want to go again! Who will trade me? Kryr'st? Froka? I will guard your brother's life with my own, fear not! Can I?" Machine gunned the excited elf.
Cleaver, the elf known as Nahl'ir, could not help a smug approval at her enthusiasm. She was now a convert, a brother in love for the sled, and all past animosities were behind them.
"How about this?" Interjected the formerly fearsome scarred warrior, "I will take the Glade Chief's position pushing the sled, he has done the lion's share of the work for this leg of the journey, and should rest atop the sled. Froka, would you scout the way forward for a similar course to this one? Your brother is in good hands with the Glade Chief to watch over him and we make the return home in time unheard of with this method." Cleaver persuaded.
Froka, torn between the admittedly hysterical fun of the sledding and his concern for his brother, mulled the proposition briefly before he accepted. He needed to do other than sit over his brother and brood anyhow.
"Very well then Nahl'ir, I will pathfind us a way forward while the Glade Chief recovers. How many more such sets of stone track can you supply, Ulric? It must tax you to reach so far." Twin One asked considerately.
A good question. That last track had been about as much as Ulric could manage in a single go, he was, magically, pooped. He regained strength between runs but they covered the ground so quickly it wasn't far different from a continuous casting, and, even if the amount of stone moved was minimal, it added up. Ulric considered it carefully, no mistakes could be made. If he left so much as a single point of weakness that part might break off at a critical juncture and derail them. After another few moments consideration he arrived at a conclusion.
"If I conserve my strength, maybe even leave gaps, spaces in the longest, straightest sections of the course, where we are certain to not need rails to direct us, and only create full tracks for the curving or faster sections, I can do another such run now, and, after that, only much shorter runs between rests. We'll likely have to push the sled some in between while my mana recovers." Ulric admitted.
"How far does that leave us shy of Irielhos?" He asked of the group.
"By my best reckoning," Christ said with deliberate caution, not wanting to oversell the progress they'd made, "We are over half of the journey now and, in another run or two, will be within sight of Irielhos. It is almost certain that we arrive at the fortress today, even if we end up pushing the sled for the majority of the rest our journey."
Geyrt interposed herself between himself and Christ, eyes wide and ear tips twitching.
"Then I get to go again!? Now? Soon? Let us go now!" pressed the eager huntress, invading Ulric's personal space in her enthusiasm.
"Sure, sure, ok. Easy, lady we'll get right on it." Ulric calmed, unable to repress a smile at the contrast to her normal stoicism or mild pique.
Froka set off then, with Ulric jogging in tow to ascertain the safest, most optimal position for stone rails to keep the sled in a predetermined course. Ulric was particularly attentive to the grade and slope of the hills, it would be critical for any yaw or side slippage to be utterly avoided. Once that monster sled turned sideways, there would be no controlling it, even the anchors would likely only result in an uncontrolled roll. It took a quarter-hour, honestly needed for Ulric to recover his mana, but they set the path and Ulric raised the [Stonewalls] on his way back, Froka staying at their end point to observe and scout for signs of trouble. The rest had done little to temper the excitement of the Sled Bros.
"We're all set." Ulric announced before he climbed to take Froka's position hanging onto Darla. The Elf did not look good but, at least, didn't look much worse than the last time Ulric had laid eyes on him.
Geyrt stood tall, gripping the harness straps, near to bouncing on her toes. Christ called the count and at his holler of "Fly friends!" the troop took off, pushing at top speed. Top speed, from his place on the top of the sled instead of the side, felt a whole hell of a lot faster. Shouting something unintelligible, Geyrt jumped to take her sideways crouch, surfing the sled as it roared down the planned path. Each bump threatened to bounce Ulric up from his seat, the jarring motion made all the more hectic as he could see, in great detail, that they were moving way too godsdamned fast for anything to survive the crash if something should go wrong. Discarding the fear of ruin, Ulric bathed in his Shadow's ululation's of victory as they screamed down one hill to climb another, then to accelerate into a rightward turn whose radius threatened to push Ulric out of his seated position before another short, straight downhill accelerated them yet again. Geyrt's heavy braid flew out behind her, whipping as the rushing air caught it.
Now for the dicey part, there was an S curve coming, almost level, but a rocky outcrop and cliff had demanded a bypass and starting on the hill would have demanded more mana from Ulric than he could provide. Fortune must have been enjoying the show, Ulric's short braid danced behind him and he was grateful for the beard that sheltered the skin of his chin as they entered the set of tracks for the S curve cleanly, the rocky outcrop directly in front threatening doom. A hard lean to his right counteracted the aggressive turn, and he was briefly afraid for his Shadow who stood without any attachment to the sled. He need not have worried, she rode the bumps and turns as if born to do it, her innate balance keeping her feet attached firmly to the [Forest Lord] tarp. The pressure of the turn let up briefly only to swing rapidly in the other direction, and he instinctively leaned left to brace against the opposite curve, cliff face yawing not so far away. The track held, directing the sled through this last sweeping turn, almost no speed lost thanks to the frictionless barrier spell coating the skids. Hands wide, stance of a practiced sled surfer, the persian skinned woman in front of him was grinning maniacally, reveling in the controlled chaos of the ride.
The sled leveled out and Ulric saw the last series of slight rolls in terrain that terminated in a long uphill that, only just, should bring the sled to a stop without recourse to the anchors. All according to keikaku.
No shout of "anchors" was necessary, Ulric had judged this hill correctly. The uphill climb terminated in a very slight upwards grade that brought their vehicle to a gentle halt, after which Christ and Cleaver chalked the skids with belt knives, as he had done earlier. Ulric's face burned from the icy air as did his hands and he flexed them to squeeze heat into the fingers.
Geyrt jumped down from her position, an uncharacteristic giggle audible. Ulric had to admit, if only to see the woman finally break out of her shell, this was all worth it. Not that he was unhappy with the sledding, it was easily the most fun he'd had since waking in the shadows of the colossi. Hard to resist being happy when you were sledding through a winter wonderland. Christ and Cleaver shared a clasp of forearms, sort of the Elven high five, and hearty exclamations in Elvish that Ulric couldn't quite make out. Definitely cheerful though.
Froka couldn't help a lift to his mood, seeing his normally reserved and focused fellows so obviously enthralled with the adventure. Even so, he reigned them in gently and they got down to business. Ulric couldn't manage another set of tracks at the moment, he was tapped out, though not quite to the point of mana exhaustion or he'd be useless the rest of the day. That brought them back to pushing the sled, a task made far easier for there being so much less resistance. Two behind, Ulric and Christ, and one in front, Cleaver, guided the sled along a path marked by Geyrt who, as usual, ranged ahead to scout for dangers and the best way forward.
Only two more sleigh rides did Ulric have in him, and short ones at that, he wasn't able to regenerate mana so very quickly while doing the work of pushing the sled up hills and trying to control its sway when the inevitable downhill demanded the team coordinate to prevent a roll. The next few hours were intensely busy but the team was rewarded: atop the next hill loomed the Elven fortress city and the [Heartwood] tree upon which it was built.
It was past Midsunsfall, the Twins were hanging low in the sky and their beaming rays lit the snow with gilded incandescence. It was near enough to make Ulric forget the tragedy of Santa's death and the grievous wounds of Twin Two, to say nothing of the whispered ragings in his thoughts when they turned to the trespassers roaming unfettered through the plateau. He tried not to linger overmuch on those, however, done was done and they had chosen the best possible route forward. The consequences of these choices he could live with. Knowing that he probably would have doomed Darla to life as a cripple or death by remaining behind to indulge his own interests, now that would have been unconscionable. Shouts from up ahead brought him out of his reverie. The scouts circling the fortress had spotted them and were on the way.
Ulric stayed silent, letting Christ take charge now. He was content to box his worries up to chew on them later. For now, he'd do what he could to get Twin Two some help and to get some rest. The last few days had passed like the Winter's Herald, all tumultuous motion and crazed thunder. Now that they'd reached the relative safety of the citadel, Ulric felt, unsurprisingly, exhausted. Not only physically tired, but also mentally exhausted and his core was tapped. The others also seemed somewhat deflated, now that business again was at hand and safety meant they could relax.
Whatever tension or stress or alertness had been buoying him was gone and he knew he could just about lay down for a damned solid sleep. Soon, he told himself, but not yet. First, they needed to see Lord Iriel himself and tell him what was going on. Unfortunately, they were delayed by the Iriel'en being, understandably, sketchy about reports of Otherkin incursion. They wanted to take some time to establish that the party had not been followed or marked by alchemical and mystical means. Everybody took the examinations and wiggling fingers of some kind of Elf divination, carried out by a female elf with a head shaved bald and who wore a blindfold embroidered with cryptic sigils, with proper grace.
While he'd faded in and out, Froka and his wounded brother had disappeared, shuttled off in a gaggle of warriors to find the man what aid the healers could provide. Ulric had experienced their touch once before, the healing magic was unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. It had sort of the full-body buzz of hard drugs but none of the mind fog. Something about the mana seemed to buffer your mind from the reality of flesh stitching together while it worked, almost like an anesthetic. If anything could save the man, the Sano mages would figure it out. He and his Shadow they regarded as peaches and cream, just a few bruises and scrapes and nothing to worry about. The party split further when Christ directed Ulric to rest a moment while the rest of the group went ahead to deliver their news to Idra and their liege. Ulric didn't mind the chance to sit down a minute, with his back to a tree. He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep sitting up until he was, gently, shaken awake by his weary Shadow. He had enough compassion for her to feel guilty about the nap, Geyrt had run farther than anyone during the entire trip. With all these soldiers now running around
She waved him off when he suggested she take a turn on the tree, a warrior had come to inform them that no sign of being trailed back through the forest could be found and His Pointy Eared Majesty would see them back up in the fortress. Together, Ulric forced himself to make one last push to the citadel and took the great lifts up and through the undercity and its marvels of arboreal architecture. Whirls of bent limbs created spiral patterns, engravings of vines and summer flowers, all of these were made more austere by the late afternoon light scattering off of snow. The abandoned city was now truly ghostly, haunting for its emptiness where once vibrant bustle filled its sky bridges. Ulric noticed that he wasn't the only one out of gas, Geyrt wore her exhaustion on her face, a rare show of vulnerability. It had been a hard push, miraculous for its rapidity. Memories of rushing wind and bouncing traversal brought a tired smile to his lips, even as his energy ebbed.
The final lift up to the citadel was a welcome sight. Still more welcome, a small team of duties relieved the pair of their burdens and escorted them to the great hall at the top of the fortress. Through burnished bronze doors they went to give news to the Lord of the land.
On his throne sat the [Lord of the Deep Wood] in his normal finery and with his normal half slouch, which turned into an interested attention at their entrance. The pictures of decorum normally to his side were absent, which meant that Ulric was a little more nervous than usual. He was tired and the wives that would normally check Bald'rt's worst impulses were gone. Ulric just had to hope that the Iriel Chief was on his best behavior.
"Ulric, Kin Savior! Glad I am for your safe return, I have heard reports that there was trouble on the plateau. Odd rumors my scouts have delivered, a most interesting sight, they claim that they witnessed a team of Elven troops riding a sleigh through the wilderness at unheard-of pace. Of a note, their descriptions of a particular cackling beauty atop the sled matches my lovely little [Blood thorn] in appearance if not attitude. What doings have gone on?" Welcomed the regal Elf.
"Er. Bald'rt, thank you for your warm welcome." Began Ulric, as usual trying to figure out how to navigate conversations with the fast-paced Iriel'en king.
"We ran into trouble indeed, how much I'm actually hoping you'll be able to tell me.” He said, trying to compose his report.
“In the course of our investigation into unwelcome guests that we detected on the [Plateau of Ancients], we were attacked by a particularly monstrous variant of [Polar Weasels], in a large pack. Darla suffered a particularly severe mauling that took infection, despite quick treatment. On return to camp, we learned of Serlic's death in action. He was killed by a Greater beast, some kind of invisible Owl the size of a horse.”
Gritting his teeth the regretful man couldn’t meet his host’s eyes, “It was my mistake. You have my deepest condolences Bald'rt, he was a brave man, a skilled Hunter, and a fine companion. I would not have scouted the canopy if I had known how virulent and active the beasts there were, they were much worse than last time I- no, sorry” He lamented, cutting himself off to focus on finishing his tale before bogging down on his failures.
“With our party depleted and an enemy of unknown strength whose positions we did not exactly know, we decided to hurry our return and deliver report rather than tarry in the glade." Spoke Ulric hurriedly, trying to hit all the highlights absent meaningless details.
Taking a deep breath, now that the worst news was delivered, the loss of Serlic and the wounding of Darla, he paused. For some reason he found himself at a loss for words, as he considered more fully, now in the safety of the fortress, that a good man had died on his behalf. An elf of far greater age than he would ever be, with innumerable ties, kin, friends, and who knows what else? Was lost, irretrievably and it was Ulric's decisions that had led to it. He'd never experienced this sort of feeling before and it pained him greatly. What ifs and might haves started to loop through his consciousness, trying to find a way to generate a world where there might still be a Santa.
Bald'rt leaned back to digest this information. His eyes closed briefly when he learned of the loss of Serlic and his lips moved in a silent benediction of some kind on behalf of the fallen Hunter. He recovered quickly though, likely through unfortunate familiarity, to focus on the rest of Ulric's tale. Noticing the man, both young and yet old, obviously struggling Bald'rt offered a piece of advice given him long ago under similar circumstance and honed since by long practice, his booming voice low yet filling the room with its solemn poignance.
"When a man leads other men to battle or adventure, there are will inevitably be times when not all return. All Hunters and Warriors of Iriel know this. Serlic knew it. He chose the road because that is where his heart led. It is regrettable that he has returned to the forest's embrace but we will mourn him little, for his was a life lived in fullness and ended as he would have had it whether this season or another distant. We will carry him in our memories, to gaze into the future together as is our way, Ulric. Do not wear his death as a weight on your legs, Glade Chief, he would not have wished it. Instead, think on what his life meant to your own and use that to strengthen your own roots. This is what it is to be Iriel'en."
Bald'rt's eulogy of his kin was brief but, somehow, immensely comforting. Ulric hoped someone said something of the sort when he eventually passed. Maybe even the same Elf before him would do it, that would be nice, in its own way.
Nodding, Ulric gathered himself and continued to explain that the rapidly worsening status of Darla convinced them that they needed to expedite their return. Ulric only briefly described the creation of the super sleigh and its guided track, improvements to which he'd already worked out in theory, a monorail this time, but he shelved that tangent before it could distract him and cause an unforced error here.
When Ulric described the sled some cheer was restored to the Elf Lord's countenance.
"The air slick skids worked better than I'd hoped and we ended up using the mostly descending terrain to our advantage, riding the sled at great speed to return Darla to his kin for treatment." Finished Ulric, trying to be matter-of-fact about the madhouse run from the [Ancient's Gate] to Irielhos.
"Ahhh, then the rumors were true! Your party actually rode through the deep wood at a pace to shame a bird's flight to cross distance unthinkable in so short a time! And, if I don't mistake, my dearest daughter has a new favorite pastime." Declared Lord Iriel with subdued excitement.
Ulric could detect a faint trace of envy in the Elf for his daughter, there was a scarcely hidden desire to have shared the thrill of the breakneck race through copses of trees, alongside frozen rivers, over hill and down. The mantle of office weighed heavily on this free spirit of an Elf. He fairly vibrated with a seeming pent-up desire to race out into the wood and find adventures again.
Geyrt coughed slightly from her position behind Ulric's shoulder, a sound far cuter than it should have been. A quick glance revealed the slight tinge of a repressed blush. Ulric couldn't help a slight smirk, recalling her obvious joy at the sleigh ride, which she had visibly repressed soon after the drudgery of their normal travel resumed. Her attempts at stoicism had been somewhat ruined by the giggle that escaped from time to time as they'd traveled.
"It was…a memorable journey Bald'rt. Not my first choice for how I'd wished things played out but not the worst case either." Ulric confided.
He took a brief moment to think on the trip. A little less preparation here, not as much effort in his training with Idra and the Dragons there, and it was easy to see how things could have gone far, far worse than they had. One dead and one badly injured out of seven to depart. No, not great. But far from as bad as it could have been. He decided that, truthfully, the trip was, by most measures, a success.
"I'd be dishonest if I didn't say that we probably got luckier than we deserved, I didn't know that the [Skyshield] spell would work as I wanted and I also didn't know if I could refine my [Stonewalls] well enough to use them to create the tracks necessary to allow such rapid runs. Without those, we dared not let the sled gain such speed and our travel would have required an extra day. Things worked out and we got Darla back and my own gear without further incident." Ulric summarized.
And now for the kicker.
"I trust you got word about the invading party?" He prompted.
Bald'rts expression soured immediately. The news of a second incursion was bound to be a sore spot, given the Elf's disposition towards Otherkin roaming through Orlethrem, let alone in his own backyard.
"I did, and do not think it was not received with gratitude. Whoever has sent these creatures knows the Sacred Grove is forbidden and they also know that it is death to encroach unbidden on Iriel. There will be blood spilled over this and, mark my words Glade Chief, I will see that it is oceans of theirs to drops of ours." Bald'rt promised.
Ulric's brain was churning along slowly, he was keeping himself focused by will alone at this point. But he had to see this through, lives were at stake. Gathering his fading wits he pushed to complete his report and give his host what knowledge he might, to better allow the old monarch to act.
"Geyrt adapted a spell her mothers taught her to keep track of me, in case we were separated. She says it's a [Hunters Mark] and it worked to home in on the direction of the party that we tried to find, but we weren't able to exploit the opportunity, not with the naked hostility of the monsters still roaming in the [Forest of the Forgotten], not with Darla's injuries to consider, and, most importantly, not without any idea of who, how many, or of what nature were the invaders. They could have been a couple of scouts, they could have been a score of warriors, we had no clue." Ulric informed the Chief of Iriel.
Ulric hurriedly conveyed the suspicions of the escort, experienced Hunters and warriors alike, concerning the most sinister aspect of their failure to find this foreign party.
"One and all, Kryr'st, Nahl'ir, Serlic, Geyrt, every one of our team searched for sign of the invading force and, one and all, found nothing after the [Ancient's Gate]. We are afeared that these men are receiving magical help to cover their tracks and to safeguard them from the canopy beasts. Kryr'st and Geyrt are both in agreement that they likely have bypassed whatever protections guard Olrethrem from outside observation. Nothing else makes sense." the weary man concluded.
By the steady gaze in those emerald eyes, this was not a revelation.
"After much discussion, amongst my scouts, both here in Ireilhos and abroad, with Idra'se and his men, and in conference with my Lady Wives, we have determined this to be the most likely scenario." Bald'rt concurred.
"That is why my lovely brides are not in attendance now, each works to cut off the support network that must be creating this weakness in our protections.” Revealed the sylvan king, his deep voice steady and flowing.
“Bathe has departed to find the collaborators divulging gaps in our defenses and silence them. Shor is, at this moment, reweaving the webs of denial that should be preventing an outside magus from gazing through the mana field within Orlethrem. When she is done, I believe the [Bark ticks] that infest my lands will find themselves suddenly exposed, minus the enchantments that are hiding them from my sight. Already Vedyr hunts down the sources of mana traces that have been detected. It will be with great satisfaction that my Heartwood Spear hangs their corpses along the borders of the deep wood." The [Lord of the Deep Wood] said with vengeful certainty.
Geyrt's cool gaze matched her father's, the resemblance uncanny as they mirrored their murderous intent towards those who violated the sanctity of their homeland. It was reassuring. Ulric was confident that he wouldn't have to shoulder the brunt of the effort to track and kill these men. Intellectually, that was a fantastic relief. It did nothing, however, for the whispering blood priest that began chanting doom in the back of his head when he thought about strangers near his glade. Which brought Ulric to his next and final point, the last thing he could muster the energy to discuss before he found a bed, or maybe any level surface, and passed out.
"Lord Bald'rt, there is one more matter, only tangentially related to the invaders, that I wanted to discuss with you." Ulric said, somewhat formally.
His phrasing caught the attention of the Elf King who sat a little straighter to consider him.
"It has come to my attention, for the past few months, that, uh, I may be going slightly insane." Ulric admitted.
His Shadow's grumbled "This is not news to any but the clouds passing through." behind him did nothing to make matters better. After casting a scowl behind him that made her abruptly begin inspecting her bow for dirt, he returned to his host.
"You have to understand, in my old life I never knew violence against a sentient being. I hunted, in a very limited way, but never had I ever felt an inclination towards hurting or killing anything I didn't eat. I was, by all metrics I have to self-examine, a peaceful entity. That has, with some abruptness, changed in this world. It was first just a slightly enhanced impulsiveness, a faster tendency to action, which I was attributing to having to survive the wilderness with nothing. Humans are adaptive creatures in my home world and were able predators by nature, so I thought little of it. Just a return to form, see?" Ulric explained, trying to home in on the problem without being certain there even was one.
"But that has proven to be somewhat flawed a hypothesis. When I saw the men who had taken Brighteyes, my first thought was to destroy them. Without question, no hesitation at all, I killed the first people I met in this world and, where I expected grief, or upheaval, there was nothing, nothing but satisfaction.” Ulric described the slaughter-tinged impulse as detached and clinically as he could.
“Later, when your daughter tried to ambush me, I felt again a sort of savage instinct to slaughter her who had tried to take my life, who had tried to prey on me. Without Brighteyes there to intervene, I don't know that I wouldn't have, even once she was no threat, at the moment. Then, of course, there was the idiot lordling who wanted to take my place as his own. You saw how that worked out.”
Spreading his hands, the former engineer tried to explain the dissonance that he’d been trying to resolve for weeks now.
“Bald'rt, I was never a violent man but I am now. I never wanted anything in life more than I wanted to murder that chattering squirrel of a man. I feel in myself a powerful hostility towards any who would threaten my domain or person and a level of aggression that I would best describe as feral. Mostly, it seems to be something related to anything that would impinge on myself or on the plateau. I think it has something to do with this [Lord of the Ancient Glade] thing, it's gotten a lot worse since that showed up in my status." Ulric poured out his concerns, unable to stop now that he was started.
Having outlined his burgeoning insanity, Ulric waited for a response, mentally preparing himself to learn that, somehow, he'd mentally snapped under the strain of dying or some byproduct of his savage life in the wilderness. He was stunned when the Lord Iriel started laughing boisterously. He stood flabbergasted, until, after a long couple of minutes the Elf brushed tears from his eyes as he subsided. That was not exactly the response Ulric had been anticipating.
Slapping his thigh with merriment, the Lord of Iriel couldn't help a further chuckle at Ulric's discombobulation.
"Glade Chief, I am sorry, you must forgive me, I had forgotten how young you are in this world." the Elf said, reining himself in.
"What you have described is, simply put, the Lord's Instinct. Did you think the title was merely a set of words and a few additional stats, Ulric?" Bald'rt asked with raised eyebrow.
"The Akashic connection between Varda and her peoples is not so shallow. When the All-Knowledge anointed you [Lord of the Ancient Glade] it did so because you had already committed yourself to the guardianship of that land with your own life.” Explained his host.
More sedately the Iriel’en King outlined concisely for the baffled man the cause for this sudden influence, “There are conditions to be met before such a thing happens, one of these nearly always includes killing a few trouble makers who would seek to trespass on your domain. One of the conditions, frequently, is also the slaying of the previous guardian, if they still live; You did that as well, when you took the life of the [Forest Lord]. All of these build a…calling…a drive to rule supremely within your domain. The Land gifts you strength to do so, you should have experienced a great boost within your status, which I did observe when I [Scanned] you.”
Unable to suppress a wry grin, Bald’rt continued to walk his guest through the experience he himself had known so many years ago.
“Just as you claimed the glade for yourself, so did the glade claim you for its guardian, you are connected to it now. The territoriality you have experienced is completely normal and you'll get used to it in a few decades. Would that you had inherited your position from another rational being, they could have coached you through the transition. You do seem willing to learn and keep a flexible mindset, Ulric, unlike some others I can think of who may as well have ridge poles up their hind quarters."
He glanced briefly at his daughter, for some reason. Ulric turned to look at her as well but saw nothing out of the usual. Apart from her normal feminine impact, which was starting to fade a touch into the background, anyway. Thankfully. The dusky Amazon stood impassively, her hands in a relaxed grip on the bowstave slung across her impressive chest. She returned his gaze evenly, and, seeing nothing out of place, he returned his gaze to the Elf King, who was already speaking. Hmm…that was a little weird. Wasn’t it?
"I took my position as [Lord of the Deep Wood] long ago, though it was through less violent means, as is the case for most of the ruling Lords these days." Bald'rt told him, eyes gazing into days past.
"When my father was tired of rule and too crippled by various wounds to feel his people were served by his holding the crown, he passed the land to me according to tradition. We handed Iriel to its new Lord in a ceremony, Lord to Heir. I then experienced this same burgeoning need to guard my lands, and a hostility towards those who tried to challenge my new rule, similar to that which you describe. All of us bonded so to the land feel it. This relationship between lords and land is common knowledge, and any who would address you with cognizance of your status in this world are aware of it.” The Iriel'en Lord explained casually.
With another glance of humor-filled eyes towards his offspring, the sire of his Shadow confided in a conspiratorial whisper that was meant to be overheard, “It would be extremely embarrassing if one, say, a Hunter seasoned in her ways, should disregard common knowledge to bungle an attack against a Lord, given their might and drive to destroy threats. The most common outcome of attempting ill-advised assassination of such a one with half-hearted effort is to be killed outright. Most Lords slay their attackers or die trying and I can only think of a few fool enough to try it and also lucky enough to find a merciful outcome.”
This time, Ulric’s quick glance behind did catch the rude gesture his Shadow had directed towards her father before she could return to her façade of cool composure. He carefully restrained any emotion that might be construed as humor as the Elf Lord finished telling Ulric he wasn’t really any more insane than any other landbound person that gets a primal calling to rule and protect their domain. The Elf King did not evidence that he'd noticed his daughter's lapse in decorum but several of his guards were smirking openly. Teasing his malcontent offspring
“Lordling Morion knew it, or should have, and likewise proved his foolishness in challenging you. It is good that you self-aware and are strong-willed enough to resist the impulses, strongly do they speak in those early days. It can be distracting, at first, and has led many new to their role to do things they later regret. As you settle into your place in this world, you will feel the urges more natural, and also less insistent. I barely notice the instinct's drives but then, they are not unlike what I would always be doing and thinking as I lead the Iriel'en. When someone attempts to infringe on my reign, my lands, my mates, or my offspring, I kill them. It is like breathing for those like us. It is what we are." Bald'rt pronounced, finally.
Geyrt stood up woozy, and wiped the flecks of remaining vomit from her lips. She could do nothing for the ecstatic grin that beamed from her face. Striding over to the rest of the party, who was still recovering their collective breath from the much longer, and far faster, traverse, she broke into hurried exclamation as if she had not just been violently sick.
"I want to go again! Who will trade me? Kryr'st? Froka? I will guard your brother's life with my own, fear not! Can I?" Machine gunned the excited elf.
Cleaver, the elf known as Nahl'ir, could not help a smug approval at her enthusiasm. She was now a convert, a brother in love for the sled, and all past animosities were behind them.
"How about this?" Interjected the formerly fearsome scarred warrior, "I will take the Glade Chief's position pushing the sled, he has done the lion's share of the work for this leg of the journey, and should rest atop the sled. Froka, would you scout the way forward for a similar course to this one? Your brother is in good hands with the Glade Chief to watch over him and we make the return home in time unheard of with this method." Cleaver persuaded.
Froka, torn between the admittedly hysterical fun of the sledding and his concern for his brother, mulled the proposition briefly before he accepted. He needed to do other than sit over his brother and brood anyhow.
"Very well then Nahl'ir, I will pathfind us a way forward while the Glade Chief recovers. How many more such sets of stone track can you supply, Ulric? It must tax you to reach so far." Twin One asked considerately.
A good question. That last track had been about as much as Ulric could manage in a single go, he was, magically, pooped. He regained strength between runs but they covered the ground so quickly it wasn't far different from a continuous casting, and, even if the amount of stone moved was minimal, it added up. Ulric considered it carefully, no mistakes could be made. If he left so much as a single point of weakness that part might break off at a critical juncture and derail them. After another few moments consideration he arrived at a conclusion.
"If I conserve my strength, maybe even leave gaps, spaces in the longest, straightest sections of the course, where we are certain to not need rails to direct us, and only create full tracks for the curving or faster sections, I can do another such run now, and, after that, only much shorter runs between rests. We'll likely have to push the sled some in between while my mana recovers." Ulric admitted.
"How far does that leave us shy of Irielhos?" He asked of the group.
"By my best reckoning," Christ said with deliberate caution, not wanting to oversell the progress they'd made, "We are over half of the journey now and, in another run or two, will be within sight of Irielhos. It is almost certain that we arrive at the fortress today, even if we end up pushing the sled for the majority of the rest our journey."
Geyrt interposed herself between himself and Christ, eyes wide and ear tips twitching.
"Then I get to go again!? Now? Soon? Let us go now!" pressed the eager huntress, invading Ulric's personal space in her enthusiasm.
"Sure, sure, ok. Easy, lady we'll get right on it." Ulric calmed, unable to repress a smile at the contrast to her normal stoicism or mild pique.
Froka set off then, with Ulric jogging in tow to ascertain the safest, most optimal position for stone rails to keep the sled in a predetermined course. Ulric was particularly attentive to the grade and slope of the hills, it would be critical for any yaw or side slippage to be utterly avoided. Once that monster sled turned sideways, there would be no controlling it, even the anchors would likely only result in an uncontrolled roll. It took a quarter-hour, honestly needed for Ulric to recover his mana, but they set the path and Ulric raised the [Stonewalls] on his way back, Froka staying at their end point to observe and scout for signs of trouble. The rest had done little to temper the excitement of the Sled Bros.
"We're all set." Ulric announced before he climbed to take Froka's position hanging onto Darla. The Elf did not look good but, at least, didn't look much worse than the last time Ulric had laid eyes on him.
Geyrt stood tall, gripping the harness straps, near to bouncing on her toes. Christ called the count and at his holler of "Fly friends!" the troop took off, pushing at top speed. Top speed, from his place on the top of the sled instead of the side, felt a whole hell of a lot faster. Shouting something unintelligible, Geyrt jumped to take her sideways crouch, surfing the sled as it roared down the planned path. Each bump threatened to bounce Ulric up from his seat, the jarring motion made all the more hectic as he could see, in great detail, that they were moving way too godsdamned fast for anything to survive the crash if something should go wrong. Discarding the fear of ruin, Ulric bathed in his Shadow's ululation's of victory as they screamed down one hill to climb another, then to accelerate into a rightward turn whose radius threatened to push Ulric out of his seated position before another short, straight downhill accelerated them yet again. Geyrt's heavy braid flew out behind her, whipping as the rushing air caught it.
Now for the dicey part, there was an S curve coming, almost level, but a rocky outcrop and cliff had demanded a bypass and starting on the hill would have demanded more mana from Ulric than he could provide. Fortune must have been enjoying the show, Ulric's short braid danced behind him and he was grateful for the beard that sheltered the skin of his chin as they entered the set of tracks for the S curve cleanly, the rocky outcrop directly in front threatening doom. A hard lean to his right counteracted the aggressive turn, and he was briefly afraid for his Shadow who stood without any attachment to the sled. He need not have worried, she rode the bumps and turns as if born to do it, her innate balance keeping her feet attached firmly to the [Forest Lord] tarp. The pressure of the turn let up briefly only to swing rapidly in the other direction, and he instinctively leaned left to brace against the opposite curve, cliff face yawing not so far away. The track held, directing the sled through this last sweeping turn, almost no speed lost thanks to the frictionless barrier spell coating the skids. Hands wide, stance of a practiced sled surfer, the persian skinned woman in front of him was grinning maniacally, reveling in the controlled chaos of the ride.
The sled leveled out and Ulric saw the last series of slight rolls in terrain that terminated in a long uphill that, only just, should bring the sled to a stop without recourse to the anchors. All according to keikaku.
No shout of "anchors" was necessary, Ulric had judged this hill correctly. The uphill climb terminated in a very slight upwards grade that brought their vehicle to a gentle halt, after which Christ and Cleaver chalked the skids with belt knives, as he had done earlier. Ulric's face burned from the icy air as did his hands and he flexed them to squeeze heat into the fingers.
Geyrt jumped down from her position, an uncharacteristic giggle audible. Ulric had to admit, if only to see the woman finally break out of her shell, this was all worth it. Not that he was unhappy with the sledding, it was easily the most fun he'd had since waking in the shadows of the colossi. Hard to resist being happy when you were sledding through a winter wonderland. Christ and Cleaver shared a clasp of forearms, sort of the Elven high five, and hearty exclamations in Elvish that Ulric couldn't quite make out. Definitely cheerful though.
Froka couldn't help a lift to his mood, seeing his normally reserved and focused fellows so obviously enthralled with the adventure. Even so, he reigned them in gently and they got down to business. Ulric couldn't manage another set of tracks at the moment, he was tapped out, though not quite to the point of mana exhaustion or he'd be useless the rest of the day. That brought them back to pushing the sled, a task made far easier for there being so much less resistance. Two behind, Ulric and Christ, and one in front, Cleaver, guided the sled along a path marked by Geyrt who, as usual, ranged ahead to scout for dangers and the best way forward.
Only two more sleigh rides did Ulric have in him, and short ones at that, he wasn't able to regenerate mana so very quickly while doing the work of pushing the sled up hills and trying to control its sway when the inevitable downhill demanded the team coordinate to prevent a roll. The next few hours were intensely busy but the team was rewarded: atop the next hill loomed the Elven fortress city and the [Heartwood] tree upon which it was built.
It was past Midsunsfall, the Twins were hanging low in the sky and their beaming rays lit the snow with gilded incandescence. It was near enough to make Ulric forget the tragedy of Santa's death and the grievous wounds of Twin Two, to say nothing of the whispered ragings in his thoughts when they turned to the trespassers roaming unfettered through the plateau. He tried not to linger overmuch on those, however, done was done and they had chosen the best possible route forward. The consequences of these choices he could live with. Knowing that he probably would have doomed Darla to life as a cripple or death by remaining behind to indulge his own interests, now that would have been unconscionable. Shouts from up ahead brought him out of his reverie. The scouts circling the fortress had spotted them and were on the way.
Ulric stayed silent, letting Christ take charge now. He was content to box his worries up to chew on them later. For now, he'd do what he could to get Twin Two some help and to get some rest. The last few days had passed like the Winter's Herald, all tumultuous motion and crazed thunder. Now that they'd reached the relative safety of the citadel, Ulric felt, unsurprisingly, exhausted. Not only physically tired, but also mentally exhausted and his core was tapped. The others also seemed somewhat deflated, now that business again was at hand and safety meant they could relax.
Whatever tension or stress or alertness had been buoying him was gone and he knew he could just about lay down for a damned solid sleep. Soon, he told himself, but not yet. First, they needed to see Lord Iriel himself and tell him what was going on. Unfortunately, they were delayed by the Iriel'en being, understandably, sketchy about reports of Otherkin incursion. They wanted to take some time to establish that the party had not been followed or marked by alchemical and mystical means. Everybody took the examinations and wiggling fingers of some kind of Elf divination, carried out by a female elf with a head shaved bald and who wore a blindfold embroidered with cryptic sigils, with proper grace.
While he'd faded in and out, Froka and his wounded brother had disappeared, shuttled off in a gaggle of warriors to find the man what aid the healers could provide. Ulric had experienced their touch once before, the healing magic was unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. It had sort of the full-body buzz of hard drugs but none of the mind fog. Something about the mana seemed to buffer your mind from the reality of flesh stitching together while it worked, almost like an anesthetic. If anything could save the man, the Sano mages would figure it out. He and his Shadow they regarded as peaches and cream, just a few bruises and scrapes and nothing to worry about. The party split further when Christ directed Ulric to rest a moment while the rest of the group went ahead to deliver their news to Idra and their liege. Ulric didn't mind the chance to sit down a minute, with his back to a tree. He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep sitting up until he was, gently, shaken awake by his weary Shadow. He had enough compassion for her to feel guilty about the nap, Geyrt had run farther than anyone during the entire trip. With all these soldiers now running around
She waved him off when he suggested she take a turn on the tree, a warrior had come to inform them that no sign of being trailed back through the forest could be found and His Pointy Eared Majesty would see them back up in the fortress. Together, Ulric forced himself to make one last push to the citadel and took the great lifts up and through the undercity and its marvels of arboreal architecture. Whirls of bent limbs created spiral patterns, engravings of vines and summer flowers, all of these were made more austere by the late afternoon light scattering off of snow. The abandoned city was now truly ghostly, haunting for its emptiness where once vibrant bustle filled its sky bridges. Ulric noticed that he wasn't the only one out of gas, Geyrt wore her exhaustion on her face, a rare show of vulnerability. It had been a hard push, miraculous for its rapidity. Memories of rushing wind and bouncing traversal brought a tired smile to his lips, even as his energy ebbed.
The final lift up to the citadel was a welcome sight. Still more welcome, a small team of duties relieved the pair of their burdens and escorted them to the great hall at the top of the fortress. Through burnished bronze doors they went to give news to the Lord of the land.
On his throne sat the [Lord of the Deep Wood] in his normal finery and with his normal half slouch, which turned into an interested attention at their entrance. The pictures of decorum normally to his side were absent, which meant that Ulric was a little more nervous than usual. He was tired and the wives that would normally check Bald'rt's worst impulses were gone. Ulric just had to hope that the Iriel Chief was on his best behavior.
"Ulric, Kin Savior! Glad I am for your safe return, I have heard reports that there was trouble on the plateau. Odd rumors my scouts have delivered, a most interesting sight, they claim that they witnessed a team of Elven troops riding a sleigh through the wilderness at unheard-of pace. Of a note, their descriptions of a particular cackling beauty atop the sled matches my lovely little [Blood thorn] in appearance if not attitude. What doings have gone on?" Welcomed the regal Elf.
"Er. Bald'rt, thank you for your warm welcome." Began Ulric, as usual trying to figure out how to navigate conversations with the fast-paced Iriel'en king.
"We ran into trouble indeed, how much I'm actually hoping you'll be able to tell me.” He said, trying to compose his report.
“In the course of our investigation into unwelcome guests that we detected on the [Plateau of Ancients], we were attacked by a particularly monstrous variant of [Polar Weasels], in a large pack. Darla suffered a particularly severe mauling that took infection, despite quick treatment. On return to camp, we learned of Serlic's death in action. He was killed by a Greater beast, some kind of invisible Owl the size of a horse.”
Gritting his teeth the regretful man couldn’t meet his host’s eyes, “It was my mistake. You have my deepest condolences Bald'rt, he was a brave man, a skilled Hunter, and a fine companion. I would not have scouted the canopy if I had known how virulent and active the beasts there were, they were much worse than last time I- no, sorry” He lamented, cutting himself off to focus on finishing his tale before bogging down on his failures.
“With our party depleted and an enemy of unknown strength whose positions we did not exactly know, we decided to hurry our return and deliver report rather than tarry in the glade." Spoke Ulric hurriedly, trying to hit all the highlights absent meaningless details.
Taking a deep breath, now that the worst news was delivered, the loss of Serlic and the wounding of Darla, he paused. For some reason he found himself at a loss for words, as he considered more fully, now in the safety of the fortress, that a good man had died on his behalf. An elf of far greater age than he would ever be, with innumerable ties, kin, friends, and who knows what else? Was lost, irretrievably and it was Ulric's decisions that had led to it. He'd never experienced this sort of feeling before and it pained him greatly. What ifs and might haves started to loop through his consciousness, trying to find a way to generate a world where there might still be a Santa.
Bald'rt leaned back to digest this information. His eyes closed briefly when he learned of the loss of Serlic and his lips moved in a silent benediction of some kind on behalf of the fallen Hunter. He recovered quickly though, likely through unfortunate familiarity, to focus on the rest of Ulric's tale. Noticing the man, both young and yet old, obviously struggling Bald'rt offered a piece of advice given him long ago under similar circumstance and honed since by long practice, his booming voice low yet filling the room with its solemn poignance.
"When a man leads other men to battle or adventure, there are will inevitably be times when not all return. All Hunters and Warriors of Iriel know this. Serlic knew it. He chose the road because that is where his heart led. It is regrettable that he has returned to the forest's embrace but we will mourn him little, for his was a life lived in fullness and ended as he would have had it whether this season or another distant. We will carry him in our memories, to gaze into the future together as is our way, Ulric. Do not wear his death as a weight on your legs, Glade Chief, he would not have wished it. Instead, think on what his life meant to your own and use that to strengthen your own roots. This is what it is to be Iriel'en."
Bald'rt's eulogy of his kin was brief but, somehow, immensely comforting. Ulric hoped someone said something of the sort when he eventually passed. Maybe even the same Elf before him would do it, that would be nice, in its own way.
Nodding, Ulric gathered himself and continued to explain that the rapidly worsening status of Darla convinced them that they needed to expedite their return. Ulric only briefly described the creation of the super sleigh and its guided track, improvements to which he'd already worked out in theory, a monorail this time, but he shelved that tangent before it could distract him and cause an unforced error here.
When Ulric described the sled some cheer was restored to the Elf Lord's countenance.
"The air slick skids worked better than I'd hoped and we ended up using the mostly descending terrain to our advantage, riding the sled at great speed to return Darla to his kin for treatment." Finished Ulric, trying to be matter-of-fact about the madhouse run from the [Ancient's Gate] to Irielhos.
"Ahhh, then the rumors were true! Your party actually rode through the deep wood at a pace to shame a bird's flight to cross distance unthinkable in so short a time! And, if I don't mistake, my dearest daughter has a new favorite pastime." Declared Lord Iriel with subdued excitement.
Ulric could detect a faint trace of envy in the Elf for his daughter, there was a scarcely hidden desire to have shared the thrill of the breakneck race through copses of trees, alongside frozen rivers, over hill and down. The mantle of office weighed heavily on this free spirit of an Elf. He fairly vibrated with a seeming pent-up desire to race out into the wood and find adventures again.
Geyrt coughed slightly from her position behind Ulric's shoulder, a sound far cuter than it should have been. A quick glance revealed the slight tinge of a repressed blush. Ulric couldn't help a slight smirk, recalling her obvious joy at the sleigh ride, which she had visibly repressed soon after the drudgery of their normal travel resumed. Her attempts at stoicism had been somewhat ruined by the giggle that escaped from time to time as they'd traveled.
"It was…a memorable journey Bald'rt. Not my first choice for how I'd wished things played out but not the worst case either." Ulric confided.
He took a brief moment to think on the trip. A little less preparation here, not as much effort in his training with Idra and the Dragons there, and it was easy to see how things could have gone far, far worse than they had. One dead and one badly injured out of seven to depart. No, not great. But far from as bad as it could have been. He decided that, truthfully, the trip was, by most measures, a success.
"I'd be dishonest if I didn't say that we probably got luckier than we deserved, I didn't know that the [Skyshield] spell would work as I wanted and I also didn't know if I could refine my [Stonewalls] well enough to use them to create the tracks necessary to allow such rapid runs. Without those, we dared not let the sled gain such speed and our travel would have required an extra day. Things worked out and we got Darla back and my own gear without further incident." Ulric summarized.
And now for the kicker.
"I trust you got word about the invading party?" He prompted.
Bald'rts expression soured immediately. The news of a second incursion was bound to be a sore spot, given the Elf's disposition towards Otherkin roaming through Orlethrem, let alone in his own backyard.
"I did, and do not think it was not received with gratitude. Whoever has sent these creatures knows the Sacred Grove is forbidden and they also know that it is death to encroach unbidden on Iriel. There will be blood spilled over this and, mark my words Glade Chief, I will see that it is oceans of theirs to drops of ours." Bald'rt promised.
Ulric's brain was churning along slowly, he was keeping himself focused by will alone at this point. But he had to see this through, lives were at stake. Gathering his fading wits he pushed to complete his report and give his host what knowledge he might, to better allow the old monarch to act.
"Geyrt adapted a spell her mothers taught her to keep track of me, in case we were separated. She says it's a [Hunters Mark] and it worked to home in on the direction of the party that we tried to find, but we weren't able to exploit the opportunity, not with the naked hostility of the monsters still roaming in the [Forest of the Forgotten], not with Darla's injuries to consider, and, most importantly, not without any idea of who, how many, or of what nature were the invaders. They could have been a couple of scouts, they could have been a score of warriors, we had no clue." Ulric informed the Chief of Iriel.
Ulric hurriedly conveyed the suspicions of the escort, experienced Hunters and warriors alike, concerning the most sinister aspect of their failure to find this foreign party.
"One and all, Kryr'st, Nahl'ir, Serlic, Geyrt, every one of our team searched for sign of the invading force and, one and all, found nothing after the [Ancient's Gate]. We are afeared that these men are receiving magical help to cover their tracks and to safeguard them from the canopy beasts. Kryr'st and Geyrt are both in agreement that they likely have bypassed whatever protections guard Olrethrem from outside observation. Nothing else makes sense." the weary man concluded.
By the steady gaze in those emerald eyes, this was not a revelation.
"After much discussion, amongst my scouts, both here in Ireilhos and abroad, with Idra'se and his men, and in conference with my Lady Wives, we have determined this to be the most likely scenario." Bald'rt concurred.
"That is why my lovely brides are not in attendance now, each works to cut off the support network that must be creating this weakness in our protections.” Revealed the sylvan king, his deep voice steady and flowing.
“Bathe has departed to find the collaborators divulging gaps in our defenses and silence them. Shor is, at this moment, reweaving the webs of denial that should be preventing an outside magus from gazing through the mana field within Orlethrem. When she is done, I believe the [Bark ticks] that infest my lands will find themselves suddenly exposed, minus the enchantments that are hiding them from my sight. Already Vedyr hunts down the sources of mana traces that have been detected. It will be with great satisfaction that my Heartwood Spear hangs their corpses along the borders of the deep wood." The [Lord of the Deep Wood] said with vengeful certainty.
Geyrt's cool gaze matched her father's, the resemblance uncanny as they mirrored their murderous intent towards those who violated the sanctity of their homeland. It was reassuring. Ulric was confident that he wouldn't have to shoulder the brunt of the effort to track and kill these men. Intellectually, that was a fantastic relief. It did nothing, however, for the whispering blood priest that began chanting doom in the back of his head when he thought about strangers near his glade. Which brought Ulric to his next and final point, the last thing he could muster the energy to discuss before he found a bed, or maybe any level surface, and passed out.
"Lord Bald'rt, there is one more matter, only tangentially related to the invaders, that I wanted to discuss with you." Ulric said, somewhat formally.
His phrasing caught the attention of the Elf King who sat a little straighter to consider him.
"It has come to my attention, for the past few months, that, uh, I may be going slightly insane." Ulric admitted.
His Shadow's grumbled "This is not news to any but the clouds passing through." behind him did nothing to make matters better. After casting a scowl behind him that made her abruptly begin inspecting her bow for dirt, he returned to his host.
"You have to understand, in my old life I never knew violence against a sentient being. I hunted, in a very limited way, but never had I ever felt an inclination towards hurting or killing anything I didn't eat. I was, by all metrics I have to self-examine, a peaceful entity. That has, with some abruptness, changed in this world. It was first just a slightly enhanced impulsiveness, a faster tendency to action, which I was attributing to having to survive the wilderness with nothing. Humans are adaptive creatures in my home world and were able predators by nature, so I thought little of it. Just a return to form, see?" Ulric explained, trying to home in on the problem without being certain there even was one.
"But that has proven to be somewhat flawed a hypothesis. When I saw the men who had taken Brighteyes, my first thought was to destroy them. Without question, no hesitation at all, I killed the first people I met in this world and, where I expected grief, or upheaval, there was nothing, nothing but satisfaction.” Ulric described the slaughter-tinged impulse as detached and clinically as he could.
“Later, when your daughter tried to ambush me, I felt again a sort of savage instinct to slaughter her who had tried to take my life, who had tried to prey on me. Without Brighteyes there to intervene, I don't know that I wouldn't have, even once she was no threat, at the moment. Then, of course, there was the idiot lordling who wanted to take my place as his own. You saw how that worked out.”
Spreading his hands, the former engineer tried to explain the dissonance that he’d been trying to resolve for weeks now.
“Bald'rt, I was never a violent man but I am now. I never wanted anything in life more than I wanted to murder that chattering squirrel of a man. I feel in myself a powerful hostility towards any who would threaten my domain or person and a level of aggression that I would best describe as feral. Mostly, it seems to be something related to anything that would impinge on myself or on the plateau. I think it has something to do with this [Lord of the Ancient Glade] thing, it's gotten a lot worse since that showed up in my status." Ulric poured out his concerns, unable to stop now that he was started.
Having outlined his burgeoning insanity, Ulric waited for a response, mentally preparing himself to learn that, somehow, he'd mentally snapped under the strain of dying or some byproduct of his savage life in the wilderness. He was stunned when the Lord Iriel started laughing boisterously. He stood flabbergasted, until, after a long couple of minutes the Elf brushed tears from his eyes as he subsided. That was not exactly the response Ulric had been anticipating.
Slapping his thigh with merriment, the Lord of Iriel couldn't help a further chuckle at Ulric's discombobulation.
"Glade Chief, I am sorry, you must forgive me, I had forgotten how young you are in this world." the Elf said, reining himself in.
"What you have described is, simply put, the Lord's Instinct. Did you think the title was merely a set of words and a few additional stats, Ulric?" Bald'rt asked with raised eyebrow.
"The Akashic connection between Varda and her peoples is not so shallow. When the All-Knowledge anointed you [Lord of the Ancient Glade] it did so because you had already committed yourself to the guardianship of that land with your own life.” Explained his host.
More sedately the Iriel’en King outlined concisely for the baffled man the cause for this sudden influence, “There are conditions to be met before such a thing happens, one of these nearly always includes killing a few trouble makers who would seek to trespass on your domain. One of the conditions, frequently, is also the slaying of the previous guardian, if they still live; You did that as well, when you took the life of the [Forest Lord]. All of these build a…calling…a drive to rule supremely within your domain. The Land gifts you strength to do so, you should have experienced a great boost within your status, which I did observe when I [Scanned] you.”
Unable to suppress a wry grin, Bald’rt continued to walk his guest through the experience he himself had known so many years ago.
“Just as you claimed the glade for yourself, so did the glade claim you for its guardian, you are connected to it now. The territoriality you have experienced is completely normal and you'll get used to it in a few decades. Would that you had inherited your position from another rational being, they could have coached you through the transition. You do seem willing to learn and keep a flexible mindset, Ulric, unlike some others I can think of who may as well have ridge poles up their hind quarters."
He glanced briefly at his daughter, for some reason. Ulric turned to look at her as well but saw nothing out of the usual. Apart from her normal feminine impact, which was starting to fade a touch into the background, anyway. Thankfully. The dusky Amazon stood impassively, her hands in a relaxed grip on the bowstave slung across her impressive chest. She returned his gaze evenly, and, seeing nothing out of place, he returned his gaze to the Elf King, who was already speaking. Hmm…that was a little weird. Wasn’t it?
"I took my position as [Lord of the Deep Wood] long ago, though it was through less violent means, as is the case for most of the ruling Lords these days." Bald'rt told him, eyes gazing into days past.
"When my father was tired of rule and too crippled by various wounds to feel his people were served by his holding the crown, he passed the land to me according to tradition. We handed Iriel to its new Lord in a ceremony, Lord to Heir. I then experienced this same burgeoning need to guard my lands, and a hostility towards those who tried to challenge my new rule, similar to that which you describe. All of us bonded so to the land feel it. This relationship between lords and land is common knowledge, and any who would address you with cognizance of your status in this world are aware of it.” The Iriel'en Lord explained casually.
With another glance of humor-filled eyes towards his offspring, the sire of his Shadow confided in a conspiratorial whisper that was meant to be overheard, “It would be extremely embarrassing if one, say, a Hunter seasoned in her ways, should disregard common knowledge to bungle an attack against a Lord, given their might and drive to destroy threats. The most common outcome of attempting ill-advised assassination of such a one with half-hearted effort is to be killed outright. Most Lords slay their attackers or die trying and I can only think of a few fool enough to try it and also lucky enough to find a merciful outcome.”
This time, Ulric’s quick glance behind did catch the rude gesture his Shadow had directed towards her father before she could return to her façade of cool composure. He carefully restrained any emotion that might be construed as humor as the Elf Lord finished telling Ulric he wasn’t really any more insane than any other landbound person that gets a primal calling to rule and protect their domain. The Elf King did not evidence that he'd noticed his daughter's lapse in decorum but several of his guards were smirking openly. Teasing his malcontent offspring
“Lordling Morion knew it, or should have, and likewise proved his foolishness in challenging you. It is good that you self-aware and are strong-willed enough to resist the impulses, strongly do they speak in those early days. It can be distracting, at first, and has led many new to their role to do things they later regret. As you settle into your place in this world, you will feel the urges more natural, and also less insistent. I barely notice the instinct's drives but then, they are not unlike what I would always be doing and thinking as I lead the Iriel'en. When someone attempts to infringe on my reign, my lands, my mates, or my offspring, I kill them. It is like breathing for those like us. It is what we are." Bald'rt pronounced, finally.
