"In this world in which we live simplicity and kindness are the only magic wands that work wonders." - L. Frank Baum

Raven's Peak, Ardam 40

As I hurry through the streets, I can't help but notice the changes my city has undergone. I recall the streets bustling with carts, scents of spices creeping up my nostrils, and a multitude of smiling faces whenever we used to go to the various shops in Raven's Peak. The absence of all the familiar sounds is what astonishes me the most. The streets are not deserted, but the townsfolk silently scurry about their business.

You need to move faster. You cannot arrive at dinner too late, I chide myself. I became so immersed in the activity of the hospital, that I forgot to leave on time - even after asking Elan to excuse me earlier.

I run to my quarters. I undress and take a bath. Ria helps me to scrub myself spotlessly clean. She leaves after washing my hair with lavender oil. I put on the blue dress that Ria had put out. It is another magnificent piece that emphasizes my femininity and makes me want to blush and hide, but I don't have time to find something else to put on. My hair curls wildly, but there isn't enough time to do it properly. I pull it into a simple braid, which takes enough effort to do so anyway. I add my teardrop earrings to the outfit. I slip my feet into blue slippers and run to the great hall. I almost trip over my feet in my haste.

This time I wait for the guards to announce me before I enter. I don't listen to their words, but just go in when the one that announces me, nods to me.

The hall is filled with soldiers - all standing when I enter. Only a few people remain sitting - those with a higher status than me. Everyone at the head table in the hall remains seated, and then one other person at a table with the generals of the Second Order. It is the elf who stood up on the night of my arrival.

I give him a brilliant smile. He must be Prince Eoghan Elderlight of the elves. He doesn't return it, but yet again the corners of his mouth twitch slightly upward.

I approach the table where my place is set. I know Friduric and Ferdaid are furious the moment I see their blotching faces.

"Sister, you are late. We started the feast, because we did not know when you will come, and we could not wait for a single girl."

My temper flares up immediately. They shouldn't scold me in public as if I am a child. I glare at Friduric and bite my lip to prevent my response from slipping out of my mouth. I know better than to question his authority in front of his subjects.

"King Friduric, I am sure that Lady Aebbé has a valid excuse for her tardiness. Do you, my Lady?"

I almost smile when I recognize Lord Caith's voice. He is dressed in the same blue as his order. The same golden brooch he wore previously decorates his shoulder.

"My Lord Commander of The Second Order, I beg your forgiveness for my late arrival. I was delayed at the tent for our injured soldiers. I could not abandon them in their hour of need," I reply as sweetly and honestly as I can.

Since I'm begging I might as well ask for something else as well: "I would also like to beg your forgiveness for inappropriately claiming your seat last night." That should soothe my brothers.

His eyes study me intently, burning into my being. "Princess Aebbé, it is an honour to meet you. I have heard tales of your beauty and your unusual behaviour, but I have never believed any. I must confess that I believe them now."

I frown. I am not sure why he is acting as if this is the first time we meet, but then I realize that we have not met each other in public. The second part of his words confuse me even more, but he is probably saying it because custom dictates that when a Lord meets a lady for the first time, he must pay her a compliment. I have received my fair share of compliments, but -

My train of thought is interrupted by Ferdaid.

"My sister would do well to do her duty more often, and not behave as curiously as she does," Ferdaid says icily.

I direct my frown at Ferdaid. My patience is running out.

"Prince Ferdaid, I meant both parts of my statement as compliments. It is not often that you meet people, especially those born of nobility, who are prepared to leave the security and comfort of their homes to help nameless soldiers. Princess Aebbé, you remind me of your father: his boldness and courage made him the conqueror that he was. My lady, please take your seat. You must be famished and tired after your work," Lord Caith replies earnestly.

I flash him a smile, but he doesn't return it. I walk to my seat - the seat to his left and the last at the table. He stands up, pulls out my seat and pushes it in when I sit.

"It is told that you are a First Rank Healer," he states as a question.

He is encouraging me to tell him more. It is such a subtle technique and skill. I wish that I knew how to get people talking about themselves - mostly so that I don't have to do the talking.

"I am. My father and Master Elan thought it a necessary skill for the daughter of Ardam. I was trained by Master Elan for a few years, before travelling to the City of Inwir in the forest of ArBrae where I completed my training under the elves."

I realize that I have fallen into his trap. It looks like he already knew this. It is always such a subtle trap, and the problem is that almost everyone at court has this skill, except me. Encouraging people to talk about themselves provides the opportunity for them to let something slip unintentionally. Information is a commodity. For ladies, it is the backbone of gossip or rumour to ruin another. For lords, it provides intelligence on bets or opportunities for the gaining of wealth or a higher position or eliminating a rival. It is yet another reason I was so glad to escape court.

It is time to follow up on my previous resolution to investigate the man.

"But I have not been introduced to you, my lord. I know that you are the head of the Second Order, and that is all," I say innocently.

His face is expressionless: "I am Caith. My father's name and the town that I come from are not important or relevant."

Translated as 'I don't appreciate you asking any questions about me.'

He is rude. He wasn't rude before.

I pretend to not have heard the begrudging tone in his voice: "Lord Caith, it is an honour to meet you. How long have you been serving with your order? Was it not very difficult to distinguish yourself in your order? You are still quite young, even by the measures of men."

"I may be young, and human, but I am the best in my order," he says closing this avenue to me.

The elves only spoke of him, not about him. They could never provide any detail more than the fact that he is the Lord Commander of the Second Order and that they hate him for it.

Thankfully, I am saved more conversation with him when someone brings in my portion of the main course. I eat a simple meal of chicken, carrots, beans and potatoes. Everyone else already ate. I eat my meal in silence while listening to their conversations. Lord Caith knows exactly how to get everyone talking about themselves, without ever offering any personal information. He is a master at this.

"Lord Korr, how have you been since I last saw you?" I ask the dwarf seated two seats to Lord Caith's right.

Lord Korr clears his throat. "Little humanling, I have been good."

I met the dwarf sometime last year in Inwir City. The Fourth Order had helped to repair a broken bridge in the city when an inexplicable stray boulder injured some of his men. My fellow aspiring-healers and I assisted the elves due to the amount of injured.

Lord Korr is a dwarf, but if you encounter him without proper light lighting his face up, you might mistake him for a furry beast in armour. Dwarves are very hairy. They have small button noses that twitch like those of mice. They have very big eyes. At first glance, you might think that they do not have mouths. Even after inspecting their faces carefully, you might be convinced that they do not have mouths. I know that this is not true, because I have seen the inside of Lord Korr's mouth when he puts food into his mouth. After that, you only see a moving mass of hair.

Lord Korr used to tell me the most amazing stories from the world of dwarves, captivating my imagination with every word.

"Little humanling, my first son was born some five human years ago, but before I left, his beard was already the length of my thumb! He looks like my uncle. He is just much hairier. Humanling princess, have I told you how my uncle lost his leg and hand?"

Lord Korr does not give me a chance to tell him that he has not told me the story. I don't mind not answering.

He launches right into telling it: "My uncle Razvan was a strong and hairy lad. He could take a man's head in his hand and crush his skull without spraining a muscle. My uncle Razvan could stand between two trees and push them to the ground at the same time - mind you if he could reach the trees with his short arms.

"Now in my uncle's youth, there was a dwarf town terrorized by a terrible creature. At night, when the sun's light did not shine through the mountain sun - I must first explain what a mountain sun is - a mountain sun is a hole that allows the sun's light to shine into the hollow in the mountain where a town is built. The light is then reflected by a system of metal domes and then illuminates the entire town and its crops.

"Where was I? Ah! At night, when the sun's light did not shine on the town, the creature would rampage through the crops. It did not stop at destroying the crops. Soon it grew tired of the vegetables and wheat, and it started to rummage through the life stock. Now you would ask me why the dwarves of the village did not do something about the problem when they realized that in the morning when they woke their crops were destroyed. And I would tell you that your question is fair. I would also give you the answer that this was a farming village.

"You see, when dwarves are born, our Lord, the Fourth One, marks them with the sign of the profession they will be tasked with for the rest of their lives. They're allowed to live with their fathers for twenty years. If their indicated profession is the same as their father's, which it almost always is, they can remain living with him and continue to be his apprentice in his trade. If their profession is different, they are reallocated to a male of their indicated profession.

"So this village did not have any warriors. They wrote to my uncle. You see, my uncle Razvan was one of the few dwarves who did not have the same profession as his father. His father was a farmer in the village. My uncle was sent to live with my father and my grandfather who were both great warriors. My grandfather taught Razvan everything he knew, even though he was not his son.

"You see, there is about one woman for every ten dwarf men. The women decide whether they want to be the mother to a certain man's child. Many men share the same mother, but they have different fathers. A man's social ranking is determined by that of his father. A farmer can have a half-brother that is a miner, but these two men will never talk. Mostly they will never even meet.

"The women are all equal. The girls are kept and raised by their mothers and the community of women. Women can choose any profession they want to. Many women are better warriors than men. We dwarves respect our women, and we do not idolise them.

"So the village wrote to uncle Razvan and begged him to deliver them from the beast tearing their village apart. After sharpening his spear and axe, my uncle Razvan walked to the village.

"The village welcomed him and gave him a loaf of bread that was made with the last of their grain. He thanked them and broke the loaf in two. He ate the first half and left the second half untouched. He placed the half in a cloth and folded it close.

"He asked his father to wake him when the last rays of the sun disappeared. He placed his legs on the table and fell asleep.

"He snored so loudly that the roof of his father's house rumbled!" Lord Korr breaks into a hearty laugh. He starts to cough. Lord Caith hands him a glass of wine. After a few failed attempts, lord Korr manages to quieten down.

"Thank you, humanling friend. Ah! Razvan was woken by his father when the last lingering sun disappeared. He woke and drank a whole bucket of wine. He walked out of his father's house and went to one of the fields. He sat down in the middle of the field. He took the cloth with the bread out and placed it just in front of him.

"He waited the whole night for the beast to show up, but it did not.

"For seven nights he sat in the field, and for seven days he slept during the day, but the beast did not show itself.

"On the eighth day, he decided not to sleep. He sat from dawn to dusk in the field, and when the last light of day disappeared, he took out the bread and placed it in front of him. When he saw that the bread has gone green and blue from age, he walked back to the village and asked them to give him all the food they have left. He placed three tomatoes, a bunch of carrots and five potatoes in the cloth and walked back to the field. He placed the cloth in the middle of the field, like before, but this time he did not sit down.

"He did not wait long for the beast to show up. You see, Razvan's snore kept the creature at bay!" Lord Korr laughs again. Some of the other people at the table join in. Lord Caith is one of them.

I do not understand what is so funny about Razvan's snore scaring the creature away, or even if it is possible.

"But how did your uncle lose his hand and leg?" I venture when the table quietens down.

"Ah! Humanling princess, I have not come to that part of the story yet. So Razvan saw the creature for the first time. It was a mountain mole!"

Lord Korr waits for our faces to show astonishment, but everyone's faces, except lord Caith's, show only confusion.

"But a mole is small enough to fit in my hand. How can it be the creature that terrorized the village?" Lord Riann of the First Order asks in a loud and unruly voice. His lips are still red from the wine he drank after the victory and the wine he already drank tonight.

"Ah! Humanling, but not a mountain mole! A mountain mole is easily as big as two large stallions standing side by side, with claws as long as a horse's face, and teeth of the same length. It has two eyes, but the lids cannot open. It has a long snout and it is the creature with the best ability to smell that I have ever heard of.

"The mole walked to the food and ate it in one gulp. It then turned to my uncle Razvan. Razvan threw the bread at the creature, but it turned its face away from the stench. Razvan took his spear and thrust at the creature, but the creature bit the spear in half almost immediately, biting Razvan's hand off with it.

"Razvan took his axe and fended the creature's bites off with it, but the creature was too fast and Razvan was losing blood too quickly.

"Razvan knew what he had to do.

"He jumped into the creature's mouth. Its jaws snapped closed, biting his leg off. He cleaved the mountain mole's skull open from the inside!"

"That is barbarous!" Lady Catherina exclaims in disgust.

Lord Korr glares at her: "It might be, but he had no other way to kill the beast. He ripped his shirt off and bound his bleeding arm and leg. He cut one of the creature's claws off and bound it to his leg. The claw was just the right length to make up for the lost leg and to allow him to stand when he tied it to his leg. He walked back to his own village without a word of goodbye to his father or the other villagers. He used his leg of mountain mole's claw up to the day he died. He was buried with his leg next to him."

As I said, I hang on lord Korr's every word. He is an excellent story-teller, but I doubt that his stories have any merit.

"Well told, lord Korr," lord Caith is the first to break the silence.

"I would have liked your uncle Razvan killer-of-mountain-moles, Korr of the dwarves," the occupant of the chair between Lord Caith and Lord Korr says and I take notice of him for the first time.

He is a skado. His skin is leathery and his shirtless torso is covered in strange red markings resembling welts.

"You would definitely like him, elarok Ologul. He even took a bite of the beast," Lord Korr says with a wink.

Elarok Ologul grins and takes a sip from a wine-skin he produced from somewhere on his person.

Everyone at the table, except lord Caith, stares at him.

"I think it a silly story," Catharina says when turning her gaze away from elarok Ologul.

An even more uncomfortable silence follows.

Lord Caith breaks it by asking Claira something about elvish lace. I don't follow their conversation. I am struggling to keep my eyes open. I knew that I was exhausted by working for so long, but my filled stomach seems to draw my eyes closed without any resistance from my brain.

"I thought so. We received a train of supplies today."

Am I the only one who picks up on Caith's hostility?

"With it, Queen-to-be Aylissa of the Elves sent you and Lady Catherina enough lace to make two dresses each. My men have already asked your servants to take it to your chambers."

"Oh, lord Caith! That is a wonderful gift! One can have the most beautiful dresses made from elvish lace," Lady Catherina exclaims joyfully - but I don't think joy is an emotion Catharina is capable of feeling.

"Queen-to-be Aylissa of the Elves thought it would be a gift worthy of you and the queen," he replies friendly. "She also sends her regards to her fellow queen."

"If I had a gift worthy enough to give to the queen-to-be of the elves, I would, however, I do not," Queen Claira replies graciously. "But I will also send my regards to her after this horrible war has been won and we can spare a messenger."

My father always insisted that in times of despair, symbols assuring the common folk of the power of the king and his family were very important. Friduric adopted that same philosophy. The crown on Queen Claira's head is a masterpiece. It looks like it is made of intertwined branches with leaves and berries, but it is made of gold with gemstones embedded in it. I think that Claira's warm and friendly nature makes her seem more beautiful than Catharina with her rude indifference. Catharina could wear the crown and still not compare to Claira.

"I believe that would be enough of a gift already, my lady," Lord Caith says.

I'm lost in thought as I think about the crown that belonged to at least three other women before it was Claira's. Ferdaid, Friduric and I all have different mothers, but the same father - King Ardam of the family Vaubadon. I know that my father was not innocent of wrong-doings, but he managed to unite the human lords for the first time in the history of Ardamland; the country that now has his name. Friduric's mother died when he was five. My father remarried in less than a year, and nine months later Ferdaid was born. Ferdaid's mother died three years later. My father was kept from remarrying by the wars he was waging against his countrymen.