Marschal dismounted from his horse and guided it to a small stream. When he reached the shore, he crouched down to scoop up a handful of water and placed it between his lips. At the same time, Penelope also took her opportunity to lap up the stream water beside her rider.

Penelope wasn't the name Marschal would've given her but it was a gift from one of Juren's friends. It also didn't seem right for Marschal to change her name so he decided to let it stick. Now he couldn't imagine her as anything but Penelope.

After slurping on another handful of water, Marschal then moved to pour another cupping of water over his head to douse his hair. The Paravellan sprayed water all around him as he shook his mop of wet hair.

Feeling refreshed from the shower, Marschal gazed up at the trees surrounding him. Strings of sunlight seeped through the green canopy and illuminated the scene like a brightly striped curtain. The trees near the shore reminded Marschal of sentinels guarding the whispering stream under their watch. Marschal also observed the shrubs and smaller plants huddled beneath the tree's shade, fostering an interesting contrast between the golden rays of sunshine and the dim umbrella of branches and leaves above. A symphony of bird life and other woodland sounds lulled Marschal into closing his eyelids while taking in a deep breath of the cool gentle air. Then he sighed, contentedly.

"So..." said a familiar voice.

Marschal suddenly jumped up from his spot and whipped around to face the stranger behind him. After stumbling with the knife on his belt, Marschal was eventually able to draw it and hold it up awkwardly at the hooded elf.

"You finally decided to move on," said the elf, unperturbed by the weapon pointed towards him.

"I..." Marschal struggled to think as he spoke. He was alone. With no help. Where did the hooded elf come from? What was his name again? Why was he here? How could he have been so careless? It was all Marschal could do to not appear helpless. "I haven't decided anything," he answered with a confidence he didn't feel.

The hooded elf looked down at the knife in Marschal's hand. Then his glance shifted to over Marschal's shoulder. "Curious. A sword strapped to your back and you reach for your smaller weapon."

Marschal glimpsed the Warwielder on his back before answering. "It's less heavy."

A short silence passed before the elf offered up a gesture that was a blend between a nod and a shrug. Then he looked up ahead and across the stream. "You're heading north-east."

"I...suppose I am.''

"Ciper is a little southward than where you're heading."

"I'm not heading to Ciper," replied Marschal, warily.

"Then where are you heading?"

"Not Ciper," Marschal answered with a shrug.

"You can put that knife down. I'm not going to hurt you."

With his face flushed with embarrassment, Marschal glanced down at the awkward weapon in his hand. The elf insisted he meant no harm. For the most part, Marschal believed him. If the elf wanted him dead, he could have killed the Paravellan right there. But he didn't kill him. Perhaps that was a good sign. However, Marschal didn't want to be too careless. It was clear to him that the elf had an agenda. What would happen if he kept refusing this trip to Ciper?

He lowered his blade and began to guide his horse away from the stream. "Why do you want me in Ciper anyway, elf? And why me of all people?"

"I told you my name is Tronus. And I've already answered those questions."

"Not to my satisfaction, you haven't. Normally, I wouldn't be so quick to believe anything you say but I do remember glimpsing the two hunter elves you mentioned back at Barabas. I've been worrying for some time about when they'll catch up to me. It's partially the reason why I left the caravan. But if you really did kill them then...that would explain why I'm still alive."

"Out of curiosity, what would you have done if the Aethe'venar had caught up with you?"

Marschal shrugged. That was a good question. "I'd think of something."

"I imagine you would. It's to my understanding that you're somewhat fluent in Naiye, the common Aethelin language."

The Paravellan frowned deeply at Tronus. "How do you know so much about me?"

"Don't take it personally. I know a lot of things about a lot of people." The elf continued before Marschal could ask another question, "The reason I ask is because I was wondering if that would've helped you deal with the Aethe'venar?"

"M-maybe?" Marschal wanted to know more about this stranger but it was clear that Tronus had no intention on revealing more than he intended. He would have to be patient and glean as much as he could without being too obvious. "It's been years since I had to learn the common elf, I mean, Aethelin tongue. But if I keep running into more of you lot, I might as well try to rehash my lessons. Your Piosian is pretty good."

"So is yours. You've only been on this continent for how many moons?"

"I've been here for two winters. It took me several moons to learn the alphabet. After that, the language was pretty easy to learn. It's not too dissimilar to Paravella."

"I'm impressed. Which is why I wish for you to accompany my friend on her journey. You single-handedly demolished the most notorious band of criminals on the western side of this island continent. To say you'd be useful would be an understatement."

The Paravellan responded with a shrug. "I had help. You're vastly overestimating me."

"I know I'm not."

"You sound certain."

"I am."

Marschal stared at the hooded elf and studied him in silence. This stranger needed him. Perhaps enough not to have him killed.

With that, the Paravellan decided to mount up onto his horse.

"So, are you heading to Ciper?" asked the elf.

"I haven't decided yet."

"Well, I-"

At the sound of a twig suddenly snapping from the nearby bushes, Tronus immediately whipped his head around to the source of the sound. The alertness and speed of the elf's movements unsettled Marschal much more than whatever beast hid in the woods. Were all elves this unerringly quick? Was he even an elf? Then again, if someone like him was this jumpy...

A long and tense silence passed as Marschal and the elf scanned the wild array of trees before them. Eventually, Marschal broke the silence.

"What is it?"

The hooded elf continued to search the woods with his golden eyes.

"...N-nothing," the elf answered, eventually.

Marschal then glanced into the woods only to see nothing worth noting.

"And who would be chasing you I wonder," Marschal mused.

"What makes you think I'm being chased?"

"Let's just say I'm familiar with the feeling."

Looking down at the elf, Marschal could see his words had irked his hooded friend. The elf gazed back up at him with a slightly annoyed frown.

"I'll ask you one more time," said the hooded stranger. "Are you-"

"Who is she?"

"Hm?"

"Your friend. Who is she to you? Where is she going? And why is she going there?"

While Marschal listed off his questions, the elf repeatedly glanced back into the woods surrounding them.

"I...," the elf glanced one more time into the trees before continuing, "...don't think I can divulge too much of the details."

"You honestly expect me to serve someone I know nothing about?"

"Not serve. Accompany."

"Regardless..."

With a resigned sigh, the elf complied to Marschal's queries. "She's...someone I care about very deeply. She is family to me."

"And I'm supposed to be moved by sentiment, am I?"

"Go to Ciper. Meet her for yourself. If you still don't wish to assist my friend on her quest, then you're free to do as you wish. But I hope you'll help her."

"And this quest? Where is she going?"

"I...cannot say. But she knows the way."

"That's comforting. And why is she undergoing this quest?"

"Again. I cannot say much."

"So many secrets. Just more and more reasons why I shouldn't go."

"I can think of one reason." That was when Marschal witnessed the grin on Tronus' face. "I know who you are. I know what you've done. And I know what you want." The elf took a step towards Marschal and his horse. "And I know who you're looking for."

Marschal stared back at the hooded elf with a frozen expression. "Who-"

Suddenly a distant rustling sound prompted Marschal and the elf to react and whip around to face a potential threat.

When they were both greeted with more silence, Marschal spoke up. "What are you running from?"

Rather than providing an answer, the elf instead walked up to Marschal and looked directly into his eyes.

"Go to Ciper and find the Iron Factory," the elf said in a low voice. "That is where you will meet my friend."

"I told you. I haven't decided-"

"If you help my friend on her journey, you will find what you're looking for. I promise."

The Paravellan stared back into the elf's golden eyes and was surprised to see a miniscule trace of desperation in his pleading words.

Then the elf moved past Marschal and his horse to head back into the woods. "I must go," announced the elf.

"Wait! What are you-" The Paravellan shifted around to face Tronus only to see nothing but trees and wildlife. He spent the next few minutes scanning the empty woods for a moment before eventually realizing that he was all alone. With Penelope.

Where did the elf disappear to? And how did he do that? Questions he pondered while gazing back up at the canopy sieving the sunlight passing through it.

Then he sighed softly as he tried to figure out what to do next.