The Prophesy: Book 1 - Cave Lupus

 

The villagers were stunned by Enron's story; that much was apparent to Harold. He turned to Paschal, looking questioningly at him. Paschal looked back at him and raises his shoulders, opening his right hand towards Enron.

"I am sorry, Harold. He spoke way too fast for me to understand, and he used a lot of words I never heard before. There is much to learn on the Elvin language."

"I understand. You had little time, and I suspect Enron did not expect the reception he got when he came back home. I hope we find out what happened and, more importantly, why."

At this moment, an older-looking elf broke through the crowd, leaning on a walking stick, accompanied by what appeared to be an honour guard. Enron briefly spoke to him in reverent tones, and some exchanges were made. Apparently, that person had some status in the Elvin society.

Another elf talked to that important person in the ear, so as not to be heard, which irritated Enron. He gave an order that must have stunned the elf, because he backed off, and looked at him with fire in his eyes.

"I do not trust that one, no more than the one Enron so neatly nailed to a tree," commented Paschal. "I would not want to meet him in a dark corner, unprepared."

"I agree, and, apparently, so does Enron. Look at his attitude. There may not be an arrow in his bow, but his posture clearly indicates he will use one if that villain tries any more backstabbing talk. The threat must have been quite clear to the individual."

At this point, it became clear things could degenerate quite fast, if the language barrier was not broken. Harold touched Enron gently and invited him to sit back in front of him. He decided to try something, since Enron seemed to be engaged in a power struggle of some sort.

He pulled the sword out again, and asked it to glow bright white. Then he spoke in a loud, booming voice that echoed off in the distance:

"Is there someone here that speaks my language? If so, step forward, for I, Legate Harold, Companion of the Iron Cross, Bearer of Mitsuko, Defender of the Light, request your services as a translator!" Harold had decided that a list of big titles would help impress the Elves more than just a name. His guess had been right: the outburst was being translated to other elves by a number of their own, probably those that had done trade with settlements or caravans that passed on the main road. Finally, an elf of a certain age stepped forth, and bowed to Harold.

"I am Aaron, salt trader by profession. How can my modest person be of service to you, Lord Harold?" The form of the language was strange, singsong like, much like Enron's efforts so far, but it was understandable.

"I need answers. Will you answer to these questions, truthfully, to the best of your ability and knowledge?"

"Yes, I shall do my best!" answered Aaron, to which Mitsuko flashed a deep emerald green.

"So confirms Mitsuko. I believe you."

The elf looked at the sword, wide-eyed, and began sweating profusely, his eyes going from the sword to the elf that had whispered to the Elves' leader. The motion and attitude did not go unnoticed by the trio. Paschal slowly took his poniard out of the sheath, and kept an eye on the man who was standing back behind the leader, slightly to his right.

"You can interrogate, Harold. I have him under watch. Any unjustified or brisk move, and he tastes of my blade," whispered Paschal. He repeated the comment in Elvin, for the benefit of Enron, who signified his approval silently.

"First, who is the man standing with these guards?" asked Harold.

"This is Samson, King of the Elves of the Forests and the Mountains."

"Who is the elf that whispered to him?"

"He is Baron Volta, cousin of the King, the King's councillor, member of the Privy Council, and Commander of our Army."

"Too much power in the same hands inflates the head," commented Paschal, loud enough that Aaron bleached.

"Who is the person with the arrow in the shoulder?" continued Harold.

"He is Baronet Victor, heir to Baron Volta, second in line to the Throne!"

"Ah, and who is first in line?"

"Why, Lord, he is sitting in front of you, on your horse: it is Prince Enron, son of Samson, our King. Didn't you know?"

"No we did not, it never got to debating status and ranks while we were coming here. Not that it would have changed anything had we known he was prince. For us, he needed rescue from the orcs, and that was all that mattered. I value quality over titles any day."

"Harold, I think we are caught in the middle of a succession war. Enron is in danger!" commented Paschal.

"Yes, and the two that pose the greatest risks for Enron, his dad, and us are these two creeps. Be ready, the baron is tensing. I suspect he speaks our language as well as Aaron does."

Speaking louder, Harold enquired about the speech Enron had given just before the arrival of the King to the place.

"He claims to be Enron, but he doesn't wear our clothes. He looks like Enron but behaves with a strength we never saw in Enron before. Enron was a sick boy, and, had he inherited of the Crown, he would have had problems imposing his rule. For us, weak of the body equates with weak of the mind. We still have problems accepting that this may be Enron. He is too different from the Enron we knew."

"That doesn't answer my question, Aaron. Stop running around the ale barrel!" thundered Harold. "The weakling you once knew is no more! When I rescued him from the torture the orcs were imposing on his body, Mitsuko healed him from all physical sicknesses he may have harboured! Recognize him or pay the price of treason, for Enron, Prince Enron, is under my protection, and anyone that will deny him his heritage will be accountable to me!"

Dully chastised, Aaron resumed Enron's speech for the benefit of Harold and Paschal. "Enron "

"Prince Enron," reminded in a sharp tone Paschal.

"Yes, Prince Enron described what he had endured at the hands of the orcs, and waking up in an oxcart, in the company of a woman that was feeding him spoons of a vegetable soup. He never once mentioned that blade healing him."

"He could not have known, he was unconscious when I healed him, and he fell in a reparatory sleep as soon as the blade had done its job," informed Harold. "Continue!"

"Prince Enron told us he had been betrayed by his escort, which, it so happens, was under the command of Baronet Victor. Prince Enron says the group fell on a trap set by the orcs, because Baronet Victor deliberately led them into it. He had asked Baronet Victor to consider another trail because he felt uncomfortable. Baronet Victor dismissed the suggestion and continued. The orcs fell on them at dusk, and every member of the escort was killed. Enron overheard Baronet Victor talk to the captain of the orcs, thanking him for his efficiency at disposing of Enron and leaving the road to the Elvin Throne open. The two talked openly of this treason because Baronet Victor was sure no one would ever come testify of it to the Elvin people."

As Aaron concluded his translation of Prince Enron's speech, Baron Volta made his move. He quickly came to the level of the King and placed his blade on his neck.

"My son will be the next king, for you are dead! No dead prince can reign!"

At this moment a whistling sound was heard, and Paschal's poniard entered the Baron's neck at the trachea, cutting short his claim to the throne. A second later, Harold's destrier charged the baronet, and Mitsuko was lowered in a swinging motion, beheading Victor cleanly.

"So shall perish traitors!" clamoured Harold. "Let it be heard by all: I shall stand besides Prince Enron for his claim to the Elvin Throne! Any who tries to oppose this will find me in his path!"

King Samson came forward and in a hesitant way, talked to Harold. "This is not our way of doing things, for usually we banish people that commit crimes."

"Maybe so, Your Majesty," answered calmly Harold, "but this is how we do it. A banished snake can return to bite you; a beheaded one only feeds the birds of prey! Anyways, Baron Volta was ready to use a permanent solution to the problem he saw; and his son was as much involved in this than his dad. You are better off with them where they are now than to have a pair of eyes in your back to check for potential traps and assassins."

"I still wondered what ticked off Enron in the forest," asked Paschal.

A man stepped forth and replied. "I can answer that question, if you wish?"

"Yes, please?"

"Prince Enron called to the watchmen and identified himself. Baronet Victor called him a liar, and that he knew the Prince was dead, having seen his corpse at the hands of the orcs. Prince Enron called him a traitor, and challenged him to the Fight of Judgement. Victor answered he was not bound to answer any such call by a fake and an impostor. That was when Prince Enron sent his arrow and nailed the baronet to the tree. He then ordered us to disarm Victor, and to bring him to the village agora for judgement."

"Thank you. Maybe you can clarify another mystery for us?"

"If I may be of service?"

"How come so many of you speak our language and Enron did not when we rescued him?"

"Most of us have had contacts with traders and had to learn to communicate with them. Some even visited your farms, villages and towns to get hard to make items. Prince Enron never left the village much, too weak to go very far. The hunting expedition he was captured was a treat for the Prince, and even that was not a long hunting expedition, to last at most half a day."

"Interesting," commented Harold. "This means Prince Enron got captured very close to your village. Aren't you in danger of attack?"

"This has occurred to us⁴⁰⁴⁰ ("Text in bold, such as us, our, and we, indicate the use of the Royal sense of these words.")," replied King Samson. "I sent out a number of expeditionary forces to root out the orcs, and avenge the apparent murder of my son. Unfortunately, all expeditions were failures. Now, I have my suspicions as to the reasons underlying these repeated miscarriages of Justice. The expeditions were under the direct command of Baron Volta, and we think he deliberately misled our troops away from where the orcs congregate."

"Has any of your expeditionary forces found one of their encampments?" asked Paschal.

"Yes, quite a few, in fact, but always empty!"

"Was there any preparation before the forces left?"

"Yes, come to think of it, every time we discussed the topic, Victor proposed to go scout for orcs so we could know where they were. I think he betrayed his people and vow of service every time, by informing the orcs in advance of our coming."

"How are these scouting parties organized?"

"Oh, simple enough: we send eight out, in eight different directions. That way, if a scout is captured we know where to hunt, if he comes back and reports seeing orcs, we also know where to hunt, and if he comes back reporting not seeing any, we know where not to hunt. Come to think of it, it was always Victor that found orcs. We thought it was a knack for tracking them, and that he would be a great leader one day. How naïve was I! I think he actually told them not only that we were coming, but made arrangements to know where they would be the next time we decided to go hunting for that varmint."

"Let us all learn a lesson from these mistakes, your Majesty," concluded Paschal. "When something sounds too good, it is likely to be dishonest."

Prince Enron had given a few orders while this exchange was being held, and the two corpses had been removed from the agora. They were stripped and unceremoniously dumped in the current latrines, before the entire ditch got filled with a thick layer of dirt and rocks. A sign in Elvin was written at the scene of the now defunct latrine.

"What does it mean?" asked the always curious Paschal.

"Here rest the traitors to our people. From latrines they emerged; to latrines they returned!" explained Aaron.

"A fitting resting place and eulogy!" said, smiling, Paschal, to the approving nod of Harold.

"Now, Enron," quietly asked Harold, "what about the caravan? They must wonder what happened to us."

"I shall ask," answered Enron. He turned towards his dad and asked about the caravan visiting the village. The King approved, and shortly after, Harold, Enron, and Paschal returned to the caravan in order to guide them to the village. A group of elves accompanied them to help in the caravan's displacement along the rather shoddy road leading to the Elves' village.

Meanwhile, King Samson sent messengers to other Elvin villages conveying representatives to celebrate the return of his lost son. The return of the prodigal son was met with rejoicing for the King, but also some scepticism as to the good fortune this meant for the Elvin people. Enron's health, or rather lack thereof, was well known in the Elvin kingdom, and, Baronet Victor, even if he was not popular and was perceived as an obnoxious brat, seemed destined to the throne. Enron's return was merely a temporary setback, a minor inconvenience, for those who had bet on Victor.

***

The caravan entered the village at nones, Harold bringing Enron on his destrier. The cavalry walked on each side of Harold, with colors flying, lances held high and showing the cavalry's colours at every tip. The blazon was clearly visible in the afternoon wind, and its snappy noise kept attracting the eyes of the Elves to the roaring white wolf. The passage of Harold's cart was also very noticeable, with its portrayal of the white wolf and all the colourful flags and other marks of status that designed it as one of the leaders' cart. Annabelle's colours had long been added onto Harold's cart, and it was clear that two of the important figures of the caravan resided in it. Totally unnoticed by Paschal was a new flag added to Harold's cart: the mark of a Master Cartographer and a Master Artist, his colours. This had been added at the insistence of the Masters of the Road and Dunbar.

Harold's cart cover - day scene

Harold's cart cover - night scene

King Harold's blazon

The flags and marks of a Grand Master of the Road were now visible on Dunbar's cart, and Williams' cart carried the markings of his order. The hospital carts all had the markings of the Healers, a red cross inscribed in a white moon crescent, itself enclosed in a six-point bright yellow star.

Each centurie walked in step to the drummers' leading cadenza, showing its colours and markings proudly. The legionnaires had polished their uniforms to a very fine shine that reflected the sun brightly, giving a casual observer the impression they were wearing light. It was quite apparent that the legionnaires had been quite busy before Harold's return to the caravan, and wanted to impress both Harold and the Elves.

These colours and markings were slightly modified from those they had received from the kingdom: each had added a white wolf inscribed in a crown, itself placed above their centurie's original markings. This had been done without Harold ever noticing the change because colours were rarely shown, except on parade grounds, and these occasions had been non-existent so far. In fact, the change went completely over Harold's head, and only Annabelle and Dunbar noticed it within the caravan. Annabelle and Dunbar both knew the deep meaning of the crown, and Annabelle also knew the original blazon of each centurie, especially her own.

Each vehicle found in the caravan had also been tidied, and covers tightened and repaired by the members of the caravan. Even the dogs had been brushed, and wore brand new collars and leashes! The pups sat, smartly, in front of Blackie and Cleopatra, held in check by Sitar and Harp.

The boys themselves had been cleansed and wore their best fine clothes, as did everyone else in the caravan, for that matter. Annabelle, whose maternity status prevented her from wearing her regular uniform, nonetheless had decided to put on a short military tunic and a blouse, while two guards on horseback accompanied the cart on each side. Paschal was sitting to her left, the right side being held by the cart driver.

As each centurie entered the village, a clear trumpet was sounded over the drums. The centuries presented arms to Harold, and the to King Samson, and arrayed themselves in perfect order, with the cavalry encircling and protecting Harold and Enron. The caravan organized itself in eight-flank in perfectly synchronized order, leaving Dunbar to stand in front of them with an honour guard of legionnaires on horseback. The Healer herself was invited to form a specific rank and stand on horseback, as well as the Masters of the roads that were under Dunbar's command. Each caravan Master showed their colours and the caravans under its direct responsibility showed the same. It clearly showed the organization and discipline that came with the men under Harold's orders, for everyone, including Dunbar, saw Harold as their ultimate leader.

As the rear guard entered, also on horseback, the trumpets sounded again and they came to Harold across the agora, presented arms, turned as one to his right, presented arms to King Samson, and then backed into the line of horsemen that stood behind Harold, thus showing their horsemanship ability.

Enron turned to look up at Harold and whispered, "I did not know you were such an important person!"

"To be honest, I didn't know either!" replied Harold.

"What do you mean, you didn't know?" asked, in an approximate way, Enron.

"I really do not know, Enron. The legionnaires have been acting strange since we left the tunnel, and today, when we returned, I noticed they had spent the time cleaning up themselves and their uniforms. Everyone needing a shave has had one; every bit of metal shines so much it is blinding. Scabbards and every leather piece has been cleansed and oiled. It's the first time I see the legionnaires walk to the drums. I didn't even know they had drums or trumpets! And it's the first time I see the caravan act that way too. I knew there was a need for some military-like organization in caravans, but I have never seen them act that way before."

Enron had not understood all of what Harold had told him, but he clearly understood one thing: Harold was as surprised as he was. He would have to talk to Paschal and Sitar about this, later on. As he thought of them, he searched for the boys and saw their looks. He was stunned. These boys looked like princes accompanying their dad on a diplomatic mission! That brought his eyes on the blazons flying over the cart and his eyes widened in shock. Then he looked at all the flags of the centuries, and had a hiccup! Further examination of the caravans flags revealed more and more information to his expert eyes, and he realized that each caravan Master and even the Grand Master, what was his name? Oh, yes, Dunbar carried in a form or another Harold's signs. Even the Healers carried it! Even Paschal had his own colours, and clearly he was a Master! That child was a Master! How could it be! A careful examination of Paschal's colours reserved a final surprise to Enron: Not only was Paschal a Master at one craft, but at two! What would reveal a more detailed study of Harold's colours? And what about Sitar and Harp? Certainly Harp couldn't have any marks of his own, he was too young!

Then he gulped hard! He saw the clothes worn by Sitar and Harp! He could discern one mark, no two marks! That couldn't be, just couldn't be! What where they? His sharp eyes looked at the carefully crafted emblazonment on their coats. One was the mark of Masters of music? And what was the other? No, No! It couldn't be! Sitar and Harp were both Masters of the blades? And so was Paschal? But how could sweet, tiny, Harp be master of anything? Who, in the Creator's name, were these people? Finally, he couldn't deny what the clothes were telling him, as the wind picked up suddenly and the blazons on top of Harold's cart unfolded completely, showing, for all to see, the colours of those residing in the cart! Everyone gasped, from King Samson to the Elf children. Enron began shaking severely, feeling the need to puke but holding tight his lips. He would not dishonour his dad by losing control over his bodily functions!

"Relax, Enron. There is nothing going on, at least nothing special! Take a deep breath and lean on me," said, soothingly, Harold. Although he did not understand what was said, the gentle, reassuring tone used by Harold had its effect and Enron's trembling subsided. He finally leaned back on the legate's pectoral, and let him wrap his body in the man's cloak.

***

Harold looked at the legionnaires standing at attention, and ordered, in a calm voice: "At rest!" Instantly the legionnaires obeyed in a single, noisy move.

Looking at King Samson, Harold looked at him. "May I dismount and bring your son, Prince Enron, to you, for closer inspection, so that you can be reassured as to his well-being?"

The King, stunned beyond words by the display of power and discipline the likes of which he had never seen before, looked at Harold, wide-eyed. Finally finding his voice, he answered Harold's request.

"Yes, please, dismount, King Harold! We trust of the wellbeing of our son, Prince Enron, for he seems to trust you with his own life, something we could not even assure him because of treason."

"King Harold?" muttered Harold, too low to be heard by anyone but Enron, who did not understand the question, "Where does that come from?"

Nonetheless, Harold had his destrier knee down and got Enron to the ground gently before dismounting himself and invited the horse to stand up again. As he stepped foot on the ground, the legionnaires slammed their pila on the ground, and smashed their right fist on their pectoral simultaneously. The clang of the pila and the metal gloves on the steel pectoral was deafening. He looked at Centurion Yamato, who understood his silent command. Yamato barked, "Dismount!" First every horse, including Harold's, lifted their right front leg and slammed it on the earth so hard everyone felt the ground shake; then the cavalry dropped to the ground, each man standing beside his mount, at attention. A few seconds later, Yamato completed the process by ordering, in a stentorian voice, "At rest!" The order again produced a deafening noise that echoed in the mountains. A young apprentice took the reins of the horse from Harold and stood beside the horse, at rest.

The whole solemnity of the protocol had not escaped either King Samson, or his son, Prince Enron. If any more confirmation was needed as to the status of Harold, this clinched it.

King Samson walked towards Harold and, bowing slightly as it befitted to do for a person of equal status, moved his right arm and opened his hand in an invitation. "May I invite you to sit with us under the Tree of Council? I know your people are used to more enclosed spaces, fancy royal halls, and throne rooms covered in tapestry and jewels, but we are Elves, and for us, nothing matches the beauty of Nature. You and your retinue are invited to restore yourselves at the buffet set up under the tree, while we make better acquaintance."

"Father," asked Enron in an approximate Franca Lingua, "May I invite my friends from the caravan? I would like to present them to you as well as discuss things with them."

"Yes you may, son, and after that, you will have some explaining to do! I do not particularly appreciate discovering I have a king coming and not being able to follow protocol properly!"

Again this king title, thought Harold. What is happening here? His embarrassment did not escape Annabelle, who gave him a warning sing. Go with the flow, and all will be clear later! Harold had yet to look at the colourful flags and blazons that decorated his cart or the troops under his command. He had been way too busy with Enron and his dad to even look behind him. This gave the impression to his hosts that this was usual for him and that he did not see anything out of place or extraordinary.

"First, your Majesty, may I present my household and my Legions for your inspection?" enquired Harold, again conforming to Samson's expectations of protocol, even if Harold knew nothing of the sort. For Harold, it was a question of being polite to his host.

"Gladly, your Majesty. Please lead the way!"

Harold was getting worried. Why was King Samson throwing that title at him? Nonetheless he decided to follow his wife's silent recommendation and let it pass without any comment. By then Annabelle and the other leaders of the caravan stood in order of precedence, from highest to lowest rank. Even the dogs were in line, the pups held in leash while Cleopatra and Blackie sat at the front of their litter.

The first person that the King met was Annabelle, who, given her advanced pregnancy, stood only briefly and then sat back on a portable chair. Then the King met Dunbar, Sitar, Paschal, and Harp. Followed each Master of the Road, the Master Healer and Williams. Each member of the caravan was then presented by name and ranks briefly, even the toddlers. Even the dogs were presented, and King Samson was impressed by the discipline shown by Blackie and Cleopatra. Each dog presented the right paw for a paw shake. Even the pups tried it, but seemed to be having problems! A few presented the left paw, and Nefertari presented both! As the last was member of the caravan was presented, Yamato gave a resounding "Attention!" and everyone took station, the horses clanging the front right hoof in unison. The order was followed by "Prepare for Inspection!" at which time a rearrangement was made within the centuries, which did not seem too apparent from their position at the end of the caravan.

As each centurie, was being approached by Harold and Samson, the Centurion in command ordered "Present arms!" The centurie had spaced each rank far enough from each other that the Centurion, king Samson, and Harold could pass between each quite easily. Each centurion was presented by name; the unit he or she commanded was also named.

As the inspection came to a close, Harold heard Yamato yell, "Close ranks!" followed by "At rest!"

"I hope you find all to your satisfaction, Sire, " commented Harold, impressed by the show he had witnessed, but hiding it well.

"Indeed, Sire," replied Samson, "I had heard of the discipline of the legions, but I had not witnessed it first-hand. This is impressive. I am even more stunned at the discipline shown by the caravan members! Even the dogs seem to be trained in steel!" Taking a breath, and a bit worried at the impression his rather disorganized household would have on Harold, King Samson invited him to his throne room under a tree. "It is now my turn to present to you my household, Sire."

The proceedings were a lot less elaborate.

"King Harold, you already know the only really important person in my household, my son and heir, Prince Enron. His mother passed at his birth, and he has no siblings. My nearest kin was Baron Volta and his son Victor. The others are of lower rank. We have a few competing Houses that have dukes who could pretend to the throne. In fact, I suspect we will see some of their faces tonight or tomorrow. The return of Prince Enron will not sit well with these power-greedy creeps."

"I shall stand by my promise, Sire. The one that tries to harm Enron will forfeit his life!" answered Harold. "I so swear!"

"I so swear!" was heard from behind the two men, who had not noticed the presence of Harp, Paschal and Sitar within hearing distance.

The King and Harold turned around to look at the three imps smartly standing at attention, accompanied by Enron, whose eyes were bugging out.

"Thank you, boys, it is kind of you!" offered King Samson, dismissively.

"Father! Look at their vests before dismissing them!"

"Why, yes they have nice blazons, typical of royal broods!"

The comment pissed off Paschal, which quickly threw his poniard up at a passing bird, cutting its head off cleanly. The move was followed immediately by Sitar and Harp; they threw theirs at the falling bird, each one catching it in the breast. Paschal had thrown his knife right up and caught it as it was falling back to the ground. He presented the blade, flat on his hand, to King Samson, bloody and with a feather stuck on the blade. Harp recovered the bird's body and also presented it for inspection by the king.

"Are these decorations, your Majesty?" asked, softly, Paschal. "In that case, you have the strangest species of birds I have ever seen!"

Harold had found the bird's head a few feet to the left of were he stood and presented it to King Samson. "Maybe your healers might be able to sew it back on? The cut seems clean, except for a missing feather!"

The King of the Elves was as in shock as his son! If this was the case, then it was that same Paschal that had so cleanly disposed of Baron Volta, and it wasn't a freak hit! He sat down heavily at the nearest bench he could find!

"Dad! Get over it! If they had wanted to hurt us, they would have, a long time ago! What I have seen in the few days I have been with them showed me they were of great honour, and will never betray the Covenant of Hospitality! If betrayal there is, it has been on our part, by discarding their value so lightly, and by the greetings they received at the hands of the Baron and his son!"

The King looked at Enron, even more shocked than before. Where was his shy, weak son, which would never raise an objection? He liked the new one! Not that he had, in any way, disliked the old Enron, but he had worried about his ability to govern. Now, the forcefulness that transpired of the voice, the solid posture, and the confidence with which Enron moved literally cut the King's legs off. He looked at Enron from his sitting position, and gently touched his face. "My son! My son! I have never been so proud of you as I am now!" The King opened his arms and pulled Enron to him, kissing him on the forehead, and finally letting his tears fall free. To hell with protocol! He had a son, the son he always wanted to have, and he would personally apply King Harold's solution to anyone that dared say a word about this show of emotions!

Finally standing up with the help of a strong lift from Enron, another magnificent surprise, if there needed to be another one, King Samson looked at his court and, walking briskly towards the throne seated on a dais, proclaimed:

"I had my doubts on the return of Enron, even to the last moment, but now I am sure it is he that has returned from the dead! Because of his friends, we have an heir to the throne that will do great things for our people! Let it be known that, by Royal Decree, whomever contests Prince Enron's right to the Throne of Nature, the Throne of the Elves, shall be beheaded on the day his forfeiture is discovered! There shall be no appeals, no mitigating factors! So we order! I shall personally execute the sentence for as long as my arm lets me!"

***

It was vespers before the court settled and Harold and his entourage sat down to eat with the King and his court. The emotions of the day had created a vacuum in everyone's stomach, and everyone dug in the food without any afterthoughts. Even Enron ate like a lion, to the King's amazement. Enron's light appetite was legendary, but this legend was being breached by each bite the young man took, and the volume of sweet drinks he was using to flush everything down.

The agora of the village was organized into a huge dining hall, where everyone, elf or man, contributed to the common supper. The horses and oxen were parked on the side, and hay and water were made available. Each animal was thoroughly washed, brushed and inspected for ticks, or loose farring. The whole process fascinated the Elves, who had only sheep and Sheppard dogs as domesticated animals.

Even the behaviours of Cleopatra, Blackie, and the pups left them wide-eyed. Who would have thought that the dogs would sit at the table, beside these strange boys, unmoving, waiting for their pittance? And what was that? One of the pups was bringing a leather strap with his mouth and sitting in front of one of the boys? Then the boy tied that strap, no, more like a rope, to a leather collar and was leaving the hall with the dog smartly walking in step to his left side? This was unheard of! What kind of dog would willingly be held in leash without trying to pull the arm of the person out of the shoulder socket? A group followed the couple from afar, to see what was up. It became quite apparent the dog was looking for something! Then he started digging in the sand pit, crawled over the hole, and took a dump! Then it filled the hole back? What kind of miracle was this? The group returned quickly to the agora and the rumour spread like wildfire about the dogs that asked for the latrine pit, dug it, dumped and filled it back up! This made sensation, and as the boy and the dog made their way back to their seat, everyone watched in awe at the pair. Some promised themselves to verify the story at the sand pit, once everyone was in bed! The rumour finally reached the Royal table, carried by table servants from the agora. Again it spread like wildfire amongst the nobility, to even more scepticism. Only King Samson and Prince Enron gave credence to the story, having witnessed the dogs' behaviour during the formal presentation.

King Samson turned to Harold and commented about what he had just learned. "Your dogs seem to be as exceptional as your boys, Harold. I have just learned they dig their own spot and fill it back in!"

"If miracle there is, it is with the boys love and care, Sire. They spend much time training the dogs, especially the pups, and with love and care, seem to be able to get them to do anything the dogs are physically capable of, on command. I wonder how far this will go with time. The pups are still young, maybe no more than three months old."

"What? Three months old, and they can do all that already? Yes, I agree with you Harold, I want to know how far this will go!"

A sycophant of King Samson's Court approached the King and asked, in an insinuating tone, if the Masters of music of King Harold would deign play for the Elvin Court.

Samson clearly understood the meaning of the request and decided to use the occasion to humiliate the servile and self-centered jerk. He turned to Harold, and in a very loud voice, so everyone could hear his request, asked, "This is Albert, the so-called Master of Music of the Throne of Nature. Even bullfrogs sing better than he does, and crickets cannot match his ability at grating my nerves with his harp. He is letting it known he puts in doubt these two boys' status as Master of Music. It would bring us immense pleasure if these boys would play for us and deflate this disagreeable person's ego and bring his brain back up from where it now currently resides, in company of two nuts, a pair of bums, and an ass hole!"

The King's sortie left everyone open-mouthed. Never, in the history of the Elvin people, had a king said these things in public to another person! Harold was as stunned as everyone else by this outburst, and asked Sitar and Harp if they wanted to play. The two boys agreed and produced their flute from inside their shirt.

The first piece was Despair and Hope, and the piece had the same effect on the Elvin Court as it had on the caravan the first night they had heard the piece played. It was followed by the piece that Enron had heard. This time, he knew the words, and joined Harold, Paschal, and Williams in singing the piece. This was another first: the heir to the throne partaking in a public display of art, singing, no less, and with strangers! But even the most stuck-up on protocol had to admit the boy had a beautiful voice; and what could anyone say against the strangers; they too had rich, complementary voices.

Finally, the last piece was a dance, and Harold asked Annabelle if she wanted to dance; she declined but asked he enjoy the music by dancing with the Master Healer. Harold gracefully accepted the refusal and invited the Francesca instead. The two took the center stage and proceeded to demonstrate a beautiful and elegant dance, reminiscent of the waltz of old. Their display left the elves stunned; yet these people were renowned for grace and agility.

"So, satisfied, musician?" asked, in a mocking tone, Enron. "Maybe you would like lessons?"

"Not that I care much about his opinion, Enron," commented Sitar, "It is well known that the most severe critiques of an art are those that sabotage it the most mercilessly by their incompetence!"

The exactness of this comment brought a general hilarity at the table, as the man became a dark purple.

"I shall get even with you, whatever prince you are! I shall not forget this humiliation!"

Harp stood up and said, in a crystal-clear voice, "Over my dead body! You shall never harm my brother with me alive!"

The man looked at the young boy and laughed at him. "So, worm, you defy me in battle?"

"Yes, I do, I request the Judgement of Arms!"

"Stop this, I conjure you, Harold, that viper is one of our finest blades, and he is known for his treachery! Your son stands no chance against him!" implored Samson.

"I cannot, it is a question of honour. I hope this one isn't a member of your family? For you will mourn another in a few minutes!"

"So be it! Bring your blades to the circle of Judgement, young man, and you, vile as you are in defying a four-year old! Let it be known that I shall stand as witness to Harp, son of King Harold!"

"No, dad, I shall!" proclaimed Enron, standing up and taking his blade, slamming it in the face of the so-called musician. "Who will stand witness to this scorpion?"

No one offered, as he was well known for his villainy, and no one wanted his blade tarnished for him.

***

The Circle of Judgement is a flat surface, made of sand to absorb blood, which measured twenty paces diameter. The fighters entered the circle from opposite circles tangent to the battle zone, nude, and carrying a blade. The rules were simple: kill the opponent by any means necessary. The witnesses only ensured that the battle did not begin before the forms were respected, and supplied a spare blade in case one broke.

Harold watched as Enron prepared Harp, giving him some tips on the opponent he was about to kill. He finally couldn't hold it anymore. "Harp," he said, "this is not an exercise. Kill the bastard, see him as an orc!"

Harp's opponent prepared himself, as no one wanted to even be near him. All he saw was scorn and disgust, some calling him names of birds and other vile things. The fury was reaching a point of no return, and the man could well have been mobbed had King Samson not reminded the crowd that he was under the Protection of the Judge.

Everyone was prepared, and King Samson gave the signal of the battle. A horn was blown, making everyone go quiet. Judgement had come and, shortly, someone would die.

Harp walked in the circle, confidently, keeping an eye on the man, who sneered and walked in as well. Both circled each other, and suddenly, the viper threw sand at Harp's face, and charged knife low to gut the boy.

Harp had noticed the closed fist and figured out what the man planned. The moment the muscles tensed to throw the sand, Harp had changed direction and the tiny, blinding projectiles had been sent into nothingness.

As the man turned to charge again, Harp rolled right beside him and cut his Achilles' tendon depriving him of the leg he was turning on. As the man lost his balance and started falling, Harp continued on his roll, getting from under the falling body.

The viper was not vanquished, and Harp knew it. This was a battle to the death. As the man pulled himself on his knees, he threw his knife at Harp, who had expected this next move; the boy pared the incoming blade so no one outside the circle would be the unfortunate recipient of the weapon, and then threw his own at the man's heart. Blood spewed forth from the wound, and the man fell on the sand, dead. Harp kept an eye on the corpse, waiting for another treachery, even in death, but none came.

King Samson looked at the boy, wide-eyed. He gestured him to come out of the circle, because if he penetrated it while the boy was still in it, he would, by law, be defying him, and after the show he had seen, he was not going to do so any time soon!

Harp moved and left the circle. The moment he crossed the bounds of the circle, there was a huge applause.

"That's all neat and nice, but can someone recover my blade, please? It's a gift from Harold, and I don't want to leave it behind!"

A couple of elves quickly proceeded to the recovery of Master Harp's blade and one cleansed it in the arena sand before giving it, handle first, to Harp, who had by then recovered his clothes, including the scabbard for the knife.

"Thank you!"

"It is an honour, Master Harp, to deliver such a fine blade to its rightful owner," answered the elf, as he bowed.

Harp slid the blade in his scabbard and proclaimed, "I'm hungry! That bad man interrupted my diner!"

The comment made everyone that heard him laugh, and King Samson, taking Harp's right hand, proclaimed, loud and clear, "Our new champion is hungry! Let's not say that the Elvin Kingdom is so poor that it cannot feed its champions!"

***

Enron had so many questions to ask of Sitar, Paschal and Harp. So many! But first, he had duty to the Elvin Court, as Prince, and he set about his task with gusto. As Harp finished his second big supper in a short time, to the amazement of the King, he stood up.

"Father, may I invite my friends to a visit of our village?" enquired Enron.

"Yes, you may! That little one, Prince Harp, is going to eat us out of next year's reserves!" exclaimed the King, laughing.

The four boys left the Throne under the Tree, and began wandering in the village. The six pups smartly stayed in line, three to each side of the group of boys, and walking in step like a canine honour guard. Everyone welcomed Enron and asked to be introduced to his three friends, and wondered at the dogs' behaviours. That too got caught by the rumour mill and spread across the village as if someone had rung the tocsin.

Enron brought them to the bakery, the smithy, the storerooms, and where the animals were kept. Finally, after a pit stop at an inn that served a wide variety of juices, the boys reached the outer wall of the village and climbed on the rampart to look over, out in the not so dark night, given the presence of the comet and the full moon. The comet seemed to be even larger than the previous night, and its tail now covered three-quarters of the sky with an impressive white bow.

As they watched, a number of animals came into view. Wolves. They were strangely silent for a full moon night, and seemed to be expecting something, but what, no one could tell. Their presence, common in this area, did not make the Elves nervous.

"Is it common to see wolves so close to the village?" asked Paschal.

"Yes, but not at full moon. This is very exceptional. And usually, they are much more discreet. Their behaviour is strange. I think I should talk to my dad about this."

"I see so many around, it's like they are coming from everywhere. I see wolves of all sizes, all colours, and all ages, even pups that should still be in the den. Something is definitely up!" commented Paschal, to the assent of Harp and Sitar.

Enron had to agree with their assessment; this really was out of ordinary. "Let's go back to the Throne, I must inform my dad at once!"

As they came down, Enron and his friends were met by an old woman, which seemed to be waiting for them.

"Prince Enron, do not order the closing of the Gates. Tonight is the Night of Dawning! All that come within the Village are protected by the Vow of the Throne, including the wolves!"

Enron looked at the old woman in awe. "Come, Seer, you must repeat this to my father! Princes, let us get going!"

The four boys, accompanied by their escort of dogs and the old woman, walked with a determined look into the Court, and headed straight for the King's Throne, were King Samson and Harold were discussing events of the day.

As there was a lull in the talk produced by the rapid return of the boys, their dog guards, all this accompanied by the Seer, Enron stepped forward.

"Father! Tonight is the Night of Dawning, says the Seer! Nature calls on us to honour our vow to serve!"

The strong, resounding voice of Enron had the expected effect! Everyone in the Court fell silent, waiting for more information.

"Seer, explain yourself!" asked, in a deeply moved voice, the King.

"Tonight is the Night of Dawning, the Night Without a Night! Look up and see with your own eyes. It is dark under the branches of the Tree, but outside, the light is rising and it is the middle of the night. The glow of the Errant Chevalier is brighter than the moon! Tonight the Chevalier will run its course in front of its Face, marking this as the Day! Tonight, too, is the Spring Equinox! The Errant Chevalier came from the Constellation of the Wolf and will return to it, as the Prophecy foretold!"

"Then the time has come! What about the other parts of the prophecy, Seer?"

The old woman looked at the King, and started to laugh.

"Are you blind, Samson? You have, sitting besides you, quite a few of those that the Prophesy foretold! To your right sits the King Archer that will father the Wolf, his Wife, and three of his Protectors. Your son, Enron, stands with them, completing the Four Corners of Protection! Look at these children: the Cartographer, the Dual Blades, and your son, the Elvin Prince! What more do you need? Look at these dogs! Look at their behaviour! Do you really think they are acting normal, with their standing, motionless, as if at attention? Look at who comes with them! The Grand Master of the Road, the Carpenter, and the Healer! Where is your head, King Samson? You saw the Blade of Revealing, and you didn't even tic!"

Samson sat down on his throne heavily, overwhelmed by the revelations. Harold was lost, never having heard about any prophecy.

"Father, I have ordered the guards to let all who wish to enter to be let in, in conformity to the guidelines of the Prophecy. Have I done right?"

"Yes, son, you have. But I sense there is more than what you are saying?"

"Yes dad; from the top of the rampart, me and the Princes saw wolves, not one or two but hundreds. They encircle the village, and are sitting around us, silently, waiting for an event. I think they are here to honour someone that is not yet with us."

"Your son has more perspicacity than you do, King Samson. They are here to honour the Archer's son, to be born tonight as the bells mark the new half night!"

***

As if on cue, Annabelle's waters broke and she was taken to the birthing glade. The Elvin Healers and the Master Healer assisted her.

"Venerit⁴¹⁴¹ ("Latin: He will come! He will see! He will vanquish!")! Viderit! Vicerit!" The Seer clamoured.

It took two hours of labour for Annabelle to give birth to her first-born, a healthy 8-pound boy. Matins bells were still resounding in the village when the newborn let out his first cry. At this very moment, the full moon saw the Errant Chevalier streak across its face, as it passed between the Earth and the Moon's orbit. Thousands upon thousands of wolves howled outside the village, saluting the birth as if it was one of their own. The night became day but for a brief moment, but the Prophesy had been fulfilled.

The new baby was washed and presented to Harold, who could barely contain his joy.

Harold lifted the boy and counted the twenty-one bits, and turning to the Elvin royal family exclaimed: "Meet my son, which we name from mutual consent, Ian!"

As Annabelle lay resting in the glade, the first wolves began entering the village, heading straight to the crib. Each proceeded the same way: They sniffed the boy's body and left, walking out majestically. They had met and recorded his odour. At the end of the long night, one lone bitch came to the crib and lay down in it with the baby, offering her milk to the newborn. Once the baby was sated, she licked him clean, and fell asleep, the boy warmly tucked between her paws.

To say that Annabelle had been alarmed at the wolves' sudden appearance in the birthing glade would be an understatement, but the behaviour of the first ones quietly brought her anxiety level down. Then came that she-wolf and it was clear as day that she intended to stay and be the nanny for the boy! The boys, Cleopatra, Blackie, and the six pups stood watch around the glade as things progressed. If ever a child would be protected, it was this one!

As Annabelle rested under the watchful eyes of so many lieges to her son, Harold, Samson, and Dunbar retired to discuss the night's events.

"I wonder if that will complete the collection of strange events that has been happening around me for the last year," wondered, aloud, Harold.

"Somehow, I doubt it, Harold. Still missing in your retinue is the Dwarf, the Mage, and the Sorcerer. And you must continue your voyage to find them. Only then will the first part of the prophecy be really completely fulfilled."

"We will rest for a while here, so my wife recovers from the labours of childbirth, then we will resume our trip."

"Take your time, Harold. I, for one, am in no rush to see you leave, because I shall lose my son again!"

"Why do you say that, Samson?"

"Simply, he has to go with you, from now on. He is the Prince of Elves that has to travel and protect the Wolf. He knows it, I know it, and the Elvin kingdom now knows it. I am both sad and elated at this."

"What about your Throne?"

"Do not burden yourself by this, Harold. We have known the prophecy for generations, and it is stated in our Laws that the Siege of Government is where the King is, not at a specific place. When I die, he will inherit the Throne, and messengers will be sent out to find where you are, wherever you are. They each will carry a symbol of the Throne of Nature, a seed of the Tree. The moment Enron receives the seed he will be king! There are other symbols, too: my Sword and Shield, my Bow, my Command Staff, and my Seal. And let's not forget my blazon, rolled around a pole."

"That is interesting, but how will these objects reach us?"

"Oh, the prince possesses a unique symbol which he will use to mark a mud tablet to be hard dried. This tablet will be given to the messenger, and he will return here, post-haste, to fetch the symbols of power, which will be released to him alone, under presentation of the tablet. The messenger will then return, accompanied by an important escort, to where he is to meet Enron, and release the symbols to him, thus completing the transfer."

"Isn't this risky? After all, messengers can be intercepted!" commented Dunbar.

"Given the current political situation, yes it is risky, very risky, indeed! But when Enron returned, I called the House of Lords to meeting. And that meeting will flush out the rats, or so I hope."

"How do you plan to proceed?" wanted to know Harold.

"This, my friend, I shall reveal to you when the meeting takes place. It will be held in a week's time. Those who do not show up will have forfeited their vows and will face the consequences; those who do show up under false pretences will also be faced with the penalty for forfeiture!"

"And what is that penalty?"

"Death. The execution of the Baron and Baronet brought back to my memory days of old where, as you said so clearly, snakes were beheaded rather than banished. I merely reactivated that peculiar aspect of our laws, which had gone in disuse. It had never actually been taken out of the books, and of that, I am particularly glad."

***

The next morning, for a reason that Harold would never understand or explain, he felt the urge to bring his sword, Mitsuko, to his son. The boy was on a wool carpet, feeding from the wolf bitch. The boy took his time to suckle, but finally was filled. Harold took him into his arm, under the gold, watchful eyes of the female, and hugged him. Annabelle was sitting in a chair watching the scene unfold.

As Harold was putting the baby back on the carpet, the boys, Prince Enron and his dad, the pups and their parents, Dunbar, the Healer, and Williams joined him. The she-wolf stood up and took her place in the circle, finally closing it.

Harold raised the sword and commanded, in a loud voice: "Mitsuko!"

The blade came to life, bright white, and flashed.

"Mitsuko, meet my son! My son, meet Mitsuko!" as he said these words Harold gently lowered the tip of the blade so it came to rest right over the boy's heart. The sword covered the assembly with a rainbow of brilliant and deeply saturated colours, as the tip seemed to bleed into the boy's skin over his heart, creating a silvery disk reminiscent of the full moon.

Prince Ian, King Harold's son's, blazon

"The Wolf's Full Moon!" exclaimed the Seer. "I was wondering why the mark wasn't there at birth. It had to be deposited by the Sword of Light itself!"

As the light abated, King Samson asked Harold if they had thought of a name for the newborn yet.

Harold looked at his friends. Events had moved so fast that finding a name for the boy had completely escaped their minds!

"Actually, no, we haven't discussed this topic. In our customs, a person is given four names in his life. A child name, which describes his attitude towards life in childhood; an adult name when he reaches puberty, a war name to be worn in battle or honour within an Order, and a deathbed name, to be remembered by for eternity, which reflects his whole life."

"We have similar customs. Enron's name will change at my death to one suitable for a King. He will also receive a war name. We do not rename our dead."

***

Enron was sitting with Sitar, Paschal and Harp watching the pups and their parents. He decided it was time to ask the questions that had bugged him since the arrival of the caravan.

"Sitar, Harp, and Paschal, something, well, more then one thing has been raising questions with me."

"We will try to answer the best we can, Enron," replied Paschal.

"Well, you look so different from each other; except for Harp and Sitar, I see no family similarities, and, to further complicate matters, none of you look like either your mom or your dad."

"Can I answer, Sitar?" asked Paschal.

"Sure, go ahead!"

"First, Harold and Annabelle are not our dad and mom. We were found and rescued, all of us, after orc raids had killed our families. But we consider them our dad and mom, because they act like they are. We were not born into a family, we were brought by circumstances into one; anyone could have taken us, but it was Harold and Annabelle that did, and with all their heart. They show to us, every day, that blood lines mean nothing to them. They love and they care for everyone. And we strive to be like them. They teach us by example."

"You were adopted?"

"No," piped up Harp, "Not yet, because I haven't had time to ask Sitar if he wanted to be adopted by Harold and Annabelle. I asked Harold if he wanted to be my dad, and he said yes, but asked me to check with Sitar first. Now it comes back to me. Will you accept to be adopted, Sitar?"

"Oh yes, I would like that very much! And you, Paschal, will you be our brother?"

"Yes, I would like that too, very much. But are you sure Annabelle and Harold will say yes? They are very young; I think Harold is only eighteen! And I never asked Annabelle her age, it is something that is just not done."

"So you have no blue blood and yet you are treated like Princes. Another mystery to resolve."

"I talked to Harold and Dunbar about royalty, ranks and other status symbols, a few days before we found Sitar and Harp. There is one thing I didn't understand; it was that question of blue blood. How come all royals suffer from that sickness?"

"Sickness?" asked Enron, alarmed.

"Well, blue blood, according the Master Healer, is produced by a malformation of the heart, a strangulated birth, and very high altitude; all cases are the product of a lack of oxygen, which affect the brain's functions. I wondered why people would value brain-dead idiots over intelligent and healthy people to the point of mandating blue blood in their leaders!"

"Maybe they fear intelligence," replied Harp. "After all, a dummy is a lot more easily circumvented than a bright person."

"That may well be the case, Harp," laughed Sitar. "Look at that baron and his son, they probably cut themselves every day to verify their blood was blue enough to sit on the Throne! And look at that viper you so expertly expedited ad patres⁴²⁴² ("Ad patres: Latin, sent to the father, dead.")! I do not know him, but somehow, I suspect he was one of those typical individuals that would walk on a sick and blame him for being in the way."

Enron laughed at their exchange, impressed by their precise description of the three men. "I am more and more impressed by King Harold! I know quite a few who would behave like that snake, including some of those that are due to be here at the meeting of the Lords next week."

"That's another thing you do not understand, Enron. Harold doesn't act like that because he knows what it means to start a lowly apprentice," commented Paschal. "He started at the bottom of the ditch, like all of us, separated from his family by the so-called diviners. He climbed up on his own rather than gain a title by right of birth. That too is what makes us love him even more. He doesn't ask us to be like him, he shows us how to act, and we feel, deeply down, we must act to prove ourselves to him. We do so because we want so, and even if we did not succeed, I doubt he would love us less. He values us because we are, not because of our ability with weapons, our artistic qualities, or any other trait."

"But the colours are those of a King, of a powerful King!"

"Maybe so, but I think Harold is unaware of this. I saw the election of Master Dunbar to Grand Master, by his peers. I think this is what happened to Harold too. His first title, if I remember, was given to him by the legionnaires themselves, who named him Legate at unanimity. I remember he looked lost, and totally taken by surprise."

"And remember, Paschal, the strange question we were asked?" enquired Sitar, "We were asked if we felt like Harold would do a great king. We said yes, and I think everyone said so, because the next day, there was a lot of actions done in the cart of the Mender. Everyone brought pieces of clothes, folded, and waited impatiently, besides the cart for it to be returned to them. I suspect Harold got elected King the day we were asked that question."

"And how did you guys get Masters?"

"Oh that, for me, I gained my Master of Visual Arts by drawing camouflages on the boxes that protected the horses and oxen," replied Paschal. "As for weapons mastery, we just proved ourselves by vanquishing a set number of trained legionnaires in battle, and demonstrating our ability with our choice weapons. You saw by yourself that these weren't inflated claims."

"Yes, I did, and I still couldn't believe my eyes. I sure wish I could see you in training. The whole caravan seemed to be a huge, well-oiled machine!"

"You will, tomorrow," noted Paschal. "I figure the caravan will stay for a week or more, and we will use that time to fix things that need fixing, and train properly. We use the afternoon to do that. You are invited, as are any interested, to participate in the exercises, Enron."

"I still do not really understand how Harold can be perceived as a King," commented Enron.

"Some fall on the throne from the womb; others capture it by blood and guts; yet others impress their peers so much they earn the title; such was the case for Harold. He leads by example, by doing, not by ruling! He doesn't even have to ask us to do anything. We see what must be done, and we do it! We ask ourselves what would Harold do? And we do it!"

"Enron, did you notice even your own behaviour has changed in the past few days?" asked Sitar. "Paschal is right, you know. Being in contact with Harold changes a person, even you. You have grown confident to the point your own dad doubted you were his son! Remember how he cried on your shoulders? He said he didn't recognize you anymore, but that he was so very proud of the man you have become."

"Yes, come to think of it, now that you reminded me, I found that comment by dad a bit disquieting. Have I changed so much my own dad has problems recognizing me as his son?"

"Do you doubt it? Would you have stood up to Victor, or his dad, before?"

"No, I would have been too shy."

"Were you ever forceful in expressing your opinions to your dad?"

"Never, he used to scare me by his mere presence. He never hurt me, nor raised his voice, but he seemed to take all the air out of the agora when he stood. I felt like an ant facing an elephant. Now, it's different; I feel like I am sitting on the Throne, to his right."

"And when did this change begin in you, Enron?"

"When Harp came with that cute pup. I felt secure for the first time in my whole life. Harp, Paschal, and you, Sitar, all seem to carry this light around you, a white aura that is blinding to the inner eye. Harold, Annabelle, Dunbar, for that matter, everyone in your caravan has this beautiful aura that so impresses the Elves. You are the suns walking the Earth. Even dogs do, and the horses and oxen. We never thought it would reach animals, but you proved us wrong. Even the new baby has this blinding white light emanating from him. And I noticed this morning the she-wolf was getting more bright and whiter. Her aura is resonating to yours."

"All this is nice, Enron," piped up Harp, "but we have to ask for adoption by Harold. Now that his son is born, I think it is time; there will be no battle of precedence; he will always come first!"

"Yes, Harp is correct," completed Sitar, "now is the time; had we asked before it might have made him cadet, now he is elder. This will be as it should be. Do you want to accompany us?"

"I have to, if only to witness the request; furthermore, I suspect my dad and King Harold are together, and I need to inform dad of what you told me. I wholly approve of how things went, and I plan to tell so to dad in no uncertain terms. If a king there must be, then Harold is the one that must. I also must swear fealty to Harold, openly, because I have already done so in my heart, to serve his son as vassal."

"That may not sit well with your dad, Enron," noted Paschal.

"He already knows this; by recognizing the Day of Dawning, and all that came with it, he implicitly recognized the Throne of the Wolf, and by Elvin Law, he is vassal to Harold, and so am I. I shall be accompanying you when you leave the village to fulfill my duty to Harold and his son. That too, my dad must already know."

"When will all this happen?"

"Dad, unwittingly, I must admit, set it in motion when he called the House of Lords into meeting. He will be the first to swear fealty to Harold, followed by me. And so will all the Lords of the Realm. They are bound to do so. If any of them fails the Test, death shall be immediate."

"The test?"

"Yes, there is a test, and only dad knows what it is, even I ignore its nature. I just hope I shall pass."

"If you swear with a true heart, Enron, you will succeed. Do not doubt yourself in such a moment!" piped up Harp. "Now, let's get going. I want my new dad!"

"Are you sure you are only four, Harp?" replied Enron, as the boys made their way towards the Elvin throne.