. --- [center] T h e E t e r n a l V e r d a n c e [/center] --- ‘[i]-Is like a warm embrace, Could only be one sweet place, Home and the Heartland…[/i]’ A tender breeze tickled his nose as his lips uttered the words, void of melody. The foliage emanated a rustling sound, swept lightly by the higher winds, moving and constantly spawning new sunrays; or at least, those few which managed to pierce the dense jungle that overlooked him. His nose wrinkled at a particularly strong inhibiting perfume, tightening the whole face in a bothered expression. Something, with high possibilities a cumbrous event, was drawing closer. He had questioned himself more and more times what was he doing, but found no apparent reason for having been playing the lute for the past three hours. Baffled of his own odd habits, Elea gently wound the instrument in a silken cloth, completely enfolding it, and placed it on the tea table. He particularly enjoyed gazing upon the city from that lonely window, and for this reason sat comfortably on a couch, relaxing as he felt his limbs melt at the graceful warmth that wrapped his body. -You are consciously aware about the upcoming celebration. Why are you not preparing yourself?- ‘I recall of having shared with you my reasons for being here, [b]Jorrwarg[/b]; are you accusing me of indolence?’ snapped Elea, arching his left eyebrow. -Most likely.- -You shouldn’t behave like that, [b]Jorrgy[/b] dear. Young Elea has his own problems going through his mind; we shouldn’t be meddling with him right now.- ‘I don’t even know whoever I may be. Little remains of myself…’ -But you still remember right, young cub? Even now, you keep most memories of your past self.- He sighed. That was precisely something he loathed with his very being. -And that, [b]Flora[/b], is forsooth the reason why I want him to hurry. He decided to act this way, now he is not allowed to stray from his path.- -Oh shush! I prompted in numerous occasions not to allow this to happen; but have you heard me out? No! No, you didn’t. No.- -Whether we are going to put the discussion on such terms I- - ‘Enough.’ Silenced the king. He had expected to be calm and prompt for the incoming meeting, but those two surely couldn’t, nor had intention, of helping him out. -This shall be my last warning. Are you sure of activating this trigger?- Elea raised himself from his position, and stretching his flesh upwards, yawned soundly, earnestly hoping of being back as soon as the day had not sunk. ‘It’s time.’ Was all he could respond, leaving his mouth slightly open, almost as she wanted to enquire something else on her own. His steps reverberated on the marble tiles through the aisle, void of any presence. ‘You majesty!’ An armored guard appeared just before he could put an hand on a side door’s handle. From behind the rusted straps that engulfed the wood, cheerful noises and giggles could be heard, and, in particular, a deep and hoarse disembodied voice, which loomed soundly all over the ballhall. Unleashing a spiritless sigh, he forced himself to look at the steel shell, as thoughtless as his face could fake. ‘Yes, page?’ ‘Your majesty, sir!, Goffland the Great, tribe master of the Volianai has arrived since the fifth stroke; he has been waiting with the court assembly.’ Proffered the guard, taking the traditional salute position. However, showing a novice’s inexperience, his halberd hit the ground way too sharply, generating an obvious and tense silence in the adjacent room. ‘Don’t call him ‘great’ in my presence, you twit. He may wear an honorable title, but still remains nothing more than a pernicious savage in my eyes. Forsooth should be the same to all of you.’ Snapped the King, keeping a low tone. Without further procrastination, Elea entered the hall, followed by the thick sprawling chaos of glances, which devoured him with all sorts of thoughts; he never turned himself, but kept progressing towards his throne, avoiding eyes and faces alike. He even occluded his eyes, with the purpose of stressing a dignified and abstract outlook, performing the same ceremony he by then knew already by heart. Frightened, fidgeting for the scolding, the young guard appeared before him, as the only attendant he required; however, before he could catch up with his master, the novice had to close the door which had been so mindlessly overlooked and left wide open by him. Under the subdued laughter of the whole assembly, [b]Edwin[/b] offspring of Lolerei finally reached the ceremonial guard stand, and hit roughly the bare stone with his weapon. Before any bystander could return to a normal breathing rhythm, the noise had to be absorbed by the vain silence of the hall; then, the pallid characters obtained again the right to emit any form of flatulence. ‘Enters his royal highness [b]Kráthin I[/b], offspring of Eél, ruler of the Kargath and of its lands! Salute!’ Elea opened his eyes, overlooking the bowed crowd. He had never expected to find strangers around that place. For which reason? Most likely due to the utter isolationism in which his people decided to self-confine. Those two men that stood blabbering before him – whose presence still went unnoticed – wore pelt straps much unlike those of his fellow mates, incredibly less refined and tanned; their aspect hinted they were highly uncivilized Velusians, clearly not of his clan. That, most of all, troubled his mind. In fact, the watchmen emanated a penetrating smell, like that of a long since dead animal, and their greasy and wild hairs were covered in mud, probably with the intent – without a doubt botched - of faking a camouflage. All of a sudden, the two savages moved towards an undefined point, giving him the goose bumps for the shock; without hesitation, Elea continued towards his objective, hoping everything to be as it should. Though not as processed as Hetrya ones, the tribe master had a fine pelt mantle, probably giant lynx, that covered almost entirely the big and pudgy mass he wore over his feet; the few spots that weren’t saved from the spectator’s judgment, aroused a strong contempt towards the pale and hairy skin. Elea wondered how could have that man provoked giggles in his court. That very court he now rewarded with a cold stare, that bowed mindlessly at the presence of his figure. All these were fine men and women, gentle, intelligent… what hoax or magic had he used to subdue their rationality? After what seemed an interminable minute, the king granted the crowd to stand again. And then, was the moment he met him again. Elea’s eyes took fire: twenty-seven years of sorrow and despair were conjured again in an infinitesimal instant, through which both soul and body were shook to the very ground. Distant remembrances were called back from the spirits of the dead, and traveled again to the kingdom of the living, as if they had never left it. Smoke rose high into the sky, intertwined with dreary cries and laments of his people. The under wood had been annihilated, and blood stains were visible all over the massive trucks of the jungle. He ran. He stumbled; he cried. Few bulky tears dripped over his face, whilst he felt hot ambers burning his skin. Fire. ‘Your majesty’ enquired the tribe master, hesitant. Elea had been, seemingly impassible, staring in the void for more than a minute; but now, he was very present, and still was burning for the scar that face recalled to life. Gulping, feeling his own throat hoarse for the shock, the king allowed him to speak further. ‘King Kráthin, I humbly thank you for having shown such a kind heart allowing us to rest in your lands.’ The tribe lord grinned softly, doing an another bow; an excessive ostentation of servility. What was his goal? For which reason drawing so mockingly closer to your enemy, idiotic bastard? ‘You indeed speak for your people, and wisely as well. Forsooth’ added after a brief pause ‘ you should prize this opportunity for a good future for yours, people.’ Elea raised his hands, moving his attention from the barbarian to a particularly detailed hunting scene carved on his ring, on a pearly cameo embedded in it. ‘I hope’ continued, this time raising his voice, over the undecipherable expression of the colleague ‘ you have not damaged our gardens and monoliths. Applying druidic runes for such large areas it’s not an easy task, not even for us of the Kargath.’ His head was twirling awfully hard. That couldn’t possibly be her hand! Not of his Oleé- of his lovely sister… He crouched, grabbed what little remained of his family, brought it to his head, and felt the burned flesh under tact; a scream of agony could not be repressed, and ended with jangling amidst the slaughter. ‘Of course, of course, honorable liege. This settlement bestows true honor to our race, and I could not image a Verdance spoiled of its eternal light, so seldom-‘ Elea saw something conjuring in those eyes. ‘Stop, now. Flattery won’t wind your request towards better hopes. Speak, and spare this assembly from avoidable futilities.’ He was seriously growing tired of this; his heart did not want to decelerate. How could it, after all? ‘Yes, yes, as you desire. Recently in the zones much afar from the Kargath a wild beast has been spotted. An incredibly savage and blood thirsty feline like creature attacked our tribe one month ago, and thus forced us out of the territory which we had claimed. You ought to help us! He has killed dozens- nay, tons of my men, scarred families, left orphans to die amidst the wild jungle! It is a demonic creature for sure, that has come to haunt us, huble, innocent servants of Fél!' finished in a pathetic cry, trying to move the crowd on the boundaries of human feelings. What he had in return were only cold stares of an indifferent set of grey statues. Bursting, exploding in sharp and vicious colors, Elea raised, unable to refrain himself anymore. He was in front of his headsman, after all. That microscopic feeling that binds all creatures together, that so easily forestalls death and pleasures alike, had advised Elea so clearly as soon as he saw the enemy tribe master, the one that above all was enjoying the sight of the burning timber, feeling with his hands the acid yells of the dead, of turning his back, and running, fast. But he could not. Elea sprinted towards the wild monster, holding tightly his sword. Whatever rationality would have suggested, he knew the upcoming event was necessary for himself and everyone else. In few instants he had charged towards him, bursting in an hysterical scream. The swords touched his skin, grazing against it, feeling the fear that flowed unrestrained through the veins. Elea could not refrain himself from smiling, sneering at his frightened expression. 'Poor, poor savage... don't tell me you have forgotten?' 'Wh-What?' 'You speak of innocence, of oughts... don't you feel any shame? You, who above all in this whole world should suffer the most scabrous punishments, burning to your very soul in the Feron-Khol, rot amidst the Rhul Thaar, torn to little pieces by the madmen of Indar Solasi; you... you man FORSAKEN BY THE SAME FE'L YOU SO HARDLY INVOKE AND SOIL WITH THOSE SLITHING WORDS, DON'T YOU HAVE ANY SHAME?!' The scream echoed everywhere, carried by the winds. Elea paused. Suddenly, bursting in a subtle laughter, continued 'Foolish man... you've buried that memory, haven't you? You have said it yourself, after all. Verdance is not a place for the weak, lad.' 'Of blood thirsty ' concluded in a solemn voice, raising in all his stature ', blood you shalt have!' Before he could do anything, two men took him by behind his shoulders; the river was red of the blood of his people, frothy of his greasy tears, relentless of the broken hopes. And he, who could do nothing against the unjust fate that had been bestowed to them, was taken as well, hit to death, and left to the wild nature of the streams. And right before his senses could abandon him, Elea heard few words that would have changed his life entirely. Beheaded, the tribe lord's body slumped to the ground in a disgusting clatter, whilst his head rolled forth away from the pool of blood. 'Verdance is not a place for the weak, lad.' had uttered the corpse nine years before.