As the words started to leave the Prince's mouth, Eltharion's glare grew fiercer, until they were merely slits, boring holes into Anaroth's back. The crowd in front of them was silent as well, looking at each other for guidance. Silence reigned as the Prince's words sunk in. Then, a single boot step broke through the chains holding thier head in place as Eltharion stepped towards Anorath. Each dull thud was slow and measure, its rhythm like a heartbeat as the ranger's age-worn leather bootsoles clattered against the wooden stage. Stopping a mere metre away from the Prince, his mysterious violet eyes continued to glare silently, as if judging him. Before anyone could react, his hand flew to his side and drew his survival knife, its broad, serrated edge flying rapidly towards the chink between helmet and breastplate of the prince's armour. Audible gasps pierced the day as the assembled troops looked on in horror. Many tried to draw their weapons and some rushed forward, but it was too late as the blade arced towards Anorath's neck. Then, just as suddenly as he had started, the blade's edge stopped a mere few millimetres away from the prince's neck, close enough to nestle itself between the two armour plates and sending a chilling wind over his throat.

"You would dare to leave the city of Mithreal, Prince?" Eltharion said as he held his blade in place, its keen edge glinting in the sunlight, "abandoning us at our direst time of need under the pretense of reinforcements?" With his hood drawn up and facecloth dragged over his mouth, Eltharion looked like a common assassin. "More than that, you have the audacity to take some of its defenders with you?" he asked as the blade drew closer, its edge now resting on Anaroth's neck, "when it is known that we will require every pair of hands available to simply hold the city?" The ranger tilted his head as the Mithreal garrison paused awkwardly, weapons in hand. Archers had already trained their aim on his head, but did not fire for fear of hitting their leader. Glancing calmly at the multitude of soldiers watching over them, Eltharion scoffed. "The Great Tree of Harbinus is the centre of our beliefs, and we will do anything in our power to secure its safety," he said as he turned back to look at the prince, locking their eyes together and leaning in closer, "even if that means temporarily abandoning it," he whispered, his face mere inches away.

Pulling away, Eltharion withdrew his blade and flung it into the planks of the stage, where the point dug deeply into the wood, quivering where it stuck fast. "I will ready myself for departure, Prince Tel-Thennes," the ranger said as he turned away, heading back towards the Ranger Meeting Hall, "I will ensure that your...promised reinforcements...will arrive," he said as he paused, turning back, "by any means necessary". With that, he resumed his stride, aware that he was still being targetted. And of course he would be. He essentially just threatened one of their highest leaders. But still. Eltharion had to test whether the prince was running with cowardice poisoning his mind, or genuinely working for reinforcements. Either way, he did not expect the elf to take kindly to his threats. Scoffing once more, he changed direction, heading in the direction of the Great Tree of Harbinus,