Arlo Ashryn was having a rough day. No, scrap that; he was having a rough year. Since his parents 'banished' him from Ioven Island, he had come to Voleai seeking a fantastic life where he could continue his rich life. Unfortunately, he had a lot to learn.
A few months earlier, Arlo had been living on the snowy Ioven Island – home to the Elandili, or the half-elves – where his parents served as head of the Ioven Court. This meant he was rich, and was used to getting everything he wanted. He had servants to dress and wash him, and had never done a single bit of cleaning in his entire life. He lived in a huge mansion – which he basically had all to himself, because his parents were always at the palace – located in the middle of the city of Heath. No matter how much he loved being outdoors, however, it always snowed, so he avoided it if he could. The entire island was just a snowy kingdom; when he said it always snowed, he meant it always snowed. But that didn't stop him and his friends from making fun of it whenever they could.
No matter what the weather was like, Arlo was always getting into trouble. And because his parents were in the Ioven Court, this meant that only he got punished; his friends always got away with it. It annoyed him, honestly, but he learned to brush it off. His parents weren't biased, and that was something he had to live with.
However, one day, it got too much for his parents. He didn't even do anything that bad; all he did was trashed the local bard's house with his friends. The guy was a pain in the arse; what else was he supposed to do? But he was caught out, and his parents didn't ground him. No, they banished him from Ioven Island and cut him off from the household. They gave him about ten gold pieces and sent him on his way without a second thought. Arlo had spent the next few months living in a friend's basement in Vadox; the main city of Voleai. And, as if his life couldn't get any worse, he was about to do something that could possibly end his life for good.
He knocked on the door with a shaking fist, looking around nervously. What if no one answered? He could just turn around and run back to his friend's basement and pretend he saw nothing. But he could hear someone inside; there was no turning back now. He was stuck.
He raked his short, brown hair back with his hand, biting his lip as he heard someone slowly approaching the door. There was also a loud clunk that followed with the footsteps; a walking stick, maybe? It took a few moments, but the door finally opened, and a tall, old-looking man appeared in the doorway, leaning on a wooden stick. His light coloured hair didn't seem to be affected by his age, but his body certainly did. He looked really sick.
"Hello," Arlo said awkwardly. "Uh, saesa omentien lle. I have your herbs?"
The man frowned. "My herbs?" he asked, clearly confused as his eyes trailed down to the small crate in Arlo's arms. "Do you work at the local infirmary? Did Kay send you?"
"Kay?" Arlo asked, raising an eyebrow. "Is that your daughter's name?"
The man nodded slowly, sighing. "If Issey sent you," he murmured, moving back slightly to allow room in the doorway, "then something has happened. Tula, mellonamin. Come inside."
Arlo had no choice but to go inside. He didn't really know why he was doing this, to be honest. He saw the blonde elf get attacked by the two men at the docks, then he saw the guards dragging her towards the palace. All he knew was what he heard; that girl's father was sick, and needed the herbs she'd dropped. He was just delivering them. But, then again, he needed all the friends he could get now that he didn't have his ties to Ioven Island, so he walked through the doorway and into the house of the old man and the feisty she-elf. He figured that the only reason this man was letting Arlo into his home was because Arlo was a half-elf. Usually, elves automatically trusted strangers if they had at least a little elvish nature in them, which was why this man was already associating him with the term 'mellonamin'.
"What has my daughter gotten into now?" the man asked when Arlo had placed the herbs on a nearby bench and was staring around the house in awe. It was huge; it didn't look fancy, or even big on the outside, but most rich elves didn't like showing their wealth. This household was no exception. The stone floors and walls were draped in carpets and furs, which made the place look more closed-up but definitely richer. There was a staircase that seemed to lead down into a basement, and a few rooms off to the right that were home to sleeping furs and a bathroom. There was a drop in the floor to the left of the entrance, where a large fire pit sat with a cooking pot on a stand sitting just beside it. There were more furs sitting around the fire pit, where Arlo assumed this man and his daughter sat in the evenings, talking to each other. But, despite how nice this house was compared to the basement he'd been living in for the past few months, his mansion back on Ioven Island was much, much better.
"I think she was picking this crate up from the western port," Arlo replied to the man as he turned around, folding his arms over his chest. "The guys attacked her; they might've recognised her, or something. They said she almost killed one of their friends."
"That was probably Harper Unagi they were talking about," the man sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "He challenged her a while ago; she almost killed him."
"What, was he five or something?" Arlo grinned, his brown eyes glinting, and the man chuckled.
"He was twenty five," he corrected. "She was seventeen."
Arlo nodded, impressed. "Nice," he commented, then shook his head. "Right, sorry. Um, after she kicked their arses, she came here to take her stuff to you, but the city guards caught up to her before she could make it. She told them that you were sick, and needed them, but they took her anyway. She dropped the herbs, so I thought I'd come in and give them to you. For some reason."
The man smiled. "I thank you for this, mellonamin," he said quietly. "My daughter has been struggling for many years with my health, and it would do her great happiness to know of your kindness to me." Arlo shrugged, grinning.
"Ah, it was nothing," he replied, then hesitated. "Actually," he added, pursing his lips in thought, "I think I can help get your daughter out of the palace. I'm a witness; if I can convince them that she was defending herself, they'll let her go. Right?"
The man's eyes widened. "Well, certainly," he answered, hope rising in his voice. "You would do this deed for us? If you can free my daughter, whatever it is you wish for, I will give to you. This would mean the world to me."
Arlo nodded, looking down. "Yeah, I know," he muttered. "Family is everything around here. I'll do what I can to make sure she gets back to you."
"Cormlle naa tanya tel'raa, young gentleman." the man said slowly, his face full of hope. "I thank you for this."
Arlo shrugged. "No problem," he replied. "I need friends, that's all."
He really needed friends.
It didn't take long for him to get to the palace. Despite how long he had been living in Vadox, he found his way fairly easily, and was standing in front of two guards at the gates of the massive building. It was really impressive, and heavily guarded.
"State your business, lokirim, or leave," one of the guards ordered, his body encased in a light but well-crafted set of elven armour. Arlo was pretty sure it was forged in Ioven Island; the Elandili were just as skilled as humans when it came to craftsmanship, with the added bonus of having the Elven technique in smithing.
"I mean no disrespect," Arlo stated with a frown, holding his hands up to show he was no threat. "I am hear on business; I have news about a woman you recently arrested."
"The saurar?" the second guard spat. "What news could you have about that piece of work?"
"Enough to prove she did nothing wrong," Arlo replied smoothly, crossing his tense arms over his chest. "Will you let me in to see the Elven Council? I would much rather discuss my information with the hodoerea; you know, the ones who are actually important?"
The second guard bared his teeth, but the first one struck his hand out to stop his companion from striking, turning his head to Arlo with his eyes narrowed.
"This way, ascarer," he hissed, stepping aside to let the elandili pass. With a smug smile painted on his face, Arlo stepped right past the two guards and wandered through the gates towards the palace.
It took a few wrong turns and whatnot before he reached what appeared to be the Council room. Two large, golden doors stood in the way, with white swirls engraved into the painted wood. The palace was simple, yet elegant; Arlo was impressed. Much nicer than the palace on Ioven Island.
"Enter, mellonamin," a voice called from beyond the door, and Arlo's eyes widened slightly. That had never happened before; could the Council members see through walls or something? But, nonetheless, Arlo slowly approached the doors and pushed the right one open, entering the Council room. When he looked around, he actually let a little gasp of air escape the back of his throat; the room was amazing. There were carvings that ran all around the marble walls of the circular room, with white pillars holding the domed ceiling up. Between the pillars, there were no walls; only a stunning view of the ocean, where the palace ended. In the centre of the room, five elder elves sat cross-legged on furs in a circle, all their heads turned in Arlo's direction. They looked peaceful.
"State your name, mellonamin," the elder exactly opposite the doors Arlo just entered through announced, his long grey hair tied behind his head with a silver circlet pushing all the loose hairs away from his forehead. He wore long, green robes that didn't appear to have any creases in them at all, which reminded Arlo of the robes he had back home, that he had abandoned for simple peasant clothes. He also remembered the woman with the herbs – Issey – and what she was wearing. Judging from her house, she was very rich indeed, but she wore what any servant would instead of the delicate female robes that Ioven Island would have her wear. He saw other women and men on the streets of Vadox also wearing these rich robes, and wondered what this woman had against them. Then, he remembered her swords, and understood.
"My name is Arlo Ashryn," Arlo replied humbly, bowing steadily to the elders before him. "I will not bore you with the details of my person, but wish to skip right ahead to the reason of my visit."
"Proceed," the man with the green robes declared, and Arlo nodded.
"I was a witness to what happened up at the western port," he explained, holding his hands behind his back. "I believe the woman you imprisoned was wrongly accused, and I'm here to set the record straight."
The elder woman in red robes raised an eyebrow, her long brown hair trailing down beside her face in a neat manner. "Why do you wish to clear these charges?" she asked, and Arlo shrugged.
"She has a sick father," he admitted. "Without her, he is likely to die. I only want to avoid this; I understand how important family is."
The man in the blue robes, with long, whitening hair that trailed all the way down his back, lifted his chin at Arlo's words. "We have already heard Issobel Rique's story," he said smoothly. "If yours matches hers, we will release her. You may proceed."
Arlo let out a sigh of relief before clearing his throat and straightening up, remembering who he was standing in the presence of. Unlike Ioven Island, the Elven Council consisted of the eldest elves in Reichon, and the wisest after the elven elder serving in the Adranian Council. They were to be treated with the utmost respect, and not to be fooled around with.
"Well, I was down at the docks with one of my friends," he said first, "which is where I first saw her. She was carrying a crate of herbs, and was heading back to the city. I started paying more attention when these guys came up to her; there was a dwarf, with a funny looking haircut, and a tall human guy, who was really tanned. I think I overheard them saying they recognised her for something she did to their friend a few years ago? I don't know about that story, but she did tell them that she didn't want to fight them, or that they could work it out. But they just attacked her, and she was definitely defending herself. I kind of followed her; I had a feeling the guards would be after her soon, and I thought that someone with her skill collecting stuff off of guys like that? I admit, I kind of thought it was illegal. But when the guards apprehended her, she said that the herbs in the crate were for her father. So, I kind of promised him I would help free his daughter from prison. He needs her to live, after all."
The Council was silent for a few moments, and Arlo waited patiently. Finally, the elder in the white robes nodded her approval. "We will let the woman go," she announced finally, waving her hand at one of the guards who was posted at the entrance of the Council room. The man walked out of the room, and Arlo nodded to the Council before hurriedly following him out, closing the doors behind him.
"Get up, you're being released," the guard said as he banged on one of the cell doors, unlatching the bar to pull the cell door open.
"Finally come to your senses, have you?" Issobel Rique muttered, but the guard laughed as he moved into the cell, pulling the elf to her feet.
"A witness came in and cleared your name," the guard replied amusedly.
"Who?"
"Me," Arlo announced, crossing his arms over his chest as the woman came out of her cell, looking annoyed. Her green eyes took in Arlo's figure with confusion as her wavy blonde hair hung past her shoulders, in a show of her anger.
"Who are you?" she asked cautiously, not sure whether to trust him or not. Arlo rolled his eyes.
"I didn't just break you out of prison," he muttered, and Issobel scowled.
"You didn't 'break me out'," she shot back as the guard led them back to the entrance of the palace. "You took the weak option and talked about my innocence. Why are you even here? I don't know you, so why do you care?"
"I came from your father," Arlo explained, and Issobel's eyes widened as she whirled around to look at him.
"The herbs," she breathed. "Oh, ed' i'ear ar' elenea! I lost the herbs! You need to help me track them down; someone probably-"
"Already taken care of, melamin," he replied smoothly. "I took them to your father; I told him I witnessed the whole 'western port' scene, so I offered to bust you out."
"Do not call me melamin," Issobel grunted. "I am not your 'melamin'. I am not even your mellonamin; I don't know you, stranger."
"I'd say we're friends, mellonamin," Arlo mused. "We can work up to melamin, okay?"
"When I get my swords back," Issobel growled, "I am going to drive one down your throat and the other up your-"
"Aw, come on," Arlo exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air. "I just saved your life, and quite possibly your dad's, too; a little gratitude would be nice."
"If my father is alive when I get back," Issobel sighed, "perhaps I will thank you then. But in the meantime, you will keep your mouth shut and not anger me. Understood, lokirim?"
"Why is everyone calling me that today?" Arlo protested, his eyebrows creasing up in disbelief. Issobel sneered.
"Because you are lokirim; you are a seething little snake. Why were you following me, snake?"
"I thought you were carrying something illegal," Arlo admitted as they reached the front of the palace, where Issobel was handed her weapons. As she pulled on what appeared to be the belt she pulled poison out of earlier, she let out a bark of laughter.
"Well, I am lucky you thought so," she acknowledged as she went to pull on her sword belt. It was a cleverly crafted piece of leather; the swords would sit upside down on her back, and all she had to do was pull them down when she wanted to use them. "Or I'd be in trouble."
"Was that so hard?" Arlo sighed as they landed on the streets of Vadox. "Okay, I don't know the way back to your house; guide me, please."
"Through here; this is the short-cut," Issobel replied, ducking down a side street with Arlo following right behind her.
As they made it back to Issobel's house, the first thing the elf did was barge in and throw her arms around her father, hugging him tightly. Arlo stood back awkwardly, as the father and daughter reunited again.
"What are you doing out of your furs, father?" was the first thing that Issobel said to him as she took his arm. "Come, I will boil some water for tea." She glanced over her shoulder at Arlo. "Can you help him to the fire pit, please?"
Arlo stepped forward and helped Issobel's dad as Issobel set up the cooking stand to make tea.
"I didn't thank you," Issobel murmured when her father was comfortable and Arlo had approached her.
"I noticed," he replied, hooking his thumbs into his belt. "Well, you don't have to. I'm just lucky to see what a functioning family looks like."
Issobel frowned. "You don't get along with your parents?" she asked curiously, and Arlo shook his head.
"They kind of... kicked me out," he mumbled, scratching his head. "I've been living in a friend's basement for a few months."
"I don't recognise you to be a local," Issobel commented as she poured some hot coals into the pan on the stand before setting the pot over it.
"I'm... not, really," he admitted. "I'm from Ioven Island." Then, he paused. He didn't need to mention his 'richness', not yet. "I got kicked out of my house because my parents hate me, so I decided to come stay with my friend here. Turns out, he's as poor as me; he had a basement for me, and that's about it."
Issobel looked up at him after she poured the water into the pot. "You're not from a rich family?" she questioned curiously, but she didn't seem judgemental. She seemed fascinated. "What's it like to have a job, and find your own resources? I bet it's nice."
Arlo hesitated. "Yeah, it is, actually," he murmured, scratching his head. "My old house was nicer than a basement, though. We actually had drinkable water."
Issobel grinned. "Lucky you," she laughed, then glanced over at her dad after he coughed loudly, her expression dropping instantly. "If you hadn't let me out," she murmured so only Arlo could hear, "then he wouldn't have made it through the night. I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you." Arlo nodded tightly.
"I'm sure anyone would've done the same," he replied, but Issobel shook her head, turning her attention back to the pot as it started to bubble slightly.
"No, all the rich people are scumbags," she muttered, and Arlo blinked. "They care about nothing but themselves, with their fancy, golden robes and their poor servants. I don't know how anyone could live like that, and enjoy it."
"Issey, don't scare him away," her father scolded her from his place by the fire pit, and Issey sighed before pouring water into three cups, finishing the tea. She then handed one to Arlo, one to her father and took the third to the fire pit, sitting opposite her dad. Arlo sat as well.
"Did I hear you say that you are staying in someone's basement?" Issey's father asked after a moment, and Arlo grinned.
"Yeah, he's crazy but he minds his own business; I don't mind him."
"Well, why don't you stay here?" the old man continued, and Issey's eyes widened.
"Father, he cannot possibly-"
"Come now, Issey," her father warned. "You could do with the helping hands; he could work around here, so you don't have to be so hard on yourself. It would help me, that's for sure."
"I don't know," Arlo murmured, looking down at his tea. "I couldn't just leave my friend-"
"Oh, don't worry about him," the man said, waving his hand in the air. "It is the least I could do after what you did for me and my daughter. What do you say?"
He glanced at Issey, who was raising her eyebrow at him with her lips pursed. She didn't want him here; she thought he was trouble. So Arlo grinned and turned back to her father.
"I would be honoured, mellonamin."