Chapter 155: Be Free

"Why do Smirs weren't Absmirs?" Prince Aesril asked. Golden hair reflected against a sleek silverware, eyebrows stretched with anticipation. Yet, golden eyes appeared opposite.

Overlapping vines made a quick hole that let a stream of sunlight basking the unnatural room, it should be warm. But Gelethorn, standing behind his prince, felt a cold air swirling inside the circular room.

"My Prince," Gele said. Hands behind his back doing a rest, and bronze hair knitted with care that was let loose behind and tied with vines that seemed to move on its own accord—typical of Wood Elves, they use nature to adorn their costumes. Thick and brown brows that were slanted in one direction furrowed, unsure how to respond to such an odd question. "They were... "

"Yes," Price Aesril said. Vines around the pillars bent with apprehension. Seed like stones lined the prince's white robe from the middle, down to the knees, he looked torn with his robe opened at the front. "But why? Why do they—Smirs, get to leave Pin'Tu!" Aesril held the sword's hilt, clenching it until his hand went pale, a bluish streak of blood appeared underneath his ivory skin. The elegant sword shone green, then the bowing vines slither away from the High Prince, away from the wooden chamber, away from the green aura. "And me? Absmir—a High Elf gets to watch them leave? Why Gelethorn. Why?"

"Prince. I... " Gelethorn said, rubbing fingers behind his waist. He took a step forward, saber clanged like a hollow wood. "I think you are unwell my Prince. Best you rest, and we'll talk later."

"I am n—" Aesril said. He spun around and a green aura frizzled from his chest. The vines withered, the room felt hot, and sweat dripped above Gelethorn's forehead. Blinking his eyes, Aesril took a step backward. He froze. The room shook, the air swirled, Aesril froze in place. The wooden floor reflected a green feverish light. "Isashil! Gele. I am so sorry." His eyes squinted downwards, unable to look Gelethorn's uneasiness.

"My Prince," Gele said thoughtfully, remembering events that ticked the scar hidden under his brown hair. He bowed on one knee, saber hit the wooden floor. "I am not enough of your pity."

"Ah," Aesril said. Waving his long fingers, dismissing the Wood Elf. "Please, you're in my chamber. Avoid such customary." Aesril breath in long. The vines wiggled as if happy that the greenish aura was now gone. Waving another, the vines were now eager to form a chair for Gele to sit. Leaves acted as a soft cushion. "Please, my friend."

Gele nodded. By chance, his eyes swept across the wooden cabinet behind the prince. Old books covered with white linen cloth stacked neatly. The book that the prince always boasts upon wasn't in one of them. He must have kept them hidden in his ring. Gele then smiled. "As I was about to say, Prince," he said. "Smirs are our cousins. Must be because of their short ears that made them valuable to venture outside Pin'Tu. They also emit the same Magic as humans do. So they make a good spy along with Semsmirs."

"You're talking like the Elders, Gele," he said, long and pointy ears twitched. Elegant eyes, like his sword, narrowed. "Elves, Half-elves, High-elves, we're all the same. I don't understand, four months of preparations. Armies are ready. We set aside the qualms between us successors for four months—four Naknang months—"

"Prince Aesril," Gele said, interrupting Aesril's bad-mouthing.

Prince Aesril sighed. "I'm sorry, my friend. It's just... "

"Too much," Gele said, gesturing with less care. "I know, my Prince. But, it is what your Father—I mean King Ascathan had said. I think following his orders were the wisest. We elves survived because of him, because of your blood—my Prince. He cared for you. That must be it. You're his only son. So he can't let you leave the Tree of Pin'Tu."

"His only son?" Aesril said, rebutting Gele. This was his only chance to show what he feels, inside his chamber, with his only friend. "Then how about Elder Madras? Princess Gadsi was his only daughter. Yet, she was allowed to leave Pin'Tu?"

"They're Dark Elves, Prince," Gele said, bluish light shone under his eyes. Stones hung at the edges of the circular room. Although noon, it seemed that the stone was infinite to emit light. Liquid like energy swirling inside these stones. "How they managed their kin will depend on their Elder."

"Elder Madras," Prince Aesril sighed. He spun and walked toward the wooden cabinet covered with a white cloth. The cabinet was the only furniture available inside the chamber. It room looked very minimalistic. Aesril took one of the books, hardbound. Covered with red velvet, it felt old and smooth. He returned near Gele, gestured his free hand, and a vine of finger-thick sprouted from the wooden floor and formed a chair. Prince Aesril sat, and the red book with Elvish written at the very center that read 'The Travels of the South' sat on his laps. Prince Aesril looked tragic as his pointy ears withered, lowering to the point that it touched his cheeks. For elves 'The South' would mean humans: the humans, the culture of humans, or the places only humans allows. "I thought this was a chance for me to experience the outside world."

"But, my Prince," Gele retorted. Thinking his Prince sailing with winds above the loathing structures of men made his elven hair shivered in fear. What if he was caught? What if the High Prince of Elves became human slaves? Will his father regard him as one of their fallen Elves? The Blood Elves? Wood Elf Gelethorn shook the idea. By the Maker, he thought. It wasn't an idea. It is a nightmare. Isashil guide me.

"Yes, Gele?" Aesril said, crossing his legs atop another, greenish and white robe ran along with his knees. Ending, almost touching, the sleek wooden floor. He then rests the book back on his lap.

"My Prince," he said, thoughtfully. Shaking his head, prideful eyes shook the thought of his Prince's ears being cut by human blades. The thought disgusts him. Disgust humans. Yes! Disgust humans! "Humans will make a slave of us."

Prince Aesril stopped, along with his breath. Like a statute rotted with acid rain, his face sunk. He knew what Gelethorn was thinking, he knew how elves were caught, sold. Cut their hairs, ears, along with their pride. How they become slaves and how they became sources of human propagation that bred Blood Elves. Yet—

"Say Gele, how are we different from the humans?" Aesril said. Tapping the leather-bound book with his dagger-like fingers. "At least humans were vocal about it. But we? Smirs and Semsmirs were used the same way as to how humans treated their slaves."

"But," Gele said, contemplating. Foot tapping the floor. "That's the Seed of Proclamation. Our ancestor's ancestors said we: High, Wood, and Dark elves rest the highest above other elves."

A moment of silence threw Prince Aesril off the thoughts. A roar rang out Prince's Aesril's chamber. Gelethorn threw a peek between the gaps the vines had made. Outside, there, he saw a massive creature hovering in the crystal blue sky. It resembled a bird. Massive, poly-chromatic feathers flapped, creating a flurry of a cyclone—that made the chamber jolted back and forth. Beak sparkled white, and eyes were soft as cotton. It hovered in a circle outside the chamber then rested its enormous talons atop a massive moss-laden branch. The branch was then connected to a pod-like chamber. The same chamber as Prince Aesril have, but smaller in size. It ogled its soft but enormous eyes and went quiet under a massive leaf.

Gele turned his head away from the massive bird-like creature back to Prince Aesril. He continued: "They must be happy that the High Seed accepted them even after their ancestors sided with the humans."

"That was centuries ago, Gele," Prince Aesril said. Sweeping his finger against the edges of the book. "Aside from humans and Blood Elves, we forgive the rest. That's how nature decides, that's how we decide, that's how Isashil guided us."

"But... " Gelethorn said. Thinking of something entirely different. "But—"

"But," Prince Aesril added even before Gele. "But the world of humans intrigues me. The structures of a country called Griffith"—turning a page at the center of the leather-bound book—"the dynamics of the Titan's Cay, and the technology of an Empire called Zolin formerly known as Jezrath. Like us, humans were boundless of creation."

"Creation which led them to wage war with each other," Gelethorn remarked. "Stupid and pitiful. They could die for all I care, and I would be glad t dig a hole for them. Even if it tore my nails apart."

Aesril closed the book. He looked above the crawling vines, blue light shone away from the stone. Then bright light gleamed his eyes; his eyes blazed like fire. He then looked at Gelethorn with a smile reaching his ears. "Gele," he said. "How well do you trust me?"

"You don't even need to say it, my Prince," Gele said with respect. He stood and bowed. "What's your command, my Prince?"

"Remember when we're five-century old?"

Gele nodded. "Too many memories, but one lingered in my thoughts," he said, embarrassed. "Was it the time when Elder Calanye punished us by throwing at the very bottom of Pin'Tu?"

Prince Aesril turned red thinking of how he and Gele as a kid threw an eye at one of their aids, out of curiosity they visited a hot spring; Aesril shook his head, blushing. "It wasn't that," he said. "Remember when we dig our way out the mudded prison? Remember how we discovered an old ruin that leads us outside Pin'Tu? I believe it was still there, and I believe we covered it with Terra Magic that only us knew about it."

"Us?" Gele asked, and though he knew where the conversation was going. "Six of us needed to combine our mana to cover a hole as big as s palace. And—wait! Isashil! Don't tell me—"

"Yes," Aesril said smiling. Now, his finger tapping the book with rhythm. "We're leaving Pin'Tu."

"My Prince!" Gele said, retracting the bow and took a small step forward. "Then what? There's only two of us."

"You're worth a thousand warrior Gele, a Hunter as what humans of Griffith called them," Aesril said with pride. He walked close to Gele and leaned his slender arm above the honest Wood Elf shoulder, book clipped to his side. He smiled looking at Gele. "Then we go O'rriadt, find what is behind the Gate, find our home, and be free."