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Side Story: The Half-elf Part 1

What need does the king have of me, Raelor thought. He was walking through the drawbridge that leads to the throne hall of the king, but a single droplet of an unexpected occurrence disrupted the equilibrium. A gooey substance descended from an unknown trajectory, its impact marked by a fleeting touch on the cheek of Raelor.

Instinctively, Raelor's hand reached to his cheek, encountering a tactile sensation that elicited a mixture of revulsion and confusion. The goo clung stubbornly to his skin, an intrusion that seemed incongruous amidst the hallowed surroundings. The inconceivability of such an occurrence was matched only by the visceral distaste it invoked within him.

Turning with a mixture of curiosity and disdain, Raelor's gaze met the accusatory stare of a palace guard. The guard's visage, a reflection of undisguised disgust, bore testament to the repulsion that had spurred the unsolicited assault. The tableau of their confrontation lingered in the air, a silent exchange laden with unvoiced sentiments.

"What an abomination," the guard's voice, dripping with venom, broke the silence with a harsh edge that reverberated within the confines of the hall. His words were a cutting reminder that the shadows of prejudice could cast themselves even within the sanctified space of the palace. The venomous words seemed to seep from his lips, a testament to a mindset entrenched in ignorance and intolerance.

As if embodying the very embodiment of disdain, the guard continued, spitting as if to further underscore his disdain. "King Terenas is truly kind to even let a half-elf step foot in the palace." The venomous declaration hung in the air, an insidious thread that seemed to poison the sanctity of the moment. The weight of the guard's words, dripping with scorn, reverberated through the hall.

Raelor curbs his hands into a fist, he stared at the guard as if he was ready to pounce upon him, and yet he could do nothing… but strode forward, knowing that whatever the king needs to be done, he must do. For the king had allowed one like him into servitude in the palace. Entering the throne hall, he was met with disgust from every guard and those ambassadors who stood atop the balconies. "My loyal servant," The king greeted, and Raelor kneeled in response. After a formal greeting, he was allowed to lift his head, and there he saw, the indifference in the eyes of King Terenas who sat on his throne. He realized that even a kind king is not beyond the confines of prejudice.

"Accompany the grandson of Anduin into the Elven lands," King Terenas decreed, his voice a tapestry of regal authority woven with a hint of diplomatic wisdom. The words carried the weight of a monarch's command, resonating within the hallowed halls of the palace like the echoes of history. As his gaze settled on the figure before him, a sense of purpose infused his words.

"The child will be but an ambassador in name," the King continued, his voice carrying a note of assurance that extended an understanding of the task's true nature. The gravity of this mission was evident, a diplomatic endeavor that held the potential to mend the tenuous bonds between their realms. "You will do much of the work," the King's words, while couched in a tone of instruction, were tempered with a recognition of the challenges that lay ahead.

"I trust that the elves would be much more welcoming through the blood that runs in you," the King's assertion held within it a thread of both foresight and hope. However, Raelor knew the truth, the elves' treatment of hybrids was much harsher than the guards could ever do here.

Thereafter, he found himself in a retinue of guards and tidesages travelling towards the eastern roads, though the Lordaeron guards that accompanied them showed much disgust at first, the welcoming treatment from the Stormsongs and a reprimand from the young Lord, Thorwin Stormsong, himself had changed their treatment into a much better course. Soon, he was able to integrate himself into the group and even forge a friendship with a Stormsong guard named Martin. It was the first after many years that he was able to be himself, to be free from all those disgusting eyes.

The days in Quel'Thalas, however was one of coldness and scrutiny, even the bright smiling Thorwin had lost his shine. The times at the elven court were not better, even much worse than the times at Lordaeron. They were the same, the spits were replaced with physical assaults, even one such occurrence had left a deep scar in his heart when an elf had suddenly struck him down out of nowhere in the streets.

"Vile fiend," the elf shouted. Many passersby gathered, but they were only onlookers that found its amusement in a mistreatment of someone… they detest. He continued receiving the punches from the elf, even finding despair that no one would come to help him. He was wrong, and right there he saw his human friend approaching with a hurried pace and bashed the elf onto the ground with a shield.

When the fighting had stopped, a hand extended in his vision, Martin gestured for him to accept it and so he did. "Lord Thorwin had allowed me to step in," he said. Raelor turned towards the figure of a boy, and beside him was the newly appointed elven ranger, Sylvanas Windrunner. Soon after, elven guards came and dispersed the crowd by the orders of Sylvanas and the man who had assaulted him was put into jail. Raelor often wondered that if King Terenas was put in the place of Thorwin, would he act based upon the face of the royal family or concern over his servants. He didn't dare to conclude his thoughts even if he knew beneath his thoughts that the king would not allow a torn between two kingdoms occur because of a mere scribe.

One night, he was able to converse with Thorwin privately, he had asked a question of whys and when he had heard the answer, he was left with more questions, not for Thorwin but for himself.

"You are a friend, Raelor. Maybe, that alone can speak for itself."

When the war ended, he had begged Thorwin to allow his servitude to the Stormsongs, and found himself not just a mere servant, but one trusted by his Lord.