After a day of swiftly traveling eastward, Eolande and Rantas had finally reached their destination. It would take far longer for your average adventurer, but they were far from average.
"Remind me again why I couldn't just go ahead without you," Eolande grumbled, clearly annoyed by Rantas slowing her down.
Panting slightly, Rantas shot back with a touch of irritation. "Without me, do you really think they'd trust you? Just waltzing in after centuries, claiming the Vermilion Flame has returned?"
Eolande just rolled her eyes, and turned her attention to their surroundings instead. It had been a long time since her last visit, even though this was her childhood home. Or at least the closest thing she had to one.
Deep in the heart of Eldoria, hidden somewhere in the rolling hills, stood an old black fortress. Seeped in formations and traps, it was close to impregnable. Its walls were layered thick with history, with some dating back to before the name Eldoria had ever been uttered.
Its outer walls were tall and imposing, without any marks of battle. They served more as a warning to those lucky enough to tell the tale.
Maybe it was the elves' wish for some part of their lives to never change that kept this fort standing for so long. It served as an eternal bastion, unchanging through the crashing waves of time.
To Eolande though, the unchanging fort served as a reminder that its inhabitants were even more unchanging. Anything diverging from tradition was harshly reprimanded, even if the leader was spearheading the change.
'I've been avoiding this place for too long,' Eolande thought. She knew every stone inside this place, but now it felt foreign and unwelcoming.
A solid iron gate stood before them, waiting for the right words to open up. Eolande knew them of course, but she hesitated.
"It's still the same phrase, have you forgotten it?" Rantas asked after observing her for a while. He seemed eager to enter for some reason.
Eolande shook her head, and took a deep breath to prepare herself. "Shadows hide us, blades arm us, wind covers us, and moonlight guides us."
The heavy gate made a familiar 'clunk' sound, and slowly swung open. It revealed the outer courtyard of the fort, where some young elves were training with their daggers.
They looked over at Eolande and Rantas, and curiosity was clear on their faces. But speaking out of turn was harshly punished at that age, so they all kept quiet.
'This all felt so normal once, but now it seems almost barbaric…' Eolande thought, thinking back to her own youth in this place. She had been treated a bit better than others due to her talent, but her individual pride was reprimanded time and time again. She cast a final pitying glance at the young elves before continuing into the main fort.
'I did try to change it…' she thought, trying to silence the part of her that wanted to help the poor kids. But had she really tried? Or was it just a wish to silence her guilt that drove her back then?
Shaking off these reflections, Eolande steeled herself for the upcoming confrontation, stepping through the gate into the heart of the fort.
"Want me to let him know you're coming?" Rantas inquired, his sudden cooperativeness catching Eolande off guard. Was he eager to see the unfolding drama, or did he harbor hopes of her rejoining the clan? 'In that case he'll be disappointed,' Eolande mused, certain she would never return.
"He already knows I'm here, there's no point," Eolande responded. Her voice was steady as she continued towards the main hall, mentally bracing herself for the encounter.
The walk through the halls were filled with memories as well, as she knew it would be. These memories came a bit later in her life though, after she had completed her training. That's when she was allowed to walk through the main halls as an official member. And the higher she climbed in the ranks, the closer to the main hall she got.
Finally, she walked through the entryway to the main hall. It was the only decorated room in the entire fort, signifying its importance. Colored glass adorned the walls, casting a spectral dance of moonlit colors across the room. Candelabras supplemented the moon's faint glow, bathing the room in a soft light. At the center, surrounded by elite assassins, sat her brother on a chair that symbolized his command.
He shared Eolande's blonde hair and hazel eyes, yet his were colder, more distant. His expression didn't change after seeing her enter, confirming her suspicion that her arrival was expected.
"Dear sister, I'm surprised to see you here again. I thought you would never return, given the speech you gave when you left." His voice was calm, devoid of any discernible emotion.
Eolande observed him closely. 'He's learned to mask his feelings,' she thought, a tinge of sadness coloring her thoughts. Eolantas had always struggled to hide his emotions from her, and seeing him so composed was disheartening.
Her gaze shifted to the others in the room. Familiar faces, some of whom had risen in the ranks since her departure, looked back at her. They weren't friends exactly, but she had known some of them since their youth.
Eolantas caught her looking and scanned the room briefly. "Everyone, leave us. My sister and I have much to discuss."
Rantas, standing beside Eolande, hesitated. "Leader, you don't need any info from the mission?"
"All details have been reported, Rantas. You've done well," Eolantas acknowledged with a nod.
"Thank you, leader!" Rantas said, bowing briefly. He turned around and glanced nervously at Eolande before walking out of the door.
"Now we have the room to ourselves. So, you returned." His demeanor didn't change at all after he was left alone with Eolande, which made her feel like there was a great distance between them.
Eolande exhaled a weary sigh. "Well, I'm not here because I want to be, Tas."
"Oh, we're still using nicknames? Well then, Ande, why are you here?"
"I imagine you can guess part of it at least. I had to chase Rantas here after he attacked Lady Selene, and he was cooperating with Dortfell to invade Thundrel…" She paused, searching his face for any flicker of reaction, but he remained impassive. "Have you lost your damn mind?" She yelled, slightly more emotionally than she had meant to.
A smile finally cracked Eolantas's stoic facade. "Why should our allegiances concern you? As I see it, Dortfell is the winning side in this conflict. Especially with our help."
"They're tyrants!" Eolande's voice rose, her hands clenching into fists. "Who cares about the chances of victory, letting the attacking side win only leads to more bloodshed in the future. We both know that this clan at its core is one that maintains peace, not one of bloodshed."
Eolantas held her gaze, a contemplative look crossing his features. "Decisions like these rest with the leader. It's a shame you gave the position to me." There was a slight smile on his lips, like he was trying to subtly hint at something.
"I gave it to you because the clan never changes. You're no real leader, anyone sitting in that chair is only a figurehead." And then it all made sense to her. Nothing here had changed a bit, even after centuries. "Wait… You're not on Dorfell's side after all, are you?"
Eolande understood now after returning, that the clan never sided with Dortfell. They merely pretended to. Anything else would be going against their tradition, and that simply didn't happen.
Eolantas's smile grew wry. "... You got me, Ande. As you say, we're just pretending to side with Dortfell. The king asked us to act as traitors, to get in Dortfell's good graces. Thundrell and Lady Selene were sacrifices to ensure Dortfell would trust us, so we could have a bigger impact in the future."
"Sacrifices?" Eolande's voice was tinged with disbelief and anger. "So the king lost his mind then! The generals would never consent to such a plan."
"Well, of course your beloved never agreed. He's currently in a self-imposed imprisonment as a form of protest. But the others reluctantly agreed. They're worried about this war, and even though Lady Selene would be a great loss, the potential gain was much greater."
Eolande's expression darkened. "That's more believable... Damn, they're so quick to sacrifice others like that. But the plan failed."
"Well, the king is nervous now. We're still waiting for a response from Dortfell, but after the Vermilion Flame showed up and ruined their invasion they've been quiet. It will be harder for them to trust us now, after both Lady Selene survived and the fleet was lost. We're hoping they see it as the miracle it was, since the flame has been gone for 300 years."
Eolande's eyes widened in shock. "What, she survived? But that poison should have killed her for sure!"
"Yes, the holder of the flame used it to purify the poison somehow. Lady Selene will be back at full power in a few months it seems," Eolantas confirmed.
Eolande breathed a sigh of relief at that. Even if Lady Selene was unable to protect the city now, it was unlikely that Dortfell would send another fleet. Especially because of Lilly.
"... And what are your intentions for the Flame?" Eolande asked, her voice tinged with concern.
Eolantas studied her expression then, as if he was searching her soul. "...I know you care for her, Ande. I believe our job was completed. The fact that the flame survived somehow is out of our hands. Now it only pains me to look back at the lives we took in vain."
"So you have matured after all."
Eolantas's gaze turned distant, lost in memories. "Even if the change you wanted around here can't happen, you still changed some of us. I know that job was the start of your doubts, and I don't blame you. 'The Vermilion Flame lives on'… We never should have doubted it."
"So you promise to leave her alone?" Eolande pressed, needing confirmation.
He nodded, and held up two fingers. "I promise, on two conditions. First, our role in her family's demise stays hidden. Second, ensure she remains unaware of our involvement in the current plot. If she turns against the king, you know who we'll side with."
"But the Vermilion Flame will find a way to continue. There's no point in attacking her, it will only stoke the flames of retribution in the future."
"Then please make sure she doesn't become a problem. If we have to choose between being attacked in the future or now it's an easy choice."
"... I'll take care of it."
She didn't have much of a choice. Her priority now would be to go back and keep Lilly safe from any attacks coming from Dortfell. It pained her to have to keep secrets from Lilly, but given the circumstances she might not have a choice. She found it hard to say how Lilly would react to any of those secrets, especially the one related to her bloodline.
One final risk kept her from feeling completely safe though. "What happens if Dortfell asks you to attack her?"
Eolantas's response was firm. "We will have to refuse. I'll say it like it is, that our former leader is protecting the target. And you know I never break a promise."
Eolande nodded, a mix of relief and gratitude settling within her. "I know."
As she prepared to leave, Eolande's mind was already turning to Lilly. The weight of her new responsibilities, the secrets she must keep, and the protective role she had to play loomed large. Yet, amidst it all, she was determined to shield Lilly, no matter the cost.
Eolande turned to leave, but Eolantas's voice, softer now, stopped her. "Ande, I... I've missed you."
The words hung in the air, a rare admission of vulnerability. Eolande paused, looking back over her shoulder, her expression softening. "I've missed you too, Tas."
After a brief moment of silent connection, Eolande added, "How is Grandfather?"
Eolantas's eyes reflected a mix of respect and nostalgia. "He's as strong-willed as ever, still commanding respect and fear in equal measure. But he often speaks of you, wondering where your journeys have taken you."
A smile, tinged with a hint of sadness, crossed Eolande's face. "That's good to hear. Give him my regards when you see him."
Turning away, Eolande felt a complex tapestry of emotions: the pain of secrets kept, the warmth of familial bonds, and the steadfast resolve to protect Lilly. As she stepped out of the fort, she felt relief, gratitude, and a quiet longing for the ties she had left behind.