The Princeling 229.

The next morning, and a yawning Lothalis Miladelè is making his way back to the Aelvilth family townhouse. The elven swordmaster who is with a squad of house guards, including his uncle Palathenellé, are on horseback as they make their way through the large park in the centre of the city of Parlindellè, the capital of the principality of Alínlae.
Swordmaster Miladelè, who also happens to be an elven warder, looks back through the trees, and across the long street that runs along the southside of the large park, it's where they've just come from, where the ruins of the Karlavilt family townhouse lie smouldering in the early morning sunshine.
Lothalis Miladelè slightly shakes his head, as he never thought that's a sight he would see, the Karlavilt family townhouse burnt to the ground, then again, the elven swordmaster never thought that the Karlavilt family would've been wiped out, which happened to them last night during the battle that took place just a bit further south in the city.
"Never thought i would see that" quietly says Palathenellé Lothalis as he voices what his nephew was just thinking "Nor i uncle" quietly says Lothalis Miladelè as they both look back towards the destroyed townhouse of the Karlavilt family, the usurpers who wanted to put the head of their family on the throne of Alínlae.
Nephew and uncle look ahead again, and the swordmaster Miladelè quietly says "Our lord's plan worked" though they, along with about everyone else didn't know all of lord Alvarillé Aelvilth's plans, especially not the attack on the Karlavilt family townhouse. They had complete confidence in what the head of house Aelvilth came up with last night, though in all fairness, lord Aelvilth didn't actually come up with much of what took place during the battle last night.
"Word is that it was that ork, and a bunch of goblins who attacked the Karlavilt's place during the night" quietly says the warder Miladelè as they ride northwards through the trees as they head back to the Aelvilth family townhouse "Doesn't surprise me now" says Palathenellé the veteran house guard, who then adds in a dry tone of voice "No wonder it's burnt down to the ground" Lothalis Miladelè nods his head in agreement with his uncle, then he quietly says "Seems our lord doesn't mind hiring those mercenaries" Palathenellé glances at his nephew, but doesn't say anything as they continue on their way.
The ride through the rest of the park to the Aelvilth family townhouse is fairly quiet, with nephew and uncle, along with the rest of the squad, not saying that much. The only time anything of interest happens is when they ride by some trees which have a troop of monkey's in them, sunning themselves on this fine, clear winter's morning, who hoot and screech at the passing riders for disturbing the morning peace.
They ride out onto the long street on the north side of the large park that dominates the center of the city of Parlindellè, and as they ride across to the Aelvilth family townhouse, something grabs the attention of swordmaster Lothalis Miladelè, who looks away to the right, and slows down his horse.
"What is it?" asks Palathenellé Miladelè as they approach the front gates of the Aelvilth family townhouse, a townhouse of one of just a few noble houses that aren't to the south of the large park, or to the east of it, further behind the Palace of the Prince, which is directly east of the park.
"Oh nothing" replies the warder Miladelè as they ride through the gates that are opened for them, once in the front courtyard, the elven swordmaster who is also the head of the small squad of personal bodyguards of Lelalwynn Aelvilth, dismounts and hands the reins of his horse to a member of the squad, and asks him to stable the animal, Lothalis Miladelè then walks away.
As he heads to the closest of the stables, Palathenellé looks around and frowns as he wonders where his nephew Lothalis has got to. The veteran house guard didn't see it, but his nephew has just gone out the sally port beside the front gates of the Aelvilth family townhouse, and made his way outside.
Once on the street, Lothalis Miladelè the elven swordmaster turns left, and starts walking east, he puts a gloved hand beneath his cloak, and briefly touches the hilt of his sword, he crosses the entrance of the long lane that runs along this side of the Aelvilth family townhouse. He almost runs infront of the next building along, then quickly rounds the corner to the left, he walks down a quiet street, making his way to a shop that's just opened, where the proprietor is out the front of it, bringing some wooden boxes into his business.
The elven swordmaster asks the shopkeeper a quick question when he comes back outside again, getting the answer he was hoping for, Lothalis Miladelè thanks the business owner, then the elven warder continues down the quiet street, as he does, the swordmaster Miladelè murmurs to himself "You're not getting away this time".
"Where?" asks Tamric Drubine "I don't know" asks Mira Reinholt the mage as they sit at one of the tables in the morning sunshine infront of a small tavern, they've picked this place, because it gives them a partial view away to their right, of the noble townhouse that lord Farque, and the newest member of the group, Dalinvardél Tanith, as well as a hidden Helbe the elven thief, have just entered.
Sitting on the ground next to the table that the mage from the city-state of Vexil and the nobleborn boy from the kingdom of Sarcrin are sitting at, is Dorc da Orc and his pet pig Piggy. The ork warleader is eating a large wheel of cheese, and drinking from a barrel of ale as he waits for his breakfast to be cooked, the large ork is making noises of appreciation as he loudly chews upon the large round of cheese that weighs well over a hundred pounds.
At the next table is Caerik Alsair and Lisell Maera, the two of them are quietly talking, and the former air sailor from the city-state of Tuledare, like the mage Reinholt at the other table, is sipping from a glass of wine as they wait for the breakfast to arrive from within the tavern.
"What do you think of him?" quietly asks the former heir of castle Drubine in the north of the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin "Dalinvardél" adds Tamric Drubine "He seems fine" replies the spellcaster who also happens to be a highly skilled swordmaster. Who also happens to know from Helbenthril Raendril, who had read the mind of the newest member of the group, knows that Dalinvardél Tanith is highly skilful at certain things, infact the elven prince thinks he would make a pretty good assassin in time.
"I hope he fits in with us" quietly says the nobleborn boy from the kingdom of Sarcrin "I'm sure he will" says the Vexilian mage in exile, the swordmaster Reinholt pauses for a moment, then he adds "Eventually" as next to them, Dorkindle burps loudly after taking a swig from the barrel of ale he's got.
They glance up as Riley Hait the mercenary ranger comes around the corner to the left, the human ranger from the elven principality of Envadarlen has just walked around the block, so to speak, as they wait for their orders to arrive. The ranger Hait who is in actual fact, a hordes outrider from the southern tundra, takes a seat at the small table where Caerik and Lisell are sitting, just then the tavern keeper comes out and delivers the first of their orders.
The mage Reinholt breathes a sigh of contentment as he bites into a rasher of fried bacon, while a drooling Dorc da Orc watches on, the once powerful mage wryly smiles as he glances sideways at the large ork, then the Vexilian mage in exile slightly frowns as he senses something, something that's vaguely familiar, a weapon.
The swordmaster Reinholt looks to the corner that the ranger Hait came around a short time ago, and he quietly says to the others "Someone's approaching" after sniffing, Dorc da Orc grunts then says "A fucken plant eater" followed by "One of them cunts in that army we was in". Mira Reinholt, whose hood is off his head at the moment, nods, as he thought he recognized the magical weapon he can sense, the spellcaster who was once more powerful than any other mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands, quickly looks at Riley Hait, and says to the mercenary ranger "It's that".
Lothalis Miladelè walks around the corner to his left, then stops, a small group of people sitting at a couple of tables infront of a small tavern, all look at him, as he says in the elven language "Riley" followed by "We've got unfinished business". The elven swordmaster who is in service of house Aelvilth, who a few years ago, returned to Alínlae after living and working in the elven principality of Envadarlen, flips his cloak open, and puts a gloved hand on the hilt of his sword. "And in unfinished business, i mean your death" says the warder Miladelè as he stares at the mercenary ranger that he helped to raise and train.
"Fuck" mutters Riley Hait the mercenary ranger in the hordes dialect of the southern tundra, Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman glances at the others, and the mage Reinholt just slightly shrugs in return. By the tundra gods, might as well deal with this shit, Zubutai Timaginson thinks to himself, as he knows that Riley Hait, before he took possession of the mercenary ranger's body, killed the head warder of Envadarlen for some reason, a rightful reason from what Riley aka Zubutai has worked out. Not so in the opinion of the elven swordmaster standing at the corner of the lane, who thinks the ranger Hait murdered Galucéan Salavín, the warder commander of Envadarlen.
With a slight sigh, the ranger Hait gets up off the wooden bench he's on, the mercenary ranger says "That's alright Dorc, I've got this" in response to the large ork saying to him "You wants me to kill the cunt dead for you?". Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman looks at Mira Reinholt and says to the once powerful mage "Unlike last night, stay out of this" the mercenary ranger is still a little bitter that the mage Reinholt interfered in the fight he had with his uncle Timur Changataison.
The ranger Hait steps out further into the lane, and draws his shortsword, while the swordmaster Miladelè makes his way into the lane, and draws his own sword, the two of them are about thirty feet apart as they stare at one another. "Let's do this then" says Lothalis Miladelè who has waited more than three years for this moment "Yes, let's" says Riley Hait as he lifts the traditional black hordes cloth from around his neck, and covers the lower half of his face . . . . . .