Wonderful 25.

The Principality Of Maladimbáh...

Mira Reinholt the mage gets up off the bed he's been having a nap on, and makes his way over to the large open windows that face south. It's early evening, and even though it's summer, the weather is cloudy and cold here in the mountains of the elven principality of Maladimbáh.
Looking out the windows of the castle like tower that's been his prison since arriving here in Maladimbáh nearly a month ago, the once powerful mage gets a pretty clear view away to the south, while behind the tower to the north, are the snow capped mountains of the elven principality.
Even with a cloudy dusk, the Vexilian mage in exile can see for miles upon miles to the south, beyond the foothills below, and past them to the nomads plains further to the south.
With the daytime being very warm here in the mountains, the mage Reinholt would hate to think how hot it is out on the vast nomads plains during the day, he figures it would be extraordinarily hot.
The spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil in the Southlands, steps out of the wide doors to one side of the windows, and out on the balcony, the mage who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, takes a few steps to stand beside the balcony garden.
Mira Reinholt glances to the left and the right, and sees two of his guards, one at either end of the balcony. The mage who was once the most powerful of his kind of his generation, to be found anywhere in the Southlands. Quickly strips a couple of small leaves off one of the plants in the garden.
The exiled Vexilian mage feigns a yawn after sticking the leaves in his mouth without either guard seeing him do so. And though the leaves taste absolutely disgustung and acrid, he chews them thoroughly, then swallows them as he moves forward, and leans on the balcony rail, and looks all around him in the fading light of the early evening.
The highly skilled swordmaster looks down to the base of the escarpment the tower is upon, down there is a small village, which is indicative of the settlements found throughout the principality of Maladimbáh. There are no large towns or cities throughout the elven principality, just hamlets, villages, and small towns, all close to the castle, and keep like towers that belong to the elven nobility.
In the fading light, the mage Reinholt looks away to the east, where a half a dozen miles away, he can just make out another tower, at the end of a mountain valley. There's a small town near it, at a river crossing. The once powerful mage has learnt that the two nobleborn families who live fairly close to one another, don't exactly get along.
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster stands outside until it's properly dark, and turns and makes his way back inside, glancing at the plant in the balcony garden, that he's been eating the leaves from when he can.
Mira Reinholt, who when he was younger, and lived on the far eastern coast of the continent, where for a couple of years he worked as an apothecary. Identified the plant from memory, and has been sneaking leaves off it and eating them for a reason. They lessen the effects of the potion he's still being forced to take.
The once powerful mage still can't reach his magic, but the side effects are no longer taking a toll upon him, though he has to keep up the ruse that they are.
Once inside, and he's lit a few lamps with a taper, the door to the large open room opens "Mage" says Harrick as the Vexilian mage in exile puts a log of wood on the fire. "Mage" says Ginden who follows Harrick into the room, the two of them are carrying trays of food and drink, and the swordmaster Reinholt nods to the two human mercenaries who have been guarding him since just after he and his captor arrived in the south of the region of Belinswae.
The three of them sit at the table in the room, and after noticing something on one of the boards on the trays, Mira Reinholt the mage says "Meat?" the spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil in the Southlands adds "Bats?". "They are" replies Harrick who continues with "Got them from the river town down the valley to the east" he then adds "There's a few humans down there, and they go hunting in the caves in the mountains that way".
The mage Reinholt lifts his eyebrows at that, then says "Our hosts let you go down there?" the once powerful mage then adds "And their neighbours let you visit?" Harrick shrugs his shoulders, and says "We're human, they don't care about us" Ginden nods his head in agreement, and the swordmaster Reinholt dryly says "Well obviously" which causes the two mercenary guards to laugh.
As the three of them eat their dinner, which comprises of vegetables, fruit, edible leaves, berries and nuts, breads, rice and the bats that have been roasted over coals. Mira Reinholt who never thought he would ever get along with his main guards, glances outside, where he can just make out the pair of elven guards on the balcony.
The once powerful mage wonders what they think about the three humans eating meat, he figures they probably think it's disgusting, and what they would expect from typical human behaviour. The swordmaster Reinholt who is without his sword, and has been ever since he was captured in the port of Renoa in the north of the Southlands. Shakes his head, and once again wonders how the hell he has ended up here in the elven principality of Maladimbáh.
Bad fucking luck, that's how, the mage Reinholt dryly thinks to himself, the spellcaster from south of the equator then silently adds, and because of a pretty determined elf too.
"Where is she?" asks Mira Reinholt, who then adds "Fighting with her father again?" Harrick just rolls his eyes, while Ginden, the younger and larger of the two mercenaries from the south of Belinswae, sourly says "More than likely" he then mutters "I can't believe they haven't killed each other yet" both Mira as well as Harrick nod in agreement to that.
Mira's captor, Kaldeàlil Haldéilv has come home and confronted her father. And though she isn't nobleborn as such, she is an elven magic user, due to the fact that her father raped her mother. When the attractive elven maid accused him of it, he couldn't refute the evidence. For she looks the perfect mix of him and her mother, and she's almost as powerful as him magically.
Kaldeàlil who took her father's name when she was young when she discovered who he was, forced lord Haldéilv to take her in. He reluctantly agreed as he didn't want to face the shame in polite society of the crime he committed when was younger, from which Kaldeàlil came from.
He also took her in, for she agreed to help him out in his ongoing fued with his neighbours to the east, the Walashàelé family. For he needs all the help he can get in dealing with them, and their long time rivalry that includes everything from rights to land, to trade with the human townsmen in the region of Belinswae to the southwest.
The mage Reinholt who one morning after they just arrived in the principality of Maladimbáh and they took up residence in lord Haldéilv's large, keep like tower. Cheekily suggested to his captor that she leave off giving him the potion that restricts him from using his magic.
So that he'll deal with her father's rivals. That earned the once powerful mage a slap across the face.
Says to the mercenaries Harrick and Ginden "Beats me why they don't just go to war with the Walashàelé's" the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster continues with "The way they go at one another, you'd think it was a damn game they're playing".
"That's how they look at it" says Harrick with a shrug of his shoulders as he puts various cheeses upon his plate, the older of the two mercenaries who has traveled to the principality of Maladimbáh a number of times, continues with "Hell, they hardly ever get into a physical confrontation, let alone a magical one" he then adds "They would rather ruin one another through their trading concerns, or by shaming them out in what they would call elven decency".
Hence, why Kaldeàlil has the upper hand over her father, Mira Reinholt thinks to himself, who after taking a sip of wine from his goblet, says "Elves from where I'm from, are a lot different than these lot here" the two mercenaries who know the mage is from somewhere south of the equator, look at him with raised eyebrows when he tells them "Last time i was in an elven principality in the Southlands, they were basically in the middle of a civil war over the succession to the throne".
"That does sound a little different than the elves here" says Harrick, Mira Reinholt nods then says "More direct" the once powerful mage then silently adds, more my style.
The three humans continue to chat as they have their dinner, with Harrick and Ginden, both typical in appearance of the people of the south of Belinswae along the coast, tan or dark skinned, with dark hair. Telling the mage Reinholt what they got up to today. The Vexilian mage in exile, who can only go down to the village below and no further, listens with interest as the two mercenaries tell him of their ride to the nearby lands of the Walashàelé family in the mountain valley to the east.
The swordmaster Reinholt who is a little sick of his gilded prison, would like to get out and about too. But he knows that won't ever happen. For he's bait for a trap, for whoever it is that will try and free him. Who Kaldeàlil Haldéilv believes will be the person she's been after for the last three years.
The spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands, knows that his captor is expecting Helbe the elven thief to find them. But he highly doubts she, along with the help of her father and his family and resources, will be able to deal with the elven princeling from Laerel in the Southlands.
That's if the thieving prince even bothers to turn up and break me free, Mira Reinholt the mage dryly thinks to himself, who then makes a face of disgust after taking a bite from a wedge of cheese, he then says "Bloody hell, what do they wash the rind of that cheese in, piss?" both Harrick and Ginden chuckle, and the younger mercenary guard Ginden says "It's why we left that one on the tray mage". "Bastards" sourly mutters the swordmaster from south of the equator, which causes the two guards to chuckle again as the exiled Vexilian mage washes the foul taste in his mouth away by drinking all of the wine in his goblet.
After they finish dinner, and they put the empty plates, cups, goblets and bowls on the trays, Harrick puts a small vial on the table infront of the mage Reinholt, and Mira opens it and downs it's contents, making a face as he does so "Tastes worse than that damn cheese" mutters the highly skilled swordmaster who then says "You would think after two months i would get used to that disgustung taste".
"Bad?" asks Harrick after he takes the empty vial and pockets it "It sure is, at least she could give it a cleaner taste" replies the mage Reinholt with a shake of his head, then says to Harrick "You should try a taste of it one day".
"Hell no mage, I've seen what it does to you" says the older of the two mercenary guards "It won't effect you, you're not a spellcaster" dryly says Mira Reinholt "Still, rather not taste how vile it is" says Harrick "Chicken" utters the once powerful mage, which causes Harrick to sourly smile and Ginden to chuckle.
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster gets up out of the chair, takes a few steps, slightly stumbles another one on purpose, and leans on the table for a little bit.
"You okay?" asks Harrick, the mage Reinholt nods, and in a slow and deliberate manner, he says "Fine".
The once powerful mage makes it to the bed, stumbling once more on purpose on the way there, then Harrick says "Night mage" which is repeated by Ginden, and the Vexilian mage in exile eventually answers them with "Night" making sure to say it slowly, and drawn out.
Once the mercenaries have put out the lights, and the only light in the large room comes from the fireplace, and they shut the balcony doors, then leave. Mira Reinholt as he sits upon the bed, in the near darkness, totally unaffected by the side effects of the potion that blocks him from his magical powers, he thinks and plots, as to how he can escape from his captor if no one turns up to break him free . . . . . .