The Homecoming 12.

The Streets...

Walking along a street in the city of Leeabra, Helbe the elven thief briefly stops and looks around to see where he is. The young elven noble slightly nods his hooded head once he recognises where he is, then he continues on his way.
The elven magic user passes through a quiet square, then makes his way along a lane. He exits it, and crosses a wide street, one of many here in the southeast of the city. The elven princeling goes through an archway and enters a square. This one busier than the one he went through previously.
He goes across the square, and at the northeast quarter of it, he rounds the corner onto a street.
The young noble from the elven principality of Laerel walks behind a trio of tradesmen, who are quietly chatting away about their business. In this case wine, as they're merchants from the south of the kingdom.
As they head right across the street, the elven masterthief turns left and opens a door, and enters a small tavern. One of the more expensive one's to be found anywhere in the city.
The grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel after closing the door behind him, looks quickly around, then walks across to a small table in one corner of the tavern. There he sits down opposite the large, heavily armoured figure sitting at the table.
"Got any new information?" asks lord Farque who speaks in the royal elven language "Nothing new" is the reply of Helbe the elven thief in the same language. The undead warlord sitting opposite him, slightly nods his full helmed head, then says "Well that's that then" the heavily armoured deathlord adds "We'll be heading east then".
"Looks like it" says the young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel, who then asks "Now?".
"Might as well" says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who after a slight pause, continues with "Let's go and find this war engineer who may or may not follow the old druidic ways in the east of the kingdom".
The elven spellcaster nods his hooded head in agreement, then he looks at the deathlord of Farque, who asks him "Where's the mage?".
"I had Narladene go and find him" says prince Helbenthril Raendril who continues in a mutter with "Since i can't locate him nowadays because of that damn amulet he wears".
The elven masterthief then adds "I told her to tell him, to meet us back here" the undead being, who is the lord of the death realm, nods his full helmed head, then asks "Which way?".
"North" is the reply of the elven magic user, who continues with "She went off towards the second domain". The heavily armoured deathlord who is also known as Draugadrottin to the people of his lands, slightly nods then senses away to the north through the capital city of the kingdom of Druvic.
It's in no time that the undead warlord locates the unique lifeform of Narladene the ground pixie, who is heading in this direction.
"I've found that gnat of yours" quietly says lord Farque, who then adds "She's heading back this way, fast" he pauses for a moment then says "By herself".
Helbe the elven thief who has just ordered a glass of wine from a passing serving woman, sits up straight in his chair, and looks at the large, heavily armoured figure sitting on the otherside of the small table, and quietly asks him "Mira?".
For a response, the lord and ruler of the lands Farque slightly shakes his full helmed head, and he senses northwards through the city. Sensing all life, as well as death, searching for a particular spellcaster that he knows well.
It's not too long before he finds the individual in question "Found him" quietly says the heavily armoured deathlord who slightly frowns behind the full visor of his helm.
"He's not" quietly asks Helbe the elven thief "No, he's alive" says the undead warlord who momentarily pauses before adding "He's not exactly moving though" lord Farque then says "He's basically in the same spot".
The elven princeling from Laerel can think of a number of reasons as to why that is, and he comes up with the most obvious one "Injured, wounded?" asks the elven magic user.
"No" is the answer of lord Farque, so the young elven noble asks him the next most obvious reason "In a cell?".
"Most likely" is the response from the lord of the death realm, who continues with "He's probably being held in a prison of some kind" he then adds in a slight mutter "What the fuck have you been up to this time mage?".
The elven magic user slightly winces at the predicament his fellow spellcaster is in at the moment. As he does, Narladene the ground pixie appears, after coming up through the floor of the tavern, and through the table they're sitting at.
"Mira's been captured" says a near breathless Narladene the ground pixie in the elven language as she appears next to the right elbow of the elven princeling that she's attached to.
Lord Farque and Helbe the elven thief look at one another, then the heavily armoured deathlord says in a slightly dry tone of voice "I suppose we better go and free the useless fucker then".
The hood is taken off his head, and Mira Reinholt the mage blinks, then looks down at his hands in his lap. He sees the manacles around his wrists, and immediately sees what he figured they were, anti-magic shackles.
The once powerful mage who finds he's in a cell of some kind, sees a couple of guards come into view from where they were behind him.
They're in fairly nondescript armour, without any tabards, or coat of arms to identify him. They don't look at him, as they cross to the solid looking cell door, which they open, and go through as they exit the cell. The door closes behind them.
And in the cell, that's lit by a single lamp on a wall hook, the mage Reinholt slightly sighs, then sourly smiles to himself at the predicament he now finds himself in.
Earlier the Vexilian mage in exile was making his way through the city streets, near the second domain of Leeabra. The once powerful mage who was looking out across a square, suddenly felt a sharp pain in the back of his skull, that sent him quickly into unconsciousness.
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, only knew that he was attacked magically as he was blacking out, and that he couldn't do anything to resist it, which was more than annoying, especially to his ego.
The mage Reinholt who is sitting upon a wooden chair in the middle of the cell, whose ankles are chained with normal looking shackles, knows that he'll be eventually freed by lord Farque and Helbe the elven thief once he doesn't show up to meet them.
He knows they'll locate him, and release him from whatever prison he's in. It's just that he has to stay alive until then. The exiled Vexilian mage has a made a lot of enemies over the years in a lot of places. With the city of Leeabra and the kingdom of Druvic being no exception.
He just hopes whoever it is that's captured him, doesn't kill him anytime soon.
That would be annoying, Mira Reinholt the mage dryly thinks to himself, as he sits there in the middle of the cell, wondering who it is that's captured him, and if they're going to kill him fairly soon.
The spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands, thinks not. He's been captured many times, and been in plenty of prisons over the years.
And he gets the feeling that whoever it is that's captured him this time, wants to make a point. Whoever it is, should of killed him immediately, that's what he would do if it he was one of his own enemies.
People are such fucking idiots, always wanting to make a statement of some kind, the highly skilled swordmaster thinks to himself, who knows the longer he's here in this cell, the higher chance of him being released by lord Farque and Helbe the elven thief.
As usual when he's being held against his will, the mage Reinholt does a number of mental exercises. Usually calculations, starting off with a basic counting exercise, which he'll then go onto a multiplication exercise. He's in the simple task of counting to ten thousand, when at three thousand and eighty two, the door to the cell opens once more.
The once powerful mage stops his counting exercise as the two guards from earlier walk into the cell, they're followed by three others.
From their clothing, the swordmaster from the city-state of Vexil guesses they're either noblemen or court officials of some kind. Probably both knowing his luck.
Of the three, the one on the right he immediately recognises as a spellcaster, to be precise, a mage. He can tell that by the arrogant stance, and look on upon the face of the young man.
Mira Reinholt should know, he once had a similar demeanour himself, until most of his powers were stripped from him when he was offworld on the otherside of a rift/void he accidentally cast.
The person on the right of the trio is a mage, but it's the one in the middle that the swordmaster Reinholt looks at, is the one that's  in charge here, and they're the one who talks first.
"So, Mira Reinholt has returned to Leeabra" says the fellow in the middle, around the mage Reinholt's age, though slightly shorter, and a bit stocky compared to the once powerful mage.
"When word reached me that you had been spotted here in the capital after all these years, i couldn't believe my luck" says the man in the middle who is doing all the talking.
"I'm so glad for you" dryly says Mira Reinholt the mage who knows the longer he keeps this guy talking, the longer he'll be kept alive, and the more time lord Farque and Helbe the elven thief will have to find him and get him out of here, wherever here is.
The man in the middle of the three smirks, then says "You don't remember me do you?". "Can't say that i do" says the once powerful mage who pauses for a moment, before adding "Wait a moment i think i do" the exiled Vexilian mage continues with "That's right, you look like some shit i stepped in when i was last here in this dump of a city, that's it, you're shit pile, i never forget a shit pile when i see one".
The mage Reinholt grins, and gets a heavy slap across the face by one of the guards standing on either side of the chair he's sitting in.
Well that was bound to happen, the highly skilled swordsmaster dryly thinks to himself who winces as his jaw stings after that hit.
"Eloquent as ever" dryly says the individual the spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil just insulted. He then says "We served together in the war in the mountains before the turmoil here in Druvic".
Ah an old war buddy, Mira Reinholt sourly thinks to himself.
"I was a junior officer in my lord's regiment that day of the battle your friend the wizard Laevell was killed, and you fled back here to Leeabra" says the man doing all the talking.
The once powerful mage refrains from wincing at the mention of the wizard who was one of the two mentors he had when he was living here in the kingdom of Druvic.
The wizard Laevell who unfortunately died when lord Farque killed him, when the forces they were part of. Were attacked by the defenders in the Sunreach Mountains. Who were led by their hired general, the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
"And i was here in the capital when you turned your back on the kingdom, and helped those elemental scum from the mountains that day they showed up here" says the individual talking to the captive mage.
"People thought you died helping to defend the city, but you were spotted in the Grand Arcade fighting your other mentor the dragon Nol" says the former junior officer in the army that invaded the Sunreach Mountains nearly nine years ago, he continues with "And this was after the destruction of the Hall of the People in the second domain and most of those in it, which only you were powerful enough to do, since your old dragon friend didn't do it".
"Oh yeah, i remember doing all of that" says Mira Reinholt in a blithe manner, who with a grin upon his face, adds "Fun times". Which earns him another slap across the face from one of the guards, this one even harder.
After slightly grimacing, the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, moves his jaw from side to side, before saying "Though i still can't exactly remember who you are" he pauses for a moment of two, before adding "Apart from being a pile of shit".
The once powerful mage gets a punch across the face this time, causing him to slump sideways in the chair.
"He's stalling" says the person on the left, the oldest of the three facing the captive spellcaster. The one the highly skilled swordmaster has identified as a mage nods his head in agreement with the older man who just spoke, and he says "He thinks he'll be rescued".
"That's not going to happen" says the individual in the middle who has done most of the talking, he continues with "Ever".
"I wouldn't be so sure of that" dryly says Mira Reinholt who has just spotted Narladene the ground pixie appear near the closed door.
The tiny winged creature who only he can see, is pointing upwards and grinning.
The Vexilian mage in exile looks at his captors, and grins at them as he says "Hate to disappoint you, but i'm pretty certain I'll be leaving fairly soon" . . . . . .