He glanced once more over the plaque, tracing the outline of each letter with his eyes. The death of his parents was a wound that had long since healed over, paining him only when the proverbial clouds were especially dark. But the loss of his elder sister Talaess was far more recent. His attention hovered over her name for a beat longer, a profound ache settling heavily in his chest. It was her death that had shifted the crown to him—and prompted the abrupt departure of Myrddin’s would-be king and heir. Distance had been a powerful salve on the grief of Talaess’ passing, but he felt it now—a deep, stinging pain tinged with an anger he hadn’t felt since the morning he left. Perhaps he truly had underestimated Faraine’s own fury.
He turned to his companion at the gentle pressure of her touch. Despite the sadness in his eyes when he met the Skyknight’s gaze, a soft smile curved Theoduin’s lips. When he spoke, his voice was low and genuine. “It would be an honor to teach you,” he murmured. “And I cannot adequately express how pleased I am that you are willing to learn…”
Suddenly aware of the attention their presence had garnered, the prince trailed off. Isolation had worn away what little tolerance he’d ever had for the spotlight, and he bristled against the weight of their stares, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. And it wasn’t just Theoduin who was the object of their curiosity; indeed, it seemed none of the young students could decide which of the mismatched pair was more fascinating…or more infuriating. The warmth and promise of the magnificent library grew suddenly cold and unwelcoming.
The scholar in him could hardly blame them for looking, but the part of him that could not deny the blood in his veins knew it would be unwise to allow it…if only for Vega’s sake. The prince threw his shoulders back and stepped forward to the Skyknight’s side, making a point to eye the nearest groups who had not yet delivered the proper formalities—platitudes he did not desire, but knew must be demanded. Before he could even clear his throat, the petrified adolescents leapt to attention. Those who stood clustered near the stacks dipped into low bows, while those seated sprang to their feet.
“I sincerely hope what you lack in subtlety and respect is made up in academic devotion.” Theoduin’s voice resounded powerfully in the chamber. Swathed though he was in emerald, he looked and sounded the part of a Kyrenic royal. “Ambassador Vega is to be treated as an honored guest. Her presence here is a testament to the strength of Myrddin and Eyraille. I suggest you show her the same courtesy you would to your Queen and her family.” The prince turned to Vega, speaking again in Eyraillian. “Come, Ambassador. We shall leave our audience to their studies.”
When she took his proffered arm, he led her outside, dropping his posture only when they rounded the side of the archives. “I never enjoyed attention,” he remarked offhandedly as they walked. “And I am especially unused to it now. I wish to explore the library, but…perhaps another time, when we will not be disturbed.” He paused near a gap in the neighboring limestone structures, the narrow walls forming an alley that led into a dense grove of trees. “There is a place I used to frequent when I was young, where I would escape to read. I wonder if it is still as I remember…”
He tugged Vega gently down the alley and into the trees, where the golden light of mid-morning shone in dappled beams to the mossy ground. The path faded beneath their feet, but Theoduin recognized the old landmarks—a jagged stump, significantly more decayed than the last time he had lain eyes upon it; an oblong mound of earth blanketed in grass; a trio of gnarled oak trees whose branches intertwined like fingers. The song of water passing over smooth stones grew louder, until suddenly they were upon it: a modest waterfall from a spring deep inside the cliffside, feeding a shallow pool that in turn fed a narrow stream that cut through the grove.
“I used to read here until the sun set,” he said softly. “I was not yet able to conjure a fire with magic, so the darkness forced me back to the palace in the evening. Faraine would be furious that I missed our drills, but I tried my best to avoid them. My title meant I was immune to the instructors’ punishments, but that couldn’t protect me from my sister.”
Theoduin chuckled lightly and lowered himself to one of the boulders near the rocky wall. “I suppose I should not admit to my boyhood misdeeds to the one who will soon be a student herself,” he commented. “I admit I haven’t the faintest idea the best place to start. Perhaps some spoken words…and then we can connect them to the alphabet.” He ran a hand through his hair, dispelling the fine droplets of mist that had settled upon the curls. “I can teach you basic phrases, but words are easier to learn when they hold meaning to the speaker. What would you like to say, Vega Sorde?”
“Really, Theoduin? You’re so ecstatic to teach your language to someone who represents everything your kingdom stands against?” Vega was already aware of the elfin prince’s zeal for all that was scholarly, but she never would have imagined the possibility that he would open himself and all of his knowledge to her like the books he so treasured. It was not as though they were lifelong friends; in fact, they had not been friends for very long at all, and he had every reason to suspect her as much as his reigning sister, when all she had to reassure him of her intentions was her word, alone. And yet, nonetheless… she didn’t have the humility to deny an opportunity that no other Eyraillian might ever receive. With a smile that teased in good nature, she gently elbowed him in the side. “If I’d known that asking for your tutelage was the key to winning you over, I’d have asked you to lend me a book on how to heal my roc and my own broken ribs the night we fell from the sky, instead of asking for your help. But, that said… I, and Eyraillian who has no right to ask anything of you… it is I who should be honoured.” The Eyraillian Skyknight ran her fingertips along the spines of the books, over gilded font that could have been art. “If I expect my kingdom to be open to learning and to adapting, then I best set an example, myself. So, Theoduin, I am more than open to anything to deem appropriate to impart--that will not land you in hot water with your sister.”
The other scholars, who had seemingly taken a break from their focus of study to set their eyes on the foreigner, however, did not appear nearly as eager for a human to so much as walk among them, let alone partake in their sacred knowledge. Of course, this was a raw fact with which Vega was fully prepared to deal, but her companion, to her surprise, was not so eager to let it slide. Like another side of the same coin, gone was the quiet and contemplative scholar, replaced with the confidence and bolstering volume of a royal. She knew that transition well; it was one she often made, herself, depending on whether it was more appropriate to don her Skyknight armor or her royal attire, and she had already borne witness to it in Theoduin. All the same… it would never cease to shock her, the way he could reconnect with an authority he had otherwise abandoned so long ago.
“It’s fine, you know. They… have good reason to be upset at my unprecedented arrival.” She said quietly, laying a hand upon his arm as he escorted her outside. “Uncomfortable as it is, I do not blame them. They don’t know me, they don’t trust my intentions, and I have but my word and goodwill alone to convince them I am at all trustworthy. But… at a quieter time, I would like to see more of your library. It has been a while since I’ve had the opportunity to find a quiet place to be with my thoughts.”
Putting the full extent of her trust in Theoduin, Vega allowed herself to be led past trees and vibrant flora, until the inlaid path beneath their feet began to fade into grass and moss and earth. They had finally reached a point where the landscaping must have reached its end, leaving nature to take shape and form however it saw fit. In climbing vines and trees with branches that reached like outstretched arms, and a babbling brook that, as they progressed, eventually revealed a picturesque waterfall. It went without saying that even compared to the elegant decor of Myrddin’s royal estate, the space was breath-taking. “I had a place like that in Eyraille, once. When I was growing up. Although, it was a lot less picturesque than this. I spent a lot of my time at the caves at the foot of Eyraille’s vast mountains.” The Skyknight confided with a nostalgic smile. “It is where I found Aeriel; a wounded fledgling who had been abandoned by her mother and left for dead. Like you, I was forced to return before dark, however, lest… my father’s temper get the better of him for my insubordination. Though if it makes you feel any better, I wholeheartedly guarantee that my misdeeds far outweigh your own. I’d be willing to be on it, in fact; I’m Eyraillian, after all, and a Sorde to top it off. But before I confide in you just how terrible a daughter I was,” her mouth curled into a lopsided grin, “I’d love to learn your script. But I realize I might be biting off more than I can chew, were I to start there with no knowledge of your dialect. So, I suppose…”
The Eyraillian royal stared thoughtfully into the rushing current of the waterfall, a thoughtful crease forming between her brows. “Much though I would like to become proficient in speaking your language, I wonder if, for now, it would benefit me more to understand what is said to me--or, more importantly, behind my back. I had no idea what those scholars at the library were saying, but they were likely counting on the fact that I cannot understand them. And, not that I doubt my safety here, but that… concerns me. Especially if I am not spend any extended amount of time, here. So… perhaps,” she turned back to the elfin prince, her pale blue eyes squinting against the sunlight. “Teach me what I need to understand, first. Things that I should perhaps… listen for. And then, teach me how I should respond--preferably, with some eloquence.”
In another life, he might have been a teacher. He might have grown old amongst the library stacks and orated passionately before attentive classes of hopeful scholars, his auburn curls blanching to silver over the centuries. He would have retired to his study each evening only to spend his nights furiously hunting through texts by firelight—the renowned and relentless professor, eccentric but revered, his reputation living on long beyond his name in spite of it, not because of it.
The vision brought a wistful gleam to Theoduin’s eye. His years in exile had granted him the closest opportunity he could ever have to that particular life, given the royal blood in his veins. Hidden away in the deep forests of the north, he had been whomever he wanted to be—the staunch academic at home, an archer amongst the conifers, a mage on the mountain slopes, a lone traveler in the village. But never an elf, never a prince, and certainly never a king.
Perhaps that was why, faced now with the task of instructing his human companion, he felt the tension in his shoulders dissipate somewhat. Here, on the mossy bank of the brook, he wasn’t the long-vanished Kyrenic miraculously back from the dead. He could simply be Vega’s teacher, and more than that, the Skyknight’s friend and ally. Theoduin was no soldier, but he could certainly arm her with knowledge—and faced with the scorn of generations of elfkind, words would do her far better than a blade.
“Our language is complex and beautiful,” the elf began, gaze wandering from the falls back to Vega. “Were our circumstances different, I would not begin your lessons with our…ugliest of phrases.” He his lips curled into a grimace, then turned upward to a sheepish smile. “But you are wise to wish to know them. Myrddin’s mistrust of humans runs deep and passionate and old, like a river whose wellspring is so distant that few think of it in the flood downstream. Unfortunately, your choice of companion will do little to tip the scales of public opinion in your favor.” He clasped his hands together apologetically.
“There are sounds in Elvish that have no equivalent in Eyraillian,” he went on, turning to face her. “We speak from low in our throats, the muscles relaxed. Imagine that the sound flows through you, rather than you generating the sound yourself. It is musical, but not so controlled as a song. It’s more like…like a breeze.” He held up his palms, summoning a breath of wind that tugged at his curls. “Variable,” he continued, tucking a strand behind an ear, “but free.” He nodded, knowing a Skyknight would similarly comprehend the workings of the wind and air. “I tell you this not just because you will learn to speak the language yourself, but because the nature of it can make it difficult to interpret the speaker’s tone until you are accustomed to its nuances. Like reading a current to know when it might spiral to an updraft, or anticipating the flow around a cloud.”
Of course, some tone was simple enough to understand—Queen Faraine had not exactly hidden away her ire, and communication was not solely dependent on words regardless. But if the Skyknight was to listen to what was said behind her back—or in her presence under the assumption she could not understand—then it was crucial to recognize when something was said with true malintent, and to what degree they meant their words. The same phrase uttered by a student emboldened by youth did not carry the same threat as one from a soldier armed with military experience. Thankfully, Vega’s position as a Sorde ensured she possessed some degree of political savvy. She would learn to detect the subtleties quickly enough.
The former prince cleared his throat. “All right. Listen,” he instructed gently, leaning closer and drawing a breath. “Ardreth na olinn. It means, ‘a slave to time’,” he explained, wincing a little at the slur. He said it once more, rolling the r’s pointedly. “You may hear it alone, as ardreth. A derogatory word for a human. I’m certain it does not surprise you to learn that there are others…” A slew of syllables fell from his tongue, and then again, more slowly.
“There may be things said which are more benign,” he went on, citing examples relating to mild curiosity—who is that, are the rumors true, how long will she stay. “You may hear things said about me as well, but propriety dictates most of them will use filinn, prince. You may hear avalinn—stranger. Or sylmare rann—‘he who betrays.’
“But for you…should you hear any of these words used in your presence, I believe we can concoct a phrase that will remind them their place. My sister has ordered you to remain here, so I see no reason why we cannot use her good name in your defense.” A flash of something akin to mischief flickered across his gaze before his expression settled to one more serious.
He met Vega’s eyes and drew a breath, speaking two lines of Elvish as swift as the current in the stream.
He repeated himself, more slowly this time. “It means, ‘I am the High Ambassador of Eyraille present under the invitation and protection of Her Majesty Queen Faraine thiel Kyrenic and Prince Theoduin. An affront to a royal guest is an affront to Her Majesty herself.’ That will be enough to put even a member of the Court in their place.” He quirked a brow. “Now, your turn. We will take it slowly, one piece at a time.”
Being born an Eyraillian royal--a once to be queen, to boot--Vega Sorde was no stranger to multilingualism or the study of foreign language. In fact, it had been when she had declined the throne that she’d taken a particular interest in such an endeavour, recognizing the necessity of open and comprehension communication. Taking upon not only the role of Skyknight Commander, but also, royal diplomat of her kingdom (and rather controversial family), the Eyriallian princess was fluent in both spoken and written forms of Eyraillian and Ilandrian, and to a somewhat lesser extent, modern Nairitian, though the older tongue of the further-away kingdom of Nairit was largely lost on her. However, those three languages, spoken by neighbouring kingdoms, all possessed a multitude of similarities, given the sheer proximity alone. Elvish, on the other hand… Vega could in no way rely on her understanding of the underpinnings of those languages she did speak and read, because they were like night and day, down to their written representation.
“Not even ironic. Isn’t it just like a Sorde to want to first learn how to talk down to people in a brand new language?” The fiery princess couldn’t help but snort. She picked up a smooth, flat stone and tossed it into the waterfall, watching as the deluge plummeting from the cliffside absorbed the piece of rock, lost forever in the depths of the rushing water. “I also wish that I could be taking the time to learn words of peace, and if we are granted such a reprieve in the animosity I’m facing, here… I wouldn’t mind learning to talk peace with your people, Theoduin. But now is not that time, unfortunately, and as much as I am not here to antagonize your peaceful race, neither can I passively accept their bullying of any sort. It would not speak to Eyraille’s strength. Responding to your sister’s animosity… that is entirely another matter that we’ll have to touch on later.” She smiled without any amusement and shrugged her shoulders. “For now, we’ll have to start somewhere, and if that somewhere is making me capable of telling these folk to back off, then so be it. So your language has a tonal aspect, you say? Nairitian, the language of the kingdom of Nairit, used to be heavily tonal prior to the modern day. I’ve got some experience in that area of linguistics, so… let’s give it a try.”
Ardreth na olinn. Well, he hadn’t been kidding; at least two of the syllables vastly different from what she was used to speaking. As Theoduin has mentioned, the sounds vibrated low in his throat. A beautiful, thoughtful language indeed… and a far cry from Eyraillian, much of which was spoken at the front of the palate, and often quickly, with words running together among the working class. A strong indication that Eyraillians were more accustomed to speaking before thinking about what they wanted to say… or the consequences of saying it. “Ar-dreth… na olinn. Is that right?” Given the Elvish prince’s subtle wince, that he obviously tried to hide so as not to insult her innocent attempt, it was a far cry from ‘right’. “By that reaction, it looks as though I just said something far worse than a derogatory form of ‘human’...” The Skyknight chuckled at her own misstep and took a breath. This time she relaxed her shoulders, and when she tried… she did not try so hard. “Let me try again. Ardreth na olinn. Better?”
It was--which came as both a surprise and a relief. Maybe there was something to be said about doing as he explained: imagining the language like an updraft of wind. Something with which Vega Sorde, who so often soared through the air, was very familiar. “I’ll be sure to keep an ear open for insults lobbed at you, as well. While your unique relationship with your family and kingdom might be exclusive of my interference, here… the last thing I wish for is my presence to make it any more difficult for you. Alright--let me give this next one a try. Just a few syllables at a time, so I can follow.”
Under Theoduin’s guidance, syllable for syllable and phoneme for phoneme, Vega repeated the phrase, once, twice in broken and segmented Elvish. The third time, she put the segments together for a single, fluid sentence, a warning that would have Theoduin’s people thinking twice before affronting her, directly or indirectly. Theoduin’s satisfied smile was all the reassurance she needed that, slowly but surely, she was learning what she needed to know. “Not bad, then? I’ll have to go over that one in my head so I can remember it. It sounds as though it is only half as many words as it would be declaring an identical message in Eyraillian, but each and every sound is a little more complicated.”
Although the grove near the waterfall offered the Eyraillian princess and the Elvish scholar relative privacy, it did not stop curious eyes and prying ears from witnessing their conversation. And it didn’t stop small hands from throwing stones, evidently, as a pebble hit Vega squarely between the shoulders. She turned to see a group of three children, who appeared to be between the ages of eight and twelve, from grinning with mischief as they had chosen her to be their target. Theoduin wasn’t having any of it, however, and he promptly said something quick and terse in Elvish in response. An admonishment, of sorts, but the details were lost on Vega. “What did you just tell them?” She asked him, as the younger of the three children prepared to throw another rock. Whatever it was, it hadn’t been enough to dissuade them, and according to Theo, he had merely told them to ‘go away’. Frowning, Vega decided to try her own hand at it, and repeated his words in a much louder, more commanding voice.
The child holding the stone dropped it, his eyes going wide, and he murmured something hurried to his two friends. Seconds later, the trio heeded the words and scurried out of sight. “Did I say it right? I truly hope I was only telling them to ‘go away’ and not something worse. The last thing I need to be known as is the Eyraillian Ambassador that frightens children.” The corner of her lips turned upward in a grin that she couldn’t hold back. “Not sure what frightened them more. That I am a human representing a kingdom that they have reason to fear, or that they think I can actually speak Elvish.”
