Nochnoi walked in a defiant silence towards his destination, as if to his own funeral still denying that he was dead, using his staff to help him walk through the deep snow. The wind blew fiercely in his direction and bit his exposed cheek. A mage of his power would have no problem progressing through the ruthless weather, casting a protective charm would work quite well. Today however, was not his day, he had forgot his spells back at his residence. He dug his chin deep into his cloak, providing for him some inadequate, yet welcome, protection from the harsh elements. This winter had been a terrible one for the kingdom. He watched as the wind carried the snow into a spiral, making it seem as if it were a miniature tornado.  An elaborate dance. The small tornado soon became many tornadoes as they danced around him in the same circular pattern as did children, twirling around a maypole during springtime. Nature’s bidding, Nochnoi thought to himself. One tornado settled back onto the ground as snow. A strong gust of wind soon carried it off into the distance and out of sight. Nochnoi placed one foot firmly on the stone step before him. He was tall for a twilight elf, dwarfing his surroundings by comparison. He had eyes that glowed a ferocious blue, piercing anything they touched with the utmost indifference. Nochnoi’s face was covered in a pattern of elaborately placed wrinkles; his mouth was curled in a permanent frown, showing that he had forgotten how to smile. Not much in this world to smile about. His persona matched his appearance. Nochnoi was silent yet obedient, but secretly loathing those who surrounded him. He was intelligent, something he prided himself on greatly, taking great pleasure at being wiser than most. He was megalomaniacal. Looking upwards, Nochnoi realized that he had reached his goal. Zaireth Tower ominously stood over his home kingdom of Estaril, watching over its subjects with a most attentive eye. The tower itself was both a monument and a home to King Nathaniel, who had taken rule over the kingdom after his father had died. Nochnoi had been a loyal handyman to the king then, as he was now. Things were much different then. In those days, Nochnoi quietly remembered, there was good reason to live. To see the magnificent as it was in the past was the most beautiful sight to behold, especially in the morning, when the first streaks of sunlight shone at the windows of the numerous buildings, giving them the appearance of being the most valuable jewels. That had all come to pass. Ever since the day of King Nathaniel’s coronation, Nochnoi helplessly watched as the once beautiful city had withered under the reign of his new king. Like a flower without water, Nochnoi had remarked at the time. He hesitated as he reached the large twin doors serving as the entrance to the tower. He pondered as to why the King had asked him to visit his court and what sort of undertaking was so large that he needed his assistance to complete. Surely he should not have to heed the king’s summon, surely, a much more competent high-mage like Nochnoi could disregard such a request?  Despite the quick and futile debate with himself, Nochnoi decided to go on.

“Open,” he commanded as he knocked on the door. The door slowly began to creak open to reveal a servant.

“Ah, sire,” he said “our Lord is expecting your visit, please, come this way.”  Nochnoi followed, still consumed by the idea of a sudden request by the king as he entered the court. The door closed and Nochnoi embraced the warmth.

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Nochnoi stepped into the court. The long hallway leading to the throne was dimly lit with only a few torch stands guiding the way. Despite the lack of light, the court was generally visually pleasing. Stone carvings  of past kings dotted the walls of the hallway and behind the throne hung a magnificent portrait of Nathaniel’s father, the former king. Looking above one could see a scene of an exchange between gods painted on the ceiling. Nochnoi breathed in the warm air. The aroma of a dozen spices met his lungs and melted whatever cold air he had carried from outside. He began the short trek to the throne of his majesty. From a distance, Nochnoi began observing the king’s features. King Nathaniel did not bear the traditional visage of a ruler. Nor the intelligence span, Nochnoi gave a slight smirk at his own remark. His face was generally that of a dim-wit as his messy brown hair was cast over his oval-shaped head. His poor decisions regarding the welfare of his kingdom were of much concern to his council and the citizens of Estaril. Especially to the citizens, since it was out of their pockets that most of the re-thinking, re-planning and re-constructing was paid for after Nathaniel’s “brainstorms”.  As ill-suited as he was to running a kingdom, Nochnoi had to admit that the king was an accomplished sorcerer, a profession that was rarely attributed to humans. Nochnoi recalled old tales from when Nathaniel’s father was still king, of how the prince, at the mere age of eleven, could transmute his form to that of a white wolf. It was stories like that which filled Nochnoi with unbelievable envy. He could never have achieved something like a full-body transmutation. He shifted his gaze towards the king’s hand and watched its ring-clad fingers stroke the hand of his whorish wench. A king’s tradition to have a whore, Nochnoi thought, slightly disgusted. Lady Alyssa was her name and she was more despised by Nochnoi than her husband. Her mouth opened in the shape of an O as if she were going to speak to him. After a slight pause, Nochnoi cocked his eyebrow questioningly in her direction, expecting that the impudent strumpet would have something to say to him. She promptly closed her mouth and turned away from him. Nochnoi, unable to understand what it was that had offended the queen, was nevertheless satisfied at being able to make her mouth shut and turned his attention back to King Nathaniel,

“You summoned me, my liege?” Nathaniel replied,

“I did indeed. It seems that one of our raiding parties has captured a group of prisoners in the Far East, one of which is daughter of their ruler. I would like you to act as my representative and escort the lass back to the kingdom.”

“I was not aware that we are at war, sire,” Nochnoi responded, perplexed that such an important event like a war could elude his attention.

”We are not,” replied Nathaniel, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand, “Just a few light skirmishes, nothing as large as a full-scale war.”

“And who is our enemy?” Nochnoi asked.  

“The Twilight Elves in the Eastern Provinces,” he responded calmly.
Nochnoi felt himself wince slightly. Your people, his mind whispered to him. King Nathaniel, perhaps noticing that he had dug a splinter into Nochnoi’s heart said,

“Do this for me, and I shall make you my chief advisor in my council.” Nochnoi stood straight. A twilight elf of his stature could not be swayed with promises of trinkets or titles, no, he was far better than that. Nevertheless he plastered his face with a fake smile,

“Of course my liege, it shall be done.” At that, he turned on his heel and headed for his chambers to prepare.

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It was mid-day when he stood atop a hill looking over the small gathering of troops and “refugees”. It had been two days since the king had sent him to be his royal representative and to greet the kingdom’s new guests with utmost courtesy. He wore a robe of bright blues and greens with Estaril’s emblem of a horned-eagle sewn in with gold linens.  Slowly, he made his way down from the hill and into the encampment. An officer spotted him coming and met him halfway down.

“Greetings my lord,” he started, “you are our royal representative, am I right?”

“That I am,” replied Nochnoi, “what is the situation here? I’d like to leave as soon as possible.”

“Well we’re all ready to leave, just waiting for you to arrive,” he replied with a laugh. “And what of our lady prisoner, is she boding well?”

“Well it seems, that she is doing well, been awfully quiet though,” the officer rolled his eyes, “crusty juttler, I say”.

“Lead me to her, I would like to speak with our lady.”

They had reached the encampment and had begun to move through the small crowd of refugees.  Nochnoi looked out of the corner of his eyes to see his people staring coldly back at him. Each of their eyes carried the same question: Who is this traitor? Nochnoi maintained his focus forward. He could not bear to look upon the faces of his people, angry, scared and distorted.  The officer extended a pointed hand to indicate that they had reached the lady’s quarters. Nochnoi followed his arm to a magnificent lavender carriage. He wondered in awe as to what elf required such lavish methods of transportation as he observed the gold trims that blessed the roof of the carriage, each ending in ram’s horn. An elaborate carving of roses was plastered on the side. Elves had no use for such contraptions, they blocked out the fresh air and the scenery, all the beauties Nature had to offer.  A twilight elf approached him and the officer nervously,

“Our mistress is the Lady Eva Neverwinter.”

“Is your lady ill, or simply deep in sleep?” Nochnoi asked.

“I don’t believe she is,” the elf replied. Nochnoi cleared his throat,

“My lady, I am King Nathaniel’s royal representative and have come to escort you to his wonderful kingdom.”

“Escort me then, if you must,” a soft voice said sternly.

Nochnoi smiled, “My lady, I could not bear it if you missed the wonderful scenery.”

“Surely I will have ample time to observe the scenery from my prison cell.”

A crowd had gathered to watch the exchange between Nochnoi and their lady. Many laughed at the crude defiance of their mistress. Nochnoi was determined to show his control over the situation. He jumped onto the driver’s seat of the carriage and placed two fingers on the roof. He carefully whispered the words of a spell. Suddenly, the roof was engulfed in a blue energy, causing a gasp from the impromtu audience. Jumping down, he turned with a smile to see the roof slowly vanish before his eyes and reveal the most beautiful creature in the world.