Lately, it seemed Vel Anir was trying to show off how there was no issues between the Kingdom and the Falwood. Now, anyone with more than three brain cells knew better. From the Brotherhood to the skirmishes along the border, it seemed Vel Anir and Falwood were still giving one another a hard time, but doing so in a far more diplomatic manner than before. It was too much for Zaire to keep up with, he had never really been that interested in politics in the first place. After the Revolution, things only seemed to get more complicated instead of easier to understand.
Some elves were good, some elves weren’t, some elves could come to the Elven quarter in Vel Anir and some couldn’t. And how could you tell the good elves from the bad elves? Zaire couldn’t, and he was certain the rest of the Anirian population couldn’t either.
Although it seemed now he had to go and help some good elves with their goblin problem. Zaire would have felt some sort of excitement, his last couple of missions had been lame. Guarding a noble house, going with a noble to a house— all basic missions for a initiate who would graduate as a fourth level and never move up to third. He was only good for making a army better. Or making a good dreadlord better.
So when he had come into the room and saw Houri Luana already standing there, Zaire Glaive understood what his purpose would be for the mission: amp Houri up and let her deal with the goblins. If their mission went well then Vel Anir would have some brownie points with the Elven population on the border or in the Elven quarter. Strangely enough, even if Zaire’s personal magic was to increase and perfect one’s performance, currently he was struggling with some major performance anxiety.
He wanted to get high, especially as they could see the city of Amon Lanc getting closer and closer. He was able to make out individual structures that sat on top the grassy hills and it wouldn’t be much longer until he could make out the shape of elves and people. Zaire’s hand went to were he currently had a couple of dried herbs that were just waiting to get inhaled by him, but… Houri was here. Right here next to him.
Maz was his best friend and knew very well of Zaire’s slight dependence on herbs to be more personal, but did Houri? If she did, Zaire didn’t know, and if she didn’t, then he wanted to keep it that way. Once he graduated he’d stop, so he didn’t quite see it as lying, but…. Zaire cleared his throat. He had been very quiet on this journey, even more than usual. Even when Houri had spoken and tried to make conversation, he had just gotten tongue-tied and ended up sounding like a idiot or a asshole or both.
“We’re almost there.” His voice was hoarse and he cleared his throat again. “So. Uh. Yeah.” He was a real poet, wasn’t he?