The Wood Elves, or the Musenvane in their own tongue, are known by many different names: the Warders of the Woods, the First Children, and the beloved of the gods, to name but a few. Theirs is an existence shrouded in mystery and what little is known of them is found only in the most-ancient and archaic of texts. Once upon a time in ages past, or so it is written, they were guardians of an ancient prophecy and the instruments of a divine will.

  - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC.

  Kidu's belch echoed loudly, turning heads from the surrounding groups. The unexpected dispy prompted our charge to release a few gentle peals of ughter. However, she hastily stifled the sound when met with his gre. Once the momentary disruption has passed, I thought it was a good time to find out more about the half-elf.

  “So, Larynda,” I opened, taking great care not to call her child or any other diminutive, “I am a man of honor, and rest assured, no matter your answer, I ensure that you will safely reach your destination. Still, I believe Kidu and I have the right to understand exactly why Hamsa sent you off with us on a journey to the city of Al-Lazar, wouldn't you agree?"

  She blinked a few times, stunned for a few moments at her current reality before she finally replied, “Old Ham said it was better I am not in a city where they catch children and foundlings to sell off as sves. One of the free cities is a better pce, ‘e said. Al-Lazar is famous around here for being the birth spot of Alchemy, they says. Said I could learn some fancy new stuff there. That, or he just wanted to get rid of me...”

  “But what are you supposed to do once you get there?” I asked, a little perplexed and confused about her situation. Out of the corner of one eye, I saw a few lines of concern appear on Kidu’s otherwise impassive granite face.

  “Ol’ Ham, he was right different ever since you plodded into the shop…” her voice began to break, but she gathered herself, and continued, “I should probably join the Alchemy guild down there, he said. Find me a new master to pester, and that sort o’ thing. But me, I’s thinking instead I’m gonna be an Adventurer! You get to do all sort of wonderful things! You get a nice badge too!” she piped.

  I shared a look with the rge man who, with a small shrug of his shoulders, was able to convey what a hundred words could not. Choosing a career based on an accessory was impulsive and foolish, but truth be told there was a little weight behind the badge. The impression I had gotten from Darcen Tsend, the Guild Master from Ansan, was that the Guild looked after its own. There was also the fact that there had been an elf in the Guild, which led some credence to the organization being able to provide a measure of protection. On the surface at least. According to the eccentric alchemist, she had other mysterious backers. Still, her joining the guild certainly would not be detrimental.

  In this world, wielders of magic were retively rare, and having someone on hand to cast a few spells for me would be rather convenient. With this in my mind, I decided it would be best to support her dream.

  “That is a wonderful aspiration. To that end, I think it best that you focus on your training with Kidu. Being an adventurer is filled with great danger, and the ability to protect oneself is paramount,” I pronounced, as solemnly as possible, trying to sound wise.

  “Gilgamesh speaks truth, little one. But have no fear, for I see that you have a little of the Way about you. And, you learn quickly for one so young,” the rge man added, giving credence to what I had just said.

  I gave her some time to let my suggestion seep in, and looked over the child as she absorbed the words that helped validate her childish dream. Hamsa had the right of it, steering her away from the dangerous profession. It was, of course, doubly dangerous for one so young, but I would use what I could to wring any advantage I could. After a moment, I could see that the idea had wormed its way successfully into her easily-influenced mind.

  “Yes, it's a great idea, isn’t it!? I’ll just have to be a lil’ bit stronger. Oh, and don’t you worry, I’ll show you what I can do with my magic, just wait you see!” she beamed, enthusiasm radiating from almost every pore. She stopped, lost in thought, then looked askance at me, “But I’ll probably need to find a group and no one will…” she left the st hanging like undry waiting to be picked off the line.

  “You could of course always join up with us,” I coughed, feeling for a microsecond that things were slotting into pce a little too easily. Shrugging away this foreboding, I saw that, upon hearing my offer, her face broke out into a wide sunny smile.

  Kidu simply snorted before adding, in his usual manner, “You would be a vast improvement over our st member.”

  Larynda looked down at the remains of her food at this, as if lost in thought. My own thoughts had grown dark over the mention of Elwin, the suddenness of his departure still casting a long shadow over my mind.

  Out of the corner of one eye, I saw a small shape work its way towards us. It was a small girl cd in the way of the caravan. She wore flowing clothes, cinched with a purple sash, and a white headscarf that framed an Asiatic face, complete with a button nose. She was of an age with Larynda and I could not help but compare the two of them. She was the picture of seriousness as she formally bowed to us before asking if she could gather our used dishes.

  She was quiet and reserved, seemingly a direct reflection of her upbringing. In contrast, Larynda's silence felt different - it was born out of some form of reticence. I got the sense she was hiding something significant from us.

  With the meal over, I decided to ask the half-elven child another question, “So tell us a little of your life back in Ansan.”

  The girl child's face grew pensive and she looked lost in thought for a few breaths. With a sigh that had no pce coming from a child, she told us her tale.

  It was a clichéd and simple tale, though no less tragic for it, common to many of the young and vulnerable. An unknown father, and an even more mysterious mother, both of which abandoned her into the care of one of the local shrines, was the start in life that she had been given. Even then, the girl had been content for a while, at least until her ears began to give clues to her origins.

  As is the nature of bored children, she had taken to exploring and hiding in every nook and cranny of the shrine. First it was out of py, a game to pass the time with her friends, who almost could never find her. Then it became an escape, a way to find reprieve from the switch that the adults of the shrine were always too free to employ.

  In a forgotten alcove, above the portly prior’s office, she once overheard a most-disturbing conversation. She was to be sold into svery, the heritage of her blood a rare and valuable commodity. The exchange was to happen soon. A determined Larynda made her escape, deciding that a life on the streets was better than a life in chains.

  During those formative years, she would run with various child gangs and other urchins, stealing from the markets or from traveling merchants. Every day was one of calcuted risk, as they tested themselves against the w in Ansan. The penalty of theft was harsh.

  As time passed, the older and luckier members of her group would find themselves employed in low positions to the rich and powerful of the city. She would sometimes call out to them when she saw them about the city, but they would shroud themselves with indifference, as her calls were a painful reminder of the lives they once led. The truly ill-fated ones, children that the gods and this primitive society had forgotten, merely disappeared without a word. Gone like morning mist, without utterance and without a trace, leaving behind a growing hole that ate away at her heart.

  It was then, just as she began to know true despair, that she had a fateful encounter. Dezra, her friend, had developed a hacking, persistent cough that refused to go away. As the days passed, this cough morphed into a deathly rattle, leading to Dezra's pitiful end, drowned in her own blood. As she held Dezra's rapidly-cooling hand in her own, she looked around their den and acknowledged that this existence was no life at all. Living this way amounted to nothing more than a slow death.

  Driven by desperation, she knew she needed to find a way to better her circumstances. It felt much like escaping the shrine - a dire situation that demanded drastic measures. She had to evolve beyond petty pickpocketing and shoplifting. She needed to make a significant score, a life-altering one that would change her current course.

  Fortune smiled upon her when one of the street urchins discovered that there was an alchemist in Ansan who stocked the rarest of herbs and alchemical supplies. These materials were highly-valuable and in great demand. According to Sepfan, a boy who had eavesdropped on a conversation between two dubious adventurers, the shop was deceptively rundown from the outside. Inside, however, it housed a treasure trove of rare and marvelous potions, which the oblivious alchemist was selling for a mere fraction of their worth. The unsuspecting old man didn’t realize he was sitting on so much gold.

  The two adventurers had been plotting to raise money to purchase his entire inventory and resell it for profit. Her group needed to act swiftly if they were to seize this golden opportunity.

  Quickly staking out the Alchemy shop, the group decided that it was an easy hit, the exotic treasures within easy to fence. However, things were not to be, for the Alchemist had been a far cry from an easy mark. Using a cloth ced with a swift-acting soporific, the surprisingly fast and dexterous old man caught the child as she was searching through his things. After forcefully administering a strong and bitter antidote, Hamsa gave her a long lecture about stealing, once she had suitably recovered her wits.

  Tied to a chair, she feigned rapt attention, for she thought that her life was in peril. Larynda had heard the stories. Whether she lived or died depended entirely on the whims of this old man.

  Much to her surprise, after he finished his tirade and lecture, he retreated to the back of the store and vanished for some time. She desperately tried to escape, but the knots binding her were expertly tied, leaving her no chance of loosening them. The old man returned, carrying a small pte of food and Larynda's stomach churned at first with unease. Then came a rumbling of a different kind. Thinking it possibly poisoned, she tried to resist the temptation of the proffered food. However, it was the first solid and warm meal that she had seen in a long time and the smell was irresistible. In the end, she relented.