Valyrian

  I am Valyrian, second prince of Anaura, fifth born child of King Illorend and Queen Varielle. I am also technically one of the old man's top generals, since I'm probably the best warrior he has at his disposal. Nah, there's no probably about it; I really am the best. Thankfully, pops doesn't call me to meetings unless there is something that needs to be separated from the mortal coil.

  I can't stand fancy-dos and bureaucratic meetings, they bore me. I ain't really much good as a commander either; I mean okay, my fellow elves flock to my banner, my mere presence boosts morale, but beyond "point me in the direction of what you want dead", my knowledge of tactics is amateur at best. Once I actually get into the fray, however, that is when I show my real talent. That is why the old man trusted me to lead a rag-tag band of misfit elves across the mountains - I called 'em the wild bunch.

  He trusted me to whip those guys into shape, for some reason, but he also knew that once I was allowed to cut loose there was no way to stop me. So really, all I had to do was set a good example to the men and they'd fall in line. I would drink with them, sing with them, eat around the campfire with them, okay, yeah, they liked me. I might have formed something like squad cohesion or something equally banal just by being myself. Was that my old man's intention?

  I got no clue. One of the guys under my command was Hanzorian, a real curmudgeon some 200 years my senior, but man was he good at his job. I'll bet it made him mad to have to take orders from someone younger than him, but I didn't give him that many to begin with. I did try to get him to drink with me and the rest of the soldiers, but all he did was stand silently against a tree. Eh, I couldn't deny that he was dedicated.

  After he handed us that enemy camp though, I knew I had to say something to the old man; he was always going on and on about looking for talented folks. Yeah, he'd kick my ass if I let this guy slip into obscurity, I'm sure of it. Han, as I recently started calling him thanks to a certain someone, didn't do much else during that war.

  I fought in many battles as I cut across the land; man, the enemy was relentless. I could see why the lord of Tal Ayef called for aid - I think he was my um…second or third cousin twice removed or something on my father's side. So in addition to a defensive alliance, we also had family ties to the place and we simply couldn't let an attack on them slide.

  I forget exactly when it was, but one day I got separated from the army. That's when I met him - the dragon, Snauro. The poor thing was sick and injured; so much so that he couldn't eat because of how badly his neck hurt. That's where I hit upon the idea of feeding him with my spear, because I couldn't quite reach his mouth by hand due to his position.

  All highborn elves have some skill in the healing arts - those who don't practice much can only heal creatures and persons slowly. I am one such elf, who neglected his healing magic training in favor of fire magic. My skill was unmatched with the spear and sword, but I never bothered to train beyond the intermediate level of fire sorcery - because I already got what I wanted out of my education: the ability to sheathe my weapons in flames.

  Anyways, once the dragon was feeling better I got on his back and returned to the warpath; thankfully the battle wasn't going especially bad, it was sort of a stalemate. But it did turn out that the enemy had a dragon too.

  Snauro flew me over the beast and I jumped down with my spear - cut the overgrown lizard through the neck. Then my new trusty steed swooped down and bore me to safety, where I proceeded to slaughter just over a hundred orcs and demonknights before the enemy routed in terror.

  I just kept on fighting even after the war was over. I enjoyed it too much to stop. Snauro never left my side - he was following me around like a lost puppy.

  I joined the adventurer's guild and started doing odd quests. I guess I made a name for myself because people started singing about my exploits, I wound up appearing in paintings and sculptures, and even featured as a character in a play. Needless to say the ladies couldn't keep their hands off me. Orcs feared me, women wanted me; it was good to be the best.

  Once I'd made platinum rank in the guild, gods only knows how many decades later, I returned home to a big surprise: my mother had gotten pregnant since I had left home and had given birth to a girl. I was no longer the youngest. There was now one person in the whole wide world who could call me "big brother".

  You have no idea how happy I was when I saw Illiana, my baby sister, she was ridiculously adorable! Yeah, I doted upon the kid relentlessly. Spoiled her you might say. Always gave her piggy backs wherever she wanted to go - I could tell she wanted to be an adventurer just like me and she eventually told me that out loud when she was a teenager; yes, I mean that literally.

  We elves age about the same rate as humans between birth and our 21st summer and then we kinda stop. What? Did you really think we spent fifty years as babies or something? Don't be dumb!

  So yeah, I didn't leave Tor Anaura for a while after I found out I was a big brother. I taught Illiana how to use a sword, and she did okay. I took a few trips after she'd grown, but then mom went on another one of her pilgrimages and sis was sad so I made it a point to stay a while longer. 'Lia had a talent for magic; especially nature, healing, and wind.

  I don't know if she remembers this but, I think the reason she can't manage fire magic is because when she was really tiny she had an accident where she burned herself while trying to imitate what our older sister was doing. Sure, healing prevented any physical scars, but I guess it must have turned her off from learning fire magic.

  Ah yes and she also proved to be a skilled orator and diplomat with a great singing voice; the old man eventually put her to work as an emissary to the surrounding human nations. How many of them were there, currently? Humans fight each other for territory so often that it's hard to keep track of when the borders change. It was during one such diplomatic mission that my sister was attacked.

  Her entire retinue was murdered while she tried to escape; they followed her, cornered her, broke her staff, disarmed her of her sword. I can only imagine the fear in her heart at that time; she almost certainly thought that she was about to die.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  But she didn't die. No. Because of one man. A certain Victor Alexander Kirkland: that's a name I would never forget; the man saved my sister's life. That's a debt I could never hope to repay even with a lifespan as long as mine.

  He wasn't bad for a human. Man, guys like him are the reason why it's a shame that his people don't stick around for very long.

  Where was I? Oh yeah.

  I was in that so-called tavern; it didn't really look like a tavern you get me? It lacked character. Too clean, not enough noise, none of the usual tavern smells you get when you walk in - and please don't get me started on the prices! Okay sure, I'm a prince, which is whatever, and yes I will admit I made a fair amount of coin when I was actively adventuring, and being a nominal general paid decent, but that ain't the point!

  My brother loves the place, for some inexplicable reason; that punk poet has no taste! Plus despite being next in line to rule here he's been slacking on learning swordplay and magic; hell our old man is pretty competent at both.

  Despite not being a warrior he still sneaks out to write poetry at this garbage heap. That almost got him killed, ya know, since there were guys plotting to do exactly that tonight - it didn't work out so well for 'em.

  I wiped my blade clean with a swipe, wordlessly casting a cleanser as I did to make it look like all it took was one stroke to get the job done; stylish, that's me. Han and her mageness Nenewyn - that'd be the cutie with the round specs, copper hair, and amethyst eyes - were in the process of carrying off that ringleader.

  Boy did I wanna end him, but Han was right, we needed to take his ass in for questioning. Ah, and there was the man himself damn. I didn't know what to say. I've never been good with words. Luckily he helped by talking first, and it was also good that my sister sticks me with that spell of hers every chance she gets or I wouldn't understand a word he said. A man from another world; damn, that's wild.

  "That was pretty damn amazing," he said, "ya took out three of em at once - I could swear I heard the announcer from a certain vid - er - a certain entertainment franchise shout," he covered his mouth with his hands, lowered the pitch of his voice and said "triple kill".

  I laughed through my nose, "Hm. Thanks. But you're one to talk, ya flattened those sons of bitches that tried to-" my blood boiled at the thought of it, "sorry. I have trouble controlling the fire in my ribs."

  He nodded, "yeah, I get that," he paused, "and so did our enemy, or so I guess."

  I clicked my tongue. Yeah, he was thinkin' the same thing I was. Sendin' eight guys of that skill level, I'd rate them to be the equivalent to tin-rank adventurers at least, after my fop of a brother seemed like too many. One or two could have done the job, and maybe they'd die in the process - but according to that fat fuck who we'd pulled from the frying pan they'd arranged horses on both sides of the building.

  They wanted to be chased. They wanted to draw us out. No. That's not specific enough. There was only one elf that they needed to draw out.

  Me.

  I said, at length, "If those goons had succeeded tonight, the old man woulda sent me at the head of a cavalry unit to give chase. Hells, I'd have volunteered. That's what their plan was. If I'd gone there and seen…" I couldn't finish the sentence, damn, I can really be a coward some times.

  Victor nodded, "they were counting on you being so full of anger that you would have declared war."

  "No, you're close but, no," I grimaced, "I wouldn't have declared war, I would have declared revenge. Bloody revenge. I'd have ridden to the nearest human settlement, burned it to the ground, and I wouldn't stop until either I died or ran out of things to kill."

  "Jesus," he cried. That some kind of expression of shock in his world? Never mind. I guess my description was a bit intense.

  I waved my hand, "don't worry, I'm not usually the type to even consider that kind of carnage. But where my baby sister is involved, it ain't much of a stretch to think I might turn into a monster. Then when I went and did something like that-"

  He nodded, "the kingdom of Cara would have seen an unprovoked attack on their people and been righteously angry. Meanwhile you guys would see them as the bastards who had two members of your royal family murdered. I won't say anymore about it, this is all conjecture until Hanzo over there gets done," he sighed, "all warfare is based on deception."

  "Aye, we should talk of other things, somewhere else too. I hate places like this."

  "Yeah no kidding, the whiskey they serve here is just the kind of cheap swill you'd get for ten bucks at the supermarket bargain sale, only with higher prices, plus this drab interior makes me wanna die of boredom. Reminds me of Austin."

  Huh? They barter with deer? No, wait, probably another idiom, "Ha, I had a feeling we'd be on the same page in that regard. Come then, let us dispense with this dump - I know a much better tavern."

  "Lead the way," he said, eagerly.

  The two of us went on horseback some ways away. Yeah, we grabbed the assassins' getaway beasts - what of it? I'd actually taken the saddle off of mine, a sturdy dark brown one; why the hell did he snicker when I said that my people prefer to ride bare back? Victor was actually pretty good at riding horses; he'd nabbed a grayish mare.

  While we rode he told me that his home country had a longstanding horse-riding tradition, that it was every young man's dream to tame his very own "wild mustang", which he explained was a wild horse that roamed the vast plains many leagues northwest of his home town. I spurred my horse forward and challenged him to keep up, and it was about all he could do to not lose me.

  Even though lately I'd been riding a dragon, I was still an excellent cavalryman - and from what I understood, we elves have an even deeper understanding with horses than even humans do. So I was able to command my steed to make sharper turns among other tricks to move quicker and more efficiently.

  At last we made it to one of my favorite haunts - Greasy's Longneck Pub. After hitching our "borrowed" horses to the posts outside, the first thing we saw was a man getting thrown out of the front door; he had a huge welt on his face. Ah yes there was that familiar sound of a live piano playing something snappy, with a bit of bounce to it. A large bald man with a thick black mustache stepped outside and brushed his hands together.

  I called out, "hey, Greasy!"

  "Well, well, if it isn't his highness," he smiled wildly, clasping his hands in front of his faded red apron, "this is a pleasant surprise!"

  I waved dismissively, "man, you know that when I go out drinkin' I'm just an adventurer," I turned to Victor, "this is Greasy, the owner of the place," Victor nodded and stuck out a hand.

  "Ah, bozulay," he said, sounding the word out, and Greasy happily accepted the handshake with his signature "dee-lighted".

  I slapped him on the back and laughed, "that's too formal for this lout, Vic. Is my usual table available, Greasy?"

  He nodded, "please, do come in," and so we did.