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The ride from Drenik was not a long one, and for that Ororo thanked the Lady of the Stars.

She had been stuck in the carriage for what seemed like an eternity and could not wait to feel sunlight on her face. The Marshal rode with them in the carriage, even though he had tried to respectfully decline. King Delleous would have none of it.

“How fares Lord Xavius these days, it has been much time since we last talked?” asked the Elven King.

Bishop, who was uncomfortable in the narrow space across from the two elves, nodded his head. “He is as well as can be expected.”

“Yes,” Delleous agreed, “with all the troubles of the land I can understand his burden, it is the same for myself.”

“King Xavius is not downed, however; He has great faith that with the alliance between our peoples and with the blessing of the Mother Phoenix, the tide of woe will fade.”

Delleous smiled at him. “Of course we must have faith in these times, if not that, then what do we have?” Bishop nodded his agreement

“How is the young Prince Scott?”

Bishop smiled slowly “Much the same, even though he is the adopted heir, he is so much like his father. Optimistic, full of ideals, controlled and patient.”

Boring as the hells from the sound of it, Ororo thought to herself.

“My Lady Ororo, I understand that you are the heir to the Mantle of Storm?” Bishop asked.

Ororo turned to him and studied him for a moment. He was handsome, even if he was quite a few years older than her. His dark skin and tattoos marked him as a native of the far eastern lands. “Yes Lord Bishop, on my twenty-third birthday, I will inherit the title that once belonged to my mother.”

Delleous smiled at Bishop. “Yes, since Ororo’s mother joined Those that Came Before, we have not had a Bearer of the Storm in quite some time, It is quite a milestone in her and our people’s lives. I am merely an old man who must sit and listen to scripts all day, but
Ororo will take the most important role of her people.”

Bishop nodded in agreement. “ I do not know much of the Mantle. I have always heard it was a important part to play among your people.”

“The most important role any of our people could ever dream to aspire to,” Delleous said. “I am but a King, Ororo will be a Goddess.”

“Father, please,” Ororo said; this talk was making her uneasy. “I plan on being no Goddess
I only want to be what I must for my people.” She looked Delleous right in the eye. “In all ways asked of me.”

Bishop could easily see some tension between the two, and he had a good idea as to what it was about. It seemed the young Prince Scott was not the only one upset about this union.

Bishop cleared his throat to break the awkward moment. “Word of the North has been good of late, The Northmen have fallen back from the Gray Woods.”

Delleous silently breathed a sigh of relief, there was only so long he could handle the look of those brilliant blue eyes of his daughter.

So much like her mother.

“Good news to hear” he agreed. “I had heard they were going to make a push to Barrenfall.”

“And they would have, if they would have had a more competent leader.”

“Brutes and murderers, all of them; not an intelligent one among their ranks.”

Bishop lowered his head slightly. “I must disagree, my Lord, Lentrok is a wily and cunning leader, a match for any strategist under my command, and his prowess in battle is that of legend among his people. The same cannot be said for all of his lieutenants, but no side can make that claim.”

Delleous tensed a moment at the mention of the Northmen chieftan. He knew that name all too well. “So I have been told.”

“An exception would be his son. He is said to be so more skilled than his father.”

Delleous took a slow drink of water from the cooler to his side. “As I have also heard.”

“My Lord,” Drallen rode to the side of the carriage, “we have reached Teyradal”

Delleous waved him away. “Thank you, Retainer.”

“I have never met a Northman,” Ororo said. “Are they as vile and barbaric as they say?”

Before Bishop could speak, Delleous spoke up. “Of course they are, Ororo, they are more beast than man, they have plagued our people for generations. Savages, nothing more”

Ororo glanced at Bishop, who had become very stoic. “Their ways are not our ways. They are a dangerous enemy, who are more than willing to shed our blood, but we are no less willing, I have seen savagery on both sides of the conflict.”

Ororo took in what he said and decided to ask no more on the matter.

The giant gates that led into the main square of the city opened for the entourage and closed behind them with a loud metallic slam after they entered.

Palace doors:

Ororo was the first out of the carriage. Standing in the middle of the garden in front of the palace, she stretched her arms and legs and tilted her head toward the sky, letting her long hair cascade down her back.

Not a guard in the area had his eyes on anything but her. Even for an elf, Ororo was beautiful, much to her own chagrin. Most men, human or elf, never bothered to look any deeper than past her light brown skin; underneath all that laid on the outside, as flawless as it was, laid the true prize, the heart of a exceptional young woman.

No one ever bothered to look, though. Blind adoration was one thing, loving her for her gorgeous face or her perfect body was easy for any man to do, but to be loved for what was on the inside, the true measure of one’s self, that was what she needed.

Even if she possessed the Mantle of Storms at this very instant, all would still marvel at her beauty and gaze in awe at the power she possessed, but it would still be hollow, no one ever wondering about whom lay beneath, and she was sure that this young prince would be the same as the rest.

Ororo shook the thoughts off as her father and Lord Bishop came to her side. She refused to feel sorry for herself. She was needed by her people, by the people of Aldriah, and by her father.

Duty before all.

Ororo steeled herself and kept repeating it over and over in her head as she clutched the single piece of jewelry she wore. It was a small silver locket her mother had given her. Even though she had much, much more elaborate jewelry, she never wore a single item other than the locket.

Bishop led them up the long flight of stone steps to the doors of the palace. Ororo thanked the Lady for wearing comfortable slippers instead of the high heels that her chambermaids had insisted upon. When they finally reached the top, two halberd-bearing guards opened the doors and bowed to the passing royalty.

As Ororo let her eyes wander around the inside of the palace, she had to admit, humans certainly knew how to make drab and dull stone look splendid.

The room was large, very large. Banners bearing the lion and the colt, the standard of Aldriah, hung from the well-shaped stonewalls. The pillars were intricately etched with markings telling tales of heroes long dead and stories since lost.

Ahead of them in the center of the room stood the thrones. The throne of the king was made of solid gold with the head of a lion on the left armrest, and the head of a colt on the other. The back spread out high into great wings of fire, made from the purest gold, the symbol of the god of Aldriah, the Mother Phoenix.

To either side of the throne sat two chairs similarly decorated, but lacking the lion and colt heads, the long vacant throne of the queen on the right, and the throne of the crown prince on the left.

So taken in by the detail of the thrones themselves, Ororo did not pay much attention to those who sat in them until they had been brought before them. A page of no more than twenty came and stood before them.

“My Lord Charles Xavius, King of the Nation of Aldriah, and monarch of the Lands of the West, and his son, Crown Prince Scott Xavius, bid welcome to you, Delleous Uth Monroah, King of the Dallenwoods and Lord of the Moon Elf people, and to you, Ororo es Monroah, Princess of the Dallenwoods, and Heir to the Storm.”

The page bowed to them and left.

King Xavius was smiling as widely as his features would allow him. “ My Lord and friend Delleous.” He rose and the two embraced.

“It has been far too long, Lord Xavius” Delleous said.

“Enough of the formalities, Delleous, I have to deal with that all day,” Charles said, his smile not faltering a inch.

Delleous laughed and the two hugged again. The smooth brown eyes of Xavius found the deep ocean blue of Ororo’s. In them she could see much kindness and warmth, but they also held the burden of worry and sadness.

“This must be Ororo,” he said as he took her hand, “My lady, word of your beauty reaches as far as the Dagger Peak Mountains, but all of the words melt like thin snow from the warmth and radiance you bring.”

Ororo, used to being flattered, still felt a flush form up her cheeks. And this time, she did not mind hearing the words of praise at all.

Beside King Xavius stood a young man, appearing about the same age as Ororo. He carried himself as if he were years older. His walk shouted discipline and control. Ororo tried to study his features as best she could. Short brown hair, cheeks showing not a sign of stubble, a tightly formed mouth, but his eyes she could not see.

A pair of dark spectacles covered them from sight. Strange, Ororo thought as the prince took her hand.

“A pleasure” was his short greeting to her, He turned to Delleous. “My Lord,” and with that, he stood back beside his father.

Better and better all the time, Ororo sighed to herself.

“Well,” Lord Xavius said finally, “I am sure you must be tired; please retire to your quarters and rest, we will talk more at supper.”

Xavius waved over to the pages to bring in the elf royalty’s belongings.

“If it is all the same to you, Father, I think I would like to go for a walk in the city,” Ororo said.

Delleous looked puzzled “Are you not tired, my dear? The trip was a very long one.”

Ororo looked up at her father “I just spent days riding in a carriage, Father, I do not think I could stand being confined to a room just now.”

Delleous sighed and smiled in sweet memory; there was her mother again, showing through in every way “Very well; I will call Drallen and have him prepare an escort for you…”

“No escort needed, Father,” Ororo said, smiling as she quickly hurried down the palace hall and to the doors “I will be back in time for the supper.”

“Ororo, now wait just a moment,” Dellous tried to say, but she was gone before the last word left his lips. He turned to see a smiling Xavius.

“The girl is a free spirit.” he said.

Dellous looked at him with a helpless grin. “You have no idea.”





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