"When Eliza came in," Andrew answered sharply, "You shouldn't underestimate me, old man."

"Hey," Bran said, somewhat upset, "I'm not that old. Am I?"

"Eh..."

"Wait, no, no, no," Bran shook his head, "We're straying from the important matter here. What was I about to ask? Oh yeah, how did you know I'm here?"

"We both have our secrets, don't we?" Andrew snapped, "Since you're the one who's been creeping around, why don't we start with yours first?"

Bran nodded in agreement. He sighed but then was silent. Andrew was clearly flustered as to what was happening. 

Then suddenly, he could see Bran move.

It was faster than normal people could process, but Andrew was no normal person. Enhancing his eyesight with magic, he was able to clearly see Bran's movement as he leapt forward, drawing his knife as his knife clashed with Bran's arm, which was much harder than Andrew thought.

They both jumped back for half a second of visual information before they both jumped at each other again, but Andrew had a plan. He embedded his knife with lightning as he threw it at Bran in one swift move. The knife ripped and thrust through the air, letting at a low rumbling and crackling sound as it quickly approached Bran's face. But Bran's reaction rate wasn't slow either. In less than three seconds, Bran's arms created a wave motion as his hands grabbed the knife's blade before redirecting it in another direction. The lightning-infused knife went through the air once again, impaling the wallpaper in the room.

However, Bran wasn't given a single second to attack since Andrew had already conjured two fireballs and propelled them forward with air magic. The fireball flew through the air with great speed as Bran crossed his arms, covering his body. The fireballs were made of mana, so he couldn't redirect them like the lightning knife. But defending himself wasn't the only thing he planned on doing.

As he crossed his arms, Andrew could see various objects in the room being raised up and thrown at him. Andrew shot five air bullets at them, but it was simply not strong enough to stop the flying objects. As the objects flew closer and closer to him, Andrew had to duck out of the way, giving Bran just enough time to approach him in a swift move as he opened his palm and concentrated just enough air between him and Andrew to send him flying at the wall.

"Who taught you that?" Bran said, his face darkening.

"Why do I have to tell you?" Andrew said, coughing, "Why do I have to tell you if I know that you're just going to get punished by the King? Oh, he's gonna be mad when he hears about you beating up a 3-year-old."

"I'm not worried," Bran shrugged, "He ain't punishing his father."

Andrew dropped his jaw, "Wait, what did you say?"

"You didn't know?" Bran smiled, "I'm Gil's father. Bran Greenwood, at your service."

"Then..." Andrew coughed, "Why did you fight me?"

"You said you killed the beast," said Bran, "Just because I protected you from Jean didn't mean I believed you. So I wanted to test your skills, see if you really are good. And what can I say? You exceeded my expectations by a huge margin."

"So you test my skills by beating me up? A three-year-old?"

"Well, not all three-year-olds are able to throw a knife that well," Bran said, "And not all three-year-olds can use lightning magic, now can they?"

Andrew stayed silent.

"I'm not gonna ask you anything more about your magic," Bran continued, "It's your secret. But I wanna know who taught you those skills."

"What for?"

"Well, Andy," Bran smiled, "When you become such a feared warrior, your battles start becoming numb. But when I fought you, I felt something... new. Of course, I've fought many people who are better warriors, but... I was more than surprised that a three-year-old could have those skills. So the person who taught you must be even more powerful, so I just want to battle them. Find that spark again, you know?"

"I wish I could introduce you to her," Andrew said sadly, "But... even if I wanted to, I can't."

"What do you mean?" Bran asked curiously.

Andrew shook his head.

Bran suddenly understood. He sighed as he patted Andrew's head, consoling him.

King Gilthorpe sighed heavily as he looked into the distance in silence. He was more conflicted than he had ever been. On one hand, he was being pressured to answer for the deaths of twelve humans, but on the other hand, he wasn't going to give up his daughter because some humans told him to. He wanted to stay in a position of power, but it was more difficult than ever before.

"I have an idea, my King," one of his advisors, Fleck, spoke up.

King Gilthorpe turned around. Fleck was an advisor of his who would only suggest something when there were no better ways. He was reluctant, but he eventually allowed Fleck to make his suggestion.

"We can blame it all on the human child, sire," Fleck said.

"What?" King Gilthorpe asked, baffled.

"Sire, I think that we can blame it all on that child," Fleck repeated, "You've seen its abilities and its wits. We can argue that it was the one who murdered the humans. Three dead elves are also more than enough proof to say that we are also just victims of this child."

"What blasphemy is that?" King Gilthorpe said furiously, "I may have been pushed into a corner, but I won't sell out a child who saved my daughter!"

"As you wish, my King," Fleck said humbly as he bowed to King Gilthorpe, "But you always need to keep in mind that this may be our only answer. Sacrifice the few for the sake of the many."

"And you think that'll work?" King Gilthorpe snapped, "Twelve dead bandits for such a special child. I assure you, they'll agree to that any time."

"Then we can guarantee that we as well as the child are safe, my King."

"No," King Gilthorpe shook his head in disagreement, "You've seen what that child could do with your own eyes. In mere seconds, his sense of logic was easily able to overwhelm my reasoning and even yours. If we sell him out and accuse him of a crime he hadn't committed, we shall be the first ones to suffer the consequences."

"Then what if we select him as a witness?" Fleck asked.

"He's but a child. Humans can argue that we had tricked him into it. It won't work."

"Then what shall we do?"

"Maybe there's another way," King Gilthorpe replied, "We have a little bit of time before the convention. During that time, maybe we can get the child to reinforce his credibility, as well as prove his allegiance to us."

"Your wish is my command, sire," Fleck bowed as he signalled the guards to exit the room as he also began to leave.

"This may well be the beginning of another war, Fleck," King Gilthorpe said sadly, "And right now, war isn't something that we can afford."

"What can I do, sire?"

"Pray," King Gilthorpe replied, "Come back to your family. And pray. Pray for peace."

King Gilthorpe wasn’t able to enjoy himself. He was unsure if he could achieve peace with the humans. He was considering visiting his cousin on the western side of the world, but he knew that he could only do that unless it was necessary.

 

The humans still weren’t going easy on him. He knew for sure that they would be more than happy if he just gave some land on the northern territory to them, but that would just be showing weakness to the humans. Maybe he could blame it all on Andrew as Fleck suggested, but similarly to visiting his cousin, he could only do it if it was necessary.

 

“I can’t give the child up, Katelyn,” he said to his wife in frustration, “The humans will just take advantage of it.”

 

“He can be your witness, Gil,” Katelyn replied, “Why can’t you just see that?”

 

“Impossible,” King Gilthorpe shook his head, “Fleck had already considered that option. It is simply irrelevant.”

 

“Maybe the hatred for humans has blinded you both,” said Katelyn, “Maybe Andrew can be the bridge to peace between humans and elves.”

 

“Too many uncertainties, Katelyn. We are maintaining peace with them simply because we are getting weaker,” said King Gilthorpe, “If that hadn’t been the case, I’d be the first one to take the humans down.”

 

“See, Gil. Your hatred for humans.”

 

“My hatred for them is completely fact-based.”

 

“It was years ago, Gil,” Katelyn said, “Please. Open your eyes to see what’s good for our people.”

 

King Gilthorpe was going to reply but then hesitated, “I hope you’re right, Katelyn. If your hopes are well-placed, maybe Eliza can be an open-minded ruler for our race in the future. But I don’t think I can be that ruler,” he said as he exited the room, “Katelyn, can you tell Eliza and the child that I’m not coming to dinner?”

 

“Why?” Katelyn asked.

 

“I have work to do,” King Gilthorpe replied sharply.

 

 

It was late at night. There wasn’t a single person at the docks except for an elf dressed in black robes. He carried an enchanted knife in his jacket and wore a bracelet on his wrist that had a golden tree engraved on it.

 

As he was walking through the night air, he could suddenly hear a familiar voice calling out to him:

 

“Look who it is!” the voice called out, “The one and only Gilthorpe Greenwood!”

King Gilthorpe shushed, “Be quiet, Garrett!”

 

Garrett smiled and nodded with the King as he gave the King a warm hug.

 

“What brings ye here, old friend?” Garrett asked merrily.

 

“I’m looking for something of yours,” King Gilthorpe replied.

“A little something, eh?” Garrett grinned, “What is it that you want, my lad?”

 

“The compass,” the King replied seriously.

 

“A compass? That’ll be thirty units, please.”

 

“Not a compass, Garrett. The compass.”

 

Garrett immediately lost his grin as he looked at the King, seemingly bewildered.

 

“What’s the occasion?”

 

“The humans want to start a war with us,” said the King, “I need to see him.”

 

Garrett nodded understandingly, “I see. But are you sure this is the right time, mate? You know that once you do this, there’s no going back, right? Once you awaken him, it’s all lost.”

 

The King silently opened his hand. Garrett sighed as he enter his small shack and started digging through a mountain of junk. Finally, he pulled a small object from the bottom of the pile and he clumsily wiped some dust off it before handing it to the King. The King nodded gratefully before he gestured for Garrett to leave. Garrett then bowed before immediately packing his things and starting to run.

 

“Coward,” the King said under his breath.

 

As the King turned away, he grabbed a small bag from Garrett’s shack, threw it onto a small boat and started sailing into the sea. At first, it was slow, but the breezy night winds blew the King far away from shore, as he travelled further and further away from home. As his city started to disappear in the distance, he stared at the bright blue flames at the top of his castle. The flames were dancing gleefully in the night, burning eternally. The saddened King blew the city a goodbye kiss before turning around, preparing for what was to come to him.

 

It was a calm night. The wind was blowing, but there weren’t any winds powerful enough to affect his boat negatively. He just kept on sailing. Every once in a while, he would look up and admire the beautiful night sky. It was pitch black except for some occasional stars riddling in the sky. It was beautiful. His mother once told him how the atmosphere beyond his world was terrifying yet merciful at the same time. As a child, he would always admire the stars. But when he grew up, he stopped looking at them. He lost the desire to know about the world. The King watched the stars as his boat continued sailing.

 

All of a sudden, King Gilthorpe could feel the wind suddenly blowing violently. The wind that was once gentle was now tearing apart his sails. Despite the rather dangerous situation, King Gilthorpe smiled. The place he wanted to go to wasn’t a place all men could enter, and only the most prestigious men could even dare to sail close to it. The King grabbed the compass from his bag and waved it in the air. The compass hands revolved violently and chaotically. But the King knew the direction he had to go. He turned the sails, letting the wind push him. King Gilthorpe then grabbed onto his boat tightly as he closed his eyes, praying that it would work. And as the wind angrily blew him forward once more, his vessel crashed onto a gigantic rock and the King lost his consciousness.