Clifton loved early mornings in Runswick. He’d shuffle out of the paladin quarters and sneak from the temple into town. Few were awake at that time, and he could wander the square and the market, gossiping with the locals and hearing stories from the travelers. He walked into the cobblestone square, where some were milling about, getting ready for the day to start. The sun had yet to rise completely yet. He headed across the square to the post building.
The building was small and square, but it housed all the letters sent from every corner of the world. He slipped inside the building, almost running into the elf who owned it.
“Sir Clifton,” she said, unsurprised. A smile came across her beautiful face. “Come again for your letters?”
“Aye. Know if there's any from my brother?”
“I don't,” she answered. “But please, do check while I begin my sorting.” She was dressed in her chemise and stays, as if she had just woken from bed. They looked bleak compared to her rich, dark skin. Clifton walked to the shelves and began searching for his name. Once he located it, he huffed in disappointment. His small box was empty.
“Well?” she called. “Have you any letters?”
Clifton walked back to her as letters flew past his head and into their respective boxes. She was twirling her hand, catching letters she would throw into the air with her magic, sending them flying off toward the shelves. “No,” he said simply. “I can't believe he hasn’t written to me yet.”
The elf shrugged, throwing more letters into the air. “He may have, Sir, it just may not have arrived.”
“But it's been months,” he cried, slumping down in a chair. “My brother has yet to write me once and he’s been gone for six months now.”
“Sir Clifton, please refrain from whining in my shop, or I shall have you thrown out.”
“Yes madam.” Clifton was quiet for a moment, letting the elf do her magical sorting before a thought occurred to him. He shot up from the chair. “Can I help you sort?” he asked. “His letter may be in there.” the elf smiled kindly. She truly did not need any help, but not unlike looking at a small child, it was hard to say no to Clifton.
“Yes Sir,” she said, pulling the bag forward. “You may help.” He couldn't hold back his smile.
“I apologize if I might be hindering you, but--”
“Not at all,” the elf said with another smile. Clifton felt his face flush. He grabbed a stack of letters and began sorting. It was a long process for Clifton, who had not sorted letters before this. He realized there were more people in the town than he had probably ever seen before. But finally, after sorting through the majority of letters, at the bottom of the pile, there lay a letter with his name on it. He grabbed it and scurried back to the chair, tearing it open. He frowned. It was rather simple.
“Clifton,
I write to you in haste. I am going to be found, and will most likely be held in Cesla’s prison. You must help me. Please, someone needs to. Get a guide, and go to Cesla. Save me and my men. I miss you terribly and require your assistance. Do not fail your brother now,
Alton.”
Clifton felt his stomach drop slightly. The elf had finished sorting, and now looked concerningly at him. “So? What does it say?” she asked. Clifton shook himself slightly.
“He needs me to meet him in Cesla. Says something’s wrong.” He handed her the letter. She looked it over, frowning as well.
“You shouldn’t go,” she said simply.
“What? Why?”
“Cesla is far too dangerous,” she sighed. “Your brother will survive, he doesn't need your help.”
“But he clearly needs me,” Clifton replied, gesturing to the letter.
“Listen to those who are older, and do not go.”
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