Resli did not let Judson find lodging elsewhere, claiming there was enough space in the Master House and convinced him to temporarily use the bedroom right next to Waverly's old one.

Before he walked into his, he peeped in hers first.

Everything looked well arranged and neat, but there was not one item in there that belonged to her. He knew. The only sight he felt nostalgic about was the mimosa plant on her window, which had grown out more than before and was positioned where she used to sit just by the side.

His own room, according to Resli, used to be occupied by Lord Henry's wife, but the woman despised having to live there and had moved out only days after her first stay.

It was a pleasant bedroom with a wide bed that did not creak and no gaping holes in the floorboards. There was abundant space yet very little decoration. Only a pot of growing pansies stood by the bedside. In his treehouse, he prefered ground cover plants, like creeping myrtle or phlox because they were colorful and took up a lot of space. He moved toward the pansies and held an open hand over them, feeling their very roots, and then willed them to grow bolder.

The plants wriggled and engorged, exposing their contrasting middles and brightly colored petals. He beamed at the sight. They looked more alive then.

At night, Resli brought him food, a stack of blankets, and a new, lovely, handmade coat.

"Might not look like I do, but I learned how to make Shade clothing in my youth." She shared, smiling.

Judson put on the coat. It was lightweight, came in his favorite color and had an opening - for the protuberances in his back - that magically clasped on their own when the fabric touched.

"Thank you very much for this." He said gratefully.

"You're welcome." She responded.

From the look on her face, he gathered that she was still brokenhearted over the news. Before then, he had overheard her crying from downstairs. It was obvious that she had loved Waverly much. She made several eulogizing comments about her and reminisced about their time together in the Master House, revealing that it was because of Waverly she frequented the building more than normal.

After his meal, Resli made several inquiries about their journey, then told him all she knew about the Chasma.

"In my native land, The Chasma was something of a dreadful myth, but a few Dwarves from old times were told to have seen it."

"Does any know what it looks like?" He questioned, leaning forward on his elbows.

She shook her head. "No one truly knows. The Chasma is a presence only. No being can tell when and where it comes and goes. All we know is that it serves a dangerous purpose."

"Can it be found?"

Again, she shook her head. "I cannot say, but I believe that if you travel to my home realm of Hammiton, you might find better answers than this." Her eyes saddened and her voice mirrored it. "All I pray is that Heltryd was not brought to harm. She is a warrior and she will prevail. It might even turn out that she finds her way back to us."

Judson chuckled at that. Indeed. She was capable of such a thing. Her spirit was undying and perseverant. It felt like a necessity - her achievement of great, unspeakable feats. Escaping whatever outcome the Chasma had subjected her to could undoubtedly be one of them.

The following day, he heard noises.

He stayed put, taking it that occupants of the Master House were preparing to leave for their various businesses of the day. He prayed that until his departure, nobody would meet him. He wanted to speak to HalfHyde. It plagued him how hurt the Half-Elf had looked. He was well aware what Waverly meant to him. If anything, he deserved to be told what had truly happened to his daughter.

Stealthily, he maneuvered to HalfHyde's room. It came to his mind that just like everyone else, the Half-Elf might have left for the Council Hall, but as he thought of this, the door yawned open before him.

HalfHyde stood there, appearing oddly solemn from head to foot.

Before he could speak, the door was slowly yanked wider, ushering him in.

Without a word, Judson entered.

"Will you not go to the Council today?" He summoned the courage to speak after a time of silence.

HalfHyde sighed, but did not turn his attention from the window which he stood before with his hands locked behind him.

"No. A season afore was I expelled from the Council for alleged falsities in my records against the monarch of tis realm. Tis matter for a long time has tarried, but it be one I discussed not with ye."

Judson nodded in understanding. He knew about HalfHyde's long-term scuffle with his colleagues, and it appeared that the Half-Elf had finally been kicked out of the council for good. It broke his heart, and he was certain that if Waverly was in his place, she would have marched up to the Council and knocked some sense into them. He, on the other hand, did not have such a capacity.

"What will happen now?" He asked.

HalfHyde slowly spun. "A decision I am yet to reach concerning that, but tis be not what matters now." He stepped toward his long bench and lowered himself carefully onto it.

Judson frowned. He rarely ever saw HalfHyde look tired if not at all. His face was grim, almost pallid; as if he were recuperating from a sickness that suddenly hit him again out of nowhere. As a result of being part Elf, he was likely to escape the chains of aging until he, perhaps, crossed a number of hundred years, yet Judson could not help but wonder if the signs of old age were progressively creeping in.

"Tell to me," He instructed, grunting as he arched himself into a straighter posture. "Of the journey ye uptook to the North."

Judson exhaled, feeling a tad shaky. He did not think that, regardless of his shocking success, reminiscing about the voyage would fill him with such anxiety. As he made to speak, he suddenly realized that he remembered less about what happened when he and Waverly first reached the mountain. It was a strange feeling. He struggled to hold on to the memory, but it slipped from his mind as though it were covered in oil.

"I await the tale." HalfHyde quietly reminded.

Without a choice, he spilled all that he could. HalfHyde squinted when he spoke of Onympha.

"A Nedae!" He exclaimed in mild surprise. "It strikes me as curious that such a creature exists still, yet curiouser that Waverly should find it. I expected nothing less of her."

The narration continued, and at certain points, HalfHyde would halt him with a comment or a statement, until the story was completed.

"Ye remembers no more who rid ye of the burden ye traveled to remove?"

A deep frown rooted in Judson's forehead. He clearly recalled waking in a different realm and going into it, but everything after that was blurry except for Waverly's capture by an evil lasso. He shook his head, shut his eyes and covered his face in attempts to recall, but the more he tried, the more the memory faded away like aging color.

"Cease to stir remembrance." HalfHyde instructed, lifting a hand. His face was contorted in supposition. "Perhaps tis be the will of powers beyond mortal reckoning. Should ye make further attempts to unravel that which ye beheld, the mind of ye would succeed only in setting great confusion upon itself."

With a little sigh, he wiped across his forehead. "Great sorrow is upon me for the fate of my child. Tis what I feared long before her departure, but knowledge of her strong-headed will of continuance did I bear still. If only in my hands it were to prevent tis outcome, but, alas, it be out of my power and beforehand, a warning from unchallengeable authority came to me to release her."

An eyebrow went up on Judson's face.

The Half-Elf seemed to suddenly be speaking to himself and had stated unbeknownst that he was told earlier to let Waverly go on the journey. Who had given him such an instruction was the question. But Judson saw that he could not ask that, not while HalfHyde looked as though everything inside him had shattered to pieces. The sight of him being sad was a lot heart wrenching than Judson ever imagined and he wondered if perhaps it was the sole reason why the Half-Elf habitually wore a hair-raising look on his face - to mask how soft he truly was on the inside.

"To Resli ye must go now for a meal," He went on kindly, his gaze fixed to the floor. "Return later. To no point it may seem, but for my daughter will we search to the very ends of tis world. Waverly must be found."

At that sentence, a wind of relief bathed Judson from head to foot. He felt greatly comforted and worry fell off his chest for a time. He nodded and rose, thanking HalfHyde before leaving the room.

The Master House, albeit a very familiar place on the outside, felt strange on the inside given how infrequently he paid visits in the past. There were times when he would walk to the edge of the forest from his wattle and conceal himself so that he could stare at Waverly through her window. Half the instances he did so, he had caught her bothering the mimosa plant whilst smiling happily at it. She was thoroughly patient in waiting for the plant to settle and often watched it with undisturbed precision until it did. Judson found that he was impressed with how easily she exercised patience and found himself praying that she would be able to do the same where she was. As HalfHyde had said, he would scour the whole world if he needed to just to find her. All he wanted her to do was be patient with him.

Suddenly, his attention was torn by the sound of the front doors swinging open. He spun, expecting to see Resli shuffle in, but the intruder's face was not one he liked very much. She did not notice him as she strode forward in a full skirt and dull, olive colored sleeves, adjusting the pins in her sleek hair. Compared to the last time, she had grown a few centimeters taller, and for some reason, he could clearly tell. Uncertainty on what to do made him tarry until their eyes met and she halted with a very surprised gasp.

Slowly, a smile lifted her cheeks and she folded slender arms across her chest.

"What a shocking surprise!"

Judson stared unblinkingly.

She scoffed gently and tsked. "Last I checked, you had left our little town with your sweetheart, no?!" Leaning sideways very slightly, she glanced behind him. "Where is she?"

"I have no desire to speak to you, Abelena." He voiced and turned to leave.

"Why? Not that I care, but you always struck me as more levelheaded. What made you come back here anyway? Astraline told me that you'd taken a ship and sailed to the Hinterlands of Whateverville. Thirsty for some adventure, no? Did you manage to find any by luck? None?"

"I would appreciate it if you stopped talking now." Judson stated, suddenly feeling exhausted as he inclined to look her. His back hurt and he was yet to find out why.

Abelena giggled. If she had a less nastier personality, he thought she would have made for a very good friend.

"Or what then?" She taunted then opened her mouth in feigned shock. "You're going to set your sweet, miscreant dandiprat on me? Have her rip my skirt and drag my hair? I'm not scared of her. She's a scumbag and a wretch, and I hope to never set eyes on her again."

Judson drew in a shaky breath, his forehead wrinkling into a frown. He dearly hoped that Abelena would keep shut soon because whatever hurt was cooking inside of him had suddenly turned into fury, rising to his chest with the force of a million horses on stampede.

"Be glad then that you will not." He muttered and turned again to leave.

A brief cackle rang out of Abelena. "Oh, great chimes! Don't tell me you've gotten her killed and come to tell her poor father about it?"

In his subconscious, Judson willed every single plant in the living quarters to burst forth. Each one obeyed, releasing tendril, stalk and stem all at once. Abelena screamed for a millisecond before she was gagged by layers of fat green leaves. Her feet dragged against the floor whilst being lifted by the engorged green things shooting out from every vase behind her. She wiggled and let out muffled screams, her eyes growing to the size of saucepans as she stared in fear from above his head where she dangled helplessly.

From the corner, Judson felt an approaching presence and turned to find HalfHyde, the Half-Elf's face contorting in absolute shock at the sight. He gazed from Abelena to the unnaturally large plants to Judson then, his face settled as if by simply staring he had understood exactly what transpired. With no word and a simple tap on Judson's shoulder, he strode back to his room, unconcerned.

Obliged by natural pity, Judson extended a hand and Abelena was gently lowered to the ground. The leaves that bound her receded and withdrew to their various pots, returning to normal size again. Abelena, who had slumped to a kneeling position, sucked in frightened sobs, tears spilling from her eyes.

He stared at her for a while. "For your sake and for your safety, watch your mouth."

Then, he strode away, listening to her scamper in the opposite direction.

The following day was met with a surprising visit from Astraline and a little Elf boy that looked somewhat like her. She introduced him as her younger brother by four years, Alasdair; Maiasar in Northern Elvish.

Together, the trio took a leisurely stroll through the Grand Ale.

As Judson came to realize, Alasdair was born mute, but he was an interesting child, who loved everything and stared as if he was a newborn. He had gotten up the courage to hold Judson's hand after staring curiously at him while Astraline said her greetings. It made them look like old friends and Astraline commented on it.

"Alasdair does not go around much." She explained, walking with the kind of grace that Elves were best known for. Her feet made no noise and her hands were stationed in front of her like a princess. "He spends a lot of time with Méandiel and because he cannot be understood, the other children avoid him. It is not difficult for him to make friends, and I'm very glad he has taken a liking to you."

Judson beamed, staring down at the Elf. He looked clueless, yet eager. Oftentimes, he would skip as he walked or bend over to pick up something from the ground that he would later stuff into a pouch hanging from his belt. The child reminded him of his own self as a homeless youngster, although at Alasdair's age, he had already met Waverly. Similar to his case, Alasdair would probably be misunderstood and ignored by everyone, except his own family. It was encouraging, that thought, that the young Elf was not as alone as he had once been.

His gaze removed from Alasdair, who swung their hands, to focus on Astraline. She had begun to lament about a past difficulty with teaching Alasdair to read. He was a practical child and wanted more to act than theorize. According to her, the last and only time Alasdair sat put to listen was when he was tutored for a week by HalfHyde.

"The Lord Scrivener had a secret method of getting him to sit still." She laughed, leaning forward to glance at her brother. He, on the other hand, was completely oblivious of his companions. "I wished that the lessons never came to an end, but HalfHyde became grim after his expulsion from the Council and did not step outside as often afterwards."

Judson frowned. "What really happened?"

Astraline scoffed. "Lord Henry did. It was a difficult thing to witness, but I was there with my father that day. It was he who escorted the Half-Elf out. HalfHyde's records were analysed and proven to hold treasonous falsities, even though Lord Scrivener swore he never recorded such things. Lord Henry's solicitation was pressing and stronger, and he convinced the Council to judge in favor of expulsion given HalfHyde's previous display of flaws and disinterest in the affairs of the Grand Ale."

"Waverly's fight with Abelena." He contributed knowingly.

She nodded. "A few know that the expulsion was more of a personal act of revenge for that incident. I believe it was by Lord Henry's doing that those records were tampered with, but there is no proof of it. HalfHyde has pleaded a retrial, yet I doubt the outcome would be favorable, not when Lord Coutts holds a firm sway over the Council."

It angered Judson that one man could exercise so much authority even though he was not a King. Lord Henry had power and abused it to the fullest. He and the rest of his family did not deserve their status. Waverly had been right to despise them.

By now, the broad, interweaving roads were slowly leading back into town. Astraline knew her way around as a result of constant horse riding as she revealed; taking Alasdair for make-believe quests, sharpening her own archery skills and running errands for both Méandiel and her father, and many other reasons. Having grown up in a remote town, where most of the surrounding areas were wild forests, wood and foothills, she strove to keep the venturesome part of herself alive upon arrival to the Grand Ale whilst also showing her brother the beauty of it. She voiced her desire to join the Elvish army someday, stating that her confined lifestyle did more harm than good to the warring spirit she was born with.

"I might not look it, but I can wield a bow and arrow as impressively as Méandiel can." She prided, hiding a blush. "He showed me how to shoot and urged me to never stop practicing. He says that someday my talents will be useful, and I will serve a greater purpose than my dear mother did in her lifetime."

"I believe him." Judson agreed. "You and your brother are destined to do great things."

Like hunt for Rages. A young, light voice filtered into his mind as if the wind had simply blown it into him. He halted, utmostly startled.

Almost immediately, Astraline noticed his change of countenance and halted too, her face twisting in concern. "Are you alright?"

Judson cautiously turned to stare at Alasdair. The young Elf was staring up at him, also waiting to know whatever had caused their stroll to pause. His head tilted from left to right in questioning.

"Nothing." Judson stated, swallowing his true answer. "I felt a little dizzy."

"Come along then." Astraline urged. "You need to sit down for a minute. Look! There is Snowberger's pastry house. We are already back into town."

Alasdair released his hand from Judson's and sprinted in the direction of the pastry house because he had spotted Méandiel standing there, speaking to Snowberger. Judson watched him run, feeling conflicted. He was not sure how he knew for certain, but he knew for certain. The voice in his head had belonged to Alasdair.

The Grand Ale was busy as every other day, and there were more engaging things to stare at. It seemed as if the population had tripled over time, but the noisy atmosphere was somewhat soothing. Their stroll had led back into the main square. There, the roads were higher and noticeably narrower, cobbled from end to end and lined with bigger stalls. Altogether, it looked like a smaller version of the same market Judson had once been chased through long ago in King Bayrak's kingdom.

A line of carriages began to ride past, urging folk on the street to give way. Judson and Astraline stood by the side as well to create room for the vehicles. One of such looked magnificent and was the last in the advancing progression. Its occupants were concealed from sight by light purple curtains on both sides. A feeling of intense familiarity overcame Judson at the sight of the swinging flag atop a small pole onto which was a scepter and a crown. The royal ensign.

As the carriage passed, he glimpsed a silhouette within, leaning forward as if staring at him.

A few paces forward, the carriage stopped. Two guards in golden armor walked to the entrance and released a makeshift staircase with three steps. When the occupant's head poked through the curtains, Judson realized why everything had felt familiar.

King Asherah's daughter, Luanda, climbed down the steps and beelined him. She was dressed in the loveliest, most stylish Elvish armor he had ever set eyes on with a large, velvet cape of royal purple flowing from behind. Her collar resembled the wings of a dove and her hair was graced by a golden circlet. A sheathed sword dangled from her right side and a long dagger on the left.

"How fey!" She exclaimed, sounding as one on the brink of laughter. Her eyes roamed, and for what seemed like eternity, she squinted in deep thought. "What has brought you to the Grand Ale?"

Judson exhaled, unsure he could provide a possible, sensible response. But as he made to speak, a voice interrupted.

"My Lady," Lord Henry exclaimed, approaching from the distance in his daughter's company. "Your Highness. It is most pleasant to see you once again. Welcome!"

He came up to them and acknowledged Luanda with a kiss on the back of her hand.

"Colvin." Luanda nodded in greeting then glanced at his daughter. "Abelena!"

The latter beamed at once and curtsied.

"I take it you have had a good journey." Henry proposed.

"The roads were fair as was the weather." The Princess replied.

"That is wonderful news, Your Highness. We are more than delighted to have you honor our town with your presence," Henry's smile fell into a curious frown. "But may I ask why you linger by the roadside?"

At that, Luanda turned to Judson, who had been upesttingly conscious about the number of eyes focused on his and the princess's brief exchange. Given her imperiality, the massive attention was no bother to Luanda. He noticed how easily Lord Henry's expression and that of Abelena turned distasteful when Luanda's attention turned to him. Both father and daughter appeared to be waiting for a chance to dissect a commoner before the realm's Princess.

Thankfully, Luanda gave no direct reply.

"I will be seeing you when the Council is in session, Colvin." She stated then looked at Judson again. "Come with me, please. We have things to discuss."

Judson turned to Astraline. The She-Elf gave consent by furrowing her eyebrows.

Without a word, he followed the princess into her carriage. All through the ride, Luanda showed an odd interest in his wellbeing, asking light-hearted questions about his thoughts regarding the town and its snowballing politics. When the carriage stopped again, it did so in front of a large building amongst even larger buildings. It looked like a small palace, but Judson knew it was not. The structure was built right in the middle of surrounding edifices that appeared empty and old; most of which were temples.

Inside, cool air made fabric float. There was an abundance of space as well as furniture, kingly colors, valuables, statues and stationary armor.

"My father's estate." Luanda revealed as she poured wine into a goblet, pointing an aimless finger in reference to the building. "Every administrative town has a district for one of these. It is where the Lower Lords and Royal officers meet to discuss affairs of state."

She walked up to Judson and handed him the goblet. He felt startled, but received it out of courtesy. He had never actually drunk wine nor did he like it at all. Yet he risked a sip and exhaled softly in relief. It tasted of grape.

Luanda sat herself on the other side of the long furniture, easing the excesses of her armor bit by bit. "I did not wish for anyone else to hear during the ride, but now it is private. Will you tell me what you are doing here?"

He carefully set down the cup. "I came for a visit."

"Family?" Luanda's head tilted slightly.

"Of the sort, Your Highness." He answered. It was not an option for him to reveal unnecessary information even to someone of such royal status. Luanda might be Princess, but she was not someone he trusted enough.

She nodded in understanding. "Lovely, isn't it?"

He turned to see she pointed at and noted a small bunch of bleeding heart flowers by the tall window, arranged inside a big, rectangular container filled with soil. It surprised him that he had taken no notice of them when he first walked in. He looked to her, wondering why she showed him the flowers.

"Indeed." He agreed.

"You need not feel so uncomfortable around me." She chuckled, noticing his unease. "I believe that even without spoken word, peace has already been made between you and I. The past shall remain the past. Wars, strife, anger, pain; none of that matters today."

A little frown of mild confusion came over Judson's face, but he nodded in agreement.

Luanda chuckled again then pointed at the flowers, her face clouding with plea. "Do you think you could grow more of those? I love flowers, even if I might've given off the lifetime impression that ladylike fancies are not for me."

In spite of his surprise, he conceded. "Of course."

He rose and walked to the flowers to stare at them for a few moments, feeling Luanda noiselessly rise from her seat to stand behind him; watching. When he made a grab for the stem, a flurry of green sparks ignited upon contact and the soil began to undulate.

Luanda came up fully to oogle, her mouth parting in growing awe. Sounds of movement underneath the soil grew louder until several stems gently broke out; growing, spreading and stretching until the entirety of the vase was covered in bleeding hearts. A laugh of delight came from the Princess as she took up the heart shaped flowers in between her fingers, tilting to stare at the spherical drops shooting from them.

When she straightened again, she wore a warm smile. "You truly are your mother's son."

All of a sudden, Judson recalled that the Princess was aware of his status as a son of nature. He nodded, thinning his lips. For the next few minutes, Luanda explained that she came to bestow a high title upon a member of the Council - whose name she did not say. He noticed from the way her eyes often swept past his wings that she wanted to ask about his journey. Besides, she was present when the Crysotoni Queen had set him off with Waverly from Alpgeton. Regardless, it was not his wish to talk about it with anyone else.

That night, Judson tossed in bed, his mind filling with thoughts of Waverly. Each time he remembered her, he felt too hurt to do anything else. He constantly assured himself that she was alive even though there was no proof. He clearly remembered being told that the Chasma acted as a Gateway, leading in and out of dreadful places. Thus, in order to retrieve Waverly, he would have to find the Chasma again.

The question was - where was it?

Resli had said that no man could find it. She had promised to provide him with enough information to begin his search - the same promise HalfHyde made during their second meeting earlier that day.

At last, he shut his eyes, welcoming the image of Waverly's face. Perhaps, it was his only comfort - that she still existed in his mind, vivid and lifelike. He could hear her voice, her laugh; see her face that constantly flexed with emotion whenever she spoke. Her watchful eyes were no longer frightening to him as they had once been. He loved looking into them because they noticed everything yet revealed very little. His thoughts strained to HalfHyde's retrial set to take place in a few days. The Princess would act as a primary judge in the case and this made him a tad hopeful.

When the day finally came, the Council Hall was dark as a result of heavy curtains, filled to the brim with people. Lords of the Council and Princess Luanda herself took up the front benches with the latter sitting on a much higher bench. Judson sat with Astraline and Alasdair near the very edge of the room, listening with rapt attention. It took hours before the Council finally reached a conclusion.

"Plea for revocation of expulsion from the Council is denied." A member announced and murmurings arose.

HalfHyde's expression remained the same as he stared at the row of Humans seated in front of him. Opposite him sat a sniggering Henry, his wife and daughter, and a number of guards behind them.

Judson stared into every face, wondering how no one could take pity on HalfHyde.

Suddenly, Luanda spoke out, reaching for a scroll before her. "How long ago was the Lord Scrivener handed his position?"

"Precisely a year and ten months, Your Majesty."

"And since then, how often has the Lord Scrivener made such errors in his recordings?"

A man by the left gave a reply. "Er, not necessarily has this incident repeated in the past, Your Highness, but-"

"If there are any overlooked records, I should like to see them now." She interrupted, analyzing the contents of the scroll.

"Your Highness, there are none." The same man replied.

"What exactly, then, is the grounds for this permanent dismissal?"

"The accused showed several ignoble behaviors toward Council members and failed to make corrections. It is against the laws of this court to tolerate hostility toward another. You are certainly aware of this, Your Highness."

"Hostility?" She laughed at the absurdity of the man's choice of word. "The Lord Scrivener showed hostility toward who?"

"Not himself, My Lady, but the child under his custody."

Luanda paused and looked at HalfHyde for a second. "Waverly?" She went quiet for a few more. "My father himself trusts this Elf. There was never a time where he took sides with lies nor evil, and if any of you truly knew him, then this court would not hold. If it is his daughter's crime he pays for, I wouldn't blame her. War roughens the mind of a man worse than ungodly thoughts. The girl's shoulders are ladened with more responsibilities than all of yours put together. I would know."

"I'm afraid nobody knows what you speak of, Your Highness." A woman put forth. She was the only female member of the Council.

Luanda scoffed and threw HalfHyde another glance that clearly showed she found their ignorance amusing.

"Of course not. You have sat here in your lordly seats, pocketing whatever little gold flickers past your eyelids whilst a child wielded a sword in defence of your home and your families. I would fall on my knees, if I were you, and thank the Lord Scrivener's daughter for her contributions during the Great Unrest."

"The Great Unrest?" Lord Henry scoffed a short laugh. "Pardon me, Your Highness, but that ugly contention was managed by brave warriors and soldiers trained to protect us from evil."

Luanda's eyebrows arched. "And is your gratitude of the victory over that same gainstrife so little that you punish your savior's father because of malice?"

Henry appeared just as perplexed as everyone else, and it almost made Judson chuckle. Yet, he watched silently.

"My Lady, it is out of the point that-" A different council member went on.

Luanda appeared visibly angry. "What is out of the point is that you have judged out of favoritism than fairness and I can smell it from a distance, High Facilitator. Is it not your task to reach a consensus without taking sides?"

The High Facilitator grunted. "It is so, Your Highness."

"Then execute your seat properly."

The Hall fell silent for a moment before whisperings began to erupt from the high bench. The men spoke over themselves and Judson glimpsed the growing unease on Henry's face.

After a long while, the High Facilitator cleared his throat. Judson thought his face was quite scary.

"Judging from newer consensus and a clearer iteration on the cases of consistent disputation between High Scribe, Colvin Coutts, and Official Scribe, HalfHyde Oakecrest; a charge of recorded falsities against the latter and physical violence amongst the offsprings of both parties, this council has reached a conclusion conformable to the laws of our town and of this court. The Council discharges all petitions against HalfHyde Oakecrest and reinstates him into membership with immediate effect."

"No!" Henry shouted and rose to his feet. He stormed toward the bench, looking up at the princess. "You cannot let this happen."

He turned to HalfHyde and pointed. "This Half-Elf is a brute in sheep clothing, and I have seen firsthand the level of terror he can unleash upon us. We cannot let him have as little as an ounce of control over our town. Himself and his witch of a daughter should be thrown out before we risk incurring more danger to ourselves."

"Witch?" Luanda's head tilted. Her regal voice was soft.

Henry, who was pacing to and fro, ignored her, addressing the townspeople. "Ever since that gremlin arrived, it was one horror to another. She disappears for five months and look how peaceful our lives have been. We saw for ourselves when she passed through an impenetrable border. Her supposed father unsurprisingly offered us no explanation. Instead, he hid her away; raging fires, the Night's Plague itself - it all happened with her around. And my innocent daughter fell victim to constant attacks from her. Again, the Elf says nothing but words in her defense. Is that not proof enough that the Lord Scrivener be expelled? He harbors evil. He welcomes it."

"Is your anger fueled by the Lord Scrivener's mistakes alone, or the fact that you fear his child?" Luanda asked. She leaned leisurely into her chair. "Because if it is, then you have every right to fear. Waverly is no witch, but given her heritage as a god's blood, you are bound to think so."

"A what?" Henry's face crumbled.

"A god's child, Colvin. And not just any god. Alluña herself."

The room filled with frightened gasps and uneasy murmurings.

Henry chuckled nervously. "That is impossible, Your Highness."

"Do you claim then, that I tell lies, Colvin? I was there in the realm of Alpgeton two years ago. I witnessed the great feats that so-called witch achieved and the goodness she showed to people. Not only did she win battles, she also saved millions of lives. The Elves name her Cild Orakkél, Aéolana Ariss. Child Prodigy. Star of Peace."

Her imploring eyes traveled and met with Judson's. "And I wish you would tell me where she is."

A few gazes steered toward Judson and made him uncomfortable. He turned to look at Astraline, who was just as shocked as everyone else.

"Lord Scrivener." Luanda went on, climbing down from her bench to stand before him. "I assume you know what has happened to your daughter."

HalfHyde slowly nodded.

The princess read his face with darting eyes. "I will help however I can."

With a look of determination, she turned to face the crowd. "By the power upon my father's throne, I crown HalfHyde Oakecrest Lower Lord in place of the deceased Galard Arratheal and his intended replacement, Henry Colvin Coutts."

"Is this not favoritism then?" Henry raged, going up to the princess. "That position is mine."

Luanda's face hardened and as she drew closer, Henry's head jerked backwards.

"Your malice will poison my father's mind and bring his rule to ruin. I will not have your kind sit at his side." She turned to the occupants of the high bench with a look of finality.

"This Council is hereby dismissed."