The city's labyrinthine network of narrow streets spread before Andor, during daytime packed with residents, travellers and merchants hustling along. Now the workshops lay dormant, the colourful and lively aura replaced by a lazy quiet. Still, the scent of recent activity lingered in the air, a variety of odours, both pleasant and repulsive, wafting through the empty streets. 

Andor took a wide alley to the left, which followed a near diagonal line towards the centre of the city. He kept his pace quick, the rows of buildings on either side blurring into one long stretch of decorative facades, trying to vie for the attention of idle perambulators. But of those none were to be found at this hour, only the occasional late night frequenter of one of the various taverns with questionable reputation, hidden in darker side alleys, stumbling from one shadow into the next. He gave them a wide berth, as he wasn't looking for any additional trouble tonight.

Around the next corner, there was a small square from which various smaller alleyways fanned out left and right, as well as a slightly wider one from across the opposite end, leading up to the higher levels of the city in a considerable ascent. This was where the complex of the royal palace lay, and within it the Council's Hall, securely nestled against the withered bark of Atunar, which appeared almost stone-like due to its great age, and at first sight buildings and tree seemed to be one and the same.

Up and up he strode, the houses around him growing wider and the facades more imposing as he walked on. These were the homes of the wealthy citizens of Valantes, keen on displaying their prestigious possessions, and basking in the glory of the nearby court. An increasing amount of torches lit up the alley, which finally opened up into a wide elongated square, beyond which lay the king's palace. Several sets of guards patrolled the square despite it being completely devoid of any nightly visitors. Two more guards were positioned at the wrought metal gates, but one glance at Andor's face made them step aside and grant him entrance.

The gates swung open wide, the gleaming metal making way for a splendidly paved walkway, flanked by dense hawthorn hedges nearly his own height, dotted with shiny red haws, which seemed to be staring like a myriad of beady eyes at him as he walked by. The Royal Court was nearly another smaller city inside Valantes with illustrious buildings, artful courtyards, lush gardens, delicate turrets and impressive towers all composing a picture of regal elegance. The facades of smooth cream-coloured stone brimmed over with intricate adornments of leaves, tall pillars shaped like trees growing into the night sky. Slender columns crowned with blossom-shaped capitals supported rounded archways leading into inner patios. Everything was gentle curves and sweeping lines.

Briar roses and thick vines of ivy were fighting greedily for dominance over the stone-walls enclosing one of the gardens adjacent to the palace, a crippled blackthorn bush, reduced to a darkened stump, huddled in their midst. The murmuring of fountains and the solitary cry of a peacock accompanied Andor as he neared the stairs to the palace. His heart hammered in his chest as he strode up the expansive stairs and a set of wide oaken doors with massive metal mounts appeared on the topmost landing. For the first time tonight he was stopped, the two guards in their night-blue tunics crossing their spears in front of him with a grating sound. It was not unexpected as it was obligatory for anyone who did not belong to the royal household to state the matter of their visit.

"Who requests admittance to King Xanthos's palace? Declare yourself!"

"Andor, son of Olear. The Council is expecting me." He kept his words short and crisp, no need for a flowery speech.

A sharp and assessing glance and the spears were retreated. Two unnecessary loud stomps on the floor with their wooden ends and the doors swung open, creaking low on their metal hinges. A strangely cool air, like one that one might expect to find in a great underground cave, met his nose, and as always when he set foot inside the palace, he wished nothing more than to get back into the open.

He had only just crossed the threshold when two guards swiftly stepped up beside him. It seemed that he had been expected. Andor eyed them with dismay. Of course it had to be Roiben and Kando, who used their nightly shifts as opportunity to play their tricks on anyone unlucky enough to fall into their hands. Their expertise wasn't violence, but since they were identical twins, something that was quite rare among elves, they apparently thought that this entitled them to play pranks at a rate that should be forbidden.

"I know my way to the council. I don't need you to accompany me," he said, pushing his chin forward and tightening the grip on his bow.

"We are not here to walk you to the council," Roiben slid his hand towards the hilt of his sword and stepped in front of Andor, his russet locks bouncing, mischief glinting in his hazel eyes, "although I'm not quite sure, Kando, dear brother mine, what do you think?"

Roiben turned towards his brother, who had come to stand beside him and eyed Andor with an equally roughish grin, wagging his head, as if his answer needed an extra amount of pondering. "I don't know," Kando finally said, drawing out the words, "maybe he could use some guidance, just to be sure that he doesn't get lost. After all, he is still nearly a fledgling."

Roiben nodded his approvement, his eyebrows forming a straight line. "Young elves like you should not be out past bedtime, something bad might happen to them on the way."

Both brothers planted themselves in front of him, their tunics tight across their broad chests, fingers drumming on the hilts of their swords, and Andor feared that this could really land him in trouble if he was delayed even more. So he squared his jaw, facing them both with as much calm as he could muster.

"What is it that you want? I really need to get to the Council and I'm late already."

"Oh, but don't be such a killjoy. We are only having fun." Roiben causally brushed an invisible speck of dust off his tunic while his brother shifted his stance beside him, eyeing Andor with a put-on attitude of boredom.

"The night shift is long and boring. And it's not our fault that you are late," Kando said with a lazy shrug.

"Listen, I do not have time for your games. Find someone else to bother." Andor made to push past them, but suddenly saw himself faced with two swords being simultaneously pulled out of their sheaths, the scraping sound chasing a chill down his spine.

"Well, in that case we must ask you to hand us your weapons." Roiben's voice was now devoid of all humour.

"What? But why? I am not planning on attacking anyone." Andor raised his hands in an appeasing gesture, the sight of two gleaming swords pointing at his face making him decidedly uncomfortable.

"It does not matter. We have our orders." Roiben brought the tip of his sword to hover above Andor's heart with casual ease.

Andor swallowed, trying not to let his uneasiness show. How he hated their games and the way they always seemed to get to him.

"So better make this easy for all of us and hand them over," Kando added, sheathing his sword, his brother following suit. Apparently they knew that this was as much fun as they would get tonight. "Otherwise I'm afraid that the Council will have to meet without you."

"Fine," Andor loosened a sigh. It definitely wasn't worth picking a fight with a member of the royal guard, let alone two of them, especially not tonight. He removed his bow and quiver and handed them over to Kando, albeit reluctantly. They still stood as one before him, Roiben holding out his hand and crooking his fingers. "All of them."

"Are you serious?" Andor grumbled as he pulled out his hunting knife from the back of his belt and dropped it in Roiben's waiting hand.

"Of course we are serious." Roiben grinned, twirling Andor's knife between his fingers and Kando added in a deadpan voice "when have we ever been known not to be serious?"

"We'll promise to take good care of your weapons." Kando lovingly ran his fingers over Andor's bow and quiver.

"Well, off you go. You don't want to be late, do you?" Roiben sent Andor on his way with a smack on his back, before turning away with his brother.

"There better not be any arrows missing when I come back!" Andor called after them.

"Or what?" The low rumble of their laughter echoed through the entrance hall.

If he had been late before, now he was very late and the elders might very well reprimand him just for the fact that he had made them wait for an unduly amount of time. He crossed the pillared entrance hall with its polished marble floors and gracefully rising columns. Courtiers and servants were going about their business, notwithstanding the late hour. Dressed in the royal livery, same night-blue as the guards, they were slipping in and out of numerous hallways and chambers, moving silently as their duty commanded them.

Finally he turned into the long corridor at the end of which the Council Hall was situated. Andor took a deep breath to calm his rattling nerves, his hand reaching to adjust his bow and quiver only to realise that they were not there. He then slid his hand into his pocket to close around the phial, which he was sure the Council would ask him to hand over immediately. He strode along the quiet hallway, the moonlight streaming in through the tall glass-stained window panes to his left. Muted pastel colours washed over the white floor, the stone cool beneath his bare feet, sconces and chandeliers along the walls adding a golden hue to the air. 

A steady trickle of voices could be heard from behind heavy oaken doors to his right. The amber doorknobs glowed like intricate jewels, contrasting pleasantly with the rich brown wood. He passed a set of magnificent tapestries, each of them depicting a different area of Elysse, as well as several splendid paintings of Valantes in all its flamboyant glory. The king surely had good taste, no doubt about that, Andor thought to himself slightly amused, and the vast collection of beautiful things to be found not only here but in most of the city never ceased to amaze him, even tough he wasn't a little boy any more. Still, if he was very honest with himself, he quite preferred his more modest home in the forest to this royal pomp, but of course a king was a king and his palace needed to reflect the power he represented.

At the end of the long hallway a much larger set of black double doors with silver carvings came into sight. Behind them lay the Council Hall, a vast hall only used when all members of the council would come together. There was another smaller hall adjacent to it, providing a more intimate setting for personal meetings, resembling a large sitting room, equipped with comfortable armchairs and a massive mantlepiece. But today, everyone would be in attendance and the formal hall would serve as stage for the official completion of Andor's task.

Two members of the king's guard flanked the massive set of doors and a glance at one of them revealed him to be Drakon, Gilren's father, no amount of impassiveness on the elf's face being able to conceal the vile contempt simmering in his eyes.

"Did you get lost on the way?" Drakon cocked his eyebrow, the words dripping with mockery. No doubt he had been the one responsible for Roiben and Kando being stationed at the entrance of the palace. He was his son's equal not only in looks but also in nastiness. They both shared the same ash-blond hair and cold grey eyes, but Drakon carried himself with an air of authority and he preferred the subtle way of emotional torture over the blunt physical violence his son Gilren was so apt at.

Andor only threw him a belligerent glance. He refused to take the bait and chose to ignore  Drakon's presence altogether, after all, tonight he was here on matters that were of great importance to the entire realm and Drakon in his position as head of the King's Guard would not be foolish enough to hinder Andor from fulfilling his duty. Andor pulled himself up to his full height, which was impressive enough even for an elf, fashioning his face into the most stoical attitude he could muster, and fixed his gaze on the intricate carvings on the door leafs, entwining flowers and leaves, the gleaming silver a beautiful contrast against the polished black wood.

And then he waited, willing his heart to slow down its frantic beat, pushing away the image of Rose that had suddenly crawled into his mind. He would not think of her eyes, the way they had looked at him. He would forget her mouth, how her lips had felt on his. He would ban her scent of honey from his thoughts.

Murderer, a whisper in the back of his head. He pushed it away too, deep down where it grew silent, until he felt nothing at all. A black and empty heart. Cold and ruthless, that's what he was, nothing more and nothing less. That's exactly who he needed to be right now.

Following a silent command from inside the hall, the guards pulled open the heavy black doors in a wide swing, the vaulted dome of the Council Hall looming like a voracious mouth before Andor.

"Good luck," Drakon hissed under his breath, a warning served with an oily smile.

Andor stepped over the threshold without so much as batting an eyelid, his head held high and his fingers wrapped tightly around the phial in his pocket. The doors closed behind him with a dull echoing thud. He could feel the reverberations slithering through the stone floor and creeping into the very tip of his toes.

Then all eyes were on him, and the world went silent except for the deafening roar of his blood.