By the time they reached the merchant’s square at the base of the great palace tree, it seemed as if all of Relkath’s Foot was either following with them or was already there waiting when Courynn halted the cart and the exhausted prisoners collapsed in their yokes. They had made quite a spectacle parading through town, with the slavers hauling the cart containing the body of their former ally, while their former captives swarming around, taunting and prodding them. It was certainly not the quite homecoming he had wanted when he resigned his commission not two weeks ago. Although she explained that it was not uncommon for elven families to have a revered elder who embraced un-death, becoming a baelnorn, to serve as an eternal guardian of their house and its greatest secrets, Nymara had refused to say anything more about the Ancient, claiming that she knew nothing of one being left behind when the star elves fled the Yuirwood for Sildeyuir, despite their best efforts to pry more from her. However, the prospect of what her people may have left behind which should never be disturbed, and her clear concern that her niece might be in his company, weighed heavily on them all during their trek. “What have we here?” Dervila demanded, pushing forward through the crowd. The leader of the Masters of the Yuirwood, she was used to knowing everything of consequence that happened in her forest, and didn’t like being surprised. “Slavers,” Courynn reported as he leapt from the cart, “those they would have sold to Thay, and the beast that aided them… a green dragon.” Dervila started toward the cart, but stopped before one of those yoked to it. “Saevel!?!” she, reached forward to lift his chin, shocked to find the half-elf alive and among the slavers! “You’re one of us… a Master… you swore to protect the Yuirwood and all who dwell in it!” He had vanished months ago when his patrol had not returned and there were still other Masters searching for him under her orders. She had always believed that he was loyal to the order, and her, considering him as much a friend as any of the Masters… and occasionally even more. “Just kill me and get it over with… I’ve had enough of your holier than thou crap!” he spat at her, enjoying the look of torment, shock and disbelief on her face. The thought that one of her men, and not just a Master of the Yuirwood but one she had graced with her favor, could put himself above the greater good would never had occurred to her… and even if it was the last thing he experienced in this life, it was worth it to see her perfect little world shatter! Dervila’s hand shot to her sword’s hilt, enraged beyond reason by his betrayal and more than willing to grant his request, but a voice from above stayed it. “No!” Upon the stairs that spiraled around the great palace tree, Princess Blindelsyn Olossyne, lady lord and recognized authority over the Yuirwood and all who dwelled in it, paused. She recognized Saevel and knew Dervila’s rage was not just due to his betrayal of the Masters, but a much more personal one as well. “There will be justice… but so swift a death is too kind for this traitor!”