"My friend, you can't seriously be thinking we just stroll through the gate," the shorter man said, shaking his head in disbelief. He ran a doubtful hand through his wind-tousled brown hair and glanced at the blond man trotting beside him as he slowed his silvery grey horse to a walk. "How about we try my plan instead?"
"You mean the one where, Marcus, we slit the guards' throats, butcher all the soldiers and burn the keep to the ground?" the blond man asked, raising a brow. The other burst into loud laughter, earning himself a disapproving look.
"As you wish," Marcus lifted both hands in mock surrender. "Just admit my suggestion would be more entertaining. They're only humans, after all…"
For a while they rode in silence through the unnaturally quiet forest. It was as if the trees themselves were telling them they were not welcome here. And though the blond man's expression showed unwavering determination, in his mind he kept asking the same question over and over: what in the blazes were they even doing here?
The plan had been to avoid trouble all the way to their destination and stay out of the way of any living creature, human or animal. No elf had set foot on human-inhabited lands for almost a thousand years, and that was no accident. The war between the two peoples, which had taken place roughly a millennium ago, had sealed their fate and caused irreversible damage to the relationship between elves and humans. Since then, the elves had lived in isolation on their own continent, and humans spoke of them only in legends. Among the elves, however, there were still many who had lived through the great slaughter. Entire elven houses had died out back then, victims of human greed. Even after a thousand years, the people of nature had not been able to forgive what had been done to them, and it had been strictly forbidden to set foot on human soil. Anyone who did was branded a traitor and never allowed to return home.
Dorian's father, however, had broken the millennium-long silence and sent a messenger to the human king, announcing that he would send two envoys in peace to negotiate. The human king's condition was that the envoys first speak with his most trusted man, and only then would he decide whether to continue the talks.
The two riders had therefore come with the plan of seeking out the continent's most favored nobleman, known among humans simply as the Baron, and to reach an agreement with him—no matter what it took. That was their most important task, and Dorian had come here believing he was unshakable in his goals, ready to do anything. Or almost anything, for the deeds of this vile race had nearly wiped out the elves. How much more wickedness were they supposed to endure from humans? In truth, they deserved death. And that was what he would have preferred to bring them.
"Right now you look exactly like you did, Dorian—" Marcus began with a grin.
"How exactly?" Dorian sighed, though his gaze remained on the forest stretching out before them.
"You know, like right before you broke that young soldier's nose because—"
"Shhh." Dorian suddenly raised his hand to silence Marcus. As if they understood his will, the horses stopped at once, and both men stiffened, scanning the trees.
"We've got company," Dorian said after a few seconds of listening. He heard quiet but distinct footsteps not far away. He turned his head to the right and caught a flash of red in the distance. Instantly he drove his horse into a gallop and shot after their watcher, Marcus following close behind.