Harlon, Erowen, and Grand Elder Aerion were gathered in a private chamber within the Academy lodgings.
They were seated around a small, ancient round table made of dark wood.
Placed precisely at the center of the table was a round disk crafted from polished obsidian, with a small, perfectly cut World Stone imbedded in its heart.
The stone pulsed once, a gentle thrum of channeled power. It then glowed intensely bright, and a shimring, floating image—a projection stabilized by the arcane device—appeared above the table.
It was the Pri Minister, Lord Legolas, his handso face detailed and clear, despite the distance.
Harlon and Aerion imdiately bowed low in unison, a formal gesture of respect across the distance. "Pri Minister Legolas," Harlon acknowledged respectfully.
Erowen, though visibly weary, managed a cheerful wave. "Hi, Uncle!" she greeted him casually, a stark contrast to the others’ formality.
Legolas gave a brief, acknowledging nod to them all, his expression instantly serious, betraying no familial warmth. "What is the update?" he asked imdiately, cutting straight to business.
Harlon took the lead, with Aerion interjecting to provide necessary context. Harlon explained the tense journey through the Cloud Marsh (omitting the sacrifice of the Sunstone pendant), their arrival in Veridian, and finally, the details of the eting with Headmaster Hamdal.
"We presented the full gravity of the situation, omitting only the classified details of the Dark Elf treachery," Harlon explained, his voice grim.
"We stressed the security threat to the Unified Races and the need to retrieve the student imdiately."
Aerion picked up the narrative. "The Headmaster was courteous, My Lord, but unyielding. He refused to release the student rely on the basis of a mandate. He insisted that the Academy’s charter placed the responsibility for the students’ safety solely under his authority, and he requires definitive proof and full disclosure before he would cooperate."
As Harlon and Aerion spoke, Legolas listened quietly, his gaze steady and intense, nodding occasionally to acknowledge the difficulty of the situation.
He heard about their failure to gain approval and the resulting delay in the mission.
When they finally ended their explanation, the floating image of Legolas remained silent for a long, heavy mont.
Then, only one word cut through the tension.
"I see."
Seeing the Pri Minister’s calm silence, Harlon hesitated, then voiced the necessity of their situation.
"Sir!" Harlon began cautiously. "If you could explain why the girl is so important, I believe we would be better equipped to convince the Headmaster. We need leverage."
"I agree, Sir," Aerion supported, leaning in toward the projection.
"Without a proper and important reason, even the presence of the Princess and the threat to the Unified Races are not enough to convince Headmaster Hamdal."
Legolas quietly listened, still observing the pair. After a few seconds of tense silence, he let out a heavy sigh.
"This is confidential information, Harlon, Aerion. Information that must not leave the Citadel without the gravest necessity," Legolas stated, his voice flat.
He paused, his gaze sharp. "But let tell you this: Even if I disclose it, and you speak to Hamdal again, he would still not accept it."
Harlon and Aerion couldn’t retort. They knew he was right.
Hamdal’s loyalty was to the Academy’s charter, and he would likely accuse them of using sensitive information to coerce him.
A deep crease ford between Legolas’s brows. "I think... I’ll have to speak with him myself."
The three of them were visibly surprised. Sending the Pri Minister so far from the Citadel was highly unusual and a clear sign of the mission’s paramount importance.
"Should I arrange for a virtual conference then, Sir?" Aerion asked quickly.
"No," Legolas said firmly. "I will speak face-to-face. Hamdal is quite the grumpy man. He’d find a virtual eting disrespectful, or worse, dismiss it as a lack of commitnt. I need to look him in the eye."
He fixed his gaze on Aerion. "Speak with him, Aerion, and arrange a long-distance teleportation for . Tell him the coordinates only after he agrees to receive . Do not compromise the Node’s security."
"I understand, Sir," Aerion replied, bowing his head respectfully.
Legolas then turned his attention to his niece, his face softening only slightly, though his tone was still commanding. "Don’t move around too much, Erowen. You’re a princess of the Elven race; our enemies are imnse, rember that."
Erowen rely turned her face away, crossing her arms, annoyed like a teenage girl told to stay grounded.
"Keep an eye out on her, Harlon. Make sure to keep her safe," Legolas ordered.
"Yes, Sir," Harlon affird instantly.
"Call back when the arrangents are made." Legolas said, and with a final, decisive gesture, the floating projection of the Pri Minister winked out, ending the call.
The mont the image of the Pri Minister vanished, the light from the World Stone faded, plunging Legolas’s office back into its normal state of refined shadow.
Legolas released a deep, asured sigh, the sound echoing in the vast, silent room.
He slumped back into the winged chair, the exhaustion of the high-stakes planning visible on his handso face.
"Are you sure about this, My Lord?" a voice inquired from the center of the room.
Stepping forward from the shadows near the tall windows was a young elf nad Celebon.
He wore practical, dark leather armor, a quiver heavy with arrows slung across his back, and a finely crafted bow resting casually in his hand.
He was clearly a mber of Legolas’s personal elite guard.
"We have no choice, Celebon," Legolas stated, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.
"This is a matter of urgency and survival. Hamdal is a very adamant man. I have to speak personally with him regarding the sensitivity of the matter; a proxy or a scrying call won’t suffice."
Celebon’s brow furrowed slightly with worry. "What about the Palace then, Sir? With your absence, the enemies might..."
Legolas cut him off instantly, his relaxed posture suddenly rigid, a palpable wave of fury and disappointnt radiating from him.
"If you all can’t even take care of the Palace because of a single man being absent, then you’re not worthy to bear the title of the royals of the Elven Race. I would rather the Dark Elves clinch this title from us!" Legolas’s voice was sharp, a chilling pronouncent.
Celebon recoiled instantly, dropping into a deep, ashad bow. "I apologize, Sir! My worries were misplaced."
"Leave it," Legolas dismissed the apology with a wave of his hand, his focus returning to the security of the palace.
"Secure the periter. Keep a rigorous lookout, and do not allow any visitors while I am not here."
His eyes narrowed, conveying a command of utmost importance. "Even if the Head of the Unified Races arrives, send him away. You understand? No one must know of my absence, and no one must be let into the inner wards."
"As you command, My Lord. I will see to it personally," Celebon accepted, his voice resolute.
"Good. Now, ask the Queen for a eting. I’ll have to speak with her before I leave. I can’t depart without at least informing her of my temporary absence." Legolas instructed.
"Yes, Sir," Celebon confird with a final bow, then moved swiftly and silently toward the door.
Legolas watched him go, then leaned back once more.
He ran a weary hand over his face, left alone in the vast office, sinking into deep contemplation over the risks he was about to take and the secrets he was forced to keep.
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