Werendril: The Return of the One True King

The King lives! 

Darvinin made his way through the camp, watching as work gave way to celebration at the news of the True King's return. There were even rumors regarding the half-dragon, Tavros Fontaine, that he had had some part in this, and supported Mythrandril's rule of Duendewood. 

Darvinin had only met the Fontaine Heir in passing, but he thought that if the two kings were allied then that was all to the good. It seemed strange to think of Duendewood as a kingdom separate from Sol Povos, but... but honestly, if Tavros Fontaine does not object to the elves of Duendewood ruling themselves, then we are all much to the better, elves and humans alike. And Ruin was close to this new king, and no doubt that would have some influence. 

The most obvious influence was simply that the Mythrandril was back in Duendewood, albeit in an insurgent camp rather than at the head of the government. 

"Can I see him?" asked Tovarin, looking up at Amaranth. 

The true elf looked down at her apprentice, and nodded. "Bring him this blade," she said, and handed him a sheathed dagger. "It will warn the king of danger: of poisons, hostile magics, or ill intents."

Tovarin, who was barely out of childhood, looked up at Amaranth. He knew how much of an honor this was. He even, vaguely, understood that Amaranth was making a particular statement in sending the item this way. 

Amaranth straightened and looked his way. "So... back to being the King's Own." 

Darvinin nodded. "Somebody has to be." 

"And your brother?"

"Still alive. It came close, so close, but still alive."

Amaranth smiled. "And your own First Chosen?" 

Darvinin shook his head. "I hold to the hope, and some faith in my mother's wisdom. But I have no idea where Shalmistra might be, what her mission was, or when she might return."