Shadows Over Arcadia Chapter 71: 70. Briarhallow Part 1

Read chapter 71 of Shadows Over Arcadia by Zacheas on NovelPedia.

I am Ren Drakemore, age nine, and I am traveling to the elven enclave of Briarhollow to enlist more allies to my cause. https://shadowsoverarcadia.com/api/storage/objects/uploads/94d9f12d-768f-4ec3-a12d-51b487be4617 The early sun rises behind us, shimmering off dew-laden crops that stretch endlessly along either side of the road ahead. A mile or so back, the path transitioned from Hyperion’s usual rough dirt to paved stone, lending to the smoothest ride our wagon has seen since entering this country. In the distance, scores of laborers bring in a prosperous harvest. Much of it I recognize, cabbage, correl root, potatoes, and some plants I’ve never seen before. All of it looks healthy and abundant. The road ahead meanders towards a dense island of forest in the middle of the valley, a stand of towering trees rising from a sea of farmland. There are no outward signs of construction, but I know that must be our destination: the elven city of Briarhallow. Two days ago, I received a very unexpected but welcome letter from Lady Opel. Seeing her name put a smile on my face. She was the only Hyperion noble willing to hear me out during that initial meeting two arcs ago. I’d been looking forward to seeing her again, partly because of how kind and reasonable she was to me then, but also because she administers the only elven settlement in Hyperion. “What’s with you?” Maribel asks from beside me on the driver’s bench. “You’ve been smiling like that since yesterday.” “I’ve never seen an elven city before,” I admit, unable to keep the excitement out of my voice. “I want to see what they’re like.” A scoff comes from the Hyperion soldier riding alongside our wagon on the right. I glance over, confused. Long silver hair spills down his back, tied with a strip of cloth, and long, pointed ears jut from beneath his helmet. Vaelis Timbruke was picked by Daniels to escort us specifically because he’s an elf. And as an elf, I didn’t expect a reaction like that to someone being openly eager to learn about his culture. “Did I say something wrong?” I ask, turning to Vaelis. He stubbornly refuses to meet my gaze. “Well, m’lord…” he starts, slow and careful, as if weighing each word. “The elves of Briarhallow are not like those of the old kingdom,” he says at last. I narrow my eyes. In his effort to choose the safest phrasing, he’s stripped the sentence of meaning. “What do you mean?” I press. “You do know how these elves came to settle here?” Kane asks, riding up along Maribel’s side of the wagon. “Of course,” I say, confident. Willow had drilled into me how the demon war reshaped the known world. “The elves, like the beastkin and dwarves, were forced from their lands during the demon war and settled in Hyperion as refugees.” “That resettlement wasn’t exactly optional,” Kane says. “Many of them resent Hyperion for annexing what was theirs.” As he speaks, Maribel glares straight ahead, tapping her knee in annoyance. I can feel how much she hates Kane, and she’s biting back an argument for my sake. “Is that how you feel?” I ask, turning back to Vaelis. “There are two types of elves in Hyperion,” Vaelis says with a sigh. “Those who accept our troubled history and try to move forward, making Hyperion our new home.” He gestures dismissively toward the grove of trees ahead. “And then there are those who remain in Briarhallow,” he adds, his voice edged with venom. “Elves like me aren’t welcome there.” He glances toward me at last. “And usually, neither are outsiders.” “ Sounds like a nice place ,” Envy says dryly in my head. Maribel nods in sardonic agreement. “But I was invited…” I mutter, watching the treetops stretch ever higher as we draw near. Now that we’re close, I can see the “dense treeline” for what it really is: a titanic wall of living wood, a thicket of trees grown so tightly together they’ve merged into a single barrier. The road ahead doesn’t pass through a gap, but into a gateway grown into the base of one of the mighty trunks. Four elven warr