Becoming Legend

Moments after the wall was raised, Faeranduhl and the rest went back to the city hall. 

The wall was a half-arc in a thick defensive measure in the courtyard of the city hall. Elves were stationed to man the wall for as long as the portal remained activated. 

As soon as they arrived at the city hall, Faeranduhl was bombarded by the elves, high, wood, and dark elves. Elf riders, dozens of them, formed a practiced formation on the courtyard. Stags they rode, armored with metal plates that covered their necks. Horns branched their heads and melted with iron. 

Their riders wore dark, tattered, cloaks that covered their heads until knee-length. Silver hair peering on the edges of their hoods. Pairs of blades were wildly visible on the sides of their waists, with bow and arrows attached behind them as if their lives depended on it. 

The Elf riders stood in a row of mastered formation, just as their stags.

With the elf riding them stags, they towered Faeranduhl and the rest of the half-elves as soon as they passed through them. 

Faeranduhl, Peren in his skinny form, and the pair of half-elves were led to the other room with their leader, Dolaz. 

There they waited. And waited. And waited. They talk none but heave, relieved that they survived waves and waves of ghouls. Faeranduhl could still hear screams and battle outside the city hall, but he assumed that the elves were winning. They must be, there was now at least a battalion of them combined. Surely mindless beasts, even though they could fly, were no match for the great elves.

"Surely they are," Faeranduhl whispered, gaining flat looks from the people around him but said nothing. The pair of female half-elves sat with their backs on the cold crumbling wall. While Peren sat on the opposite, looking down at the ground and saying nothing. Not even a glance at Faeranduhl. He now wore his cloak, covering the runes, and his face. 

Faeranduhl must learn more about him. That was the first time that he saw an elf fight like that. No magic, no weapons. Just, pure brute strength. 

Faeranduhl walked closer to him. A dagger was tucked on his waist in a makeshift scabbard of cloth and vine to hold them together. 

"You are half," Faeranduhl began as soon as he put his back to the wall, closer to Peren. He did not bother to look at him. Instead, his eyes were fixated on a gap through the wall where the market, or once a market, was visible. He could see a lot of movements outside, from running to shouting, elves shooting arrows at the flying enemies. "What kind of half?" 

Peren remained quiet. 

Feeling the awkwardness starts to form, Faeranduhl looked at Peren, then to the cracked ceiling, and closed his eyes. Not wanting to talk anymore. They at least deserved the rest even for a half-elf servant. 

What seemed to be an hour was only a minute for Faeranduhl after Dolaz entered the room. 

Faeranduhl immediately stood, snatched the dagger under his belt, and pointed it at their leader, makeshift scabbard still wrapped on it. 

Immediately he pulled the dagger away from Dolaz and bowed his head apologetically. 

Dolaz said nothing about it and went to stop in the middle of the group. Or their remaining group. Perhaps the other half-elf was somewhere in the other room, or dead. Faeranduhl shook his head and hoped not. 

"This is it," Dolaz started. Looking at Peren and at the pair of female elves, now widely awake. "We are leaving." 

The pair of elves nodded to Dolaz and each other in a mix of anticipation and worry. They should be. Even Faeranduhl should be worried. It was the moment the elves had been waiting for centuries. To leave Earflgard and go back to their home. They had hoped to have a home to start a new life. 

But Faeranduhl had just started to explore the world. Somewhere inside him hoped that he wanted to stay longer. He hoped. 

Before leaving the room, Dolaz gave each of them a small-sized mana stone. To which Faeranduhl gladly accepted even though he had barely used his mana. He clipped the dagger in his belt and saved the small mana stone for later in his back pocket. Unlike most of the elves, Faeranduhl and the half-elves could barely afford storing items. 

The room where the portal was erected throbbed with immense mana from the Tree of Pin'Tu. The room never ended with elves leaving and entering the portal.

Outside of the city hall, an open field was cleared to where the market had once been. 

Now, an army of elves lined in a formation while half of them battled the horde of ghouls in front. Flying ghouls do not matter anymore after they were bowed down by archers.

In front of the formation were elves, High-elves as what Faeranduhl could remember by their outfit. Only high-elves wore form-fitting armor. Lock of golden hairs leaving the edges of their helmets. A coat of gold cloth was wrapped around their neck. Accentuating the silver plates wrapping their shoulders and arm guards. Under their armor of silver metals, were scales sewn together that hang just above their knees. Each one of them held a kite shield strapped behind with a sword. They looked like a formation of sand perfectly lined along the shores. Like the elf-riders in the courtyard, they stood unmoving and waited for the command. 

Behind the squares of high-elves, a row of three were the wood-elves. Sleeveless leather jerkins, fitted graciously to reveal their form. Both male and female elves wore a hood of moss green leather. A blade in a forearm length was suspended on their waists. With the generic bow and arrow waiting to be commanded. 

The remaining dark elves were formed near the shore. They were almost unseen against the ash-colored sand with their dark silver hair, leaving the edges of their black hood. Tattered dark cloaks were their uniforms. The way it flutters against the wind gave Faeranduhl a feeling of cotton, or feathers, perhaps light as a cloud. 

"In here," Dolaz shouted. He was barely heard against the shouts and commands of the elves running around them. They stopped behind the formations of elves, where they had the most intense view from behind. Closer to them were the elves. 

The elves, the ones with no mixes, the pure, were being commanded to circle the battalion and support them from the outside. Most of these elves were the ones to shield the battalion from the horde as they prepared to leave. 

Dolaz gestured to wait near the shore. Soon after, several half-elves arrived and formed in a scattered manner. There were at least 20 left. Better than nothing. But best if none died. 

Faeranduhl gave off a long breath; he then looked over his shoulder and noticed the ship was still there. Three, instead of seven. The lead ship released a series of smoke as it was being burnt, and half sank underwater. He was half relieved to see that the second ship was still floating, although half intact with the mast torn, towers splintered to half. Inside was Lia the Spring and the rest of the blighted elves. Faeranduhl hoped they were okay.

"There are things needed carrying," Dolaz said, "rations, weapons, herbs. Some seeds are to explore. Others to scout." He paused, letting his words sink into their minds. He wanted to excite himself, but the thoughts of ghouls and their raging eyes, dead sisters and brothers, shouting and screaming left him to nod skeptically. He survived the first mission. Now, he wondered if he could do the second. He remained quiet and listened to the leader. From time to time, Dolaz was left with bumping and gazes from passing elves. Clearly, he was used to this kind of treatment as he continued to speak: "You will be divided."

Faeranduhl raised a hand after the group of semsmirs were divided into their tasks. Of 20, nine went to the scouting team (that includes Dolaz himself, and the pair of female semsmirs form before, and Peren). Added with some fitting half-elves, nimble. Faeranduhl could not disagree more. But even without the restriction of the wooden necklace, he was nimble and fitted to the scouting team. Ten were sent to carry rations and necessary things for the expedition. That left one: Faeranduhl. 

Faeranduhl waited for the explosion to cease midair after an elf threw magic spells to disintegrate a flock of flying ghouls. 

"How about me?" he said. "I expected to be on the scouting team." 

Dolaz raised an eyebrow and looked at Faeranduhl. Marks were visible under his square jaw, lashes of some sort. Some poke marks on his neck down to his chest were gradually visible that Faeranduhl did not notice before. Brown eyes laid flat to him as he thought of a response. 

He sighed. "You'll be with the exploration team."

Aside from the uncaring Peren, they chuckled. 

Dolaz raised a hand that stopped any further delight from the half-elf servants. 

"You'll be a knight." Then Dolaz himself could not even stop from chuckling. Only when Peren coughed that he continued. "Knight of pens and papers." 

There they go. As though a tale of laughter passed down for generations, they laughed. Even Peren chuckled for a quick moment before shaking his head. 

It took them minutes to settle themselves. Faeranduhl thought it was fine for them to laugh at him. For all he knew, they were struggling for their lives, and maybe if he was a brief amusement to them he would give it. He remained silent and waited for them. 

"You'll be fine," Dolaz said. "You can write, right?" 

Faeranduhl's mother had taught him history, simple mathematics, and writing. Of course, he could write. He simply nodded. 

"Good." Dolaz waved and one by one the half-elves started to disperse. "You will help explorers to record and map out what's behind that Gate." 

"Pen and papers," Faeranduhl said after the last of the half-elf left. He sighed.