The balcony overlooked the heart of Mahakam, the mountain peaks rose around them, their snow-capped summits glowing silver in the light of the moon. Below, the city of Mount Carbon sprawled across the slopes, it was a view that spoke of permanence and Sebastian stood at the edge of the balcony, his hands resting on the stone railing, his yellow eyes fixed on the distant peaks. The silence was a comfort, a respite from the noise and warmth of the feast. His mind churned with thoughts, fragments of conversations and half-formed suspicions that refused to settle.
The footsteps came from behind him, Sebastian's hand moved instinctively to the hilt of his sword on his back, his body tensing.
"Calm yer horses, witcher," a deep voice said. "I'm no threat."
Sebastian turned, his hand still resting on his sword. The figure that emerged from the shadows was short and broad, his beard long and silver, he wore simple robes of state, their fabric heavy with gold thread, Brouver Hoog, the Elder-in-Chief of Mahakam.
Sebastian relaxed his grip, his voice carrying a tone of apology. "My apologies, Elder. Old habits."
The Elder waved a dismissive hand. "Apology accepted. Ye can't sleep, can ye?" He moved to stand beside Sebastian, his gaze following the witcher's to the distant peaks. "I find myself in the same boat, more often than I would like. The night has a way of bringing out the thoughts that the day keeps at bay."
Sebastian shook his head slowly. "No, I prefer to calm my mind. Things like this help, the silence, the view. It reminds me that there is still beauty in this shit world, even when everything else seems dark."
The Elder's eyes crinkled with amusement. "Ye don't seem to be drunk. That's a relief, it means we can have a conversation without slurred words. Most of my guests are too deep in their cups to remember their own names by this hour."
Sebastian's lips curved into a thin smile. "Fast metabolism. No amount of Mahakam spirit can keep me drunk for long. It is a curse and a blessing, depending on the company."
The Elder laughed. "A curse and a blessing, indeed. I have known a few men who could match my people drink for drink, but they were few and far between." He paused, his eyes studying Sebastian with a keen intensity. "Ye need to understand that when ye reached for yer sword, I did not take it as an insult. I have seen enough of the world to know that a witcher's reflexes are not a sign of aggression, but of survival."
Sebastian's voice carried a note of gratitude. "You are kind to say so. But you also need to understand that when I reached for my sword, I was not expecting anyone. I am not used to being in places where I can let my guard down, especially now since I'm protecting the King."
The Elder's expression grew more serious. "I understand the assassins issue, boy. I know that there are threats everywhere, wanting the king's head. But I also need to remind ye that Mahakam is safe, and will always be safe as long as I am here. As long as I am alive, no enemy of the state will set foot in this mountain without my knowledge."
"I have heard of your deeds, Elder. You are nothing short of a legend. The tales of your leadership are told in every corner of the North." Sebastian said.
The Elder waved a dismissive hand, though there was a hint of pleasure in his eyes. "Oh please. What deeds? Some I'm proud of, some not so much. But it meant the survival of our people, and I would do it all again if I had to. The mountain does not forget, and neither do I."
Sebastian was quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the distant peaks. Then he spoke, "Are you talking about the time when the elves revolted and you did not aid them? When you shut the gates of Mahakam in their faces and let them suffer total defeat at the hands of the humans?"
The Elder's eyes narrowed. "Ye know yer history, witcher. But that was one of the deeds I am proud of. If I had aided the elves, this mountain would have turned red with blood. We would have suffered the same fate as them. I was proud of that decision, I still am. It was the right choice for my people."
"I have decided that I do not really enjoy talking to rulers. I do not quite get them at all. Their decisions always seem to balance on a knife's edge, and I am never sure which way they will fall." Sebastian said calmly.
The Elder laughed. "At least ye are honest about it. That is more than I can say for most of the people who seek my favor. But tell me Witcher.." he gestured at the view, "...isn't it a beautiful sight? Ye have the luxury to see this because I kept Mahakam strong. I kept it alive. That is all ye need to understand."
Sebastian was silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the distant peaks. Then he spoke, "Can I ask you something, Elder?"
Brouver Hoog turned to face him fully, his eyes sharp and assessing. "Speak yer mind, witcher. I have never been one for games, and I suspect you are not either."
Sebastian hesitated, as if he were choosing his words with care. "I had a few friends who were bound for Mahakam. I do not have time to check the city myself, so I will ask you because you are the Elder, you might know if they arrived safely."
The Elder's expression was guarded. "I am afraid I cannot answer that, witcher. I do not know every traveler that passes through the city. There are too many, and they come and go like the wind."
"These were hard to miss, Elder. Because they are Scoia'tael." Sebastian added.
The Elder's eyes narrowed.
"I know you do not like them, and I am not doing some sort of scheme here to find out about Scoia'tael for the sake of the king. I am not doing this for him. These are my friends. I would like to keep this between us." Seb paused, his voice dropping. "They sought shelter here, because among them were dwarves who probably had families or friends here. I need to know if they made it."
The Elder was silent for a long moment, his eyes fixed on Sebastian's face. Then he spoke, choosing his words carefully. "I made it a rule to forbid youths from joining the scum of the Scoia'tael. Fighting for a lost cause is not worth a single dwarven life. But many still join, either way.. It is an issue I face every single day."
Sebastian's voice was patient. "Go on.."
The Elder turned his gaze to the distant mountains, "Ye seem like an honest lad, so I will tell ye. Aye, I know of yer friends. We investigate every Scoia'tael that passes through our mountain here. We allow them access from time to time if we see fit." He paused, his voice dropping. "One of them was Yarvik, wasn't it? A decent lad, but he still chose to follow the fools."
Sebastian's voice carried a note of relief. "Yes. Yes! a dwarf with one hand. So they did manage to get here. That is a relief."
The Elder raised a hand, his voice carrying a note of gravity. "I am not finished yet."
Sebastian's expression shifted to one of confusion. "What do you mean?"
The Elder's voice was flat, "There was an incident in one of our finest taverns. A mysterious human appeared there and ended up killing the entire establishment. Among the dead was Yarvik and his fellow elvish friends."
Sebastian was shocked. "What?! A human managed to kill an entire tavern? Yarvik was strong, even with one hand. Does that mean Faelorn is dead as well?!"
The Elder's voice was careful. "I do not know their bloody names, but there were elvish casualties. That is all I am going to say. Only one survived, a she elf, if I recall. She was severely wounded. The human let her live. My dwarves learned the story from her. We sent out search parties to find this human, but he disappeared completely."
Sebastian's hand tightened on the railing, his knuckles white. His voice carried a note of raw emotion, anger, regret, a loss that had caught him off guard. "Fuck! I should have advised them to go somewhere far! I should have done more!"
The Elder's voice was calm, but there was a note of sympathy beneath it. "Ye could not have known, lad. The world is full of dangers, and not all of them can be foreseen, they were Scoia'tael, their fate was only death."
Sebastian's voice was sharp, his eyes fixed on the Elder. "They were my friends!" Seb paused. "...Did you find out why he killed them? His appearance? A name, perhaps?"
The Elder shook his head slowly. "I do not know the entire story, because it did not concern me until I heard of the deaths of our people and a carnage happening right here in the middle of my city. But ye can hear it from her, if she is awake. She is the only one who can tell ye what happened."
"You are keeping this she-elf here? In the palace?" Seb asked.
The Elder's voice was flat. "Absolutely not. We do not keep Scoia'tael scum in the palace unless they are in the dungeon. This one is lucky we treated her at all. She is in the infirmary of the city. Probably dead, or alive. You can see for yourself if you wish."
Sebastian was silent for a long moment, his gaze distant. Then he turned to the Elder.
"Thank you, Elder. I will find her. And I will find out who did this."
The Elder nodded slowly, "Ye do that, witcher. And when ye find him.." he paused, "..make sure he does not walk away, you'll have coin from me as a prize, I also want the bastard's head, he killed our kin."
/-\
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