Enough

"Marquis...?"   I paused. It wasn't like I wasn't used to being called that by now, but the voice that somehow grated and graced my ears simultaneously forced me to stop and question its origin. My elven ears had more function than framing my face. I knew by the sound of the footsteps who it was, and that's exactly why I swallowed my confusion and pretended I didn't hear, "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"   A dissatisfied sigh followed, and the voice repeated, in a much less sultry tone, "Marquis Frostbane."   The woman referring to me, Spica, was one with whom I was familiar. She'd sentenced me to being soul-bound to Solaris, and generally looked at me as if I were a squished thing on the bottom of one's boot. Since awakening in this day and age, we'd managed to bury the bulk of our animosity towards each other, despite our opposed species, and settled instead for referring to each other by whatever names we deem unpleasant yet not too much trouble to say, along with whatever pranks and menial task we could inflict upon each other. I personally had settled on 'vixen'. She hated it and glared daggers at me every time I referred to her as such. Fortunately for both of us, I did not have to address her directly often. However, despite her being a high elf, or maybe exactly because she was one, I had to admit that she was a beauty, hence the nickname. That was as close as I was willing to get to complimenting her looks openly, and I'd fully expect her to vomit if I honestly did compliment her.   In any case, this vixen had referred to me by my 'usurped' title, in what was an earnest, albeit annoyed, tone. I racked my brain trying to figure out what her goal was, and I finally turned to face her. I paused again. Her stance, her expression, her aura, could only be described as demure. It was a bit of vulnerability hitherto unseen, and to me of all people. I steeled myself, preparing for some manner of attack, mental or physical. I was wholly unprepared for what came next.   "I need your help, Frostbane. ...P-please." She looked as if she wanted to gag on that last word.   I felt my right eye twitch and my knees attempt to buckle. It was a strange combination of feelings, one that I did not have the time nor the wherewithal to dissect currently. "I'm listening," was the best I could manage, and something felt... different, strange. I opted to listen to whatever drivel she would throw at me, sigh to myself, and realize I'd been duped as the object of some joke or insult. That's what I expected, and yet I still couldn't bring myself to ignore her.   "I... wish to visit my ancestral home, to see what has become of them."   We locked eyes for a brief moment. Hers, usually strong and dignified, were filled with unease, and... something else I couldn't quite place, something familiar yet foreboding.   "Give me the time and place, send notice, and I'll see to the rest."   Several days later, Spica, Solaris, and myself, along with a skeleton crew, found ourselves aboard one of Azidon's dignitary airships, bound for high elven territory.   Honestly, I'd have preferred to leave Sol behind, but with us being soul-bound with no current hope of reversing it, staying within proximity of each other was probably for the best. He was capable with a sword, and improving in magical arts by leaps and bounds, but I couldn't help but feel that he needed to be nearby, especially for this venture.   I could go on at length about the importance of her request, which was the very reason I accepted it in the first place. The abridged version of such an explanation is that among all elven kind it was custom to visit one's ancestral home if you have been gone for a while. Once every 70 to 100 suns, or about the length of a long human life. This was not the sort of thing to be used as a joke or leverage. Doing so would result in a near-complete loss of respect or open hostility. That being said, that vixen was a highly capable combatant, competent diplomat, and generally well-versed in many affairs. The fact that she requested help, and from me out of all others, was perplexing, and worrisome.   We entered high elven territory without issue and made our way to the sizable estate of Spica's family, whose family name she'd never bothered to divulge to anyone. We landed in a clearing designated for foreign vessels. This was a place of some importance to have such an area, likely one of the high noble families. Now I was legitimately concerned. She opted to come as a diplomatic envoy, despite the tensions between high elf and Drow. I mulled over the possibilities as were were escorted to the main house of the estate.   Under the scornful gazes of many a guard, we were brought inside, through multiple sets of ornate doors, and finally to an audience room. It wasn't every day that a human was allowed so casually into high elf territory, and as for Drow, the number could probably be counted on a single hand over the last thousand years.   I proceeded calmly, clutching my ancestral necklace, pretending I was nervous. Doing so would put the other elves at ease. Spica followed closely behind, apprehension written on her face. Solaris also seemed rather uncomfortable due to the open distaste they were showing us.   We finally made it to an audience room. It was a round room, flags adorned with a family crest hung from the pillars along the walls. I gazed at them briefly and finally pieced it together. I was given a time and location, and no more. Their crest, featuring a shield flanked by doves, gave me critical information, and the beginnings of a massive headache.   Her family, the Sylvyre, were known as diplomats, peacekeepers, and passivists. They employed enough guards for the barest defense of their territory and did not participate in active conflicts. That being said, their few guards were elite, and we found ourselves surrounded by no fewer than 12 of them.   This particular family, and Spica's apprehension, did not pair well. There is something I was not told. I readied myself as we came to a stop and glanced up at the high seat. There, I saw 2 things that each surprised and angered me: an orb radiating life, known as a living catalyst, and the crest on the mantle of the man who occupied that seat, the crest of Lenna Naerth.   It took every fiber of my being to keep silent, noting the guards and the fact that this was a political envoy.   I met my third surprise within moments when I heard Spica gasp.   It would've been bad etiquette to turn away even before introductions were made, but the gasp was more akin to a whispered shriek for anyone who'd known Spica for a reasonable amount of time. I had to see what expression accompanied it. It would no doubt be priceless. I'm sure I could be forgiven for checking on a surprised member of my envoy.   It was as memorable as I imagined it would be, but for reasons entirely against my expectations. Spica's pale, fair skin, a hallmark of her species, was somehow even more pale, akin to freshly fallen snow, a color that living beings should not be. Her eyes belied fear, absolute dread as if she'd awoken to find that a nightmare she'd just escaped had become all too real. I puzzled this for but a moment when the answer was given a half-stupefied, half-terrified mutter, "F-father...?"   Both Spica and I were at least over 300 years old, and including Solaris, had each been sealed for no less than 1100 years. Her father still living was nigh impossible... except for the notion of the living catalyst. Yet again, I held my tongue and turned back toward the high seat.   The man, little more than a walking skeleton given flesh and eyes, spoke, his voice cold and callous. "Taliall, your foolishness is matched only by your insolence. I thought I did you a favor by exiling you, yet you dare return and bring his human and that... creature, no less. Regardless of your 'ascension', you shall have to be more severely punished. Guards, remove their heads, then their ears."   The word "human" oozed out of his mouth like a small child shoveling food out of their mouth with their tongue. He looked at us as if staring at a piss-soaked sock. As for that 'unsightly creature', obviously referring to me, I expected as much. What bothered me, excluding the fact that he intended us dead, was the fact that he did not acknowledge our presence more than a glance to see what species we were. On an opposite note, her given name was as beautiful a name as I could imagine, but I didn't have the luxury to dwell on that.   I was surprisingly composed, and sufficiently annoyed. I glanced at the occupants of the room, and held up my hand, making sure that not one, but both of my insignia rings were visible. Might I remind you that this is a diplomatic envoy? Harm to us is akin to an act of war." A two-time bluff. The humans likely would take our side, as I was known as the usurper by at least half of the kingdom's nobility. As for the Drow, I'd been exiled, officially or otherwise, and had not been seen in several lifetimes. They should have no attachment to me.   The bastard scoffed at my reminder, "There is nothing to fear from a mud-eared elf, a lowly human, and an exiled girl." He nodded to the guards, who all stepped forward in unison. I heard a thud follow immediately after their step, and glanced in its direction, to see that Spica, or Taliall, had fallen to her knees, her eyes glazed and tearing. "...no... no... I'm so sorry..." Her words were separated by sobs and she sat limp, almost like a stringless puppet.   We were not enemies, but we were surely not friends. I would not wish this treatment, this fate, on Lenna Nearth herself. The Drow, my own kind, known for their brutality, would never subject one to such emotional devastation, let alone their own flesh and blood. This scene did more than tug at my heartstrings. It yanked them as if a herd of horses were attached to a carriage, forcing me to act in some way. I'd die before allowing one of my retinue to face such treatment, our immediate execution notwithstanding. I sought information first, "Since you have every intention of killing us, would you mind doing me the honor of knowing her crime? I presume she either murdered or forced herself upon someone."   The breathing corpse glared at me as if he was watching a pile of feces speak, "She ascended, blessed by the barbarian gods. What more reason does this family need?"   My eye twitched, "So, she brought no harm against anyone?"   "Her insolence and foolishness will be the cause of your demise."   That was all? Because a god chose her, and because he didn't agree with what he thought they stood for. He effectively stopped of her of her rank, heritage, and family for such a thing? And to behead her and cut off her ears was tantamount to denying her of her very species. It was a complete death, both social and physical, intended for all of us.   "F-father, you can't..." She still sat there, seemingly powerless to do anything except plead and sob. Truth be told, I found it rather unsightly, far from the strong and proud woman I was accustomed to.   "Do not call me 'father'. You are no child of mine!" The guards took another step forward, then another, and another, and leveled their weapons.   I felt a defiant smirk cross my lips. My mana moved according to a will I had not yet come to understand. My eyes went alight, a rarity, and a burst of cold air enveloped the room, making everyone pause. "I trust I will be given my final words?"   I was met with an annoyed nod. I turned to Solaris, Boy! All restrictions are off. You'll understand when." He nodded in bewilderment. I knew I wasn't going to be forgiven for what I was about to do, but it was the simplest way to accomplish what I thought was necessary for our survival. I could explain later, though i'd be sure to savor the look for confusion, shock, or whatever emotion she displayed. I cleared my throat and removed my ancestral necklace while kneeling down and glaring at at the guards. My gaze dared them to move as their mouths went agape. I turned back to Spica, "You'll be leaving with us, beloved." I lowered the necklace under her chin, brought it back, and clasped it around her neck. I then wrapped my arm around her and hauled her to her feet.   Every soul in the room froze. I didn't blame them, I'd just proposed, to a high elf, thought to be the arch enemies of Drow. Spica glanced up at me with glazed eyes as I wiped the tears from her face. I tapped the necklace she now wore, and her eyes widened.   "...What... did you do, sorcerer?"   "Let's see, gotten engaged, undoubtedly riled up your sperm donor, and potentially started an international conflict between high elves, humans, and Drow. That should about cover it." The smirk on my face was still present, though I knew it was not the time for such an expression, yet I could not have cared less. I turned my attention to the boy, my student and nodded with that grin that usually made him recoil in fear.   In response, his eyes went alight and he drew his sword. I stared at the old man in the high seat, "We'll be taking our leave now. Attacking the betrothed or spouse of an envoy is also an act of war."   "There will be no war if no one returns. Kill them all."   I reached inward, aiming to summon my staff, the one that I seldom used, the one that Solaris had grown weary of. It was an easy thing to summon when I truly wanted it. What I wasn't expecting was the presence of another, along with a voice sounding as if it was from a mountain. "It is yours now, boy." That voice carried the weight of a mountain, the weight of a thousand hammers, and the gentleness of a grandfather. Then I saw it, the weapon forged for me by the God of the Forge himself, Kuzma. I reached for the weapon mentally, and it responded to my call. Golden light formed and took shape in my hands. A staff of blue, black, and gold. Star and crescent moon accents dotted the shaft and a sphere of golden mana swirled at the center of a circular construct adorned with a large crescent moon. This was the weapon forged for me as an Envoy of the Moon Goddess, as a Guardian, and its power was like nothing I'd ever wielded before.   Spica's eyes narrowed, and as if not to be outdone, she summoned a dagger, then another, and another, finally stopping at 6. I'd never seen her summon more than 2. I wasn't aware she could summon 6, and then, she turned to me with a defiant smirk, all 6 daggers floating around her as if points on a star, and summoned a seventh in her hand. All the time, I'd been led to believe that our powers were even. I was mistaken, and they were only even as of this moment.   I took no pleasure in harming others, especially those who were merely following orders. Still, I would enjoy wringing the screams out of anyone who willingly followed the whims of such a detestable creature. I gave a final warning, "Throw down your weapons and leave, lest you fall prey to the fury of those blessed by those 'barbaric gods'. Weapons clattered around us and several fully grown and armored people scurried out of the room, leaving the double doors wide open.   We each commanded power enough to reduce scores of men to ribbons and ash, and our opponents would not give us the pleasure of being lenient, so we moved. With each flourish of one of Spica's daggers, a spray of blood and a scream of agony followed. My victims were partially frozen, incapable of defending themselves, and could only scream in terror and pain as we finished clearing the room of hostiles, save 1.   Spca's voice came next, low, chilling, a timbre that made cold sweat form on my back, "You were their commander. Their deaths are on your hands." She took a step forward, her eyes also shining with light. "The first rule of diplomacy is to not engage with an enemy you do not understand." Another step forward, towards the man who was once her father, "You never tried to understand." Another step, and with a graceful wave of an arm, 6 daggers turned towards him, shimmering ingolden light. I was taken aback by the splendor of the action as she continued, "This is a true battlefield..." and raised her hand and the dagger she was holding against her former father, "... and on a true battlefield, death can come at any moment."   Her existence flickered before my eyes, as if I was staring at visual remains. A panicked yelp sounded moments later, as each of her daggers plunged themselves into the high seat, each an uncomfortable distance away from the husk of a man. She reached behind him and took the orange glowing orb, causing the man to appear even more lifeless than he already did. I too closed the gap and cut off his cloak, ensuring that the Nearth insignia came with me. We left him with his fear and a newly formed puddle as we returned to our ship, collecting the guards who deserted along the way. They were happy to join us and would serve as witnesses to the man's actions. Shortly thereafter, we found ourselves airborne, bound for the high elven capitol to report the incident.   Once we were away from danger, I heard footsteps approaching me as I leaned on the railing of the ship. They were light, delicate steps, feminine. It could only have been Spica. She walked right next to me, abnormally close, and leaned on the railing as well, tilting herself against me. I raised an eyebrow, "Normally, you announce your presence in some way, or ask if it is safe to approach. This is... unusual." I didn't bother to hide my surprise at her actions.   "Hrmpf, I'd think my betrothed would welcome my presence, no?"   I froze for a moment and slowly turned my gaze to her. She was blushing with a mischievous grin. Much to my chagrin, I felt my cheeks heat up as well. "You don't have to keep that..."   She smirked, "No, I think I'll hold onto it for a while. We can discuss this once we're safely back home, dear." She swiftly and softly kissed my cheek before turning on her heels and scurrying away, then turning back and whispering, "Thank you."   Every word rolled off her tongue so naturally, sweetly, and yet with an undeniable bite. I couldn't help but quiver slightly at those words.   Not-so-subtle footsteps approached as Spica's receded and another familiar voice could be heard, "So, engaged to the woman who soul bound us... can't say I saw that coming."   "I'll hurt you."   Solaris raised his hands in surrender. "I was just going to congratulate you. I guess that kind of makes her my sister?"   "Don't make this stranger than it already is, boy."   I set my glass down on the bar, ice clinking inside, cooling the ale that had just been poured. I also made some ice for Solaris's drink. We raised our glasses for no apparent reason and drank before Solaris opened his mouth, his words forced me to expel the drink I had yet to swallow. "So, have you two started planning the wedding yet?"   His smirk was wiped off his face as my mouthful of ale drenched it. I knew my cheeks were red. He didn't have to tell me, and the butler would sooner die than utter a word of this, but even so, I could only glare at him, "She's dragging this out far longer than she should. She should've returned the necklace already."   "Do you really want her to though?" Solaris's smirk returned as he finished wiping his face. I wanted to smack it off of his face, but thinking back to that day, that fleeting kiss before she turned on her heels left me speechless even now. I choked down my undoubtedly idiotic grin with the remainder of my ale, praying Solaris and the butler didn't see.