The Consumption of Knowledge

Eraeon turned to Tenever as Gulmar launched into another epic tale. Though his face was ever blank and featureless, the wizard noted what might almost be concern in the elf's demeanour.

"Before, when you took control of the orcish teleport. There was a word."

Tenever didn't smile, methodically slipping shining new brass cartridges into a black polymer magazine. He briefly considered not giving an answer at all, or a half-truth, but Eraeon deserved better.

"Before... in quieter times, there was the Academy."

The elf didn't exactly relax, but there was an easing of tension.

"The Academy. It was never established how many escaped."

"Few, elf. Too few. We stayed as long as we could. But that was not long."

"Did you save anyone, Wizard?"

The capital on that word caused Tenever to choke.

"One. She is with the gods now."

Eraeon bowed his head at the elven word for the pantheon of gods. The silence between them defied interruption by the orcs' celebrations.

"Rest she easy, for her struggle is over."