King Lyall had reached the midland border and his men were preparing the open space for camp, erecting tents, and building campfires for food preparation whilst any skilled hunter sought meat, they had only had small breaks his far so their stop off was welcome. Lyall had sent a horde of his men to hunt for food for his vast army and civilians of the north. He sat down in his large tent with his son and daughter at a table with him and they feasted first. He looked to his son with distrusting eyes.
“You brought your elven slave, Moray?” he asked.
“She is a servant and yes, I did not want to leave her with Raheline, she would torment her and maybe find an excuse to kill her,” he replied.
“Why is she so important to you?” he questioned, and Princess Lorrai smirked.
“She has been our loya
