„Listen carefully, son. I will give you one reason to live for. One reason that makes a man a man. It's not the blade he carries. It's not the speed he handles his bow with, it's not the words he uses. No ... Graves and Grass, no ..."

His uncle spoke with a tired voice. He had been sick for a while, it was unclear whether or not he'd get through.

„If these are to be my last words, son, then listen carefully. You're a man, when you provide for your family. Forget about the rest, they are not important. Think of them as much as they think of you. But always provide for your family. If Elune provided one wagon, that would carry you away when this world is about to be destroyed, you step down from it and offer your place to your wife and child. Do you hear me? Did my message get through?"

He smiled pleasently, tapping Trynian on his cheek a few times, before laying his head backwards. He was too tired to open his eyelids.

Trynian didn't smile, he hadn't smiled in ages. He stood up, looking as impassive as always, his hands on his back, he took controlled step after controlled step, out of the room.

When he thought of the moments his uncle spent to teach him, Trynian knew he couldn't have dreamed of a better mentor. Patience, endless patience ... endless silences.

„Trynian, do you think I talk too much?"

Trynian did not answer, but observed. His uncle smiled, a joyful gleam in his eyes. He was starting to recover from his illness.

„You should think so, Trynian, you should. People, in this world, often use too many words to say what they want to say. They think they are impressing people, with words, with thoughts they have. They think themselves special. They point at you and feel powerful, because they can form a sentence constructed out of words of threat. Their clothing is too loud. When you see them walking, you know who they are. Never be that way, son. Don't carry a blade longer than your arm. That is why only few criminals are actually criminals. They did not chose to be. That's important. Those who chose, don't know what they're doing. They dress like criminals."

Trynian smiled. He could name hundreds of elves, humans, paladins ... who went directly against the main rule. But he remained silent once more.

„Love ... my love, she's beautiful ..."

He stroke over Eliras' cheek. She looked directly in his face, holding the small child, its face was covered by the softest of fabrics, protection against the sun.

„She has your ears and nose." Eliras smiled widely, moving her finger over the child's nose. Edhellen as her name was destined to be, surpressed a sneeze.

„Mymy, she already has a sense of rebellion ... No ...?"

Trynian chuckled, moving the cloth that covered Edhellen's face away with his index-finger. Emediatly the child grabbed after the finger, with the smallest hands Trynian had ever felt. Tears ran down his face as he chuckled again, letting the child grab his index-finger more tightly, it being as long as her face. The blue hair on her head glimmered in the sun.

„And your hair aswell ... But luckily, my teeth and cheeks." Chuckled Eliras.

He had accepted the use of the word perfect for once. His family was perfect. He had broken the rule once, never again. From now on, he would provide for his family, at all times. No order, no business, no ring nor organisation would ever interfere again. He did not fear other men. As long as they were men: Providing for their own family.

She rested in his arms, kissing his weakened muscles time after time, while laying in the grass. Sent of the dying day sweetened the picture of their love. Months and months, and it had only become stronger.

 Edhellen crawled away from them, towards the sea, over the sand. She frequently tried to sit down, trying to clean the sand from her hands, first licking, soon learning that clapping her hands together would help better. Praetorian lay lazily in the shadow, asleep, while Wills, named after the honorable human, a man, held his cat-like eyes fixed onto the toddler. From the start, he had accepted the role of guardian.

„She has your ears, you know, love."

He chuckled, kissing her ears softly, finally resting his chin on her head.

„But your eyes. Such beautiful eyes, mirrors of your soul. She'll grow to be the strongest of women of our kin. Serving noone, answering to noone."

The child crawled back towards them, crying loudly. Wills had jumped up and ran towards her, circling around her, growling softly. Edhellen was used to that, and tried to get near the cat, which only jumped around her, having no idea what was going on. Eliras jumped up, running towards Edhellen with her arms outstretched. She brought the girl into safety, in the arms of father and mother, who stroke their hands over the child's blue-haired head.

Her finger was slightly red, a very, very thin cut filled with blood in the middle of the red spot. In her other hand, Edhellen held a small seashell. She threw it angrily towards Praetorian, who hadn't even bothered opening his eyes, and hit him full on the nose.

Eliras laughed softly, Trynian smiled. Both kissed the small hurt on her finger, afterwhich she kissed it herself. They put her back in the sand, afterwhich she crawled towards the sea again.

Proudly they looked after her. Proudly, Trynian stroke his hands over Eliras belly, holding her tightly afterwards. Proudly, he lifted his chin a bit, like a man.