‘R’?
Tentatively breaking the seal, the tall and beautiful Fey woman unfolds the letter.
‘For the attention of Estrid; guardian of the pool. I have received your messengers and tasted your magical waters. I’m an old man who did not expect to see another summer but, as you know, war is coming. A war against a shared enemy. I’ve agreed to send you a battalion of my men; they should arrive within the month. Gods willing that it will be soon enough. I also agree to prevent any further incursions into your land from my people. In return, all I ask is that you maintain your current borders and furnish me with an ongoing supply of your rejuvenating waters. Regards, Lord Urdurel.’
The Satyr; Magritte canters over.
“Good news? We certainly need some.”
Estrid smiles reassuringly.
“It’s from the almost-Elf; Rifkin. I’m quite surprised how good his writen Sylvan is. The adventurers succeeded. Their Lord Urdurel has agreed to our request and we shall have our Human guards within one full cycle of the moon.”
The swarthy and hirsute Satyr pulls a worried face.
“It’s been weeks since the adventurers returned through the pool. Do you think we have that much time? Can we really trust Humans to help us?”
The goddess of the pool smiles cynically and shrugs.
“Alas my curly-horned, cloven-hooved friend; what choice do we really have?”
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