Daeron tossed Castien his sword, noting the emblem on the hilt. “This is yours?”
“It is.”
“I had no idea, and you come by the title honestly?”
Castien chuckled. “I do.”
“Then you should be able to convince the Lord of your…” Daeron looked at Castien. “Of your what?”
For this Castien needed pen and paper. That I am an emissary from an elf Cor in my homeland who would like to align himself with the Lord for their mutual benefit. Castien wrote. He watched Daeron as he read it and frowned.
“That’s a dangerous game, Castien. How will you explain that you are unable to talk, or are you planning on using Ange?”
Castien shook his head and wrote again. Theirn will be my voice. I was tortured by an enemy of my overlord and have not spoken since, or such is the story we will tell any who ask.
