Darklight Chronicles: Book One - Genesis

7: Speciest Propaganda

"God, I need a drink." Orlo procrastinated loudly as he loafed to the camp's makeshift pub.

"See isn't this better?" Tyriah attempts to gesture to Orlo.

They enter the makeshift establishment just outside the inner castle where less of the locals mixed population reside.
The outer wall section of Yuran's kingdom castle was where military, training and castles defences were located.

Inside the large tent, resided about a dozen humans and the odd elf, drunk and singing tavern songs of the impending apocalypse, inter species relations and elven songs taught by the nations elven population.

"Now there's something I'd never thought I'd hear." Said Orlo.
"Humans singing Elven shanty's hah!" Orlo laughed out loud.

Orlo and Tyriah sit at the front of the pub ordering desk and gestures at the barman to serve them two cold pints of beer.

"Ahh, now this is what I'm talking about." Orlo happily declares.

After taking a sip of his beer, Orlo relaxes and turns to face Tyriah, whose eyes remain extremely focused and trained on a table behind them.

"Hey what you lookin' at T.' Asks Orlo.

"That Elven freak over there is giving me the eye Orlo." Responds Tyriah.

"What." Orlo looks back to see a lone male elf with a look of curiousness etched on his face.

"Hey you, what you doin ya freak, get outta here." Orlo yells at the startled elf who runs from the tavern in embarrassment.

"Orlo." Tyriah scolds.

"What, I thought he was botherin' ya." Orlo replies.

"No...yeah but still. We shouldn't openly be dissing our elven occupation. They're on our side remember." Tyriah argues at Orlo, who immediately goes back to downing the rest of his beer.

"Ah, don't worry about it T. Oh yeah I always wanted to know. Why do you hate elves anyway." Asks a half drunk Orlo.

"I don't hate them. I just don't trust them." Tyriah replies.

As she continues, a man wearing a magicians robe walks in. Tall, bearded and grey with a wisdom about him. Both Orlo and Tyriah turn to watch him as he spots them and walks up to greet them.

"Orlo...Tyriah."

"Hey, how's it goin Wenlock."

"Dad, you're back. I didn't think you'd be back so soon." Tyriah spoke in a calculating way.

"Orlo, my dear boy. I do hope you're cutting back on drinking, you know what they say. Ale clouds the mind. Stay forthright and upright and you're half way to victory." Wenlock lectures proudly.

"Erm. Tyriah. May I speak to you privately for a moment. Please." Wenlock pleads to an unresponsive Tyriah.

Tyriah stares at Orlo, who raises both his hands signifying his feeling of not wanting to be involved in her family affairs.

"Uhh fine." Tyriah concedes as they walk to a table at the far end of the makeshift tavern and sit down opposite each other.