In his eyes, Adeluna was no better than Vilpamolan. In a way, it was far worse than its sister city for he had heard tales that the latter had formed out of the grand city’s negligence and incompetence. It mattered not if the current ruler was in charge at the time or not- the Queen was just as guilty as her forefathers. The only difference he spotted between the two cities was that at least Vilpamolan was willing to show its actual face. Here? It was all sunshine and rainbows in comparison, it was sickening to watch as he kept close to the shadows. The streets were lively yet he knew that the people were oppressed by the higher classes and forced to live out lies.

Disgusting, yet nothing could be done for them as it had become a way of life for them. It was too ingrained into their minds to fight back and rebel like they had with William. Pity, but there was only one fate for them- to perish to let future generations take their place and make things right. The armored elf continued to watch before coming from the shadows. He felt the eyes upon him, but most of them dismissed him as yet another knight that strolled about. It was perfect for him to be able to move around without bringing too much attention upon himself. Baeleth would used this to his advantage as he planned out his next course of actions.

He felt pity, disgust and frustration over these sights but his face masked his own deceit well beneath a strong, seldom look. Gods knew that there was only so much he would allow himself to stomach before he would act. His spear was sheathed upon his back for the time being, but knowing his luck, Nefwyr would soon have its taste of blood soon. It mattered not whose it would taste, there was no innocence around Adeluna nor anywhere else in this world that would be safe from its touch.

A predominantly solitary existence was a liberating one indeed; he was free from the shackles of courtesy, of bowing and scraping to those who thought themselves superior to him. In his forge he was king, his word law, and he answered to none. So he sat enjoying a cup of hot chocolate and watching the sheep pass by, unaware that someone foreign and alien to their world sat vigil over them… and possibly even uncaring.

He rolled the ring on his finger in thought, watching the crowd through his lashes as the drink in his mug slowly disappeared. As always, after a span he began to grow bored of the people-watching. They all looked the same to him, the same bland eyes and blunt ears, mop of hair that stayed dull hues. Even his brilliant apprentice was hard to tell apart from the crowd at times, to his mild irritation. He oft considered trying a dye or something… but he couldn't be bothered with the effort, especially when he knew the boy wouldn't agree to such an idea. He heaved a sigh, rising from his chair and laying down the silver for his drink before departing from the cafe.

Through the crowd he wove, towering over the smaller humans, though a measured few matched his height. It amused him, until it bored him, and he turned to the direction of the forge and home, content with his dose of society (and it's stench) for the day. Yet as he started down tge street, his eye was drawn to a figure stepping from the shadow, dark long hair and glinting armor. It was not the type of figure he had expected to be lurking in the corner near his forge, and a flame of possessiveness flared within him. Had it been a scouting for burglary? No… as he regarded the armored figure in his path, a flare of recognition trickled through him.

Elf. An elf, and a proper one at that, his height matching his own, those features…

They were not familiar, they matched no elf of his world, and what hope had flickered to life in his chest wisped to ash of disappointment. An elf, yes, but of different race. A pity. His gaze met the other's, and he inclined his head in recognition, though his eyes were sharp. What was the elf's purpose in such heavy armor, with such solemn eyes?