Vaeron just blinked, looking confused more than anything. An uneasy night, full moon and only the glint of stars. Trees that swayed a little too much with an effortless breeze, and a massive horse now just standing there, snorting his dislike at seeing five robed elves. Before them. Armed, but not pointing them directly at him. One seemed a little anxious, though, and had his bow pointed just a little higher from the ground in a way that was not exactly under his commander's orders. His cloak hid the majority of it, so the position of the arrow was not clear. At any point it could rise and strike Vearon's leg - or Megladon at the slightest subtle maneouvre ...

"Wait, what?" Vaeron stared at the commander, eyes growing large and demanding, "Who are you and what I am agreeing to? Who is an Elthas?"

His hand tensed on the hilt of his knife. His jaw, already set, tightened as he tried to look at the commander before him and not at the elf who seemed determined to hate him forever. Having been raised in Raiaera Vaeron knew what some elves could be like - horribly racist. True - most people were xenophobic in one way or another, whether it be against demons or orcs, but that was usually a small measure of that fear. What some elves held for humans was beyond simple dislike - it was an abosolute disgust of their very existence. Better that they be wiped from the land than be able to walk the same path of a noble elf.

The commander, though, looked a little friendlier, and did not seem to notice his underling, whose face was grimly set. Instead, he smiled softly and held up two empty hands, offering peace.

"I said if you are lost, then we can help."

"I am not lost," Vaeron said in a low growl, breath beginning to quicken. "I am here, in the forest where I-"

He broke off, realising that he was approaching in telling these beings the truth - that somewhere, closeby, was a path that led through the long, winding forest back to the Gilded Lily fortress. Oh yes, it was still some good few miles off, and the path was more of a hidden track, but anything approaching a hint was deadly to any enemy ears. Even if they were not enemies yet.

"I know where I am," the mage said, shifting his weight on his horse. Megladon huffed a little. "I can find my way back from here. Thank you ..."

The commander smiled more and put out a hand whilst he shook his head. "Friend, I think it would be best if you came with us?"

Was it a threat? Or just a suggestion? Vaeron wasn't sure, but he certainly wasn't happy about this situation. There were five elves that he could see, however, just one, and possibly more hidden. One at least was determined to get a shot if given the chance and perhaps he had genuinely wandered into their territory. Vaeron highly suspected that there was at least one mage amongst these people, one far more powerful than him, and without Philomel here, or even his daughter to prophesy what happen next, Vaeron had really no choice.

Go along with it. Even if it was just the one who hated him who was the threat.

He ground his back teeth, but nodded once. Roughly.

"Fine," he muttered, "Take me to this ... Elthas."