"It would seem that the nationalist faction has grown bolder," Master Thaddeus observed as they made their way through the crowded market square toward the College. "Lord Keldrin's party gains support with each passing month."

  "Who is Lord Keldrin?" Elyran asked.

  "A relatively new and troubling voice in the Council of Independent Provinces," Thaddeus replied. "A minor noble from the western territories who has built a political movement around 'human dignity and independence'—phrases that sound unobjectionable until one examines the policies they justify."

  "Such as?" Elyran prompted.

  "Huuh…Restrictions on elven movement within human territories. Tariffs on dwarven goods. Proposals to reclaim 'ancestral human lands' currently recognized as neutral or belonging to other races." The old historian slumped in his saddle. "The peace has lasted long enough for the horrors of war to fade from living memory."

  Elyran nodded.

  "What is the state of the Provincial Council as of late?" he asked after a while.

  “The Council,” Master Thaddeus replied, “was never meant to rule. It was a bandage, not a body. A mutual nod between provinces too exhausted to fight another war.”

  Elyran inclined his head slightly, inviting him to continue.

  “If Keldrin finishes consolidating Larethia — and I assure you, he will — then Greywatch will follow. Dalren’s rural councilors are already quoting his speeches, and Mirenholt’s merchant syndicates are watching the wind. That gives him a bloc large enough to seize the narrative. Or worse — to fracture the Council altogether.”

  “What about Aevyr?” Myrin joined them in the discussion.

  “Aevyr?” Thaddeus barked a dry laugh. “Aevyr will shut its ports, secure its fleets, and issue a neutral declaration printed on platinum-pressed parchment. Trade pacifism. Very elegant.”

  He pulled out a flask and took a swig. “That leaves Westmark — and our College — exposed. Isolated. We’ve no garrison, no private fleet, and precious few friends in the halls of policy.”

  "So how will the College specifically position itself?" Elyran asked.

  "We will maintain our commitment to objectivity and cultural exchange," Thaddeus said. "Though our funding from the Provincial Council has been reduced for the third consecutive year, with the suggestion that we focus on 'practically applicable historical research' rather than 'esoteric cultural studies.'"

  The expedition's findings were secured in the College archives, with the Silvermere manuscripts placed under special protection while arrangements were made for their eventual transfer to the Eastern Concordance for conservation. In the days that followed, Elyran worked closely with Myrin and Master Thaddeus to prepare preliminary reports on their discoveries. Soon however, the changing political atmosphere of Westmark began to intrude upon their academic sanctuary. A public lecture by Master Thaddeus on the expedition's findings was disrupted by supporters of Lord Keldrin, who objected to what they termed "the elven revision of our history." College students reported increasing harassment when venturing into certain districts of the city wearing their academic robes.

  There was also a subtle shift in how Elyran himself was treated beyond the College walls. Where once he had moved through Westmark encountering primarily curiosity or respectful distance, he now sensed resentment and suspicion in the gazes that followed his passage. Nothing dangerous, merely comments just loud enough to reach elven ears.

  "It will pass," Myrin said. "Political fashions come and go, as you said. Lord Keldrin's movement is built on empty promises and cannot withstand serious scrutiny."

  "Perhaps," Elyran replied. "Though history suggests that movements built on grievance and identity often prove remarkably resilient to factual correction."

  They were walking through the College botanical gardens. The late autumn sunlight filtered through leaves turned to gold and crimson, casting curious patterns across the gravel paths.

  "Then what is the purpose of our work?" Myrin asked. "If historical truth cannot overcome political myths, why do we labor to uncover it?"

  "Because truth matters," Elyran replied. "Not because it always prevails, but because without it, we surrender to people like Lord Keldrin."

  "A possibility that seems increasingly real," Myrin said.

  "In the current climate, yes," Elyran nodded. "But I have witnessed human societies swing from isolation to openness and back again multiple times within my lifetime. What matters is that there is a foundation for rebuilding."

  "So we preserve knowledge for a future that may be more receptive to it than the present," she replied after a while.

  "Precisely," Elyran said. "It is, admittedly, a perspective more natural to a race with my lifespan. But humans too can work toward futures they may not personally witness."

  As they completed their circuit of the gardens and prepared to return to their work in the archives, a College messenger approached with an official-looking document bearing the seal of the Provincial Council.

  "For Master Thaddeus," the young man said, "but he asked that I deliver it to you directly, Archivist Moonshadow. He thought you should see it immediately."

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Elyran accepted the document, broke the seal and scanned its contents. The Provincial Council, citing "security concerns and diplomatic protocol," was "respectfully requesting" that all non-human visitors to Westmark register with the newly established Office of Foreign Relations and limit their stays to a maximum of thirty days without a special permit.

  "What is it?" Myrin asked.

  "The changing winds," Elyran replied, handing her the document. "The first formal restriction on elven presence in Westmark since the peace accords were signed."

  Myrin read quickly, her face darkening with each line.

  "This is Lord Keldrin's influence," she said when she finished. "His faction has been pushing for these measures for months, but I never thought the full Council would approve them."

  "Political momentum is a powerful force," Elyran replied. "Once a movement gains sufficient popular support, few resist it."

  "What will you do?" Myrin asked

  "Register, as requested," Elyran said. "And then accelerate our work on the Silvermere manuscripts. If my time in Westmark is to be limited, we should ensure that the most critical aspects of our work are completed before I must depart."

  The policy took effect with surprising speed. Within days, notices appeared throughout Westmark directing "all non-human visitors" to register with the newly established office. The language was carefully neutral, applying equally to elves, dwarves, and other non-human races, but the intent was clear. Promotion of "human sovereignty" and "cultural preservation."

  Elyran complied with the registration requirement, enduring the barely concealed satisfaction of the human official who recorded his information and issued a "visitor's certificate" valid for thirty days. The document, which he was informed he must carry at all times within city limits, somehow felt like a chain around his ankle. Despite that, his scholarly work continued. The Silvermere manuscripts yielded new insights daily. No simple villains or heroes — only flawed individuals from both races, navigating complex political waters with incomplete information and culturally limited perspectives.

  "We should prepare for the possibility that this thirty-day limitation will not be extended," Thaddeus said during one of their evening sessions in the College archives. "The political trajectory suggests further restrictions rather than relaxation of the current policy."

  "Agreed," Elyran said. "Which means we must prioritize. The manuscript translations and basic contextual notes take precedence over more detailed analysis, which can continue via correspondence if necessary."

  "And the proposed joint publication?" Myrin asked.

  "Becomes both more difficult and more essential," Elyran replied.

  They redoubled their efforts, working long hours to complete as much as possible before Elyran's mandated departure. The College provided what protection it could from the increasingly hostile atmosphere of the wider city, but even within its walls, the changing political winds made themselves felt. Funding for the Silvermere research was questioned by the College governors, some of whom worried about antagonizing powerful political patrons. Junior scholars who had eagerly sought to assist with the manuscript analysis found themselves pressured by family or career concerns to distance themselves from work that was being characterized in some quarters as "anti-human revisionism."

  Through it all, Myrin remained steadfast in her commitment to the project, working long hours alongside Elyran, while putting her position as newly appointed junior faculty at risk.

  "You could moderate your association with this work," Elyran suggested one evening. "Allow Master Thaddeus and myself to be the primary names associated with the more controversial findings."

  "I will not, Elyran," she said firmly. "Even if it is politically inconvenient, my responsibility is to the truth."

  Elyran looked at with a smile. “Your moral courage is admirable, Myrin”

  She smiled back and stood up to stretch her back.

  “Perhaps you could help encourage me further, archivist Moonshadow?” her eyes narrowed and a smirk spread across her face.

  Elyran’s eyes widened for a moment, but after a moment he stood up and walked up to her.

  “I believe I could, in the interest of …historical progress,” he said, placing his hands on her back.

  “Of course,” she said before kissing him.

  These moments steadily became more and more common as the end of Elyran’s permitted stay approached. On his final evening in Westmark, Master Thaddeus hosted a small gathering in his private quarters—a farewell dinner for Elyran attended only by those College scholars most closely involved with the Silvermere research. The mood was subdued, weighted by awareness of the political forces gathering strength beyond the College walls and the uncertain future of their collaborative work.

  "We stand at a crossroads," the old historian said, raising his glass in a toast. "One path leads toward greater understanding between our peoples, built on honest reckoning with our shared history. The other leads back into the cycle of suspicion and conflict that has claimed too many lives across too many generations."

  "The choice seems clear when framed that way," observed Elira. "Yet history suggests that societies rarely choose the path of uncomfortable truth."

  "Individual scholars can," Elyran replied. "And through their work, preserve the possibility of better choices when circumstances change."

  They talked late into the night before finally beginning to disperse. Myrin remained behind, clearly wishing for a more private farewell.

  "I've arranged to visit the Eastern Concordance archives next summer," she said when they were alone. "Assuming the travel restrictions don't worsen before then."

  "I will ensure you receive proper credentials," Elyran replied. "Though I share your concern about the political trajectory."

  They were silent for a moment. Then he embraced her and kissed her forehead.

  "This is not an ending, Myrin," Elyran said.

  "I know," Myrin replied. "Yet I can't help feeling intimidated by the divide that is growing between our people."

  "It is an unfortunate part of the cycle," Elyran said.

  "Then what hope is there?" Myrin asked.

  "Hope lies in the work we've begun," he said after a while. "In the knowledge preserved, the connections established, the seeds of understanding planted."

  She nodded and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips. "Then we continue our work, however circumstances allow."

  "Indeed," Elyran smiled and kissed back.

  As he departed Westmark the following morning, passing through city gates now staffed by guards who examined his "visitor's certificate" with officious thoroughness, Elyran found himself reminiscing about the curious journey that had brought him to this point. A simple scholarly mentorship, a political spider web, a relationship with a human, and now a personal investment in the futures of both of their peoples. These thoughts however, did not stay with him for long and soon his mind shifted to the Council. They would undoubtedly have much to say about his activities in Westmark. But that would probably be a temporary annoyance. For now he needed to cross the border safely.