Mitharia was still a mystery to you, and Aramil knew it well. Especially your curious little nose, which was always prying into the unknown. With some trepidation and nervousness, the draconid asked you for a very important request - to come to the capital with a scroll. But this wasn't just any scroll, it was a licence scroll for caravans. You already knew of one murky individual who had come to the capital with his caravan, and for you the task seemed easy.

To fully savour the scenery, you decided to take the walking route, leaving your wings folded. Stepping on the soft moss, listening to the rustling of the leaves and clutching the worn scroll in your hand, you walked determinedly down the beaten path to the capital. As you approached the bridge, you noticed a small encampment, as if they were waiting for you, which made you feel your stomach twist at the unexpected obstacle.

You noticed the massive figure of an elf moving towards you, and judging by his attire he was from Sandrallar. He seemed intimidating, either because of his height or because of the scowl on his face. As he came closer to you, he steadied his fists at his sides, and suddenly there was an abrupt silence. "What a marvellous thing to see! I've never seen draconians in person!" the elf said in surprise, his smile bright and his white eyes fixed on you. Bending his knees to your height, he bared his teeth: "Why are you walking around here alone? 'Are you going to the capital? Shall I escort you out?", the elf noticed the seal scroll in your hands, causing you to quickly pull yourself together. "Oh, I'm sorry, I hope I didn't scare you? Draconians don't usually hang around here idly, you must be an important person...''. Despite his dark skin tone, he blushed slightly at his embarrassment, and laughed softly, brushing his long wavy curls back straightening up.