Edhelraen, Nyëthilhand House.

Galadar's nerves were popping off his head with the current stress he was having. The process, or rather, endurance of being the center of unwanted attention can only be compared to mental torture, and if the Count was quite honest about himself, he'd rather have the latter option. The censorship bullshit that his daughter managed to do before her departure was one of the many reasons why he was so stressed these past few days. Galadar was finishing it harder and harder to appreciate the moments of solitude if they ever came by.

He was in his office, writing a thesis that should end this stupidity of intertwining magic with all and every technology being developed. He needed to prove that magic is a plus, not the norm, so he can finally rest easy with his legacy secured. Fynsell would be the only one to truly bring the Nyëthilhand House to greatness, since the twins don't really understand much about consequences, thanks to Elisha and her constant spoiling of the children. Galadar would never really understand why his daughter was born without magic. He didn't love her from the beginning, but didn't loathe her either, always checking if she would perform even with her handicap.

The Old Elf knew and worked with people not Magic Sensitive and they, sometimes, performed better than actual Casters, which is a preposterous statement by the eyes of the general public, but not untrue. Nepotism and the inherited disdain for those below the nobles was something that didn't make sense in Galadar's eyes because he saw people with better capabilities and experience. That's why he also wanted to put the nobility back on its glory, returning the monarchy he was born in. Sure the previous politics weren't the best but even since everyone had a voice and the right to announce their opinions, he saw how much dumber the general civilian is, saying whatever came out his mouth without any consideration for the people that knew what they were doing.

It was so frustrating to see the people he once sworn to protect, judge with pure ignorance the decisions he made to ensure safety and equity to everyone, and yet you be so disregarded and disrespected, it made him lose his patriotic heart. What matters now is not the prosperity of the country, not for him at least, but to ensure a better society for his daughter to live in, a place where people will see others for what they are, not what they represent.

Look, no one can say he isn't trying at least.

“M’lord.”, A servant said from outside his office.

“Yes?”, Galadar answered, pausing his writing.

“There is someone that wants to see you.”, The servant dutifully explained, “But uh… His attire is rather… unorthodox?”

“Oh, please lad, that I take offense.”, A playful voice echoed, a tone in a mix of fake hurt and dramatical sobs, “My clothes are one of the best ones any kingdom would dream to wear even if for a day!”

“Sure…”, The servant was not buying it.

“I know him. Let him enter.”, The count said, sighing deeply.

The door burst open as a… jester? No, seriously, a jester?

The Jester stands as a living embodiment of chaos and color. His presence is impossible to ignore, a vibrant splash against the dull backdrop of the everyday world. His hat, a tri-cornered marvel adorned with bells, jangles softly with each movement, announcing his presence with a haunting melody that seems to linger in the air long after he has passed, which was weird, but tolerable.

A half-mask covers the entirety of his face, leaving only his eyes visible, eyes that sparkle with a mix of mischief and melancholy. The mask, intricately designed, hints at the mysteries and secrets he carries within. Surprisingly, the eyes of the mask mimic the facial expressions one might think the face of said person would probably make, which was uncanny, endearing and mysterious to see. His tunic, a motley patchwork of reds, yellows, and greens, is both a spectacle and a statement. Each patch is a story, a memory of battles fought and survived, sewn together into a tapestry of resilience and defiance.

His pants are no less remarkable, mirroring the chaotic design of his tunic. They are a vivid contrast to the dullness around him, worn yet resilient, a testament to his endurance. His pointed shoes, reminiscent of another time and place, tap lightly on the ground, each step a rhythmic beat that adds to the symphony of his presence.

In his hands, he cradles a lute, an instrument that seems almost too delicate for such a tumultuous character. The Jester is a figure of contrasts, a beacon of mirth amidst sorrow, a symbol of unpredictability in a world that craves order. He moves with an air of theatricality, every gesture deliberate, every glance charged with meaning. He is both a performer and an enigma, a character who defies definition, bringing a touch of the fantastical into the mundane world around him.

A totally out of place character to be… pretty much anywhere.

“Jester.”, Galadar said with audible annoyance, “What do you wish of me?”

“Oh, nothing that serious, darling.”, The Jester closed the door and tiptoed towards Galadar's desk, “Just wanted to check you, is all!”

His playful tone was… something.

“You never checked upon me.”, The Elder said with a side glance that would give goosebumps to the hardest of soldiers, “Suddenly you come up here and claim to be just checking. A likely story.”

“Oh you silly-billy, you know why I am here.”, The mask eye-smiled at him, something that the Elf never really understood about the Jester, “I want to know where, that, thing, is.~”

Did he just sing his last sentence?

Galadar sighed, “The package is on its way, Jester. I can't accelerate time nor control the weather to increase the wind’s speed on the sails.”

“Of course you can't, sunshine.”, The Jester sat on his table, not minding at all the intrusive attitude he was displaying, “You are just an Martial Artist. Barely kept your title. You should feel grateful.”

The Jester swinged his feet from side to side, jiggling the bells in his boots slightly. He was clearly amused with the current situation and was going to enjoy every second of it.

“I assure you that the crystal will come safely, Jester.”, Galadar eyes him with pure resolve, “I guarantee it.”

The Jester jumped out of the table and swagged all the way to the exit, “Well, you said it. It's not me you're going to piss off when it fails.”

Galadar just allowed the Jester to leave, breathing heavily, trying to calm himself down. The Jester peacefully walked, or rather dance walked in the hallways of the House, trying to find the other person he was here to meet. The servants of the manor were uneasy while in the presence of the Jester, not because of his weird choice of clothes but the mood changed to one of dread and danger with him in the vicinity, like a predator was just passing by ignoring the minor prey. The bells jiggled as he skipped from toe to toe, his mask showing facial expressions somehow like a child that was having too much fun for just being there.

It was awkward, odd and eerie how his presence just… didn't reflect what he was supposed to be. The Jester paused briefly in front of a grand, wooden door, his head tilting to one side as if listening for something just beyond the threshold. Then, with a swift, almost fluid motion, he pushed it open and slipped inside.

The room was dimly lit, the heavy curtains drawn tight against the daylight. At the far end of the room, seated in a high-backed chair, was the person the Jester had come to meet. A figure cloaked in dark robes, face obscured by a hood. However if the makeup and the not so hidden glamorous gown was anything to consider, Elisha was there, ready to get things done.

"You've come," the hooded figure's voice was a low whisper, barely more than a breath.

The Jester gave an exaggerated bow, his bells ringing softly, his face a polite and mischievous smile. "Indeed I have. But the question remains: why have you summoned me here, of all places?”

“It's more secluded, for a start.”, Elisha removed the hood and sat on the bed of the room, “But that's irrelevant to the current situation.”

He leaned against the wall, humming deeply as his mask somehow raised a brow, “Hmmm. Do tell, my Lady, you really wish to go onwards with thy plan?”

“Of course. I know a sinking ship when I see it.”, The She-Elf scowled, “Galadar will perish in his search for a magic less world. I'd rather be somewhere that seeked our fortune, not other's.”

The Jester wakes forward, grabbing her hand while kneeling, “My Lady, what you wish to do is treason. Is this wise of you?”

His voice and face, well, mask showed concern.

“I am not known for my lack of it, Jester.”

The Jester purred huskily, “A job worthy of my skills then.”

Elisha's eyes narrowed, the flickering candlelight casting ominous shadows across her face. “I have no illusions about the danger, Jester. But Galadar’s folly cannot dictate our future any longer. We must act, or I will perish with him and will my sons.”

The Jester tilted his head, considering Elisha's words carefully. The dim light played tricks with the shadows, making the room feel even more secretive and dangerous. “A rebellion against Galadar then,” he mused aloud, his voice tinged with curiosity and something darker, “What do you need from me, my Lady?”

“Secure the Draconic Iridium, at all costs when it arrives at Caeledrisc.”, She ordered as she rode up from the bed, “I will handle the rest from my end.”

“Oh, I am sure you will.”, The Jester chuckled amusingly, “I wonder who will be the victim of this rebellion? Have you considered who will be your next husband?”

“Don't push your luck, Jester.”, Elisha said with a sneer.

The Jester raised his hands apologetically, “Don't mind me, my Lady. Just doing my job as a Jester.”

==========

A few minutes ago, Tenure Islands

When Richardson asked how the situation inside the islands was he expected it to be a breeze. He would use Yuri as a way to develop relationships with the pirates even further, securing even more the commercial flow he had previously established. They would fight someone, drink a few barrels of rum and call it a day with the wagons carrying the cargo while the ships traveled by the river. A good plan if the Foreman could call.

What he failed to account for was the unpredictability of the island's denizens and the weather. When Captain Mitt told him that the rain on the island flooded the forest with mud and water to the point of becoming impossible to traverse, it bemused the human. To the point where his confusion turned to resigned anger, also known as annoyance. Now they needed to spare even more sailors and marines to the ships so when they eventually got attacked they could defend themselves and climb up a mountain to probably clash with either one or two Pirate clans that Richardson was sure not pleased getting himself involved into.

And that's the situation that Zagul was unfortunately put into.

“Bartering with Pirates.”, Zagul hummed, “Just as easy as slaying a whale with a tooth stick.”

“That is not a suggestion, Lacerta.”, Richardson frowned.

“Alright, calm down.”, Mitt said, taking the attention to himself for Zagul's relief, “What we need to do right now is to secure some kind of beverage.”

“Leverage.”

“Yes yes, that word you said.”, The Pirate coughed, “Something that will help us cross the range without needing to kill them all, be them Dragonkin or Light Heavens.”

“The only thing I can offer is pay, but I doubt they'd just accept that.”, Richardson thought deeply, “I am open for ideas.”

“Well, there must be something that attracts interest on that cargo you have. Maybe something left in the ships?”, Mitt suggested, unsure what could possibly be offered.

“No, we don't have anything on the ships to offer.”

Zagul caught that lie. They sure did have something, but if his past has taught him anything is that if someone isn't willing to risk something, it's probably for a reason. The Lacerta could only theorize what they could do, but with limited information and the lack of other routes to take now that they are inside the island's woods, he needed to be pragmatic, but also proactive.

Thinking on what they have, there truly isn't much aside from the monetary part they can offer. And even though pirates love the prospect of getting money, just money won't be able to give them passage, even more when you think that they could literally betray the contractor to get said money. But pirates are predictable in the sense they will want more, something unique that is only theirs. And what could they offer to them?

Well, there is Connor who is a Wood Elf—

He immediately stopped considering that. No need to explain why. On the matter of Elves, if that Fynsell woman is any indication, the ship is being watched by her, maybe documenting the performance the Foreman is showing. Again, why she was doing this only puzzled the Lacerta, since, again, Eldora will never want to lose a potential or already secured customer. But even so, Zagul just didn't care that much to do something against it like Connor did.

Then an idea struck him.

"We might not have much," Zagul said slowly, "but we do have information. Valuable information. Pirates thrive not just on goods, but on intelligence. Knowledge of trade routes, hidden coves, and even the weaknesses of rival factions."

The group looked at him, curiosity piqued.

"If we can offer them insights that could give them an edge over their competitors, or even safe passage through hostile waters, it might be enough to secure our own safe passage."

Richardson nodded, "That’s a start. We can compile what we know about the lesser-known sea lanes and perhaps details on rival factions of Eldora. That information could be worth its weight in gold."

Mitt grinned, "Now that's the kind of leverage we need. Let's gather what we can and prepare to make our offer."

“However…”, Richardson raised his voice, “That would also put a target on our back. If we offer this kind of knowledge, then that can backfire into being held hostage, victims of blackmail.”

“Oh, bloody wankers.”, Mitt groaned in irritation.

That made Zagul think about the implications of their plan. Was it dangerous? Yes, but not undoable. The fact that some information can harm you doesn't mean all of it could. Which prompted his ever working mind to come up with another solution to the newfound problem.

"What if we use this as a double-edged sword?" Zagul suggested. "We can offer them some information, but we also keep the most critical parts to ourselves. That way, if they try to turn on us, we still have a bargaining chip."

Mitt nodded, slowly understanding while mumbling over his words, "You mean, give them just enough to be useful, but not enough to make ourselves vulnerable."

"Exactly," Zagul replied. "We need to make it clear that we still hold the most valuable pieces of the puzzle. It’s a risky game, but it's one we can play to our advantage."

Richardson considered this with a calculating expression, "It's dangerous, but it might be our best shot. We need to prepare carefully and make sure we have a solid plan for any contingencies."

The group began to discuss the specifics of what information to share and what to hold back, knowing that their survival depended on striking the perfect balance between offering value and maintaining leverage.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Zagul was obviously going to be the main man negotiating with the pirates, since his experience on the field is as good as Richardson’s, but the fact Zagul is a slave helps the pirates become more vulnerable and susceptible to listen. After all, why would they feat a slave? The Lacerta asked that Connor and Donovan follow close by, and the reason was quite simple, yet surprisingly genius. The Foreman needed to admit that the plan was solid, even with the limitations they have.

What was missing was putting it into motion.

==========

“Why do I have to come all the way up here in a mountain range with you, while WALKING WITH A CANE?”, Connor screamed in anger.

Donovan needed to protect his ears or have it be damaged by the noise, “Despite not being as energetic as Connor, I second that.”

Donovan was still all bandaged up from head to toe, a few broken bones and now a bit out of shape thanks to his recovery. If he was exercising he would maintain the body he attained but since he can't or else feel excruciating pain, he only ate, helped where he could and rested with the occasional help of the ship's healer. He saw little to no point in bringing him, even more so that the human believer haven't been able to call upon the Blessings of Orïvah ever since his comrades sold him to slavery.

“There are a lot of reasons for that.”, Zagul said as he walked on the gravel road, “One is that we need the money Richardson gave us.”

They were in front of the wagons and pirates by a good distance now, so Zagul felt it was time to tell the actual plan to the boys.

“You mean… not giving the Pecunious to the Dragonkin?”, Connor asked like a child trying to guess the answer in a test.

“Embezzling money.”, Donovan concluded, “But how will we do that?”

“That's easy Don.”, The Lacerta put a hand on his shoulder with a smirk face, “Since you are now a fat little bastard, we will use this extra part of you to hide the Pecunious.”

“That's… I…”, Donovan couldn't find an answer out of sheer shock.

“My God, even I am thinking you got a bit overboard, Henry.”, Connor grimaced.

“If I want your opinion on the matter, I will ask.”, Zagul said amusingly, “Back to the point, we will have to do something in order to ensure our passage.”

Donovan managed to compose himself, “Well, we will certainly fight with the Light Heavens Clan at some point.”

“We will?”, Connor asked worriedly.

“That's unavoidable.”, Zagul said as he climbed a rock, “We have information and coin, but we also need the coins for ourselves if we want to eventually get rid of these leashes on our necks.”

“Can any of you use a gun?”, The Human asked, cracking his knuckles, “We might need to use the high ground.”

Connor shivered at the question, “I can use weapons if that's what you are asking.”

“But what about a musket? Or a pistol?”

Connor didn't answer.

“Well, here we are.”, Zagul sighed.

They arrived at a ravine that had a wood gate on it. The makeshift caravan that followed immediately stopped, allowing Zagul to do as he pleased, hopefully for the better. The gate itself was guarded by some minor pirates with sabers and pistols visible. As the slaves got close, some of them noticed their presence and got close to investigate, probably going to shoot but after spotting the wounds everyone had, they stopped.

“Thanks to our wounds we were underestimated. They don't see us as a threat.”, Zagul pointed out in case the other two didn't catch that.

“Better follow Sir Zagul's lead here, Lad.”, Hughes said apprehensively.

One of the Pirates came close, “What is your business here, uh? Got lost in the mountains or somethn?”

Zagul kneeled and soon the others did the same, but seeing Zagul kneel is not what they expected.

“Sir, we are the slaves of the Foreman who did business with Captain Mitt, leader of the Vjoviet Clan. We were sent here as folly in the intention to ask permission to speak with you captain.”, Zagul said as politely as possible, but also in a comprehensive manner.

The Lacerta’s tail whipped Donovan and he quickly continued the speech, “We are, of course, willing to pay for the trouble, if you so desire.”

Connor remained silent, yet watched everything with a keen eye. Thanks to Hughes' increased rational thinking, he could understand what was happening there, that's why he managed to follow up with the kneeling part, but still needed time to process what was actually happening. Zagul requested their presence because it would make the Pirates hear them before shooting, and since they showed submissive behavior, they could actually believe what they were doing there and all that. It was deception at its finest, allowing the enemy to believe that he had control and whatnot, despite actually having some amount of control, they never have it fully. That made Connor think who Henry Zagul actually is, not only to come up with a plan for Richardson but also in this situation.

Questions after questions, it seems.

“Vjoviet? Shite, hold on.”, The Pirate turned to the others closest to the gate, “Oi, Mate! We have visitors for the boss! They came to negotiate!”

“Who?”, One of them asked.

“Richardson and Mitt! Their slaves are here!”

“I'll talk to the boss!”

After a few minutes of tense silence, the Pirate said that the boss was interested in discussing what they had to offer. They opened the gate and walked inside the ravine, heads down as to not get mistaken with disobedient slaves, a thing that Zagul hated doing, but needed to regardless. After a few seconds of walking they reached an open area where the boss was currently occupied with… women. No need to explain what exactly he was doing, but that did shock Connor. He immediately wanted to stop the cries of help and the blood that it caused, but Donovan put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him before he did something he shouldn't. The Pirate Boss licked his lips in satisfaction, allowing some of the poor women to be with other pirates, the moans continuing in the background. He just put on some pants and started drinking some alcohol.

The pirate captain, Alan McTavish, sat at the makeshift table carved from driftwood, deep within the ravine that served as his crew's hidden sanctuary. The rough-hewn stone walls of the ravine echoed with the sound of the distant crashing waves, a constant reminder of the ocean's untamed fury. Despite his advancing age for a pirate, he was pushing forty now, McTavish still exuded a raw, rugged charisma that demanded respect and fear in equal measure. His torso, bare to the elements, showcased a canvas of old scars and faded tattoos, each telling a tale of battles fought and won, of adventures that were now legend among his men.

His skin, weathered and bronzed by the relentless sun and salt, was as tough as the hide of an old sea beast. McTavish’s long, unkempt hair, streaked with gray, framed a face etched with lines of hard-won wisdom and relentless determination. His beard, equally as wild, hung in thick braids adorned with beads and small trinkets, souvenirs from his countless voyages. His eyes, sharp and piercing, held the depth of a man who had seen both the wonders and horrors of the seas.

He looked at the slaves, “The fuck you want?”

“Your funeral.”, Connor thought.

“We have come to bargain.”, Zagul said with a bow.

“Then be quick. I need to kill some Light Heavens cunts when I go to war.”

Zagul sat down and the others did the same.

“Actually, that's one of the reasons that we are here.”, Donovan explained with a courteous smile, “But I think it's best to explain from the start our situation.”

Zagul and Donovan took turns in explaining what happened with the occasional question coming from McTavish. Connor was not paying attention to that, he could only focus on what was happening on the other side of the room. He just… couldn't listen to that in a comfortable sane mind, he needed to do something to stop that. But at the same time, he didn't want to fuck this up by damaging the only chance they have to cross this stupid island. Seriously, why did the river flood? If the river never flooded he wouldn't be in this situation!

Then again, it wouldn't change the fact that those women are still being violated, only that Connor wouldn't be there to know. The weight of inaction bore down on him, hitting way harder than it should be, but mainly because this happened before. He could only remember that night, that hostage situation, the reason why his life went downhill. A crushing presence that eliminated any rational thought. He clenched his fists so hard that they started to become white, trying his hardest to just stay put and not do anything. But every scream, moan and delight of the Pirates were like sharp knives taking turns into slashing him, a mental torture of sorts.

“I understand. At least I think I do.”, McTavish scratched his head, “But, y'know. We need something in return by helping you out.”

“Boss, this guy over here is… not doing so good.”, A pirate pointed at Connor.

“You good, Connor?”, Donovan asked, now worried that he didn't notice this before.

“No.”

“You are pale.”, Zagul said with no apparent emotion, “You should go have a walk.”

Connor just nodded, getting up and going away for now.

“Is he going to be okay?”, A pirate asked in minor curiosity.

“Forget about it. It's a slave.”, Another pirate berated.

“Don.”, Zagul called, “Get him back here, would you.”

“On it.”, He said as he left.

“Does that slave really need to be here in this negotiation?”, McTavish asked with disinterest and annoyance.

“He is the personal slave of the Foreman. If he can't witness this, might as well leave and be killed by him.”, That of course was a lie. Zagul even pinched his nose in annoyance for extra points.

The reason was quite simple. Zagul wanted Connor to learn how to hold himself in negotiations, diplomacy and war treaties, so he would know what to do in these kinds of situations. Well, if the chess shenanigans weren't a good indication as well as the reactions he had with the women on the other side of the room, he would absolutely act with his heart instead of his mind. Thankfully, Donovan was there to help and for once ever since the human tagged along, he trusted him.

Almost at the exit of the ravine, Donovan managed to catch up with Connor. As soon as he got close, the Wood Elf threw up, puking violently everything he ate and then some. That startled Donovan, who saw Connor managing weeks at sea without any problems, but… The human believer couldn't really blame him. Serenity was basically the love of his life from what he heard from Yuri when they talked about Connor's past, so seeing women being abused like that must've been hard to bear.

“Connor?”, Donovan asked. No harm in doing it.

“I… I can't be in that place with that happening.”, Connor cleaned his mouth, breathing heavily.

He sighed, already dreading what was coming, “Look, Zagul asked me to get you back there.”

“He what?!”, Connor turned, his face as if he saw a ghost, “What, does he expected me to not jus—”

Donovan tapped his mouth before Connor said anything else, “Do you think we like what is happening? Do you really think, in that thick skull of yours, that that doesn't make us uncomfortable?”

Connor could only face the look of anger that Donovan had while the latter removed the hand from his mouth.

“Then…”

“Zagul has a plan, but he is acting like a noble right now. Long term plans, not short.”, The human frowned, “Never liked this way of thinking or doing stuff, but I can't really say it doesn't work.”

“Yeah, all good and all that, but what about those who can't wait?”, Connor spat with disgust, “What if I can help? I need to think long term if I can help now?”

“Do you even know the plan? I don't know and I caught up with what Zagul is doing. And I am willing to bet the even Yuri would keep up, even if he doesn't pay attention in specifics.”, That made Donovan chuckle.

“And you?”, Connor pointed at Donovan with his finger, “Don't you feel complete disgust seeing that?”

“As a believer of Orïvah Weerling, don't you think it hits me the hardest?”, Donovan explained with a angry frown, “I worked a good portion of my life to help people in need. My inaction hits just as hard, if not even harder than yours. But I know that the gecko has a plan.”

“And those people will need to wait this suffrage until the plan eventually pays off?”

“What can they do?”, The human shrugged, “Hell, what can we do? We are just slaves that are dependant of Richardson's word, but that doesn't mean we are incapable of doing things our own way.”

Connor pondered those words. Indeed, right now, he doesn't have the skills to save those women or the options to do so. He can only rely on Zagul's plan and his negotiation skills or else start a war around all the pirates or even worse, his own death. An idea he was very keen in avoiding, since the first time wasn't pleasant and he didn't want a encore.

“I'll try.”, Connor sighed in defeat.

“It's fine. At least you showed character there.”

Connor looked at him with a dubious look, “What am I to you?”

“Anyways.”, Donovan clearly ignored his question, “Let's go back, shall we? Just pay attention to what the negotiator is doing.”

“Sure.”

==========

With everyone again on the table and ready to get on with things, Zagul started going directly at the problem at hand.

“Our master,”, Zagul almost gagged saying that, “wants free passage to cross the mountain range of the Dragonkin. We are willing to offer both pay and support to the current war your clan and the Light Heavens find yourself in.”

“No need for fancy words, Lacerta.”, McTavish yawned, “Just address the elephant in the room.”

Connor felt annoyed.

Zagul coughed, “Well, that's basically it.”

The Pirate hummed, “Coin and military aid. Tempting, I am not gonna lie.”

“But not enough.”, Donovan guessed what the Pirate would say, “Am I right?”

“Precisely.”, McTavish nodded drunkly, “I want something… hmmm… Exciting.”

Connor was watching how the negotiation went, Hughes carefully explaining bit by bit of the exchange. The hidden messages and double meanings as well as what was the intent of the questions and answers. Zagul was obviously not giving every card at the start, testing to see the limits of the Pirate, while the latter wanted to see if there would be any slips in information. Donovan correctly guessed the internal dialogue that McTavish had and managed to sneak some pieces of information, even if predictable.

“Lad, this can be a great way to learn about diplomacy and barter. I suggest you to pay close attention.”, The Star Soul said with some amount of enthusiasm.

“Copy that.”, Connor groaned.

“If you are willing to help us, we can help you.”, Zagul said, gesturing with his hands to the Pirate and himself.

“Help me help you, then.”, McTavish said with a grin, still not letting himself say what he wants.

Connor grew impatient.

“In that case, let me list the advantages you will have by helping us.”, Donovan said, using his fingers as a checklist, “For one, our master will pay you a hefty some for your collaboration, which is already a good incentive. Secondly, they and probably all the slaves will help on the combat, taking some of the heat away from you and your crew, not to mention they have muskets and pistols from Eldora's Army, crafted to perform way better than any other weaponry.”

Zagul gave a unreadable look to Donovan while McTavish looked bored.

“And I thought you'd give me something interesting.”, The Pirate looked rather displeased, “This meetings over.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”, Connor groaned, “Cut out the bitchy act and tell us what you want.”

Necks snapped as they fixed their gaze on the slave who has the balls to talk like that to the Captain of the Dragonkin with a broken leg, not to mention the slave part. The Captain got up while Donovan and Zagul remained silent throughout the whole ordeal. Connor was worried that this might have messed up everything, but as soon as McTavish was face to face with the Wood Elf, he started to speak.

“Something that gives me and my crew glory and fame.”, The Pirate huffed, “Coin is just a bonus.”

“But captain! I like coin!”, A crew member said.

He was slapped by another crew member.

“Aw…”

“That can be arranged.”, Zagul said, crossing his arms.”

McTavish raised a brow, “You had my curiosity, now you have my attention.”

“What just happened?”, Connor thought with confusion.

“I guess you did exactly what Sir Zagul expected you to do, Lad.”, Hughes chuckled in amusement.

“You are a genius, you moron.”, Connor mentally smiled.

“Explain.”, The Pirate sat down, now with an interested demeanor.

“Glory and fame.”

“Glory and fame? Can you be more vague?”, The man frowned.

“Help us help you.”, Donovan repeated the previous phrase of the Pirate with a zealous smile, “We can give you that if you sacrifice another thing.”

“That would be the coins.”, Zagul explained with a open palm, “I was informed of a few locations where you can find the challenge you seek, but I was only authorized to tell you if you accepted the absence of payment.”

A lie, and a very credible one by Connor's judgment, even if flawed. The idea was to embezzle the coins they got so they'd have a headstart on the Runecrafter plan, shortening the day of their freedom by a good few weeks. Maybe they'd be free as soon as they stepped on Vyzar, at the most after his fight in the Colosseum. All that thanks to the Slave Rune they have on their necks, most if not all information can be said without voiced words, allowing others to believe what they wanted. Of course this was still a gamble, since McTavish could still refuse the deal regardless of payment or insurance.

“When will you be able to tell me?”, The Pirate asked, eager to continue the negotiations.

“After the war.”, Donovan said.

“Of course, I can't give you any guarantees. The best I can offer is either myself, the personal slave over there,” Zagul pointed at Connor, “or an important cargo we are holding. At least you won't be losing anything important.”

Connor ignored that Zagul offered him as leverage, but acknowledged that he was faking sincerity, or at least he thought that was the case. Donovan said he was acting like a noble, so the only thing he could think of is a politician giving a speech, which is not that far off the truth. If you just put the antithesis of what is said, intentions and emotions, someone could guess the untold truth and you be right at least 7/10 times. Sure, Connor was told beforehand but it was still challenging to follow up the hidden cues.

After a deep analysis of the situation, McTavish nodded, “I accept those terms. You remain with us, gecko. You are clearly smarter than that idiot over there.”

Connor's nerve popped, but he remained silent.

“Asshole.”

“Fair enough.”, Zagul turned to Donovan, “Here, take the bags.”

As the human took them, Zagul quickly whispered some words in his ear and left to remain with the Pirate while Connor and Donovan left to tell the good news.

“He is truly a master at bargaining.”, Hughes complimented the Lacerta.

“I guess.”, Connor sighed.

They left the ravine and the gates closed, now one men missing. The caravan waiting to hear what happened.

“Now we prepare.”, Donovan said with a serious face.

“For what?”, Connor asked, wishing the answer weren't what he was thinking.

“War.”