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Faladel
Now that I’m actually here, staring at the King of the dwarves, I’m not afraid. There is only one option after all, success. Failure doesn’t exist, can’t exist. As long as I believe this, my voice will remain steady. I vaguely notice the dwarves around us fall to their knees, and hope Balderk keep his head enough to remain standing. Formalities, brimming with malice, are exchanged. I explain myself, our quest, using the rehearsed lies. When I’m done, I try to gulp, but my mouth is bone dry. I keep my eyes focused on the King and the King alone, as if I can will him into agreement.
“Sooo…” The King draws out the words, as if he’s savoring their flavor. “Your request is to work together to find a solution that avoids the mutual destruction of both our species?” Disdain drips from his voice, but I continue staring as coldly as I can, hoping to activate whatever eye-power Briareth and Balderk claim I have.
A thousand responses run through my head in a split second. I choose the one I hope is least inflammatory. “We thought that might be amicable to both parties. Surviving is in all our best interests after all.”
The King smiles, and I have a sinking feeling in my gut. I chose the wrong one. “You overestimate how much I care about my soldiers lives, boy.” I nearly frown at the insult. I’m almost certainly older than he is! But I catch myself. I can’t let him goad me.
“Perhaps you don’t value the lives of your soldiers, but you value your own life. Your own comfort. You value your position. Tell me, Your Highness, what has this war given you– Riches? Control? Who's to say peace won’t give you more of the same?” From the dwarf King’s expression, I can tell I’m not convincing him. I wrack my brains, trying to come up with examples. What can I give him that’s concrete? “There was a time,” I begin, pulling from the history the Librarian gave us “When elves and dwarves were at peace. Imports, exports, the taxes upon them, it kept the elite of both nations wealthy and content.” It’s not exactly a lie, and the king looks curious for a brief second before pulling back on his dismissive mask. Behind him, I briefly notice a younger dwarf, the prince perhaps, looking intrigued. “There was no need to split power into factions to help drive the war. Dynasties held control for centuries with no upheaval.” I continued, remembering how the Librarian described the power dynamics. Surely there’s someone here that the King wishes had less power? Sure enough, the King's eyes flicker to the side for a second, towards a dwarf in long golden robes that brush his feet. When they meet mine again, I continue. “Dwarves may have forgotten those days, on purpose or by accident, but elves remember them well.”
I hold my breath the few seconds the King considers the proposal, my expectations shattering when he finally decides. “Again, boy, although pretty, your tales underestimate the hatred of thousands of years of war. Nobody here would buy elf made goods, even if they were half the price of dwarvish ones.” I barely hold back my inner opinion. I once knew a dwarf who sacrificed his life for a few handfuls of a precious stone, knowing they’d make him rich when sold to the elite. The dwarf nobles would probably adore overpriced pretty elf baubles with ridiculous taxes on top. The King, from the glint in his eyes and the half-smile on his lips, knows it as well. He’s just enjoying denying me. I take a deep breath in, recentering myself and analyzing the situation. Why? This man just gave up personal profit and a chance to end centuries of war and avoid ‘mutual destruction’ just to foil me? This feels deeper than racial hatred, more like a personal grudge that he’s willing to take with him to his grave, but I’m certain I’ve never met him before. I’ve certainly never done anything that would provoke this sort of irrational response.
I mentally shake off the suspicions. It could be an entirely different reason that caused him to reject my offer. It doesn’t have to be a personal grudge, maybe there are other players at work here that I don’t know about. Either way it’s clear that he won’t agree to anything currently. What I need to do now is convince him that we should stay as guests, and in the meantime quietly solve whatever problem prevents him from agreeing to peace. If it is indeed a personal grudge, well, I’ll just have to figure out how to appease him then. Failure isn’t an option, there are too many lives at stake.
I smile, and prepare my next suggestion. How can we convince him we should be allowed to stick around? Simple, make an offer he needs time to think about. Something unique, startling, something that he can’t dismiss out of hand. Something– but I’ve taken too long.
The King opens his mouth before I open mine, and says “You claim your weapon is magically tied to your lives, which is why you feel so casual entering the hall of the very enemies you were captured by for –what was it, twenty-two years? You look nothing like your proclaimed age, how am I supposed to trust you?”
I blink, mildly surprised by the direction he’s going in. This sort of question suggests he actually is considering the offer on his own. Maybe, in the brief time it took to study him and come up with a new tactic, he’s already rethought his earlier rejection? “We brought paperwork,” I offer, “official seals and such, but perhaps it’s been so long that you won’t recognise them?” Not recognizing them is a legitimate concern in my mind, especially since they were forged by Briareth, but the suggestion is apparently offensive to the King.
“Nonsense! Bring them forth!” He roars, and I nod to Briareth. This time they aren’t on the inside pocket of his tunic, no need for them to be hidden when they aren’t at risk of being stolen. Instead Briareth pulls them out of a small satchel on his side, and hands them over to an aid who delivers them to the King. They all look legit, I made sure of it. Royal Seal lookalike, a scribble that could be my father’s signature, lots of official wordage. I felt a little guilty forging it, but my father would certainly agree with its necessity. In fact, he’d probably have been the first to suggest forging official paperwork, if he were here, so I suppose it’s okay? The King studies our paperwork for a while, I start to grow nervous the longer he takes. I know there is nothing wrong, but if he thinks there is…
“These appear legitimate,” The King eventually says, and I breathe a sigh of relief. But it’s one second too soon. “Unfortunately for you,” He continues, “I have no intentions of stopping this war until all elves are dead.” The room falls into complete silence. The gossiping nobles, the flutter and flap of paperwork, officials who at least had tried to keep up the appearance of working through our talks, even the servants who were quietly going about their duties in the background have frozen.
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I glare at him, a surge of anger rising within me. He had never planned on stopping the war to begin with? He had been playing with my emotions, making me believe we stood a decent chance, this entire time?! He didn’t ever really care about any of it? Not saving his soldiers lives, not earning his coffers a nice fat golden boost, not even his own life? I bite my lip, reining in my emotions. He has to be bluffing. There is no way he had called us on our lie about having a similar weapon to his Scourger, and he definitely values his own life. That much is evident from his posturing. Our eyes lock, and I consider him. He has to be bluffing. A narcissistic scoundrel like him would sacrifice his men in a heartbeat, but wouldn’t risk ruining the little paradise he’d set up here. He knows he has to make peace with us, or face his possible destruction.
“Very well.” I say coldly, calling his bluff. “If it’s mutual destruction you want, then it’s mutual destruction you’ll get. Balderk, Briareth,” I jerk my head towards the door, “It’s clear we won’t get any further here.” I twist on my heel and start to head out. I can hear Briareth and Balderk turn to follow me. I take three steps towards the door. Five. He has to call out. He has to. Seven steps, ten, just a few more to the door. Then I hear the magic word.
“Wait!” The King calls. I slowly turn around, trying to stifle my smile. But something is wrong, and my stifled smile dies instantly. The King is grinning. “Whatever gave you the thought that I would just let you stroll out of my kingdom a second time, elf prince?” His voice is as sinister as a storm on the horizon, and far more chilling. “I may not be able to kill you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t hold you here indefinitely. Let’s see if you’ve aged at all after another twenty years. Take them to the dungeons!”
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Balderk
“Well,” I summarize after thirty minutes of awkward silence in the dungeon. “That could have gone a lot worse.”
“Or a lot better.” Faladel says glumly.
“We really should have put a time limit on the non-existent weapon instead of just using our lives as a trigger.” Briareth comments, flicking one of the tiny stones on the floor at a wall. “Ah well, lesson learned, we’ll do better next time.”
“Next time?” Faladel asks, while I just shake my head.
“I’m not sure what you’re complaining about.” I say. “This was actually a pretty good outcome, you must have done a good job convincing them that killing us would be a very bad idea. I’ve never heard the King hold back on executing someone who annoyed him before.”
“You consider this a good job?!” Faladel snaps, getting up from his perch on a pile of hay in the corner of the cell and pacing the room. “The King can just continue on with his plan to eradicate all elves, while we’re so well trapped in here they don’t even feel the need to post a guard by the cell! How are we supposed to convince any of the factions to help us from here?”
“We don’t, but we can escape, right Briareth?” We both stare at the elf in question, who’s now finished flicking stones, and is instead building a little tower out of straw pieces from the pile.
“Hmm?” He says, realizing that both Faladel and I are staring at him. “Oh, that dude from the church you mentioned did something wonky over me and Faladel before we left. Don’t you remember, Balderk? Anyways, I can’t use my magic right now, and who knows when it will wear off.”
My face pales. I was counting on his magic to get us out of here. What are we going to do now?
Briareth though, doesn’t seem to feel the same panic that I do now that I realize we truly are trapped. “What’s up with you Balderk?” He asks, still messing around with his straw tower. “You’ve seemed a little out of it ever since the throne room. Telling Faladel that he ‘must’ve done a great job’ even though you were clearly there with him when he pulled it off. Not noticing that the churchy dude was performing sketchy sorcery at us. Is something on your mind?”
“Nothing much.” I grumble embarrassed. I can’t say I wasn’t listening during the first half of the courtroom discussion because I was staring at the dwarf prince. Or that I was trying to figure out why he looked so damn disappointed as we were led away. Or that I’m still puzzling over why he was chuckling at me of all people.
Briareth abandons his tower and turns to look at me. Something in my voice must have given me away because he’s grinning. “Were you distracted by somebody, Balderk? Did you perhaps see someone in that room you recognized? Somebody special? You were, after all, stationed in this castle for quite a while before your deployment.”
I get what he’s insinuating immediately, and feel my cheeks heat up beneath my beard. “There was no such person! I’ve never been involved with anyone romantically! Not at the castle, and not anywhere else!” Why did that stupidly handsome prince’s face pop into my mind. He may have distracted me with his strange behavior, but that didn’t mean anything!
Briareth is completely unconvinced. Faladel though, has more sense. “Enough with the antics, Briareth, Balderk’s love life– or lack thereof –is none of our business. We have more important things to focus on.” I relax, thankful for his interference.
Briareth sighs, rolling his eyes. “Oh, come on Faladel, you aren’t the least bit curious?”
“As long as this distraction of his doesn’t cause him to zone out again when we’re in a high-stakes situation” Faladel smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I see no need to quiz him on his personal life, especially not when he obviously feels uncomfortable talking about it.” I shiver. Did he basically just threaten me with Briareth’s interrogation if I get distracted again? And here I thought he was helping me out.
“More importantly,” Faladel continues, “Is there any way people could be secretly listening in to our conversation to see if we’ll let things slip now that we think we’re alone?”
“Smart.” Briareth mumbles, eyes wide as he glances around the prison cell. It only has three flat stone walls, rusty iron bars up front, and a single pile of straw in a corner, but since Faladel and Briareth are used to magic being used in all sorts of ways, it makes sense that they could be worried about such a thing.
“Not that I know of.” I state confidently, glad we’re finally off the distraction topic. “I’ve done a few guard shifts during my time here, but never heard a whisper about something like that. And I’m pretty certain that’s something I would have heard about. The soldiers here don’t like sorcery all that much, so someone would have complained about having to watch over a spell like that.”
“What if it was installed without the soldiers knowing?” Faladel presses, unconvinced.
“And waste a cleric to keep an eye on it twenty-four seven instead?” I snort. “No way, clerics are too valuable.”
“So, nobody should be listening in on us right now, right?” Faladel asks.
“Yep.” I confirm.
“Then it’s time to re-evaluate the plan.” Faladel says. “And figure out some way to get out of this cell.”