Part 2: The Sharpest Sword

Gathered around the crackling flames of the bonfire, the leaders of our settlement sit in a circle, their faces illuminated by the flickering light. Yirlung, with his weathered hands and keen eyes, sits beside Kimsky, the firelight casting shadows across her determined features. Varen, his sightless gaze focused intently, sits across from Trudviar, the hunter's expression stoic yet alert.

I stand before them, my gaze sweeping over each face in turn, measuring their resolve and determination. These are the individuals I trust to lead our people, to guide them through the trials that lie ahead. They may not be warriors in the traditional sense, but they possess qualities that are invaluable in times of crisis— courage, wisdom, and resilience.

"We have a plan," I announce, my voice carrying across the clearing. "But it requires courage and unity from each and every one of us. Our enemy is formidable, but they are not invincible. I recognize the three of you as capable elves, thus I entrust to you powers to lead beside me. We can no longer operate like before. Our numbers are growing, and the chieftain system will soon become obsolete."

Yirlung nods solemnly, his hands clasped together in silent determination. "We will do whatever it takes to protect our people," he vows, his voice firm with conviction. Note, he says ‘protect’ and not ‘avenged’ pertaining that he might not be sold to the idea of revenge.

Kimsky's eyes shine with fierce determination as she speaks up, her voice ringing clear and true. "We fight alongside you, to the bitter end if need be. Our home, our people, they are worth fighting for."

Good, Kimsky is sold with the idea, but that doesn’t diminish Yirlung one bit, because for an organization to work, there has to be someone like him— someone who can act as the naysayer and go against major ruling just for the sake of ‘questioning’ if what we are doing is right. Through him, I should be able to minimize my wrong decisions.

Varen's blind gaze remains unfaltering as he nods in agreement with a steady voice. "I second, they have to pay for what they had done… The elves need their retribution.” He grinds his teeth, anger threateningly leaking from his lips.

Trudviar's expression is grim yet resolute as he speaks, his voice low but filled with determination. "We will be the blade that cuts through their ranks, the arrow that finds its mark. We will not rest until justice is served."

I nod in approval, my heart swelling with pride at the unwavering resolve of my companions. Good. Very good. This is what I like to see from them. For now, my control over the elves is absolute. In time, these elves in front of me will also grow in power… if we succeed and last long enough… but that doesn’t truly matter.

“Excellent,” I smile. “My companions, let me point to a path forward then.”

I take out a map of the Lorekleim Forest, something I have drawn over the past decades as a pastime.

Yirlung's gasp of surprise draws my attention, and I offer him a reassuring smile before spreading out the map before us. His reaction is expected; after all, the old ways die hard, and the prohibition against maps is deeply ingrained in elven tradition. But these are new times, and old rules must sometimes be broken for the greater good.

“Is that a map? Do you not know the story? Is this going to help us?” Yirlung shows a look of fear.

"It will," I acknowledge, my voice steady as I meet Yirlung's gaze. "These are not ordinary times, and we must adapt to survive. This map holds the key to our survival, to finding the weaknesses in our enemy's defenses and exploiting them to our advantage."

I know the story, and it has been read many times over to me by my mother during bedtime.

Yirlung's weathered hands hover over the map, tracing the contours of the Lorekleim Forest with a mix of awe and trepidation. "To possess such knowledge is dangerous," he murmurs, his voice low with concern.

The stories are a millennia ago, and that’s almost four generations apart from me, but the stories have been passed by mouth. Back then, the elves are slowly starting to abandon their nomadic lifestyle, and opening to the idea of taking roots. Humans have claimed so much of the land that the elves are left to pick up the pieces… They have no choice as every land they come to, is either inhospitable to life or occupied by a different race.

Maps have been a crucial tool for elves to establish their villages since the forest can be very confusing. It is something that the human civilization has willingly shared with other races, and the elves eager for progress at that time have excitedly adapted the humans’ technologies.

However two centuries later, the trend for ‘slavery’ began, and the ‘maps’ looted from elven groves have become tools by the slavers. Since then, a law has been passed among chiefs to ban the use of maps, thus forcing elves to rely on memorization of the forests. In time, the elves have developed an affinity with the forests and this has helped them develop further skills in tracking and geographic memory recall.

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"Indeed, it is dangerous," I agree, my eyes flicking over the map's intricate details. "A piece of paper can be so dangerous, but it is necessary for our quest to protect our kin. Our enemy is formidable, but they are not omniscient. Knowledge is power, and it is the sharpest sword we can use to protect ourselves."

“Not a shield?” Yirlung is old and have seen many things, so of course he knows what a shield is.

This world is too primitive, and even my shallow knowledge of things can be proven useful despite my lack of mastery over them. Imagine what I can do with gunpowder weapons. Unfortunately, knowledge of such things isn’t in my skillset. I used to be a freaking NEET and my knowledge bank can be as random as it gets.

“Yes, not a shield, but a sword,” It is not time for a philosophical discussion, but I like the way Yirlung plays the doubter: it gives me space and more opportunities for theatrics. “The map is a powerful weapon, something that our ancestors could not fully take advantage of. It would provide us sight over the field, and see which villages are the closest and the farthest. With it, we’ll know which places are vulnerable or not…”

I take a deep breath, and then continue, “Imagine what it could have been if we had set embankments, traps, trenches, and a watchtower to warn us in advance of the raiders. We could have evacuated in a manner that would minimize the damage. Moreover, it will even give us a chance to counter-attack, and hurt them. A sword is always better than a shield. If we cannot hurt them back, then it is meaningless.”

Yirlung frowns, understanding dawning on him. Trudviar crosses his arm, while Varen intently listens to my words. Kimsky is not so much enthused, but she gets where I am coming from.

I proceed, narrowing my eyes at the small bonfire, “You know me, Trudviar. I like to read. I like knowing about this world, the other races, and fucking poetry. I know castles exist, and metal weapons are a thing. Maps are just one of the few inventions that humanity has ushered into this world, and they helped them a millennia ago to expand and coordinate their cities. It is just a piece of paper with little scribbles, but if used right, it can be a start for us. Imagine the map I have here. It only have the Lorekleim Forest, but as our operation expands, this map will do the same. And the more ground we cover, the more resources we can tap. The more resources we accumulate, the more potency we’ll have. And then finally when the time is right… We escalate.”

I feel a shiver down my spine. I feel so confident, so sure, and somehow, I don’t feel losing. Contrary to the fact, I am highly aware many lives will be lost.

Kimsky leans forward, her expression intense as she studies the map. "What is our first move?" she asks, her voice eager for action.

I gesture to a particular location marked on the map, a strategic point deep within the heart of the forest. "Our first move is to establish a stronghold here," I explain, pointing to the spot. "Its primary function is to act as our forward base of operations. From there, we can launch raids on enemy supply lines, gather intelligence, and rally support from other settlements who oppose our common enemy."

“Supply lines?” Varen shows a look of confusion. Despite being blind, he is able to express it via his body language.

Ah, right… don’t use too many fancy words, because not everyone is as erudite as my mighty self… sigh… Ugh… I feel like smacking myself.

I paraphrase, “There is a mountain pass here adjacent to the forest, we’ll ambush merchant caravans under the guise of ‘human bandits’, and demand supplies and gold from them. Not too much. Only at 50%, because we do not want our merchants dead. We want them alive, so we can rob them the next time. I’ll think of a workable schedule to spread our numbers and not raise suspicion to our forest.”

Kimsky leans forward, but I raise a hand, telling her I am not done speaking yet.

“Our trackers have spotted an Outpost,” I look at Varen and call to him, “Varen, tell us what your scouts saw.” It is a mystery to me how Varen has led the other scouts since he is blind. It will be problematic to our strategy that Varen is blind and cannot point in my map where the hell is their base, but we can work around it if we strap an assistant with him.

Varen hums for a second or two, thinking to himself an answer.

Shortly after, he provides one, “I wasn’t really a tracker or a scout. I am surprised I am even here. I am originally with the elves helping to gather bodies of dead raiders and pilfering them with their gear, but then while bringing a dead body from the forest periphery, I smelled something foul. I thought it was tracks from a game, couldn’t hurt to have more food. I tried tracking it since any food, especially with the current crisis will be helpful to the village. Before I knew it, I was within hearing range of the human sett- err… Outpost… That’s what you called it, right?”

“Yes,” I nod to him, though he cannot see it. “Please continue.”

“I asked some other elves to come with me, and check out the place… They confirmed visuals of metal weapons, but no horses. I don’t think I should be here. I am not a leader. The other elf just wanted me to uuhh… report to you because they thought I should take credit, but I am blind…”

I shake my head, “No, if they chose you, then that meant you had something in you… We’ll attack the Outpost the moment we have prepared enough. Call the elf who came with you after this meeting, I want the ‘Outpost’ marked on my map.”

It impresses me no matter how many different angles I look at it, but there is certainly something supernatural with Varen.

Kimsky nods in approval, and while I don’t know her thoughts, she looks quite eager to spill blood. "A bold move," she remarks, her voice tinged with grim determination. "I am willing to lay my life for my brothers and sisters.”

I sigh. I should think up a strategy for how to curb her suicidal ticks. She won’t be the last one of them either, so this is important. I tell her with a monotone voice, “Don’t die for your country, make the other poor bastard die for his…”

“Wha-?” Kimsksy looks confused.

“Nah,” I shake my head, “Don’t mind me, something I’ve read in a book somewhere.”

Trudviar's hand drifts to the handle of his hatchet, his gaze fixed on the map with fierce intensity. "I will lead the vanguard," he declares, his voice resonating with conviction. "We will clear the way and ensure the safety of our people as we establish our stronghold."

Hmmm… good…

Everyone has a fire lit in their hearts. Even the old bowmaker shows a look of conviction in his eyes. Is the map my sharpest sword? No. It is them… The elves are my sharpest sword, and they will only get sharper as I grind them to the whetstone that is the human race.