I stood with Khyon at the bottom of the slope leading to the top of the small and rather unremarkable hill. We were here for some 15 minutes since Santino and Red (who was still a bit smarting over my stunt last night) left us here and led our horses away. As per my nature, I was antsy, occasionally halfcocking Helen and spinning the chamber. As per his nature, Khyon was near serene having a rifle in front of him nearly completely stripped and having a large oak box with several drawers aside from the lid and meticulously choosing parts to add. It never crossed my mind that I'd actually have to make him show me how to work most of that. At the start, all I thought was “Oh cool rifle.” but the amount of modularity so far was way above anything I ever handled. Just occasionally glancing inside I noticed some new features I had no idea it could have. I tried to sound casual “You know that your people way overengineered that rifle, right? Even if they sell it at outrageous markup they won't make the profit because that's...very specific weapon. On the other hand, if they sell it for less than it's worth, 90% of people would not know what to do with half of that stuff.” There was silence. I thought I offended his baby in some way and thought about how to defuse the situation. I really did not want to fight again, especially before the mission when he sighed “I approached the subject already...” He finally decides on the bare scope and screws it on and opens the drawer with various add-ons for it “They were...not very receptive.” He takes three smaller pieces and screws two forward and one at the side eye goes on.”

“Are they blind or just a bunch of techno-geeks?” He opens a smaller drawer pulls out several very sensitive tools I saw already and starts to zero in scope. I didn't want to bother him at that moment, because this was “save our ases part” After several minutes of fiddling he locked the mechanism of the scope. From my relatively short acquaintance with the weapon, I knew now the gun could be dropped down the ravine and the rifle might get messed but the aim would stay true. That part, reliability, I actually really admired.

He finally answers “A bit of both I think, but I think two of us are to blame mostly.” I lifted the eyebrow “How the hell is that our fault?” He shrugs “As this is a prototype for this model, and as I said this is the second most expensive model. They don't expect to sell very much of these or the one above it, or the one below it. They are prestige weapons. And with my notes, they will make some adjustments to the rifle for mass production. “Mass” is under very large quotations. I think there will be only 100 of these if you decide to sell this one you will probably be able to make a nice amount of scratch due to the coveted 000 serial number. Collectors already talking about a ridiculous amount for 001-010. No one is expecting prototypes to hit the market at all it would drive rich snobs crazy.” I chuckled “Thanks for the retirement plan, still, I don't see where is our fault.” He closes the drawers opens the lid and then unravels it as a small staircase, like false bottom under false bottom at least 6 times. Well, 7 if you count the real bottom and unscrew the barrel. That I hadn't seen before, then looked for a while and picked a shorter but also thinner barrel, I started to connect some dots, but still as the amateur, he expected to fire in closer confines, as if someone jumped on the roof of the carriage, but thinner barrel would focus Aether and maintain the power and even minimize the loss of distance. “Yeah, you already know its name don't you?” I scratched my stubble “Maybe.” “And Helen also approves of it, so I doubt you'd sell it, no more than you'd sell Helen, or that saber you're killing yourself to get good with.” I was silent for a bit “Is that weird.” He looked at me “To a normal person probably, I doubt they would understand the difference between knowing a weapons name and giving a weapon name.” I looked at him “So this happened before?” He grinned “Oh look at my precious flower, always thinking he's first at something and always being disappointed. It will happen champ, just keep trying.” I knocked a pebble at his knee “Ouch. Yeah, it happened forever, and not only with weapons. However, since it's cooler for them than let's say necklaces they get the spotlight. Although putting a cube of ice on your bruised ego, it is a pretty rare ability, I think with you I know like four people in total that have it, and the other three are Elves.” I paused “Wait a minute, if you don't have it how did you know the name of the sword?” He grinned “I lied, I had no idea, but with everyone around it would be bad for business to just cave in.” I shook my head “I never saw someone take his cover so seriously.” Finishing screwing on the new barrel he looks up at me “Nothing fake about that. The cover works best if it's not a cover, so that is my sole source of income for real. The only thing that hints at my actual profession is the occasional parcel I get that is prepaid and I just have to deliver it, but that's as far as I'll go about that.” “I shrugged, well it's like 100% more than you ever said.” He takes aim at the tree some 300 feet away and dry fires the rifle “I figured, I should say something since we're friends now and all.” “I groaned “OK, don't make it awkward now.” He grinned “The way you said it, it was a mix of telling someone his mother died and calling them on a first date.” I placed my hand on Helen “Another word and I'm shooting you in the foot and remember I have only magic bullets inside, I played with the chamber a few times, and getting your foot blasted with pure Aether would be cruel and unusual punishment...also very satisfying for me.” he raises his hand in surrendering gesture. “Now back on the topic, how are we guilty, or responsible, or whatever.”

Khyon gets serious again “We have a 93% success rate.” I raised my eyebrow “That sounds good, why are you saying it like your father died?” He looks around like he's trying to find the right words “We are outliers. Closest to us is the actual rifle they plan to sell to consumers, No 5. With 87%. The other two prestige rifles are both in the low 70s or high 60s. In their mind, it's because they have a fantastic product. They don't take into account anything else.” I tilted my head “Like a competency of testers for example?” He sighs “For example.” He lowers his voice like someone could hear us in the middle of nowhere. “This is the secret. Rifles from 1-5 stripped to their basics are very similar, material is the most impactful difference for performance everything else is glitz. No 5 is basically the rifle I used when we were catching Amsel, just made of better materials, but not so much better that would matter in such a short engagement. They basically plan to sell prestige models to a few rich snobs and then sell 4-5 to others and actually make money on selling the accessories...” he slaps Oak's box in front of him “You saw how much of this shit is in here and it can make a difference of night and day.” Like to demonstrate the point he with several lever movements removes the entire stock and replaces it with an outline of the stock, made of some material unknown to me, and a padded butt. there was a screw at the bottom with flat longer sides that one had no issue screwing and unscrewing with the hand he loosened it and then actually folded it inward to the left so it doesn't bother his arm since he was right, but I assumed it was possible to do the same in the different direction if the left was your preferred arm. Usually, you'd have to pay to have your rifle restocked for something like that but here it was done with several lever movements and a screw.

It was like an entire idea opened up in front of me “They are not actually into selling rifles, they will make a fortune in selling these ding dongs that go on them.” Khyon chuckles “I'd put it more eloquently but yeah, as testers we all get a full kit. But say you want a decent Aether Sniper, there are exactly zero on the market, you pass by and see your future rifle that comes with roughly two-thirds of this box but there is no way you can afford it. Then you notice model No5 and while is still expensive you can afford it and while you have it wrapped up you see you can buy about 200 ”ding dongs” on their own and they fit all rifles. So next month you are there for the suppressor and some scope improvement, month after that, few new stocks, etc. By the time you buy everything you want they will come up with series 2 that will have all new din dongs incompatible with the old rifle and it starts again.” I raise my eyebrow “And we're good for business because due to necessity we try various configurations and prove their worth, although Average Joe will hardly find himself in half of the situations we do and could do without half of that stuff.” Khyon shrugs “I do highly doubt that even a professional assassin will find himself thinking on the right barrel, stock, scope, and magazine for fighting on the moving coach.” “Magazine?” He pops out the standard magazine he's been using whole this time and opens another drawer 4 more different magazines were inside with the empty place for the one he just ejected. Khyon thinks for a while and picks up seemingly one the same size but with the red mark on the bottom and slots it in. “Twice as powerful but otherwise the same, it is made from a different alloy so it can handle the pressure of extra Aether, It's basically like changing .22 for.45” I scratched my head “OK, I take it back. They will make a killing, both metaphorically and literally.” Khyon opens a loading mechanism and starts loading the cell “Yeah.” I sat near him “I can't help but notice you don't dance from joy.” The first beep sounds “Don't get me wrong, in my unbiased opinion this is a great weapon, and if we survive the last trial I'm thrilled you will get not only it but our test ”ding dongs” box since I think there is about 50 more in this than it will be in most expensive model and precisely 100 more than it will be sold with this model. But the fact that they will use our numbers to sell it to a bunch of poor yahoos is... squeamish. It's not only tricking them of their money, that is kind of my bread and butter. But how many of them will bite more than they can chew because they saw our numbers and go after someone like Amsel...he'd have their liver out before they squeeze off a first shot.” Second beep Khyon closes the cell and does a final check before closing the box and placing a safety cover over the scope. “This is a serious piece of equipment for serious people. When an amateur buys Dwarwen Roomsweeper. He has to point it in a vague direction of the thing he wants gone and squeeze both triggers, even if only 30% of the charge hits, there is a decent chance that the thing he wanted to go is gone. Because if the wall behind you evaporates and you suddenly miss an arm, you will be running until you find help or pass out from blood loss. And most Dwarven Aether weapons work like that, a ridiculous amount of firepower in a relatively short range. They are basically idiotproof unless you are so much of an idiot that you shoot yourself. Then that is just natural selection in action. We'll try to market this rifle to the same market as the long-range alternative. For an amateur to get model No5, he absolutely needs at least 3-4 more ”ding dongs” to make it viable, bipod for one, because with a scope even breathing throws off your aim at a medium distance, then suppressor no matter how much you shit on it because of name, because without it you will telegraph where you are even in broad daylight and all still living gods help you if you shoot at night and miss. Someone will wear your ears as a souvenir before you realize that you have to lift your head off the scope after every shot. And last basic would be at least one improvement for your scope. If you are a race that is not blessed with any kind of night vision, then a night vision add-on ASAP. Also, don't go alone for fuck sake, find a buddy to spot for you. All that should be on the box, but my left ass cheek it will be but you know what will be OUR 93% success rate and due to the facts it's the same rifle only one is made of steel, and one of Titanium, and one from Mithril, only "Ding Dongs” are different. Sure, good shooters will become even better. But the number of yokels this rifle is gonna kill out of sheer overconfidence is the same as the number that will be killed by it.”

I look at him “But you knew what it would be used for, why angry now.” He suddenly snaps as he jumps to his feet “I didn't!!” He collects himself quickly, but personally, I never saw him lose his cool like that “When it started, it was a Special Operations program, and the people who were in charge understood the complexity of the rifle. Sure there were talks of a simplified version going to the wide market in a couple of years, but after our Drow engagement things started to change. Private money started to flow in, goals changed and I was already committed, there was no going back. And what are we gonna do? Fudge the numbers in a real firefight? I don't like where is this going, but I don't hate it that much to risk the death of either of us. My only hope is that people will see it for BS it is”. He finally screws on the suppressor, even if it was a different model. Half the length of the one we usually used but also half the width. Rifle overall with folded stock took a whole different aspect, it was maybe palm longer than long barrel peacekeeper, and after shooting it before I was fairly certain I could handle it with one hand. If Someone lands on the roof with a souped-up energy cell Khyon could more than comfortably shoot from the hip and from that distance, I imagine rip anyone in half. He loosens the odd stock screw and returns it in place. This was obviously standard configuration, the shorter one was if things got too close for comfort. “Prepare yourself” I opened my mouth to ask for what when I smelled ozone, a sign of activating Arts, and my hand fell on Helen. But before I was able to say or do anything. A glowing oval shape opened to my right and I saw a beautifully made and light courtyard, well it was night there too so it was at least on this hemisphere, then a carriage passed through and stopped in front of us and the portal closed. Well, I was slightly surprised but at least this part we discussed and as Khyon jumped next to the driver exchanging a few words with him I stood on the step opened the door, and slid inside. Even before I fully entered I noticed a few oddities. First, when I grabbed for the inside to enter I noticed the walls were at least a third thicker, and as I entered I looked at the walls and noticed about an inch of some metal as plating. This was the armored carriage, I heard about those but I always thought them to be one of many tales spun about High Elves. Since it was supposed to imitate normal carriage all extra space was taken from inside, which somewhat explained the lack of more guards.

Opposite me was a pair of Elves, and I did not have to use my gigant mind to guess one was the guard and the second the dignitary we were supposed to escort. Guard was betrayed by the fact he was naked to the waste and so oiled up that if I grabbed him, he would slip from my grab as a wet soap, two Shamshirs were at his back fastened by crossed silk cord around his chest. Now I wasn't one to admire male physique too much but with this one was hard. While his face was just handsome, which by Elven standards basically made him Quasimodo. The rest of his body was like one of those Greek Statues I saw on posters in larger cities when museums had exhibits. There was not an ounce of fat, but neither an ounce of muscle just for muscle's sake. His physique was certainly impressive but nothing was done for aesthetic reasons. There was just enough bulk muscle to give him explosiveness, but also enough lean muscle for periods of extended activity. His head was completely shaved denying any purchase in close-quarters combat and I for one had no wish to try him at a sword length either, silk ropes aside I glanced at the scabbards, at least their top and it was well worn out, either from practice or combat made no difference to me. Red showed me the lengths I needed to go to defend from “just” one sword in the hand of a dedicated user and by how he dissected me with his gaze, well, kinda like I did him, he did not lack dedication, what he lacked were self-awareness and tact. As I squeezed into the seat opposite him not to disturb the dignitary I continued cataloging his arsenal. He had 6 throwing spikes slightly longer than a middle finger in his wrist wraps. Nuisance weapons, and kill could be made if he hit an eye with enough force to reach the brain or it in the neck artery, both things he, no doubt, could do. But the fact he didn't keep them in direct contact with the skin completed his keeping at least three layers of silk between them and his wrists made me think of poison. A short dagger at his waist completed his short to mid-length weapons At his right was the interesting weapon I saw only on parades or martial art exhibitions. I know no name of it. In essence, it was double glaive. But the interesting part was the fact that unless on the battlefield, or parade it was carried as he did now, separated in two at the middle, giving a pair of essentially, axes, because the main body was made of bamboo, making the wallop they packed not a joke at all, especially due to the fact they were two parts of a pole weapon so their length when separated was of a longsword, that walloped harder than just one-handed axe and for extra joy there were two of them, with true masters being able to attach and separate them basically at will, so this oddball weapon covered several ranges and seeing it in action was my interest for a while, especially when I saw it thrown in separated form with what I'd consider lethal power up to 30 feet.

In the hands of professionals, it had every opportunity to be a terror weapon, covering everything than extremely close ranges and extremely far ranges and he had that covered with swords, daggers, and almost certainly poisoned spikes, which were maybe a nuisance as a thrown weapon but with right wrapping could be extremely dangerous claw/knuckleduster substitute, finally a long range on his left he had relatively small light cavalry bow. Effective lethal range up to 100 ft. That he did see in action by several sides. As a cavalry weapon meant to be fired from the galloping horse, by a competent army was still a fearsome weapon despite firearms and Arts. Considering their cramped space, his choice of weapon was more than appropriate. However, his choice of words was not, apparently, he was not too keen on Humans sharing his protecting duty and he said so in Elven. The language I knew poorly and even that was a charitable interpretation, a dialect of High Elf nobility was nearly unintelligible, however, I knew one word very well since it was most often the last word uttered to me by soon-to-be corpses: fètüm. As most High Elven insults toward Humans, it involved family, beasts, and sexual intercourse, which will prove hilarious later, it did not really mean what was its literal meaning. The only fact it mattered was it was the worst insult Humans could get from the Elf, and there was the casual ease he used it. Not that he thought it impossible, he simply ignored it because even the thought of reprisal seemed too ridiculous to him to even seriously consider it. No matter who you are sometimes you really need to check with whom you traveling. Since finding the High Elf that can't use Arts is like finding a fish that can't swim. His defenses were simply down when paralysis hit him, but to his credit millisecond, he figured out what was going on he counter-attacked rather than trying to free himself and tried to stop Hákons heart. He managed to metaphorically grab the wrist and push it away. But second, he loses concentration, even a sliver of it he had no doubt his heart would burst like a ripe melon. Although he enjoyed the look of complete befuddlement after he encountered resistance. The conflict started a few seconds ago, but when it came to these kinds of Art fights, it favored the Elf since it paralyzed Hákon as much as him since Hákon needed all of his mental capacity. Grabbing a weapon would weaken his defenses and Helen would not help him, if he's dead, this was a deadlock. “What is going on? Lhak'a?” Young female voice, their dignitary. Even with the briefness of the fight air was hard to breathe because of the stench of burned ozone, due to attacks and counterattacks. It was an odd stench of burned plastic and overheated metal. Her voice loosened his resolve for a millisecond but enough for me to disjoint my mental arm and wrap around his, I felt ligaments in my arm straining in the real world giving in to mental pressure. The arm is not built to do what I did to it and physically wanted to follow the astral imprint of itself. But I was out of the danger for now. However, this was far from over I was calculating my chances of reaching for every weapon. neither was particularly good. Suddenly I got a mental message from Khyon “What the fuck s going on inside? carriage begins to heat...rapidly.” “There was a personal guard inside too. we are fighting to the death right now.” Khyon sounded incredulous, not that I blame him. “He called me fètüm. You know after that only one of us can leave alive.” There was silence I thought Khyon was wrecking the brain to salvage the situation somehow. Well, until the doors next to the bodyguard slammed open like hurricane wind ripped them open. Khyon was more flying than holding onto the carriage with his only points of contact being left-hand on the upper part of the door and tip of his boot on the step. Still, a second bodyguard saw his eyes he knew he was dead, he started his last push to set himself free but Khyon ripped him out of my grip and effortlessly grabbed his ankle while landing on his seat and at the same time, guided the falling body under the wheels. He looked almost bored while sounding most similar to something heavy falling through the dry branches, well if it wasn't for screaming, once that stopped he kept the grip until a particularly violent yank left just the leg in his hand. Khyon grabs the roof and jumps out again giving himself a boost with Arts to bounce him back onto the roof vanishing from the sight. The entire thing lasted for maybe 5 seconds. I just reminded myself about the voice and for the first time I looked at our living cargo. It would look like a 15-16 year old teen if there wasn't that voice. Our dignitary was a girl, and while it's always hard to place the exact age of one of the Elves, High ones especially I would give my right nut that she was barely older than 30, which by Elven standard barely placed her into the equivalent of Human 18.

This time I sent the telepathic message “Khyon who the fuck is this?” There was a pause “It's hard to explain, I'll do it face-to-face once this is done.” “Once “this is done” is a part that worries me. How old is she?” “There is an equivalent of a mental sigh, “26 she a Dove” “I'm not familiar with the term.” “It would be odd if you were. It's private.” “You won't unprivate it for me?” “ I just tore someone in pieces for you, you'll live without this.” “I'd win” “No you would not.” “I had a plan“ “Did it involve, hoping that distraction will make him freeze long enough for you to slam Soul Dagger into his throat...and before your own hand gives up.” “...Maybe.” “Soooooo dead. Rest, you spent too much power.” That, he was right about, the tussle with a bodyguard drained me so much that I likely couldn't make a barrier to stop a slingshot. I looked at our charge and just now noticed she was looking at me The clothes were some sort of very large ceremonial silken garb that hid the gender. It was...very, colorful with a bright yellow background and mosaic in vivid colors depicted on it. I was unable to see the mosaic since it was hidden to me to at least 80%. But maybe because of Khyons words I noticed only bird I saw on the remaining 20% was a dove. “What happened?” Her voice surprised me, not only because of how young she sounded but her struggle to maintain that air of superiority in her voice. I raised an eyebrow toward the veil over her face. It was thick enough to obscure most of her features but the glow of her eyes behind it was a clear indicator of where to look. “You know what, and you know why.” She sounded almost offended “Lhak'a did not know you understood.” I almost chuckled “So if I didn't understand he offended me it would be fine?” She sounded like someone forced to talk to a toddler. “Well, of course. What you don't understand can't hurt you.” “Because I'm fètüm?” She started to answer but stopped “You almost tricked me if I answered you'd kill me.” I nodded “How does it feel being played with?” I felt her gaze beneath the veil. “You shouldn't be allowed to speak to me like that, actually you shouldn't be allowed to talk to me at all.” “And I should paralyze your bodyguard until my friend jumps in and throws him under the wheels and holds him there until all that is left of his is a leg?” She goes silent but is not done yet, Simply reorganizing herself. “It must be a proud moment showing how powerful you are over an undefended girl, we will see how brave you are when I am again surrounded by the guards under my command.” “If” Her head bobs slightly. “What?” “ If you are ever surrounded by your guards again and not killed by bandits in another attack. We barely held them off the first time, when your valiant guard breathed his last.” I slowly drew and activated my Drow Hand Crossbow and continued while the mechanism buzzed into life “But fiends sunk so low to pay for the best assassins of your kin. I actually only once saw how their poison works from up close, this might be educational.” I admit she WAS good but for a while now I verbally sparred with the best, she wasn't fit to hold a candle to either Red or Anne. Her superior pose vanished, shoulders slumped she just watched through the desert. I deactivated the crossbow and returned it to the holster. “For the name of Flaming Throne girl, how are you raised if you are so easily broken by a Human? Khyon would be just warmed up for some 5-6 hours of back and forth.” “Khyon is a true scion of his house, I'm a barely High Elf. If I didn't meet the criteria to be a dove I'd be probably a Companion.” High Elves and their niceties. Not counting V Drows always tried to kill me on the spot, but there was the part of me that admired their directness, and especially their craftsmanship. But they called a whore a whore and Brotherel a Brothel. Not these nicities with Companions and Gentleman and Ladies Clubs. Paint a donkey with stripes, it won't become a zebra. But to elevate the establishments that served just one purpose they made these girls go through hell which would make them famous in the wide world. Every companion was able to hold a conversation among the most advanced human “experts” in a multitude of fields and that was just conversation. There was dancing, playing several types of instruments, singing etc. I saw several that dared to leave that High Elven mold and become world stars. Shunned by their own people but once the reproduction of your portrait is in the European Royal courts you can giggle your way to the bank and retire before you reach 200, Male athletes were highly sought after. But their isolationist culture was so high that the number of both sexes in the entirety was mid-50s. And now was here someone who looked down the nose at being the Companion and I had the uncomfortable idea that once when I find out what the Dove really is I might hurl. So I was somewhat hesitant. I started a small talk “OK, I'll tell you what, how about we start again, you forget that you had a bodyguard and forget that word and I forget pretty

much everything. And we start from zero.” She looked at me through the veil “How you are so sure they will overlook the death of a Lhak'a?” “His group likely won't, same as the group of that Drow with the crossbow. Or a Drow that had this saber.Or Drow that had the helmet locked to my waist, you get the picture. If they want to make a fuss that's just more money in my pockets and they tend to have a nice kit too. Why do you think your driver did not even slow down when he heard his “buddy” being torn to bits under the wheels, or at least go faster to give him a cleaner death? High Elf or not, you don't drive this route and don't understand how to recognize hungry Jackals when you meet them a few times. And he bets between the two of us or that finely polished guard of yours, we tend to make better protectors.” I actually chuckled at the last part “As paradoxical as that sounds.”

She studied me for a few more minutes and then to my surprise ripped the veil off. I was right pretty as all Elves, especially of a High Variety, but she was a few pounds lighter than were esthetic ideals in higher circles and her incredibly green eyes had and gleam of a wild animal inside them. Still, her dress behind the veil was worker year wage kind of expensive. And jewelry was well worn, kept for this kind of situation for decades, centuries maybe. The last meal ticket of the old family. I reached into one of my quarrel satchels and pulled out a package Ronald made for me. The old dwarf started to treat me like a long lost son, making sure I had something to eat on the longer voyages and waits, together with dubiously fatherly small tin flask of something to “warm my bones as he knew to say, he even took to stitching blade and bullet holes and even washing my clothes with his. There was a story behind that. Since I swear I heard him once or twice almost call me something starting with 'Jer...” but I didn't want to pry and others didn't volunteer if they knew, I thought at least Anne and Santino knew. So far I enjoyed perks and waited for old Dwarfs to tell me on his own time. This time there was a large piece of dried beef and cheese almost a third a loaf of bread, and, of course, a flask. I took a flask and casually threw the rest to my charge, at the place late bodyguard sat. For a second it seemed she would refuse but once I threw my large bowie on top of it, it seemed it would be more likely she didn't want to seem too unladylike, tearing into it with her hands and teeth. Since third of it was gone as I took a sip of whiskey, shivered, and closed the flask. She wielded a 15-inch blade with a skill I rarely saw and wondered if should I shoot her in the knee, you know, for good luck. Predominantly mine. However, it would appear that the minor thing of crushing her bodyguard to death didn't rank high on her grudge list and she decided to really try that “turning a new leaf” with me. Especially after such fine cuisine as dried beef, cheese, and hard Dwarven black bread. After I took another sip of whiskey to make sure I was still alive. She likely noticed sheer awe on my face, Since the cheese and most of the meat were already gone and misplaced it for hunger and blushed offering me what was left “I'm sorry...just it's been a while since I saw meat so I can fit in this dumb dress, and honestly I don't even like the cheese, I don't know what got into me.”

I did...hunger, I felt it quite a few times and if I stopped at cheese I'd dance right now. but instead of that I just refused mumbling something about how I ate before we set off and instead asking about her name She shrugged “Most F...sorry, reflex. Most Humans find it too long and dumb, call me 'Mina. That how my servants used to call me...when we had them.” There was some bitterness in the last sentence and shrugged. I stared at the flask like its not my buisness “Loyalty is nice and all but it doesn't feed family alone, I think you know that better than most.” She looked at me with those fierce green eyes for a second, like checking if was I making fun of her. Then sighed, ”Yes, I do. I don't blame them as a people, my nana stayed two months longer for free before she had to leave. She cried. But the situation changed so quickly.” I didn't ask what. I heard all tails of tragedy, did it really matter if I skipped one? If she wanted she'd tell me on her own “What's your name?” The question caught me by surprise for some reason. We were talking, and I asked her her name and some pretty personal questions, she wanting to know my name in return was pretty damn obvious. But she was High Elf and during my existence, only three of their kind wanted to know my name. I should've lied, my name was so rare around here that it was the same as giving a calling card. “Hákon”. She laughed “That's weird.” “Why?” she chuckled, “You are the only “Hákon” I ever met. The only other time I heard that name was when I read it on my father's store Wanted poster. Ghaw!” Well “Gwah” was deserved. The story was wrong, I wasn't Adonis in the first place, but they made me look like a Goblin, I had a facial scar that I earned in that fight and they it made my front feature that now was barely nick on the tip of my chin but they made it like a god damn Grand Canyon. As a tip on the shit of Cherry Sunday I apparently gunned down 4 of the patrons... considering I had just a knife at the time and most of the shooting was done by Del'Vane, Khyons older brother when he figured out they were cheating at cards, I just shanked one guy in self-defense, for before mentioned scar on my face. Del decided to help me out as thanks for the help, while I was going to grab the News Rag he bought me a one-way ticket as close to Arkansas as it going to get close to. I was about 16 and had no idea I'd see him again, or meet his his brother some 8 years later, or that his sister would be the only woman I loved, nor that I'd work with his killer twice. And now 20 years later when I forgot all about it I was escorting a girl whose first boogeyman was me. I shook my head. Instead of all of that I just said “I heard it's a pretty common name in Hungary.” “So you are an immigrant?” I shrugged, “Someone in my family was, I was an orphan.” Kind of caught wrongfooted she went silent and threw out usual “I'm sorry.” Sometimes I'd like to find who popularized that phrase like a canned response for half a dozen bad news you unexpectedly hear, until “I'm sorry” is all he remembers how to say. Suddenly telepathic link pops up. “Hákon” “Still here.” “Nice because I'll need you soon I think.” My stomach sunk “Easier job huh?” “Again, comparatively. Check back some 500 ft, there is a low hill on that side, already the third time I think I noticed a horse shadow when we turned too fast for them to adjust.” “Any idea of the numbers?” “Nope, but if they know on armor on this baby, I doubt less than 4-5.” “Lovely.” “I said I'm sorry.” The last one was my lovely passenger friend. Not overly unreasonably thinking I'm pouting because of her remark. I chuckled “Very soon you'll wish that was a reason why I was silent.” drawing an odd look from her. I turned down the gas light on my side And then drew binoculars, although I'll use them more as the telescope. Surprisingly she did as I said immediately, I opened protective shuters. Due to the moon, I didn't dare push the binoculars out but just opened cosmetic curtains in the middle and watched through one piece it allowed, I already had my night attachment on and used most I could from small space. Khyon messaged me again “Driver said we're coming at another bend soon.” I zeroed in on what I thought was the best place and braced myself so the movement of the carriage didn't throw me off. It took about three minutes and we swerved. They adapted and I didn't see a shadow. The same result for Khyon I guessed by a string of expletives, “Calm yourself and collect your toy.” “You saw something?” “Yup. Horses breath.” “You sure.” “As I can be but I saw a posse or two and I'm fairly certain we are hunted by one.” “Lovely. Opinion?” “Just a second.” I turned toward the place I assumed the girl was. “'Mina I have a question for you and I'd be very, very grateful if you don't give me the same song and dance...other, High Elves do because if you do you'll be enslaved in the next half an hour and the rest of us might be lucky and die.” There is a brief tremor in her voice as she confirms with but enough conviction that I decided to trust her. “What is the exactly “dove”?” There is a heavy, pregnant pause. It likely lasted a minute but if you said an hour I would believe you. But finally, she answers with an odd question “Do you know what a “Hapsburg chin”, or “Habsburg jaw” is?” I looked back into the darkness “Girl I'm a criminal from Arkansas all I know about Habsburg is that was name stamped under some European golden coin with a head of an ugly shit on it.” “Well, that ugly mug was one of Habsburg's lines, since I have no idea who the hell you robbed for it I wouldn't know which one, but I can say that Habsburg's chin was why he was ugly.” “You are losing me and we are losing time, point please.” She sighed and barked something in elven that I doubt was very ladylike “Ok, short version, they did a lot of incest, like all the incest you can imagine and something tells me that you both know what is incest and can imagine a lot.” “Oh you're so lucky I can't see you, why the fuck they would do that?” “Money and power, they were royal family, large one.” “I wonder why.” “Shut up. So they figured. Why to marry outside the family? If they keep it among themselves, literally, they keep both money, titles, and land for themselves. After several centuries of that, they became so cute.” “OK. What does that have to do with Elves and doves?” “Well it's not like Humans are the only greedy bastards on the planet.” “Gee thanks.” “I said shut up. Anyway, punishment for our wealthy incestoids...” “You made that word up.” “And you'll never know. Anyway, the punishment was not the ability to scratch our noses with the tip of our chin but widespread infertility among the ruling class. And when I say widespread just in this city there are 150 cemeteries exclusively for stillborn.” Now was my turn to be silent, and she continued “Of course for our wonderful bluebloods not just any orphan will do, and since infertility is 25% more common in females solution is obvious find a lady of the good breeding and get into a legal contract with her, all is very civilized of course. We are a chosen race after all.” In a silent tiny carriage enveloped in darkness like a slightly oversized coffin, her voice sounded hollow. “After the contract is signed, you and your entire family get an agreed-upon stipend every month. The stipend depends on with whom is contract is made. Of course. From that moment on I produce babies with the male of the family, and they are immedietly shipped to the Lady of the house who would be by that time be in one of familly estates do the ruse is at least formally possible. I am to be...available how many he wants, and if I get a miscarriage, I'm expected to take potions to get to fertility as fast as possible. If the family deems they have enough male members, the stipend is cut by half, and that sum we receive to the end of the life.” There was a silence “Why would you take such a deal?” “Most of the doves are daughters of widowed nobless, usually in the war. Smaller nobility, whose husbands and fathers didn't have enough to leave them in the case of their death. My father died in the Nagash Wars.” The Nagash Wars referred to three uprisings led by the Warlock of Drow Middle House of Dim'NarSukh. Still is debated what was gained by them, but they cost the house dearly. The Warlock himself for the beginning. The third uprising was Him, Lesser House of Dahu, and about 300 unaffiliated Creek Indians. High Elves retreated from this one, speculating that the entire point was bleeding of High Elves, in the first two uprisings they lost around 500 warriors and 130 mages plus at least 1000 wounded of various disciplines. By that time Nagash and his various allies lost around 200 people in total and twice that many wounded. He should've returned to their caves once their principal enemy decided not to take the field. But it would seem Nagash had a point to make. Well, the baton of High Elves was picked up by Khula Elves, and them alone. Nagash and his army and allies rode into Emerald Grove, on the other side rode out a lone horse carrying a headless disemboweled body with scalped Nagash's head in the place of bowls, his nose and eyes were missing too, and ears were sharpened to look like a pigs. His manhood was shoved down his throat. Drows, nor anyone else answered this. But the House of Dim'NarSukh was promoted to one of the Large Houses, indicating one of the great Houses engenered all those events ant entry into status and privileges of the Large House was the rewared enouh for the House Dim'NarSukh. “Which one?” “Second.” if we weren't in our predicament it would be amusing how surprised she sounded I actually know my ass from my elbow. Let alone about stuff that didn't involve humans “That sucks.” “Yeah.” I manifested a bit of light after closing the window cover and gave her the Bowie “Cut about a length and a half of the blade in the middle of the cover of the windows but be careful they don't spot you, just push until the widest part of the blade and then push downwards and pull it back it should be enough.” She nodded and I extinguished the light first hearing the window closer to her and preparing to contact Khyon. “So we're not gonna die?” “I don't think so.” “Why?” “Because after that story I feel like killing something. Just one more question. That guy we're doing this for seems like a catch, big money?” She paused “Kinda” “So, how many?” “How many what.” "Opponents had to die before it was your turn” “Are you seriously asking me have I killed someone?” I chuckled “No I know you killed someone, and likely yourself since you are not wealthy enough to pay for middleman, some would say callous I say comendable. If there is dirty work to be done, at least do it yourself, that makes a world of difference in my world. So, how many?” There was a pause and I heard as fabric tore, not even glimpse of the blade on the moonlight she moved and began at the second window “Three.” “Damn, I thought two.” she finished with second window and now she produced a small light offering me knife back, I took it. “How did you know” “I suspected earlier, but when you explained what dove was it clicked.” “What did?” “The way you used the knife when you ate, you are practiced, there are no many things knife this large can be used for and, sorry, I don't see you as a hunter. Your father likely wanted a boy and all his effort pointed toward you, I bet you were able to kick the ass of anyone in your class by age 10 male or female.” She shrugged. “OK how about I offered you an alternative, instead of being miserable baby factory for prick who's mr winky you'll likely slice in half before the second child I offer you fulfilling job, opportunity that will make all your fathers dream come true.” Under the light on just one ghost light, her face would look perfectly evil if she wasn't confused as hell. “Ok, in short, you will kill an ungodly amount of people, earn enough so your family won't ever hurt for money again, you'll get rid yourself of all that repressed anger and you won't have to see a dick ever again if that's your preference.” She peeked at me suspiciously “Why would you just offer that to me? We've just met.” “Well, for one, because I never had that choice and I'm giving you one and two I feel like pissing off someone today.” She still looks understandably apprehensive “Can we have a like trial period?” I shrugged “Sure whatever, there is one rule though.” “Which is?” “I say someone is not on the menu, no accident is to befall that person.” She snorted “Amen.” I sent a message to Khyon that I had suspicion will upset him.