—
Thekia Kriegre | ‘Knight Commander’ of the Malawan High Council
—
Jowls.
Large, yellow, gibbering jowls.
By the gods, they’re flapping like a bird.
Thekia Kriegre found herself transfixed. Never, in all her decades as a warrior, through all the horrors war was wont to bring, had she envisioned this future for herself—stomaching the inane ramblings of an Elven aristocrat.
Were she twenty years younger, she would have lopped off his head the minute he so much as raised his shrill, entitled voice.
The weary knight sighed wistfully at the thought, her glazed-over gaze watching the theatrical Senator’s overwrought performance.
Rychell Oridi, one of the more pompous Elves she had the displeasure of meeting, had been screaming and ranting for nearly ten minutes. About what, Thekia couldn’t pretend to care. Only when his tirade began to falter did she begin to listen.
“...and, as the ultimate show of disrespect,” Oridi spat, waving a dismissive hand over the three Councilors standing across from him, “she sent a mixed-blood Orc, an undead blasphemer, and a Lizardkin, some mindless Dragonborn, in her stead.”
Thekia’s tail twitched.
“When Imperator Tragella hears that your Queen shirked her royal duty, his displeasure will far eclipse my own. To not only snub the great people of Nas Alura, but ignore what could only be described as the most important meeting of her fledgling country’s infinitesimal existence speaks to her incompetence as a leader!” Huffing and puffing, the portly politician crossed his arms, his golden cheeks flushing a dark orange from exertion.
Maybe she wouldn’t have chopped off his head, back in the day. Instead, she might have frozen him in a block of ice and shattered the Elfcicle over his useless guards.
A cough rang out from beside Thekia. She looked over to Monroe, the aforementioned ‘undead blasphemer’, with an arched, scaly brow. “Done already?”
The Spymaster flashed a smirk in return, his cracked lips curling up as he met her stare.
He fixed his sunken, black eyes on the Senator and walked around the table, placing a supportive hand on his shoulder. “If it’s any comfort, her bite’s way worse than her bark.” He then strode toward the door, playfully patting one of the guards on the chest as he passed.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Oridi called after Monroe, to no avail. He turned his attention to the ‘mixed-blood Orc. “What is this, Fardon? Have you no control over your own forces? Your lich can’t just leave like that!” He made an exasperated gesture at the closing door behind him. “Am I to believe the so-called ‘General of Malawa’ - the leader of the Malawan High Council - would play games with an Aluran Senator? One, no less, speaking on behalf of the Imparator, Prince Ivaran Tragella, Conqueror of—”
Hivell Fardon raised a calloused, yellow-green hand. “What do you know about Dragonborn, Senator?”
“Oh, as much as anyone, I suppose.” Oridi cocked his head quizzically, his eyes narrow. ”Why do you ask?”
“Humor me, Senator.” Hivell bore a grin that did not meet his eyes. “The Aluran educational system can’t be beat, I heard.”
“You’re not wrong.” Oridi stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Alright. I see no harm.“ Oridi began pacing on his side of the room.
Thekia gripped the table, gritting her teeth as her claws gouged divots into the wood.
“From what I can remember of my studies on the subject, the elongated shape of their skulls typically precludes higher intelligence. Save for a rare individual or two, most are incapable of rising above their beast-like nature.” He coldly appraised Thekia. “Is this one meant to act as a pet, or is it a beast of burden?”
“My pet.” Hivell replied without missing a beat. “Name’s Snowball, and she loves snacking on…”
Thekia’s whole body tensed.
“Hah!” Hivell broke into a fit of laughter. “Dead on!!” He slapped Thekia’s back, who reflexively tore off a chunk of the table. “Can you believe it?”
“It broke your table.”
“That’s not all she’s going to break.”
“What?”
“What.”
“What did you say?”
“When?”
“Before. What you said moments before.”
“Hm?”
—
Sylvana Khaman | Knight of the Queen’s Guard
—
Sylvana threw her hands up in frustration as she made her way across the battlescarred field. “Must you always give up so easily? If you ever cared to elaborate, Esik, you may well change my mind.” She looked at her counterpart in the Queen’s Guard, an owl-like Aarakocra with too many opinions. She tapped his beak to get his attention. “Well, Feathers?”
Esik excitedly swiveled his beak to her. “I got it! It ain’t the ‘what’, Sylvs, it’s the ‘how.’” He held up a feathered finger before his counterpart could interrupt. “In the win column, we got clerics revivin’ most-a the dead on both sides, druids undoin’ as much-a the nature damage as they can, and a whole race-a goblins kissin’ our feet for freein’ ‘em.”
Sylvana crossed her arms, waiting for him to continue.
“All that’s well ‘n’ good, but...it’s the whole ‘camps’ thing. Gotta be a better way than what we’re doin’. Been thinkin’ about it for a while.”
This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.
Sylvana arched her brow, her slate-gray eyes boring into his. “Is it bold for me to assume you have a solution at the ready?”
Esik shrugged and turned away, a far-off look in his eyes. “Uh…” He absently tapped the sigil on his chestplate, “Our country’s been around for what, a hundred-somthin’ years?”
“Malawa has stood strong for just shy of two. What is your point?”
“Ain’t we kinda, maybe treatin’ Olyarus like a buncha kids who just don’t know better? Those Aluran soldiers’re adults. Not only that, but they’re adult Elves. Even the younger ones had decades to get their shit together ‘n’ realize that conquerin’ nations ‘n’ enslavin’ people’s wrong.”
Sylvana brought her stride to an abrupt halt, with Esik following suit a moment later. She marched up to him, staring up silently.
Esik raised his hands. “Look, I’m not about knockin’ Isa and all she’s doin’. I love her to death, same as you.” He rubbed the back of his head. “It’s just…I just don’t get how tryin’ to reeducate those Aluran soldiers is goin’ to do much in the way-a good. Aside from givin’ ‘em ammo to scare their people with stories of brainwashin’ camps, what do we get out of it?”
“The purpose of the reeducation is not about effectiveness; It’s about making the effort.” Syvlana resumed walking, Esik in tow. “Those we cannot convert, we send back to their home country. We show them that mercy, in hopes that we planted enough seeds of change to eventually blossom into a full cultural revolution. Though human, Isa’s extended lifespan has gifted her the same ability as the Alurans, in the sense that she is willing and able to play the long game.” She patted Esik on the shoulder. “However frustrating that aspect might feel for us, we still freed those goblins from subjugation. That has to count for something.”
“It does.” Esik’s shoulders relaxed as he let out a deep sigh. “It’s startin’ to feel like we’re killin’ the same Elves over ‘n over again. I’m just gettin’ real tired is all. Those seeds-a change better start growin’ soon.”
As the two knights approached the base of a hill, Sylvana gestured above with an open hand, to a silhouette above. “Do you see, Esik? She was exactly where I had surmised: surveying the results of our recent victory.”
Esik shook his head as they reached the bottom of the hill. “Didn’t say you were wrong, Sylvs. Just said she could-a been anywhere.”
—
Thekia Kriegre
—
“Ultimately, we will allow a full withdrawal from all Malawan-occupied lands in the Olyaran region.” Oridi stopped, waiting expectantly for a rise from the Malawan councilors. When all her received in return were cold stares, he continued, “In return, we will promise no further hostilities in the region, unless prompted by an outside force.”
“You’ve got some pair on you, Senator.” Hivell, still smiling, held out a hand across the table to Oridi, “Gotta shake the hand of someone as bold as you.” He gestured down with his head to his extended hand, “Put ‘er there!”
Oridi hesitantly accepted, the color quickly draining from his endangered jowls as his hand cracked under the pressure. The Aluran guards stepped forward, but Thekia's withering glare rooted them in place.
Hivell’s smile soured. “Bold,” he said, pulling the Senator closer, over the table until their faces were inches apart, “but not bright.”
Oridi yanked his hand away as Hivell released his grip. Stumbling back, his eyes wild with rage and pain, he stammered, “If… if you believe this brutish show of force will affect these treaty negotiations, you are sadly mistaken.” He nursed his rapidly-bruising hand. “I have spoken on behalf of the Imperator for nearly a millennium-”
Hivell leaned over to Thekia, blatantly ignoring the ever-raving Senator. “Damn,” he whispered, “he’s still goin’.”
“Your petty efforts will gain you nothing! Only fools of the highest or—”
“You can handle the rest.” Hivell playfully ribbed Thekia. “You earned it.”
“—thing but thuggish ingrates, incapable of—”
“I certainly have.” Thekia’s snout curled into a wry smile. “This farce will be over soon enough.”
“—and if you believe that there will not be repercussions for such disrespect, you will find yourselves sorely-”
“Senator,” Thekia growled, slamming a palm on the table.
Oridi jumped back in surprise, his tirade cut off. “Oh,” the rattled Elf chuckled as he readjusted his glasses, “now the pet speaks. What have you to bring to the table?”
In one fluid motion, Thekia flung her other arm forward, releasing the piece of the table she had shorn off. The jagged plank whizzed past the Senator’s head, embedding itself deep into one of the guards’ necks behind him. The remaining guard took a half-step forward, hand on hilt.
Before he could so much as shout in alarm, a blade of shadow exploded from his chest.
—
Sylvana Khaman
—
Esik’s feathers bristled with excitement when their eyes met. “Isa Abad, as I live ‘n’ breathe!” He charged forward, spreading his arms and wings wide to envelop her in a tight embrace. “If I haven’t said it already, damn girl! I never, ever, seen some fancy princess move like that!”
Sylvana, the more proper of the duo, pried Esik off. “You have never seen a ‘princess’ in your life, Feathers. This is your Queen. Show some respect.” She nodded toward Isa. “We can handle the clean-up from here, my liege. Though,” she playfully elbowed her companion, “there is one hold-out left.”
Isa placed a thoughtful hand on her chin. “What do we know?”
Sylvana stood at attention while she gave her report. “A few natives shared some information about their former ‘master’, an elder Elf and apparently legendary wizard directly from Nas Alura. When one of our patrols met to negotiate his surrender, he had a change of heart and started casting a torrent of offensive spells.”
“Don’t you worry, they’re fine - just some burnt hair ‘n’ a singed banner,” Esik drawled, “Crazy bastard locked himself in a small fort at the edge-a the forest.” He stole a glance with Sylvana. “Now, the General sent word a few hours back that he’ll dispatch the Frost Knight herself to solve the problem. You ‘n’ I both know they’re busy mopping up after us already. Sylvie and I...well, we thought you might have somethin’ different in mind.”
“Though it would have been lovely to see her in action once again, I’m sure Lady Kriegre would appreciate a chance to rest.” Isa tapped a finger on her chin as she thought, then looked to Esik. “You wouldn’t happen to have some strength left in you, would you?”
A grin spread onto Sylvana’s face as she watched Isa hatch one of her ridiculous plans.
Esik was completely oblivious. “Sure. Why?”
Isa smiled coyly at her bird friend. “Hope you’ve been working out, Es.”
He squinted his eyes in suspicion. “I...have? What’re you...” His eyes shot open in realization.
—
Thekia Kriegre
—
Sweaty jowls.
As if her opinion of him couldn’t get any lower, Thekia once again found herself transfixed.
Oridi was just standing there, eyes wide, sweating. She hadn’t even known Elves could sweat, at least when they’re not exerting themselves to an extreme degree.
But there he was, sweaty, and scared for what she surmised to be the first time in a long time. With all of the centuries under his belt, he probably forgot he could die.
The room stood still for another beat, everyone waiting to see what he did next..
Hivell lurched forward, and Oridi ran.
At least, Oridi tried to run. His escape was blocked by a shadowy apparition. The figure, still wisping and writhing, snapped its smoky fingers. Pale green light shimmered on the Elf’s right shoulder before veins of crackling energy shot across the Senator’s body, locking him in place.
“Treaty negotiations,” Monroe said, coalescing from the shadows and locking eyes with the paralyzed Oridi, “are meant to take place between,” he paused, ruminating, ”...equally powerful peers.” The undead lich strolled to the other side of the table to stand beside his comrades.
Hivell lumbered around to the other side of the table, crouching to be eye-to-eye with the Senator. “Which you aren’t.”
Thekia drew her sword and placed the tip under his chin from across the table. She guided his head up to meet her gaze. “Nas Alura’s claim on the lands and people of Olyarus,” she pressed the tip of the blade into his skin, drawing blood, “is hereby nullified. The Olyari people have been liberated by the Kingdom of Malawa.”