“Greetings, elder!”

“Hoho, you have grown up to be an upstanding warrior, Halil. I’m glad you are standing tall and healthy.”

Murad greeted the guests flocking from all over the clan for a grand occasion. For these people, it should have been an honor to be welcomed by the first elder himself. However, standing before them was a tattered old man with a cane in his hand.

Mehmed’s intention in beating the elder was right for this moment. Lately, Murad had been garnering some courage and playing behind the head’s back. He was getting full of himself. This was a warning to him and all others. Was this the right approach?

Absolutely not.

You can’t just beat the shit out of people and place them as a warning sign in front of your quarters, especially those of high standing. Sure, it was effective in a way. But people are social creatures that should not be ruled upon solely by fists. At least this was what the elder thought at the moment.

But did someone oppose Mehmed's ‘discreet’ actions? Were there such people in the clan?

Absolutely none.

Even the elder himself couldn’t utter a single word. First of all, despite being first, he had the least authority among the elders. Every elder had a designated role, each having their own part to play. Murad had jurisdiction over the castle. He was Mehmed’s right-hand man. Normally, it would grant him influence over the head family, yet the head was an unswayable tyrant.

Secondly, Mehmed was a ruthless monster to those who opposed him. He harbored any act of defiance. But the common populace still loved and revered him. There were barely any adults who hadn't been to the battlefield. For those people, Mehmed was like a shield protecting them from the onslaught of keepers and the dangers from the other four clans or the Union.

Murad switched his target. He wanted to control Damian. This was not because he was greedy for power. Despite the opposing views, the elder was the most loyal among all of the followers. All he wanted was the betterment of the clan, and for that he would put his life on the line.

But Damian had the slyness of his mother and took after the stubbornness of his father. This was by no means bad as the kid was not just smart but also clever. Thus, instead of blaming the boy, the elder would always look for new approaches to educate and instill his principles. So far, the results were acceptable. The kid would at times oppose but was reasonable. Little did the elder know that he was being played by Damian.

Come to think of it, the boy was turning four. He still remembered vividly how every second word out of the kid’s mouth was a curse. Thankfully, Mehmed had instilled some manners in him. Perhaps Damian was some irredeemable gangster in his past life. Who knew?

“You look devastated, old man.”

The heavy tone cut through the elder's flow of thoughts. Standing before him with a tall, broad-shouldered muscular build was a fierce young man. A newly formed scar etched deeply into his left cheek. Tousled and untamed, his dark bronze hair gave him a wild, rugged appearance. In actuality being in his late twenties, he appeared to be past his forties. At his sides hung long, curved axes.

“Are you any better? Did you come from battle?”

The third elder, Arslan, was momentarily taken aback by the question. It then struck him that he hadn't given his appearance a moment's thought. He barely had gotten here in a single piece and had no time for changing attires.

“Should have at least put those bloody axes away before coming.”

At Murad's remark, Arslan glanced down at himself, finally understanding what the elder meant. His appearance was ragged, his clothes clearly showing the signs of recent combat.

“Is she here?”

Murad sighed and gave him a meaningful smile while shaking his head. The Yan clan was a stronghold of warriors, therefore his looks wouldn’t spoil the mood of others. With the confirmation that the person would not be attending, Arslan's lingering discomfort disappeared.

After Arslan reassuringly went inside, a silver-haired young man with the bearing of a gentleman and an ominous black hat perched atop his head came into Murad’s sight from afar. To his right was a woman tinged with an aloof aura. Her presence was as commanding as it was chilling, like winter’s first frost crisping over the landscape. Her flawless skin was pale, reminiscent of a thin sheet of ice.

Her hair flowed like a cascade of raven feathers, each strand shimmering as if woven with threads of midnight. Her golden eyes contrasted with her icy demeanor, emitting warmth. Yana Hakan bore a resemblance to Mehmed. Their eyes, hair, and even their facial expressions at times mirrored each other. But that was to be expected, since they were twins, after all.

“What kind of runes did you get? Were the archers any help?”

“We can settle the cut later.”

Hakan was not taken aback by the elder’s hint. She knew it was not merely a stroke of luck that had gotten her the mission of leading the archer delegation to the clan. Now, her curiosity was satiated. It turns out that Murad had probably orchestrated her role by bribing someone in the Union. No doubt, he would demand a substantial share in return.

Hakan was an external elder of the clan. External elders were representatives of the Yan clan living in Star City - the headquarters of the Union. In fact, there were five times as many external elders as there were elders in the committee - those who lived in the territories of the clan.

Every thirteen years, Cicadatras would emerge from the ground. They spent most of their lifetimes underground in an immature state called a nymph. While underground, the nymphs would feed on fluids from the roots of the forest trees. In the spring of their thirteenth year, mature nymphs emerged synchronously and in tremendous numbers as they actively demolished everything they came across for about four to six weeks.

Mated females laid eggs in the stems of woody plants. Within two months of the original emergence, the life cycle would be completed, and the adult Cicadatras died. Later in that same summer, the eggs would hatch, and the new nymphs burrowed underground to develop for the next thirteen years as the cycle, referred to as periodical emergence, perpetuated.

During this period, no clans dared to hunt for runes. She was grateful to the elder as she had earned quite a fortune on her way here. The chaos brought by the Cicadatras, driven by their hunger and mating imperatives, made the risks far too great as they would aggressively attack both keepers and seekers indiscriminately. The black hat on Tayfun’s head was filled to the brim with the corpses of Cicadatras.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Tayfun was also filled to the brim, but with fury. Initially, they were presumed to follow a safe route with the least danger. He knew his master too well, her greedy nature that is, but he would never suspect the kind first elder to be a scheming scumbag. It turns out it was all because of this geezer.

He had suffered a lot on his way here. The same goes for all the archer trainees. This was how every human society functioned - there were those who worked for others, and those who made others work for them.

“How many died?”

“Two. But worry not, none with a reputable background.”

The elder was dissatisfied upon hearing the news. He wished more had died; that way, he would have more leverage in the upcoming negotiations with Hakan. Though on the surface, he gave a warming smile as he stroked his beard.

“Hoho, great, great. I knew I could trust in you. Don’t worry and rest assured. Go enjoy the feast. Your nephew will be happy to meet you.”

He said as he patted her shoulder and shook her hand. For Hakan, this was another reason to be grateful to the first elder. She would bear no responsibilities. If a problem arose, the elder would take care of it. They exchanged a few more pleasantries and soon both she and Tayfun went inside.

An elderly quillim approached Murad. The chief’s head was adorned with long, sharp quills that ranged from deep blues and vibrant purples to subtle greens. At first glance, these quills appeared merely protective, but they held much greater significance.

Each color and hue denoted a specific status within the tribe. Moreover, these quills were not only ornamental but also practical - they were layered with a potent venom. The more vivid the quill's color, the more toxic it was, indicating a higher status within the clan.

Living beneath the mountain under the castle, Quillin had adapted to a dimly lit environment. Their eyes had evolved to see in near-darkness, glowing slightly when caught in any sliver of light.

The chief’s body was covered in coarse, dark brown fur. He had small, beady eyes that gleamed with wisdom. His nose was broad, and his mouth was wide. He stood at about six feet tall, with a posture that was slightly hunched.

Beside him, there was a small quillis child. Her quills were lighter shades of brown with flecks of golden hues. Her eyes were large and round, filled with curiosity and exuding lively energy.

“So adorable. Is she the granddaughter you are so proud of, Demir? She will light up the room the moment she walks in.”

“Hai Hai Hai, isn’t she a cutie?”

As Murad showered the little girl with compliments, Demir laughed loudly in satisfaction. The first elder and the chief were long acquaintances. Yet, when the elder stooped to give the little girl a gentle pat, the girl's reaction was swift; she retreated to the safety of her grandfather, her small figure disappearing behind Demir's legs.

Murad thought that this was a clear sign of her shyness, not uncommon among children when faced with unfamiliar figures like him. But Demir frowned, giving a suspicious glance to the elder.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, you remember I mentioned Isla’s awakening?”

“Oh, right! I remember now.”

“This is something related to the ability she gained. She is perceptive of evil inside people.”

Murad remained calm and controlled outwardly, yet inside him a storm was brewing. The elder's experience in managing his emotions in sensitive situations helped him mask the growing unease that threatened to surface. Sensing malevolence? This was simply too good of an ability. His mouth was watering from greed. This child was a gift from heaven bestowed upon this clan!

“Well, Demir. You know I am no good person. I’m happy the child got such a great ability. She will be able to protect herself in the future.”

“No, no, no! I was just taken aback for a moment. I know very well that people in your position have to make sacrifices for the sake of the clan. Also, Isla just recently got her ability. It can barely tell anything as of now.”

“Is that so?”

Murad nodded in understanding, his expression shifting to feign initial shock that smoothly transitioned into a mask of relief. It was not the time to probe her abilities that were unheard of. He could do that later, with the help of his subordinates.

“As promised, I will leave the unit of archers at your discretion.”

“Hai Hai Hai, I knew you could get just about anything. Are they any good?”

“Absolutely, Demir. They're not just any recruits; these archers are the cream of the crop. They’ll adapt quickly to whatever modifications you have in mind for the arrows. But it was so hard to get them here… In the periodical emergence period no less. Two died… Oh, how I pity their families!”

“I understand… we’ll talk to those fisheads… I mean merfolk. We’ll also send a batch of high-quality quills and ores as promised. But a few of those archers might get injured.”

“Hohoho! Enjoy the banquet. The bond between our Yan clan and the Quillin is a deep-rooted relationship steeped in a rich history of mutual support.”

The elder and chief shook hands as the latter followed inside the castle with his granddaughter. He was baffled at the shamelessness of the elder. Murad just blatantly ignored the topic. Demir knew that Murad would get the best of him if some of the archers were to be injured. But little did Demir know the elder would also purposefully get a few of the archers severely injured just to get more benefits from the chief later.

Afterward, the elder greeted the major figures of the clan and some external elders. Time passed, and when the banquet was about to start, a figure emerged.

“Miss Latrice, you’re late.”

As she hurried toward the elder, her gown billowed around her like a stormy sea cloud caught in a swift current. The dark lines of the gown's understructure were like the shadows of waves under a glassy sky, giving her the appearance of moving water in human form. Yet, she was not a human but a sirena.

The delicate veil that crowned her head seemed to trail her like a bridal comet's tail, catching the dim light as she moved. Her face was a vision of composed beauty - pale lips set in determination, eyes like polished sea glass.

Her bluish hair, braided in a style that spoke of the ocean's depths, was interwoven with trinkets that shimmered like the treasures of a sunken hoard. Each step she took caused the adornments in the form of delicate seashells and glinting stones to sway.

The scales on her chest and shoulders reflected mossy greens, dusky blues, and purples, all edged with a hint of twilight. Her ears stretched outwards with a translucence. These appendages resembled fine gill fronds or the wings of sea nymphs, dusted with the same scales that graced her body, catching light and shadow with a mesmerizing allure.

Latrice tilted her head and gave a wide and unrestrained smile, which was borderline maniacal, offsetting all her beauty. Having eighty-eight tightly packed shark-like teeth, the look on her face creeped out the elder. She approached Murad holding a small, glowing object in her hand.

“Ass prromissed, ssirr elderr. Herre’ss the pearrl.”

“Hoho! You never disappoint me.”

Siren, different from merfolk that predominantly reside beneath the waves, and humans, whose domain is on land, possess the ability to traverse both the ocean's depths and the surface world with ease.

“I always trusted you, and thus I’ve already talked to the chief. I persuaded him to meet with the merfolk. Though I had to pay him a large sum…”

“No worriess. The pearrl iss of the highesst quality. Frrom rrank two maymarr.”

“Hoho! I can see that. Incredible, truly. Enjoy the banquet! You’re never late!”

“About the rrecommendation letterr…”

“Don’t worry, I will handle that. Consider your brother already accepted at the elite corps of the military.”

To the elder’s remark, Latrice’s eerie smile deepened. Only when she left could the elder finally relax his breath. He needed this pearl to repay the official in the Union for granting Hakan that mission.

He inherited his wisdom from his grandfather, Yan Yakup. Yakup was the venerable elder who secretly initiated the disparity between merfolk and quillin. It was also him who came up with the idea of an elder's committee to reduce the number of people in power. These were just one of many teachings he had left in his manifesto.

What kind of manifesto did he write? The kind where all the property disappears.