“Would she tell us though?” One of the elf warriors asked.

Everyone looked at each other for a second. Then Alkiath stepped over to the witch, knelt down next to her, and gave a quick glance back at Rum. “Heal her?” The mage stepped forward and did as requested. As Rum’s lightshow routine ended though, he stepped back again. The witch was still not quite there, and so everyone just waited. The witch’s mana glacially rebuilt itself, and as it did, her face came alive too, so very slowly.

“Hello? My name’s Alkiath. What’s yours?” The sub-committee leader managed to achieve eye-contact with the witch for but a moment. From that moment on however, the witch’s emerald eyes sought new sights. Her gaze wandered off, finding each member of the crowd staring at her. A severe weakness showed throughout the looking. The face muscles appeared to still be numb, and her neck undertook only the tiniest of movements as she took in elf after elf. Eventually, those green eyes locked with the only only other mage present.

“What’s his name?” The words were faint.

“He is Rum, The Great Mage.” Alkiath replied, matter-of-factly. “We can give you all our names” the sub-committee leader said, gesturing at the crowd, “if that’s what you desire. But please, tell us yours, first.”

“Veish.”

“Veish?” Alkiath raised an eyebrow. “That sounds exotic, and not entirely human.” Alkiath locked his arms together and briefly produced a thinking expression. “I’ve lived most my life among humans, but can’t say I’ve heard that one.”

The witch took her eyes off Rum and looked up into Alkiaths’, giving him a small annoyed look as if to say: so what?

“You’re a human,” Alkiath turned to Rum, “ever heard that name?”

“Not that I recall.” Rum The Human responded.

“I’ve never seen magic like yours.” The witch said, her eyes back on Rum. “Who are you? Not just that name, but: how did you learn that magic?”

Rum, as Rum does, stroked his beard and waited a few seconds to reply. “I’ve studied a little at The Flipped University. The reason why you’ve never seen this magic though is because you won’t see it anywhere else. Only I practice this magic. I invented it.”

“That’s... unbelievable.”

“So implied the staff at Flipped.” Rum sighed. “But all I can say is that this is how it is. Now, you can doubt me, as did the University,” and at that memory Rum sighed once more, “but I have no other explanation to give, because the true one is the only one I will offer.” Rum put his hands out in a that’s-all-I-got gesture.

For a long time the witch sat there, leaning against the chamber rock wall, eyes studying Rum while facial muscles grew noticably more alive. The former university student, meanwhile, sat down at the other side and returned her intense stare with an empty gaze.

“So!” Alkiath interrupted the mutually staring mages. “There is a question we’d all like to ask you, Veish.”

The witch rotated her stare back over to Alkiath again.

“So yeah: we would like to get out of here. Can you please tell us how?” The elf leader gave a sad face, hoping to inspire compassion.

“No.” The rejection was spoken with a low, almost whispering voice. Yet the determination behind the answer could hardly had been mistaken.

“You won’t tell us?”

“No.” She repeated, her expression hardening.

Alkiath looked over to his group of elves. “She doesn’t want to tell us.” He changed over to Urvanom. “Does your book have anything on the subject of uncooperative prisoners?”

Urvanom, ever the happy soul of a dog inhabiting an elderly elf body, beamed with excitement when his book was mentioned. “I’LL CHECK!” Fetching his little book out from his pouch, he immediately began flicking pages. “Luring away monsters, no... hmm... cooking undead flesh... very no... hmm...taking prisoners, myeah... interrogating prisoners!? HERE!” The elf began reading with the utmost intensity and concentration. “Myeah, myeah, myeah... Okay, so: befriend, bribe or torture.”

“How” Udevi said, her face scrumped up with skepticism, “would we befriend her?”

“Hmmm.” Alkiath thought loudly for a second, then looked back at the witch, his face forming into the best pleading puppy-eyes. He spoke softly: “Do you want to be our friend?”

“No.” The response was fast, cold and followed by an eye roll.

“How do we bribe her then?” Arrovani moved the conversation.

“Hmmm.” The sub-committee leader really spent some time thinking about that one. In the end he just shrugged and again asked the witch straight to her face: “What do you want in this world?”

The witch sat defiantly silent for a pause, but then responded with a determination both plain and simple: “Your surrender and your servitude.”

“Okay” Alkiath said, “I think we’re onto something here.” He turned around to look at the crowd of watching elves. “I think we can haggle with her! She wants 2 things. Let’s see if we can manage 1!” Coming back to the witch he responded: “Obviously we can’t surrender. But, what about we strike a deal for servitude? You name some thing that you need doing, and we’ll serve you as a job! Of course the job must be limited to our 30 hour workweek, and we’ll need weekends and elven holidays free, and you’ll have to pay surcharge in cases where daily work exceeds the standard 6-hour workday. Sick leave must also be guaranteed. And also we need to fix a standard insurance scheme with the mecha-gnomes, in cases of accidents or more servere job related illness. We’ll have to put in place a scheme for reimbursing travel expenses incurred on the job of course, and in order to guarantee workers’ rights we need you to get certified by our Sub-Committee for Labor Exchange. But you know! Once all that’s figured out: I believe we here elves, can almost guarantee that our Committee of The Spruce, will give you a most amazing coupon for limited free elven labor, in exchange for getting us out of here. What do say you?” Alkiath ended his pitch with a nod to himself, as if thinking that what he’d laid out was indeed a pretty good plan.

Throughout the whole pitch though, the witch’d sat with both a raised eyebrow and an open mouth of disbelief. As Alkiath finished and finally asked her opinion though, she did not think, but delivered it quickly and mercilessly: “You’re stupid.”

Alkiath’s own mouth opened, taken aback by the offense. “Well, that’s not how you strike a deal with a green-elf, Veish! Bad manners don’t pay!”

The witch rolled her eyes again. For the moment that followed, nobody said anything. The witch just sat there, looking sour about being a prisoner, while the elves gave her disapproving glances and pondered what to do. This went on for a little while, until Arrovani decided to speak up: “There’s only one option left then.”

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“Torture.” Royath responded, with a chill surety to his tone. The war veteran took a step forward. “It’s the only way to make her talk. We must torture her.”

“Heyyy” Rum protested, “I think that might be to go a bit far. We’re not that desperate, are we?”

“I’m that desperate” an elf warrior responded.

“Yeah, so am I” a shield elf joined, and added: “How close have we been to death at this point? If a bit of light torture is what we need to get an escape, then I can live with that.”

“Light torture?” Rum asked. “How do you weigh whether torture is light or not? Isn’t the point of torture that it should be a terrible experience for the victim?”

“Terrible?” Royath questioned, then immediately answered himself: “Unbearable? Certainly. But terrible? That’s opinionated. We elves have a secret technique for torture. It is the best: it’s clean, quick and effective. Nobody tortures as well as an elf! Shall I demonstrate?” Royath’s question was directed at Alkiath, as if asking for approval.

Alkiath pondered for a brief moment, sneaking glances over at the young witch, the woman starting to grow a noticeable worry across her otherwise stubborn face. Alkiath tasted the option in his mouth, mumbling the word “torture” as if trying to get a feeling for it on his tongue. Eventually, he nodded. “Do it.”

“Alright.” Royath began. “Hold her down everyone, and take off her boots!”

“Are you really going to torture her?” Rum asked, moral concern in his voice. “Wouldn’t it be more prudent to try and pursue a different deal first?”

“I’ve tortured before, Great Mage.” Royath brushed the concern away. “Even if it’s a long time ago, I remember the art well. If it worked back then, when we were in open war with these rogue mages, it should certainly work here and now.”

“It’s not whether it’ll work that I’m worried about” Rum protested, “it is whether we’re not rash to employ such despicable means.”

“Didn’t we say it was light torture?” Royath replied. “Nothing despicable about my torture. This is torture at its finest. Just you see.”

Three elves plus Alkiath grabbed the limbs of the witch, lifting her straggling body over to the chamber center, before placing her down, forcibly pulling off her boots and then holding her firmly. The young witch started trying to cast a spell as Royath stepped before her feet and knelt down. Udevi, seeing and hearing the spell forming, joined the group by sitting down, and slapped the witch’s face in a distraction great enough for the brewing spell to fizzle out. Udevi then pulled off her own left boot, took off her left sock, and forced it into the half-open mouth of the witch trying to cast another spell. A sock with days worth of sweat and stank no less, Rum observed. He could imagine the nasty feeling on his own tongue, and had to awkwardly taste his own mouth to assure his imaginative mind it wasn’t he who was getting the experience.

Rum was more than a little horrified watching everything going on, but was otherwise unsure of what to say. When Royath pulled out an arrow though, a sudden urge to stop what was going on rose up inside, but when the elf quickly flipped the arrow, the sharp tip pointing away from the witch, and the feathery end pointing towards the woman’s right bare foot; Rum hesitated. What is he going to do?

“A-won-ay-any-ding.” The witch forced through the sock.

“You will.” Royath responded, unconcerned. The veteran then bent forward, and very so lightly, let the feather glide up the middle area of her sole.

“AH! Aaah!” The witch yelped.

“Will you talk?” Royath asked.

“Neveh!” Sounded the sock-stuffed mouth.

“Well, you brought this upon yourself then.” Royath continued, this time gliding the feather down the middle.

“No! Shtop! Aaah! Aaah! Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! AHAAAA-AHAAAA-HAHAHAHA!” The witch yelped and screamed with ticklish laughter.

“I can’t watch this.” Rum turned around, sighing at the situation and his own lack of alternatives.

“You only have to tell us the way out here, and this will all be over.” Royath offered, before producing another round of practiced tickles.

“HAAA-AHAAA-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-HAAA-AHAAA-HAHAHAHAHA-SHTOP! SHTOP-SHTOP! A-TALHK! A-TALHK!”

“Seems like she wants to talk.” Udevi relayed. Royath stopped and looked up at the witch’s deeply red face and tear-running eyes. Udevi extracted the sock, now soggy wet with saliva.

“Ahhhhhh, ahhhhh, aahhhh” the witch breathed out with utter relief. She turned her head to the side and spat out. “That tasted more awful than anything I’ve ever had in my mouth!”

Rum turned back to watch this new situation.

“Okay.” Royath said. “Tell us a way out of here, and we’ll show mercy.” He threateningly lowered the feather down towards her feet again.

“Stop!” She shouted, and Royath stopped, raising the feather back up again. “Will you release me if I tell you the way out?”

The elves engaged in holding the woman looked at each other for a moment. Then Alkiath responded: “We can’t. You are at war with Ermos, and we have no option but to hand you over for the crimes you’ve committed. However, your cooperation will certainly be noted, and will surely affect your sentencing.”

“What sentencing–” Rum interrupted, “–would she face?” I don’t really know much of The Ermos Judiciary.

“Captured mages usually get sentenced to the prison dungeon of Andertun.” Royath answered. “It’s deep beneath Ermos City, under The Little Mountain. Dwarves and mecha-gnomes guard the place, for the most part. The imprisoned mages tend to stay there for the remainder of their lives. Repenting younger mages may get out early though, say, 30 years? And I have heard of some very cooperative younger mages get out in just 10. But, it depends on their position in the dungeon lord hierarchy. Younger mages tend to be lower ranked, and that’s partially why they get away so much easier. A dungeon lord, who happens to be young, would probably still be locked up for most of their life, even if they do cooperate.”

“That’s awful!” Rum complained. “We can’t deliver someone into a fate like that!”

Everyone, the young witch included, stared at Rum, curious at this new objection.

“But she’s at war with us.” Alkiath said.

“And how many people would she harm if we let her go free?” Arrovani joined.

“We have no choice but to deliver her.” Royath concluded. “It’s regretable, but it’s the only safe way.”

“No. That’s narrow-minded.” Rum shook his head. “We have to think of something else.”

Alkiath and Royath looked at each other, as if silently asking if the other knew how to argue with their Great Mage. Everyone gradually took on thinking expressions. Rum stroking his beard to a low thinking hum. “Hmm... What if” Rum began, “you take her.”

“Us?” Alkiath asked.

“Yeah. What if The Committee of The Spruce took responsibility for her judgement and securing. Let her live with you, but confined. You could try and persuade the woman, away from this surrender-and-serve-me attitude. Integrate her back into society. Surely, her magical abilities would prove most useful?”

The elves gave each other skeptical looks. “That” Alkaith responded, “would take a lot of effort on our behalf. We came here to make coin, Rum. We don’t want to invest our time and resources into watching over this witch. Day and night I mind you.”

“And for years no less.” Udevi added.

“Hmm.” Rum pondered. “What about shared custody then?”

Alkiath raised his eyebrow, as did Royath and several other elves. “We can switch, each month. On even numbered months you take her into custody, and on odd numbered months I’ll take her.”

The elves glanced between each other. “That’s” Alkiath began, “still a lot of responsibility you ask of us.”

“Fine.” Rum responded. “What about every 4 weeks? Each month: I’ll take her custody for 3 weeks, and you can take care of her custody for 1 week. I’ll be doing the majority of the work keeping her confined, but on your week, you’ll focus on integrating her back into society.”

“Eeeeh” Arrovani started, a deeply skeptical look on his face.

“Fine!” Rum relented. “What if... if the burden becomes too big, I’ll let you turn her in to The Ermos Judiciary. That way you’ll have a way out if this becomes too much. But please, let us try my way first.”

“Still...” Alkiath began but did not finish. He just shook his head and sighed.

“Friends!” Rum insisted. “This will be a service to me! I have lived as a prisoner before; captured by bandits. I have seen the destitution of personhood that befalls the captured. I do not wish for this on anyone else. Do me this service, in the name of our friendship.”

Alkiath looked around into the faces of his comrades, his expression almost pleading for somebody to come and aid his arguing position. The other elves returned faces that were just as helpless.

“I think it’s a great idea!” Urvanom said, entering the conversation with a beaming smile. “Surely, all this woman needs in the end is a taste of our elven tranquility. A taste of the good life that evidently has been robbed of her, but gifted us in The City Forest!”

Alkiath and Royath both sighed, rubbed their temples or otherwise gave off defeated faces. After a few seconds, the 2 elves exchanged a look that seemed to conclude the conversation. “Fine.” Alkiath relented. “We’ll make sure to give it a try. Though the elves back home are going to need some convincing. The first 3 weeks will all have to be yours. I can imagine it’ll take at least that much time to convince our comrades and to prepare for her.”

“Great!” Rum smiled.

“So... Veish.” Royath changed the topic. “You just heard our conversation. It turns out we won’t hand you over to the authorities, but we can’t let you go either. Now, what will it be? Will you tell us how to get out of here? Or do you need more of this?” Royath brought the arrow feather close before the witch’s wide eyes, then lowered it down again – down towards a foot trembling with nervous excitement.