A girl walks down the artisan’s street, heading toward the southern gate. Her silky skin is white as porcelain, her hair dark as night, perfectly symmetrical features, and her eyes have an emerald’s shine; it’d be hard to mistake her for humans, in fact, many believe her to be an elf from the great forest of Alfskog.

As she walks, she sometimes looks at her brand-new cloak and smiles happily. Her pure and innocent smile draws the eyes of men and women alike, and occasionally, men attempt to approach her, only to see her skitters away like a frightened animal.

Her fear is understandable, she is unaccompanied and the history of human and elf is full of conflicts. As things stand, it wouldn’t be strange for unwanted attention to be badly interpreted and quickly degenerate into a serious incident.

Hiding in alleys and following her from afar, are unsavory individuals who, unlike the passer-by have no foolish delusion of earning her heart and her fortune; their eyes are on the cloak.

The article of clothing is a marvel of craftsmanship, made from the finest fur if a rare and mighty animal; the legendary frost tiger.

By itself, the fur is already worth a king’s ransom, and the value of the cloth is further enhanced by the delicate embroideries of gold, silver, and mithril running across the cloth.

The criminal also identified her as an Elf, but unlike the passer-by, they know the difference between the true elves and their half-breed offspring. Faes are troublesome opponents, and their appearance rarely reflects their true power.

Attacking a spirit of nature carries enormous risks, but this time, the spoil is well worth the risk and the criminals have tested her many times; she doesn’t appear capable of detecting their approach.

As long as she isn’t joined by an escort outside the city, striking her down with a surprise attack and a dagger in the neck should be possible, and worst-case scenario, a few iron bolts will do the trick, even if it risks damaging the goods.

As the girl near the gate, a number of men exit the city through secret tunnels known only by select members of the criminal guild.

Oblivious to this, the girl waits in line at the gate; to enter the city, all strangers must leave proof of their identity at the gate, and leave the city at the specified time, lest they wish to be hunted as spies.

There are always insults exchanged at the gate, but today is worse than ever; since this morning, the guards had to break no less than twenty fights, more than six times as much as usual.

A few steps behind the girl, on the vehicle side of the gate, two Ox drivers who had been spitting insults at each finally get physical. The larger of the two pushes the other against his cart, but the other takes a wooden plank from his cargo and hit the big man in the face.

The atmosphere becomes heavy, the air shimmer, and as though summoned by the blood, liquid drips from space itself to coalesce into a dark, oily shadows, pale imitations of life known as the Unliving.

Only a single heartbeat passes between their apparition and the attack. The first to die are the big Ox driver and his smaller colleague.

The Unliving are unprejudiced, innocent or guilty, young or old, they do not care; all that lives must die.

Screams resound all around, people climb carts and each other to run away faster, but the shadows continue to multiply. Blood splatters everywhere, the guards attempt to mount a resistance, but the crowd hinders them… As a result, the most courageous die, but it gains a few minutes for the others to regroup outside the city and prevent the monster from reaching the mindless mob outside.

Inside, though, it is a scene of carnage. The girl is still alive, covered in blood as she stands transfixed. For now, the creature ignores her, prioritizing those who run away.

Suddenly, she yells something unintelligible, picks up a short sword from a nearby corpse, and starts hitting the nearest shadow on the head. It does no visible damage, and the creature ignores her to rip apart the injured draft-animal, at least until one hit cuts deep into its silhouette and it makes her his primary target.

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From outside the gate, a guard calls to her, tell her to run away, but whether she doesn’t hear or doesn’t listen, she mindlessly continues to hit the monster.

As a guard would later describe, “It was a strange fight. She’d hit them with all the strength her tiny little arm could muster, and they would fight back, but… None of their attacks hit, she barely moved, but they always missed, as though lady luck was by her side, pushing her away, fending their attack. It made no sense at all; by the time the reinforcement arrived, there were seven of them flailing at her, but they never hit her, not even once!”

<><><> 

The officer on site is troubled, the Elf saved many lives with her heroic action, but she isn’t a citizen, and dealing with nobles of other species is well above his pay grade. He sent a runner to the baronet, but he has yet to return.

At least there’s a silver lining, if you can call it that; the poor thing is not in a state to make conversation; ever since the fight stopped she’s been staring blankly at her blood-drenched cloth.

Minutes pass and finally the runner return, accompanied by the baronet’s third son, a nice youth training to be a knight; courageous and honorable, you can say he is on a highway to get himself killed.

“Milady,” says the youth, “I am Fidel, and my father the baronet, would be delighted to make your acquaintance. My humble self would also like to offer you his thanks, your bravery saved many today.”

She continues to stare, and he finally acknowledges her state, “Pardon my foolishness, you cannot meet father in such a state! There are baths and maids in the castle to take care of yourself and your clothes.”

He seems to have struck the core of the problem, she asks feebly, “Cleansing?”

Yes, Milady.”

She nods in approval, and he calls for a coach to carry them both back to the castle.

<><><> 

The Elf walks the aisle of the castle’s judicial room; it is used both to render justice and ceremonies. The maids did a marvelous work, and it’s impossible to imagine that both the girl and her clothes were covered in blood a few hours earlier.

“Introducing, Sylva Inimica” announces the chamberlain.

While Sylva’s demeanor seems calm, her emerald eyes betray her apprehension, they dart around as though searching for something or someone.

The lord doesn’t let it show, but he is very impressed by the Elf’s garments, her jewels are mithril and gold, and the cloak is most impressive. It would take decades of his baronet’s tax and quite a bit of luck to acquire this treasure.

“Lady Inimica, your service to our town were great, and many citizens owe you their lives. If there is anything in my power, I can do to repay you, please ask.”

Sylva looks at the lord, then at herself. Her mouth moves, but no sound comes out. Seeing her so weak and unsure, something dark awakens in the Baronet’s mind; such a rich and beautiful Elf, if he could somehow acquire her.

“Would a knightship be of interest to you?”

Knighthood is an honorary title, the only one a lesser noble like him can grant. Most commonly, a knight is a warrior bound to the lord, but as the smallest non-noble title, it has come to encompass a lot of things and is often granted as a reward, along with an allowance and no corresponding duties.

In her case, it would give her rights equivalent to citizenship, such as free entry and permission to hold property in the walls.

The lord asks his nearby help, “Go fetch me a blank.”

Without precision, the word can have two meanings, either a blank magic contract, or a pre-inscribed contract used for criminal slaves; all duties, no rights.

“A blank, as in a p-blank?”

“Yes, hurry!”

His mind draws crazy plans; with her riches he could expand the city, and a lovely trophy such as her would raise his prestige among his peers.

This train of thought is unlike him, never once in his life did he pressure someone into giving him something he didn’t earn. Sure, he’s not a saint; he used his position to trade favors and increase his status, but never once did he force himself upon an unwilling woman, nor did he use his function to enslave someone unjustly.

A voice puts a stop to his delusion, “Why would my self-serving actions deserve a reward?”

That was unexpected, just an instant ago, she seemed so weak and unsure, “What do you mean?”

“Do you give a treat to cats every time they hunt a rat? I did what I did because it was my nature, and because I wanted to. If you really want to offer a recompense, give it to the families of the guards who died protecting the citizen. Unlike me, they acted for the good of others, and beyond their duty.”

Sanity comes back to the baronet, he feels disgusted by his self from an instant ago and speaks sarcastically of himself, “You are wise Milady, selfishness corrupts, and those deserving should be the one receiving rewards.”

A noble who only seeks the good of people is likely to see his house disappear, but a lord who seeks his interest above all will bring his and his country’s end.

“I am thankful for the lesson, noble Elf. Is there really nothing I can do for you?”

“All is good as long as I may enter the town.”

“You will always be welcome here, Milady, same for your people.”

“Then all is good. I bid you goodbye, sir.”

“Please, allow me to accompany you to the gate… Was there someone waiting for you at the gate? Will they still be here at this hour? Do you need a coach?”

For the first time since she entered the room, she smiles, “There is no need, I’ve already warned them, and they should be waiting for me.”

<><><> 

Twenty-seven people lost their lives that day, among them seven guards. It should have been a sad day, but most of the citizens didn’t know nor care about the deceased. Instead, they rejoiced; the criminal guild that had been plaguing the city for years had been all but annihilated in the attack.