It took her about twenty minutes of dreary trudging to get near enough to the little camp to make things out. It was a group of four. Two adults, two children. It was, she realized, just a camping trip. What the hell? Shrugging to herself, after weighing her options, she decided to just head over and talk to these strange interlopers and figure out what the deal was. The man noticed her approach first and stood up, hand on his weapon but leaving it sheathed. She raised her hands in a gesture of peaceful intent and joined them.
“Hey there,” she said, somewhat bemused.
“Hiya!” said the boy, before his mother shushed him.
“Hello,” said the man. Still cautious but not particularly threatening. “What can we do for you, dark elf?”
“Oh, I’m just here for a chat. I’m new to the area and I’m getting the lay of the land. You seem pretty close to our fort, shouldn’t you be more nervous about that?”
“Hah!” the man snorted. “That lot stays holed up in their little mine and leaves us in peace. We’re long past the days of war with you chumps. Barely a single decent fighter in your ranks.”
“Hard to argue with that,” she acknowledged. “Well, I’m sorry to say that it’s under new management. You’re probably gonna see a change in behavior pretty soon.”
“Are you saying that you’re gonna try attacking us again? You can’t be that stupid. There aren’t enough of you to make a difference.”
“Nah. Not really planning anything just yet, truth be told. Like I said, getting the lay of the land,” she casually sat down on a log opposite the group. “See, I’m actually the poor sap stuck in charge of that place. Name’s Lenore Wraithwhisper. Pleasure to meet you.”
“You’re their commander, you’ve just announced your intent to revitalize that base, and now you’re just greeting us as if that’s not a huge deal? Are you touched in the head?”
“Oh, I absolutely am. No doubt about that. Would be pretty tough to make it through the shit I’ve been through these past couple of months and not be a bit off kilter. Still, like I said: I’m not looking for trouble. I do have orders for what I need to do, but they were nonspecific about how I needed to accomplish them. Honestly, the only reason I’m here is because most of the higher ups expect me to fail spectacularly. I aim to prove them wrong.”
“You’re certainly honest, I’ll give you that. Care for some stew?”
She cocked an eyebrow at the offer. Apparently she’d passed some test the guy was using. Shrugging, she nodded gratefully and accepted a bowl of a thick meaty stew.
“Delicious,” she said. “Moldy cheese and mushroom bread is no way to live, let me tell you.”
“So tell me, elf,” the man said. Not sounding hostile, but definitely not friendly yet. “What is it that you’re here to do?”
“Well, I believe that the specific instructions were ‘subjugate the locals’, but I figure there’s a fair bit of wiggle room on that one.”
“You realize that there are nearly five hundred of us, right? I don’t want to insult you, but you’d have to be insane to think you could take us with whatever forces you have in that little encampment of yours.”
“Oh, gods no. There aren’t even twenty of us in total now that myself and the three goblins I brought with me. Hell, most of them are craftsmen for god’s sake. I shudder at the thought of half of them even HOLDING a blade, let alone trying to use it. No, any subjugation I achieve here will have to be via obvious technological advantage and divine right. And/or just convincing the lot of you to sign up with the Demon Army for the hell of it.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I try not to be, but sometimes it slips through despite my best efforts. Really, it comes down to what I can offer, and what I can get in return.”
“You’re an odd one for a dark elf, you know that?”
“True enough, but I need to be to deal with this shit.”
“So tell me, odd elf, what would you say to the Head of the Kelvachian clan if you happened to win an audience with him?”
Stolen story; please report.
“Well, first and foremost, I’d ask him what he was doing at a dinky camp so close to a Demon Army fort, then I’d ask him what I could offer him to join up under my banner.”
“Supposing he did have something he needed from you, that you could grant, why would you even care. Why do you serve the Demon Army?”
“Honestly? Because it’s the most obvious path in front of me to find my way home. I’m not really tied into the politics of the land, such as it is, and am sticking with these guys as much out of convenience as anything else. Also, I kinda just want to stick it to Astrid a bit. Of course, then she’d probably gloat and tell me that was the whole reason she sent me but fuck it, I can deal with a bit of smugness in exchange for proving all those other assholes wrong.”
“You’d seek to subjugate an entire people just because you want to prove something to this Astrid woman?”
“Again, ‘subjugate’ is a strong word for my intent and capabilities. And it’s not JUST to prove it to her. That just happens to be the largest motivator on a reasonably long list of priorities. And to be fair, she is the Demon Lord. I’m pretty sure I’m obligated to be trying to prove myself to her at least a little bit.”
“Wait, you KNOW the Demon Lord?!”
“I mean… a bit? Two conversations is really all it is. Plus a pretty confusing letter that just complicated things more than it helped and I could’ve done without it. It’s just a bit aggravating, you know?”
“I…”
“Like, one minute she’s trashing me, basically calling me dog shite. Then the next she’s offering some encouragement about how this was the only option she had to get me to safety and that she thinks I might have a chance of pulling this off. THEN it’s back to the snark and the backhanded compliments. Fer fuck’s sake, woman, pick a tone.”
“You seem to have complicated feeling on the matter,” he deadpanned.
Len paused and realized that she might have overshared things just a little bit. A slow blush crept onto her face and she promptly got to work devouring the stew so she couldn’t say anything more. She considered the four humans in front of her. The man was doing all the talking, but the children were looking at her curiously, occasionally laughing at some mannerism or gesture she made.
His wife seemed mostly bemused by the whole thing. Not exactly interested in joining the conversation, just content to keep the kids from getting too out of hand and observing the interaction pleasantly, now that it seemed unlikely that violence was about to erupt.
“So, do you have a name, or are you gonna leave me hanging with no details whatsoever?”
“Ah, right,” he said, grinning broadly. “I am Belar Hammerfist. Pleasure to meet you, Lenore.”
“Likewise. So. What do you think my odds of getting that audience with your chieftain are?”
“Better than you might think, but still not that great. Actually convincing him to join you would require providing either serious wealth, or defeating him on the battlefield.”
“Like single combat? I might be able to swing that.”
He glanced at her curiously, then shrugged.
”Heh, not likely. He’s got guys who do that for him these days. I wouldn’t bet on getting that chance, if I were you. Do you think you can face a hundred challengers before getting the opportunity to have him strike the killing blow against you?”
“Err… probably not.”
“Then, might I suggest the somewhat less suicidal path of trying to open up basic trading relations? You mentioned that you have a number of craftsmen at your fort? I also believe that you have a mine that provides some coal and ore. Our people are nomads, we gather what we need from a given place and move on. We’re always in short supply of iron, and any fuel is alway welcome in the wastes.”
“It’s a thought. Doesn’t exactly get me to the end goal, but I suppose some progress is better than no progress.”