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Novi is on the Dominator. They left their longboat back at Dark Heart Lookout and have taken the Master’s ship. The little kobold is not with them though. Apparently, the local Governor wants to talk with the elves and paid a lot of money and spent a lot of time figuring out a way to contact them. Or at least someone like them. Against his own better judgment, their Patriarch was convinced to humor the Governor’s request. Novi hates how willing her new house seems to be to cooperate with everyone. She can understand the reasoning behind allowing non-elves to join their ranks, but not why they would enter a lion's den like that. This whole thing feels like a trap, but she couldn’t allow Fohr to accompany the Patriarch on his own. So now they’re on their way to the city of Paradise Falls. At least she has a new outfit. Unlike her makeshift robes, this one is more like a dress. In front of her legs, the fabric has been cut, allowing her to move a bit more freely.

“So what exactly does the Governor want from us?” she asks the Captain.

He lets out a long, exasperated breath and says, “I already told the others. I don’t know. The Governor's men tracked down one of my men and told him to spread the word that whoever manages to get the Governor an audience with any elven warbands, Border Lord mercenary troops or pirate crews would be rewarded. I do have a theory though. There’s been a lot of turmoil in the Confederation recently. The Divine Emperor recently died. Perhaps dying is not the right word; he became inert. At least that’s what I heard. None of his sons succeeded in the Path to Ascension. Half of them just disappeared and the other half perished trying to ascend the Dark Mountain.”

Novi’s head snaps up. “Wait. The Destroyer is dead? Are you saying there is no one sitting on the Golden Throne? The Confederation has no Emperor?”

“As I understood it, he is dead and there is no real heir. As for the Golden Throne, after his sons all proved either too cowardly to attempt, or too incompetent to take the Path to Ascension, his eldest daughter simply sat down on it and declared herself the new Empress. The whole realm is in chaos now. There have been many more attempts to ascend the mountain, but as far as I know, they all ended up joining the ranks of the Lost. With no Divine Emperor to hold it together, the Confederation is falling apart. The leaders of the Confederate Legion – and more importantly, the Association of Mages – have sworn their allegiance to the new Empress, but only a few of the city-states have accepted her rule, and just as many Centurions and Magisters were already unhappy before this happened.”

“So what does that have to do with us?” Novi asks.

“Patience. You want the whole thing or not? Anyway, without the threat of a Divine Emperor and his Eternals coming to kick down their doors, many regions are rebelling against the Golden Throne. Especially the southern Governors, who were originally Kings and forced into the Confederation, are now declaring their independence. The only problem is, they have money, but no real armies anymore. Their local militias are not strong enough to take on legionaries from the Confederate Army, and the ones occupying these lands seem as loyal as ever. Without any magic to throw at the Association mages, they don’t stand a chance, and if things take too long, those lizards from across the desert might see the war as an easy way to get new slaves.”

Novi smiles. “That’s where we come in.” This is unbelievably good news. After the Destroyer was nearly destroyed himself casting the Iceborn Curse, he never tried to take the mountains again. The war the elves fought and still fight was more a battle for survival than anything. They all knew that the moment they actually took a city or built a large settlement the legionaries couldn’t easily take down, the Destroyer would simply travel north and annihilate them. Now that he is gone and there’s no one to succeed him, their clans have a chance to return from the mountains and do more than just attack a random village or two.

“Exactly. Together with the local merfolk, we’ve been providing these lands with black market enchanted items for years. Mostly runes and small weapons. Recently, though, people I presume are from the Governor have been ordering excessive amounts of enchanted weapons. If the Governor manages to recruit your clan as his magic support and equips at least part of his militia with these, he might stand a chance against the troops the Confederation has stationed here.”

“I thought witchcraft was considered evil in the Confederation,” Novi says.

The Captain laughs. “Evil? No. Banned? Yes. Enchanting is weaker than elemental magic in every way, but it allows a normal person to fight a soldier and at least lets them stand a chance against a mage. The Confederation has no need for expensive enchanted trinkets because they have the Association of Mages. Since they don’t want the normal population to be empowered by enchanting, they ban it.”

“I guess that makes sense. I always wondered why magic isn’t more widespread in the Confederation. I know only the Association trains mages, but my mother could never tell me why. She always said, ‘Because they’re stupid.’”

The Captain laughs again. “After the Emperor destroyed your empire, he founded the Confederation. During that time, mages, especially elven mages, were everywhere, and as cool as it is, magic is extremely dangerous. You can’t disarm a mage, and when there are a lot of people living together, you end up with a lot of problems when some of them can shoot lightning out of their hands. At that time, the Association of Mages was exactly what the name implies. A group of mages from different orders, who worked together. Mostly to research spells and catalog knowledge of any kind. To make a long story short, the Divine Emperor decided to turn the Association into an agency of the Confederation and banned anyone who wasn’t a member from practicing magic. That, in particular, was a rather popular decision. Especially because the only contact with magic most of the freshly freed slaves had had up until that point had come from their overseers shooting it at them. The Association then slowly devolved back to its roots as a religious order, and rather than let anyone join, they only recruit young children. They are then trained to become unconditional tools of the Association’s will – and by extension that of the Divine Emperor. These people are what they call Enforcers and you call the Black Ones.”

Novi adds, “The only humans that can properly fight us.”

“Yes, and taking a side in this human conflict would put our house in grave danger. I wonder what the Governor has in mind to convince us?” the Patriarch suddenly says.

“Gold, horses. Some shiny things. We fight humans all the time. Why not just fight them and have another human pay us extra for it?” Novi asks.

“Because we normally raid defenseless settlements and villages with little more than a small garrison. The most we do is ambush patrols. If we agree to support the Governor, we’ll be up against real soldiers and mages that are ready for battle and trained to work together. I doubt fighting in a battle will be as easy as ambushing a few sleeping legionaries and Black Ones in the middle of the night. Either way, it seems like he needs us, and our power will not come cheap.”

The Captain smirks and says, “You’ll have your chance to haggle soon enough. We are almost at Paradise Falls. By the way, if anyone asks, I am a trader and you are nothing more than passengers. As conspicuous as the name is, the Dominator is not a widely known pirate ship and I’d like to keep it that way.”

The port city of Paradise Falls is huge. It is built along a set of cliffs and the waterfalls that give it its name are visible even from the sea. The river’s water allows green gardens to easily grow in the city, and unlike at the small fort they just came from, this port is brimming with ships.

Novi is focused on the distant city, until the Captain says, “Crap. What is the Confederate Navy doing here?”

She takes a closer look at the ships and notices the Confederate flags. Most of the warships are anchored in the harbor, but two of them seem to be patrolling the waters outside the city.

“Seems as though the Governor started his rebellion without you and things don’t seem to be going very well. We need to get out of here before…” the Captain trails off.

Novi is about to ask him what’s wrong, when she hears the distant sound of a trumpet coming from the nearest Confederate ship.

The Captain’s expression sinks. “Oh crap. They’re hailing us.”

“What do we do?” Fohr asks. He cracks his knuckles, ready for a fight.

“Captain, shall we raise the topsails and prepare for battle?” one of the crewmen asks.

The Captain massages his forehead. “No. Just… give me a moment to think. We can't fight them. There's too many of them and they have better weapons. By the time we make a full turn, they'll have us in range and will bombard us to the bottom of the ocean before we can even think of getting away… I’ve got it. Everyone just stay calm and play along. You elves. Just stay back a bit and try to look as non-threatening as possible. Maybe slouch your shoulders a bit. The rest of you, you know the drill.”

The Patriarch asks, “What do you plan to do?”

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“Just play along, but be ready in case things go south.”

The Confederate warship is coming in fast. Novi watches them approach, her heart pounding.

The two ships furl their sails and slow down. As soon as they are close enough, the Confederate ship throws grappling hooks onto the Dominator and pulls them close. A plank is thrown across the gap between the two ships and a man in a long, sleeveless black gambeson steps across it. The hems of his clothes are silver, but otherwise, his outfit looks as simple as all others of the Association of Mages.

“Hello, Magister. Is there a problem?” the Captain asks as soon as the other human steps onto the Dominator’s deck.

The man looks around, taking everything in. “That depends. Where are you sailing from and what is your cargo?”

While he speaks, a few Confederate soldiers join him. Most of them are wearing the standard uniform and bronze armor of the Legion. Two of them are dressed in wide black pants and black vests. The golden eye of the Association adorns their chests.

“Black Ones," Novi whispers. She eyes the human mages and looks for the classic pendants that identify which lore they know. She can see the small chains, but the pendants themselves are hidden underneath their vests.

Calmly, the Captain replies, “We’re sailing from Lorma, transporting various goods and passengers to Paradise Falls.”

“Who are your passengers? I want to see their faces,” the Magister says. His eyes are fixed on the three elves.

The Captain gives them a small nod and the three remove their hoods. The Magister's steel gaze fixes on them.

“Don’t worry, they're prostitutes. Not wild elves. You have nothing to worry about,” the Captain says quickly.

The Magister's gaze slowly moves back to the Captain. “Male prostitutes? And what the hell are wild elves? Is that what you northerners call bandits?”

“Uhm, yes. Of course. I have an associate in the city who wants to serve the ladies as much as the men. Apparently, these white elves are popular among the ladies.” The Captain winks at the female black one. The woman blushes, but tries to keep her face as straight as possible. As soon as she realizes the Magister is looking at her, she stands up straight and looks ahead.

“Apparently they are,” the Magister says as he slowly turns his eyes away from his subordinate.

The Captain coughs. “Anyway. Can we dock in the harbor, or will that be a problem?”

“You’re in luck. That won’t be a problem. In fact, we're going to make sure you'll get there safely. And stay there.” The Magister waves at his soldiers and they start removing the grappling hooks. “You'll give us a ride back to port, won’t you?” the Magister states more than asks.

“Of course. Why not?” the Captain says. Novi is surprised at how calm he sounds. Like there is nothing going on.

The Dominator sets sail once more and they continue moving towards the harbor.

As soon as they detach from the other ship, the Magister walks up to the three elves.

“So. Where are you three from?” He sounds casual. Novi never expected to be this close to a Black One Magister without being a moment away from getting smashed into the ground. Up close, these mages are just like normal humans. She's about to reply, ‘Nowhere in particular,’ but their Patriarch is faster.

“We're all from Lorma.”

“I heard your kind is treated very poorly in the north. What's it like for you white ones in the city?”

The Patriarch leans against the railing. Even though he looks calm, his voice sounds strained. “It's tough, but I have to say we had it all right. Our former master owned a classy establishment. The aristocracy has a wide variety of tastes, but no one's attracted to a thin and spindly man.” He flexes his muscles to prove his point.

“Or skeleton-like she-elves.” The Magister nods at Novi. “I must say, I never thought a woman would pay to have… intercourse.” He looks at Novi like he’s expecting some sort of response.

Her heart pounds. “Maybe not your women, but when there’s only one man for every seven of us, some get desperate. The humans up there have it better in that regard, but not by much.”

“Ah, I forgot about the curse. Sorry about that. I wonder why the Emperor, beloved by all, even used it. It nearly killed him and did nothing but screw over everyone in the north. It affects humans and elves equally, correct?” the Magister asks.

“Uhm… Yes... It does. The beast-races, like kobolds and harpys, are immune to it though. For some reason,” Novi says. It is a lie, of course. The reason humans are ‘affected’ is because the Iceborn Curse was based on, and supposed to be a retaliation for, the Iceborn Invocation. A weirdly named and irreversible bit of essence altering life magic, used on many human slaves in the fallen elven empire. Still, Novi sees no need to correct the human.

The Magister leans against a crate. “There’s a reason they’re called beast-races. The curse is actually a problem here too. Men migrate north in search of… easier love. And with the Emperor’s ban on slavery, it leaves the job market for hard physical labor quite… unsatisfied.” The Magister’s eyes focus on Fohr. “You know, you could probably earn more money working on the docks than anywhere else. If you’re interested, I could introduce you to the harbormaster. He’s always looking for able-bodied men who are willing to work hard and are not too inquisitive in nature. If you know what I mean…”

While the Magister talks to them, the rest of the mages and soldiers watch the crew work. The Captain is getting more and more agitated. Suddenly, the sailors all draw concealed daggers. One of them grabs a Black One from behind and rams his blade into the side of her neck. He pulls it out and stabs her again and again. Another pirate jumps from the balustrade onto the other mage. Before he can land on him, the mage jumps away. While he narrowly avoids death, the sailors stab the soldiers in the backs or grab weapons hidden around the ship. One sailor tries to grab the Magister from behind and stab him in the chest. Before the blade can pierce him, the Magister grabs the man’s other arm. White energy flows over his hand and the pirate's flesh is frozen solid. He lets out a surprised yell.

The Magister twists out of his grasp and slams his open palm against the man’s chest. There's an explosion of frost and the pirate’s entire body is frozen solid. He falls backward. The ice statue hits the deck, causing its arm to break off with a dull crack.

The elven Patriarch begins to channel his own magic. Lightning crackles over his hand, but the Magister is faster. He spins around. As he unleashes a wave of white frost at the three elves, he yells, “Who the hell are you?!”

Fohr barely manages to blast out a burst of force to prevent the cold air from reaching them. The wave of supercooled gas twists and swirls as the transparent wave of green energy scatters it. The Magister ducks away as he cast his spell, narrowly avoiding the electric energy shot at him by the elven Patriarch. A ball of pure cold grows in his hand, and as he jumps behind a barrel to avoid another lightning bolt, he fires it at a pirate who was about to shoot the other Black One with a crossbow. The ball of pure cold explodes with a crackle and a white cloud of frost engulfs the pirate. As it falls away, the man is encased in a thick layer of magical ice. Before anyone can stop him, the other mage shoves his half-open palm into the air and unleashes a torrent of flames at their mast. The ropes, linen, and wood take little more than a moment to catch fire.

Fohr slams his fists together and a wave of green energy flows over his skin, giving it a barely visible green glow. He roars like a bear and charges the nearest Confederate soldier. The soldier has just cut down the pirate he was fighting and barely manages to put his shield between himself and the charging elf.

Fohr slams his magic-infused fist into the bronze disk. Punching a shield like that would have broken Fohr's hand, but the spell he used earlier turns his entire body akin to a solid piece of steel. The punch slams the shield against the soldier's body. Fohr grabs it with both hands and pulls it away. Not a second too soon, the human soldier pulls his arm out of the straps and jumps back.

By now, the fire has spread from the balustrade to part of the deck. The soldier drops his sword and grabs a flaming piece of wood. Fohr growls and punches the air in front of him. A wave of green energy is unleashed into the soldier, blasting him off his feet. Suddenly, Fohr is enveloped in flames.

“Take that, pirate scum!” the Black One screams as he bathes Fohr in hot air. The magical shield that protected Fohr from physical blows does nothing to protect him from the heat. It only drains his strength as it tries to distribute the immense energy throughout his body. Fohr barely manages to cancel the spell before it knocks him unconscious and fires energy into his legs in a quick jump. The haphazard spell blasts him into the air, but casting without the recommended movements or focus costs him much more energy than it normally does. The elf isn’t even strong enough to catch himself and slams into the deck like a wet sack.

“Fohr! No!” Novi screams. She wants to share her energy with him, but the Black One fire mage is twisting his hands in front of his body. Burning air coalesces into a ball of explosive energy.

Golden veins move through Novi's skin as she prepares to unleash her energy in a cloud of corrosive soulfire.

Seeing the golden light on her hand, the fire mage launches the fireball at Novi instead of Fohr. She, in turn, launches a cloud of crackling golden energy at the human. The fireball hits the deck next to her and explodes. She is hit by a wave of hot air and showered in charred pieces of wood. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a human soldier stab Fohr in the stomach. He yells in pain, but jumps forward to grab the soldier’s face. With magical strength, he crushes the man's head.

The human mage barely manages to dodge the wave of soulfire, but it still moves over his arm. Almost instantly, parts of his skin turn red, then to blisters and ash-like dust. He grunts in pain, but immediately starts charging another fireball. For the first time in her life, Novi feels like she might lose a fight against humans. She has no chance of winning against the fire mage, and Fohr is in no condition to fight.

“Help!” she yells as she turns to run from the human fire mage.

“Not so tough now, elven life whore. I will burn you!” the fire mage yells. His fireball explodes right in front of Novi, burning her clothes and causing her to stumble.

Distracted by his own blind rage, the Black One doesn’t notice the pirate behind him until he slams a blade into his neck. The blow almost decapitates the mage and kills him instantly.

The pirate puts his foot against the human’s back and pushes him off his weapon.

The Dominator has almost reached the beach, but a few other ships are closing in.

“Crap! Retreat!” the Magister yells and jumps overboard. It takes no more than a second for everyone to realize why. A salvo of bolt-thrower firebolts strikes the ship, bathing its deck in avalanche fire. The alchemical mixture turns the wooden ship into a burning hellscape of orange flame and black smoke. Novi sees Fohr drag himself to the side of the ship while the remaining soldiers and pirates jump overboard.

Novi runs to her husband and throws him over the railing, before jumping into the water herself.

With a splash, they submerge. Novi’s eyes burn from the salt of the sea, as she desperately paddles upwards. Below her is only the dark depth of the ocean and her desperate and uncoordinated strokes barely keep her head above water. Even worse, the warm water is slowly turning red around them from Fohr's wound. Novi knows he won’t reach the beach unless she acts now. Without thinking about her own life, she begins pouring her energy into a healing spell. She knows that if she doesn’t heal Fohr before her own strength fails her, they will both drown in these deep waters. Food for the fish and merfolk. Golden veins cover the wound as flesh grows together. Novi focuses on healing the internal damage and replenishing Fohr's energy. She feels her body turn heavy as lead. Despite how strong her will is, her flesh has no more strength to spare. As she begins to sink below the surface, Fohr's grip suddenly tightens around her waist. Her mind slips into unconsciousness as he drags her through the water.