Chapter 38

An offer you can't refuse

Draconic Kingdom

"Are you listening to me?" No, she wasn't. Clementine continued to polish the stiletto as she let Lance's words get lost in the void. Meek as a lamb, the man watched her intently, fear creeping like a crack in a wall from his uncertain gaze. Or was it desire at seeing her so vulnerable sitting on that small bed? 'Come closer. Come closer and I will give you the gift of an unforgettable experience.'

"Could you kindly repeat that? I was intent on tidying up my equipment." One week. It had been a week, if not more, since she'd given full rein to that collection she was so proud of. If she didn't fix it soon, that precious iron would soon rust.

"As I was saying, there was a raid near the Fortress of Biblo. Hundreds of demi-humans laid siege to it for a couple of days, setting nearby villages on fire." Lance's chest was so juicy. It begged to be penetrated. A small, sweet touch deep inside. It wouldn't kill him, so why not just give his soul a little taste of her, of her essence? "There was no big fight, thankfully. Just a couple of inconclusive fights without too many victims. But from what I have been told by our informants, General Aderbaal is concerned about another assault coming soon. Bigger, this time."

"How is that supposed to involve me?" Clementine asked, already anticipating the answer.

Lance cleared his throat. "The Sunlight Scriptures are heading to the border, to determine if the matter was a simple skirmish or is worthy of deeper investigation. Captain Nigun was prescient in deciding to stay a few more days, before departing." He waited for a reaction from the woman, which did not arrive. "The higher-ups want you to join him, in case there should be... complications."

How long had it been since she had tasted the blood of demi-humans? Clementine could have sworn it was sourer than that of humans, but no less pleasant.

"Do I have a choice?"

"Everyone has. But the one of the Scriptures has already been written."

"Meeting point?" She tried to keep her composure. But her body was beginning to quiver with trepidation. "And how soon should I show up at that location?"

"Three days." More than it was fair to expect. "You will leave from the Fortress City of Biblo. Do you need anything? We know how to get everything you should request."

The woman stood up, slowly approaching the WindFlower Scripture member. He flinched back, intimidated, but a hand gently stroking his cheek made him desist from that unnecessary worry. "I already have everything I need," she said, pointing to that motley assortment of weapons placed on the bed. "What I want is information, valuable information. Tell me everything you know, dear Lance."

He gulped. "About the enemies, we don't know much either. From what we have gathered since the purge of the Black Scriptures and from the reports of captured prisoners, it seems that their army is divided into sections organized under various different clans. The clan leaders probably act as generals. But the most important part is that we know there is a demi-human capable of bringing down a Dominion Authority."

The angel belonging to the highest order the Theocracy could summon, at least as far as she knew. If what Lance said was true, then perhaps not even the magnificent Clementine would be able to get the better of that enemy. That is, if it was only one, of course. Eliminating a group would have been easier. It was enough to start with the weakest link and, little by little, limb by limb, make your way towards the head. If that wasn't the case, however, little harm would have been done, she would have made up for it on the weaker ones. Blood always found a way.

"It was since we repelled their massive last invasion that we feared they would soon return. And it seems they haven't kept us waiting much longer."

Clementine thanked one of the Gods, it didn't matter who. Soon her boredom would come to an end and for that she was as grateful as she had never been before. A joy at the impending massacre began to flow through her veins, filling her with a perverse pleasure.

"Were you unable to gather any more intelligence on possible sensitive targets? The famous WindFlower Scriptures do not always live up to their name as far as I have been able to ascertain." A mockery that was not retorted by her interlocutor, much to the woman's chagrin. "If I am to venture into unknown territory, it would be wise not to leave out even the smallest detail. I have no intention of leaving my neck in unknown territory. Don't you think it is fitting for a graceful maiden like me to make a happy little family and die in the arms of her beloved?"

Lance opened his mouth, as if about to voice his thoughts. After a minute that lasted far too long, his only reply was a stunted 'sure'. What a boring reaction! Just like the man himself. Clementine diligently inspected his neck veins, which pulsed in an irregular cadence, begging her with pleading words to put a cutoff once and for all on that trivial matter. "Should there be more than one demi-human capable of defeating you, I don't think there could be a bright future for this kingdom," he continued, casting her a worried look.

Clementine adjusted the sleeves of the dressing gown she wore, letting the soft fabric caress the skin of her fingers. "You are far too much of a flatterer. Too bad that between what your heart suggests and your tongue pronounces there is a difference so vast that it cannot be grasped." She licked her lips, savoring that moment of intimacy between the two of them. "If this dump were to end once and for all, I would just do what I always do. Dig my way through the blood and flesh until I find nothing but light."

The man swallowed. He tried to hold her gaze, but had to lower his head shortly after, his courage failing. "Three days," he repeated in a low voice, almost a whisper. "In three days we will meet again at the indicated point. Do not be late."

"Oh, dear Lance," she walked him to the door, sensing his discomfort. This made her particularly delighted. "I could never disappoint the Gods when they call upon my services!"

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The woman on her right had slender, elegant fingers. That delicate hand would have been even more beautiful to look at without more phalanges. Why could no one understand her sense of fashion?

The man on the left sported powerful shoulder muscles. With all that flesh, what a difference a little less would have made? He who basks in abundance, has a duty to share.

In front, fleets of children. One little girl with chubby, soft cheeks, another little boy with sparkling and big eyes. A youth not yet achieved, a maturity about to develop. Severing that which was most precious to us, the moment we realized its value. Nothing was more satisfying.

An elderly man with dry skin but a small, round nose. Arm in arm he walked with what was evidently his wife, with long silky white hair. Surshana was already about to join them. Would it have been conceited to precede him? Or an act of devotion, in sparing the God such a trite task?

City guards, covered in all that metal, assiduously patrolled the streets, trying to bring order where there was chaos. So diligent in their work, so assiduous in not stopping even for a moment. Giving them a well-deserved rest would have been an act of gratitude.

Clementine's hands brushed against the stilettos she concealed under her cloak, straining not to grasp them, not to use them. The sun's rays blinded her, causing a feeling of dizziness.

A quivering that was impossible to resist.

The walls of the fortress gave all those people a feeling of safety. Did that barrier they had erected against the outside world make them unaware that the real danger was lurking there with them? That feeling of safety and comfort in times of need was so inviting. One. Just one, to satisfy her cravings. An offering, yes. An offering to the Gods, as a good omen for the mission.

"Can I help you, miss?" One of the guards approached, perhaps drawn by her stare lost in her own thoughts, or perhaps drawn by something more sinful. "It's not good to be alone for this long, especially in special conditions like these. "

Clementine relaxed, trying to put on the robes of a helpless girl. "Oh, I'm just a little tired. It was a long journey I had to undertake to get here from Biblo." Her fingers grazed his arm. "You are so strong. Why don't you escort me to my destination? I would feel much safer with you by my side." Sweet, velvety voice, with just the right amount of phony to make it more believable. A fake appealing tone that seemed to hide an innocent interest, causing the man to blush and embarrass himself, in a game of misunderstandings of which Clementine was a master.

"Well, I have the patrol round." His eyes met hers. "But I might be able to carve out a few minutes if we don't have to go too far." An almost unreal innocence, different from the lust Clementine was used to. This would only increase her enjoyment.

"I don't think we'll need to." Someone had decided to interrupt her fun. "The girl is with me."

With his usual unsolicited punctuality, Lance had arrived at precisely the least opportune moment. The guard sought the gaze of Clementine, who found herself forced to confirm that she actually knew the newcomer.

"You're right on time. I wouldn't have expected that," he said, as soon as they were alone. Much of his head was concealed by the hood that covered his head, but his quivering lips did not escape the woman's attention. "Were there any complications on the journey?"

"None." 'Also thanks to you.'

As if they both didn't know. Windflower Scripture had not taken their eyes off her since the moment she had parted. Clementine had thought that that brief lapse of time would allow her a modicum of freedom to indulge in her favorite pastimes, but evidently it would not be possible to be more wrong.

Not a single bandit, nor a few lost travelers. Nothing at all for days. At the point she had reached, even a few magical beasts would have been enough.

"Good. Then let's go. Captain Nigun is waiting for us," and he began to make his way, without even waiting for her. Clementine was there and then on the verge of making Lance move on his own, to see how long it would take him to notice her absence, but she desisted.

They walked for a few minutes, without uttering a word. After a few nerve-wracking moments, the Black Scripture woman decided to put an end to that silence.

"I would have expected much more fear with the demi-humans nearby. Instead, the citizens seem strangely at ease. They behave normally, as if everyday life is running smoothly." Perhaps all too quiet. An artificial image, created on purpose so as not to let panic take over.

"I've noticed the same thing myself," Lance replied, raising his voice just enough to not be overcome by the murmurs of the other passers-by. "I suppose part of it is also due to having become accustomed to frontier life by now. The constant attacks are part of these people's lives, for how strange it sounds. Although I suppose General Aderbaal also has a hand in it. He has every interest in maintaining the image of a peaceful life as much as possible."

Normally Clementine would have dropped the conversation at that point, but there was still a long way to go in all likelihood.

"What interest does a military man have with such affairs?" She asked, not entirely convinced. "Shouldn't his priority at the moment be securing the city's defenses?" Clementine took in consideration the fortified walls that stood solidly at the four corners of the city. Yet, in the face of a charge of demi-humans even those seemed insufficient.

"In the event of a possible siege, keeping the citizens' morale high is essential to resist. All these guards you probably see relentlessly patrolling the streets are here to remind the citizens that they are protected."

'Even if many of them would be useless in an open fight against the Beastmen', Clementine found herself thinking, but avoided telling.

"Also, see those officials over there?"

Lance pointed to some men on the sides of the roads, intent on taking notes in large notebooks.

"What's so special about them?" The clothes they wore were certainly not flashy, and nothing about their appearance stood out, with the possible exception of an emblem depicting the Draconic Kingdom effigy worn on their chests.

"They are Rabbams, the eyes and ears of the Queen. Their job is to travel to each end of the Kingdom, to report back to the capital on the current progress of the territories under the crown's protection." Lance explained as clearly as possible. "General Alderbaal has every interest in ensuring that their report on him is positive."

"I cannot see why. Why should a military general care about such trifles? Shouldn't his priority be the progress of the war?" In difficult times, even the most extreme measures would be justified. That was why Clementine loved them so much.

"Do you really know nothing?" Lance's expression was bewildered, perhaps due to her ignorance. Yet Clementine was not embarrassed; on the contrary, she found it particularly amusing to see him lose that feigned composure he so proudly flaunted. "Along with General Barca, General Alderbaal is one of the two Shofeim, the highest military authority in the Draconic Kingdom."

"Oh, I remember that old fart. I seem to have glimpsed it when I was on a mission with the rest of the Black Scriptures. Though it didn't make much of an impression on me." But, to be fair, there were very few who did.

"The Shofeim are chosen directly by the Queen and the three Grand Dukes from among the highest ranks of the military corps." He did not even dignify her with a glance, leaving her words to die in a vacuum. "And just as they can be chosen for office, so can they be dismissed. General Barca was triumphant during the siege of Gelone, but the same cannot be said for his counterpart, who was unable to repel the constant raids before we arrived."

"Let me guess. To maintain his position he is now willing to do anything. No wonder he sought the help of the Scriptures." In truth, he was the kind of man Clementine despised the most. So predictable in their clinging to an ephemeral rank that they did not arouse the slightest interest in her.

"I think he really cares about the people he protects, and the living conditions of those in his service are proof of that. On the other hand, once you've climbed so high, the fear of falling gets stronger and stronger."

'Perhaps he would need a little help, to be able to overcome his fears.' Clementine considered. 'The only way to defeat vertigo is to jump. And I'm a great motivator.' She congratulated herself, for her clemency was unparalleled.

"In any case, what prompts General Alderbaal to request our help is of no concern to us. Our interests align, and so much is enough." Continued the WindFlower Scripture member, stopping a few meters from a flashy shack. "Follow me."

They arrived in a disused room, totally empty except for an inconspicuous bookcase. Lance pulled one of the books from the top shelf, without even giving it a second glance. Slowly, the bookcase began to move, as if maneuvered by a slow spell, revealing a narrow, dark passage.

"Oh, exciting! A secret passage!" Clementine feigned astonishment, aware that that act would not fool even the dumbest of fools. So not even Lance. "I wonder where it will lead? Perhaps to a hidden treasure room of King Thenevian or to the golden palace of the Goddess Lagusa!"

"Funny. This passage connects with the basement of the central building. It is best to avoid attracting too much attention by entering through the main entrance." Lance turned on lights placed on the sides of the walls, to prevent the darkness from engulfing them. "Don't pay too much attention to what you might see. Remember that the mission comes first."

"What the Scriptures perform has already been written. What the Scriptures do is obey, for the Gods willing is inscrutable." Clementine repeated that now ingratiating mantra in her mind. Lance gave her a nod of assent. 'And what the Scriptures do is lick the asses of the Cardinals, hoping they had cleaned it up beforehand.'

Abandoning that life was a dream she had long yearned for. But how was she to escape the other Scriptures on her own? They would find her in no time if she dared to flee and then... Staying and blindly following orders like a faithful dog was the only option left. Finding a modicum of freedom in that captivity was the only thing that kept her going.

Unexpectedly, the road they traveled was well maintained. Dirt was almost absent, and there were no insects or other vermin that could have disturbed her.

'The WindFlower Scriptures also know how to tidy up a place left to itself. They are wasted as spies. Perfect cleaners, that's what they are.'

The two emerged in a dark room, connected to a narrow maze of corridors. A few candles illuminated the room, giving the place a gothic and mysterious atmosphere. Hooded men in red were intent on some strange devilry, gathered around a table.

'Just like in the old man's stories.'

She remembered when she and Quaiesse were still small, and their father used to read them old stories of wicked sorcerers locked in their shelters, and fearless heroes foiling their misdeeds. Always busy, her father. Always with his nose in some business that concerned the family, the estate or the Theocracy. Still, he moved heaven and earth to spend at least one evening a week with his children.

'It is important to build a relationship with one's offspring,' he used to repeat. It did not matter how many urgent matters there were to deal with or how much his body begged for rest. He had never missed one of those appointments. 'Nothing is more important to me than their well-being."

For Surshana, how she hated him.

"Lance, I see you arrived on time," they were greeted by what appeared to be the leader. Curved and diminutive, he lowered his hood and lifted a mask that covered his mouth, revealing two dull, inquisitive eyes. "And this must be the famous WindStride. Charmed to make your acquaintance!" From the tunic emerged a cadaverous hand, so pale that one doubted it had ever been touched by the heat of the sun, which attempted to grasp Clementine's.

"You'd better stay in your seat, Khajiit, if you don't want to find yourself severed." Lance's warning was unnecessary. There was no way she could have done something like that. Nevertheless, the man, Khajiit, drew back, keeping his attention fixed on her.

"Are you strong, woman?" His tongue had to hiss like a snake's to make that question. Those mesmerizing black holes he passed off as eyes drew her into a world she had not known before.

"The strongest."

Khajiit bent his lips into what should have been a smile, but turned out to be only a distorted grin. "Excellent. I trust in your help to further our studies." He returned to the table where his assistants were standing, giving Clementine the space she needed to scrutinize what, or rather who, was the subject of their work.

The lifeless body of a small armat lay on the cold marble, while the men in red continued to study it. They tore at the skin, exposed musculature and shattered bones. Khajiit firmly grasped a scalpel offered to him by one of his aides, and began cutting into the demi-human's right arm. "I have made an express wish to Captain Nigun to bring us some more study subjects. Those collected during the siege of Gelone's fortress are beginning to run out." His attention continued to be focused on the task at hand. The back of his hand pulsed with energy as he drew perfect lines on that motionless body. Yet, Clementine had the impression that new vitality was flowing into those open, lifeless eyes. "Having one of their lords as a study subject could advance our research far more than these worthless creatures ever could. Before it would have been too much to ask, but now that we have a famous member of the Black Scriptures on our side, there is a possibility."

"What is the object of your research?" Clementine was unexpectedly intrigued.

Khajiit, again without stopping, refocused his attention on her, "The soul!" Seized with unexpected enthusiasm, the lower jaw contracted into a grimace, he asked, "do you know where it is located?"

Clementine shook her head.

The man finished with his work and gave instructions to his companion beside him.

"As far as humans are concerned, the most accepted theories hold that it is located here, in the brain," he pointed to the head. "Or here, in the heart." And he touched his chest. "Where do you think it is?"

The woman felt her chin in thought. "The heart," she replied after a few seconds.

Khajiit dribbled his teeth, satisfied.

"It may be, but unfortunately it is an answer we can never know, as experiments on human beings are strictly forbidden in the Theocracy."

"It could not be otherwise," retorted Lance disgustedly. "You Adepts of Surshana are already lucky that your so-called experiments are allowed on non-humans."

'Real pity are those limitations', Clementine considered with a note of sadness.

Khajiit, however, ignored those complaints. "In any case, we are trying to find out what the Beastmen's beliefs on the matter are, assuming they have any. The few living prisoners we have received have not been able to provide us with comprehensive answers." A pause. "They were not too talkative, unfortunately."

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Clementine shrugged. "I guarantee nothing." Leaving someone alive was not her style. She took one last look at the remains of the armat, which were beginning to look unrecognizable. "But I will try to do what I can. What do you need to know all this for? The origin of the soul, I mean."

"The study of magic requires much practice and numerous trials and errors. At the moment, to use the resurrection spell, you need a spellcaster capable of using the fifth tier and acceptable conditions of the body to be resurrected." Surshana's adept scratched his entirely hairless skull. White as it was, it would be not impossible to mistake it for real bones that had come to life. "But what if we could create a new magic from it? One that requires a lower tier, so that it can be used even by less capable sorcerers. It would greatly enhance the abilities of humans. And then..."

But Khajiit ended his speech there, realizing that he had already said far too much.

Clementine was now bored by all that talk. Resurrecting someone was the opposite of what she preferred to do.

"Let's go, Lance," she ordered her companion. The man started to open the door to the room, avoiding even acknowledging the presence of the sorcerers, still intent on their experiments. "We will see each other again soon, or at least I hope so, Khajiit." Clementine took her leave with a quick bow, too ungainly to be respectful.

"I'm counting on it." Khajiit, on the other hand, returned to his duties, merely greeting her with a dry wave of his hand.

She and Lance started up the stairs of the building, climbing up to a small apartment complex. It was fascinating to see the contrast between the ordinariness of those corridors and the nefariousness that was going on in the basements.

"Nice people," commented Clementine, brushing a lock of blond hair off her shoulder. It didn't matter that the only one who gave a sign of being alive among the Adepts had been Khajiit. They were the typical group of which seen one, seen them all. "Perhaps overzealous in their studies. Still, considering which nation they belong to, it was to be expected."

That dig did not hit the mark, promptly ignored by the Windflower Scripture member. "I don't like them. There are things human beings should not meddle in. Necromancy is one of them." Lance confessed, growing gloomy. "I understand the benefits it might bring to the cause, but don't we risk attracting the ire of Surshana?"

"Don't tell me you're afraid. A Scripture member scared of simple beliefs. What a disgrace! Do you want me to give you a hug and stroke your hair as one would with a child frightened by lightning?" She teased him, smiling affectionately. His disgusted expression amused her more than she would have imagined. "Relax. Resurrection spells have been used since time immemorial. This certainly won't be the one to arouse the wrath of the Gods."

After all, if indeed the Gods were ready to judge every possible wrongdoing, Clementine should have been punished long ago at that point. Instead, there she was, ready and raring to do her duty once more. This meant that either her actions were indifferent to those they worshiped... or they were approved. She couldn't choose which was her preferred scenario.

"Captain Nigun is in this room," Lance dropped that conversation. Whether out of fear, or some other reason, Clementine could not determine. "Are you ready to meet him?"

"Of course. You don't see such a buffoon every day." In truth, she had never met the Sunlight Scripture commander, but according to what her idiot twin had told her, Nigun Grid Luin's devotion was so obscene as to make even the most zealous of preachers look like a blasphemous cuss. "I look forward to working with him. I am sure our collaboration will be very... fruitful!"

When they entered, they found the man kneeling on the hard floor. In his hands was a rosary, the beads of which were being slowly unrolled.

"Gods who in the beginning said:

'Let there be light',

let our eyes rejoice

looking at all beautiful things.

Let every person welcome and see the light of your love.

Let the light of your words permeate the whole earth.

Grant that we may love one another.

Lords, you are my light:

without you I know not where I go,

if you are with me

my feet will walk in the way of life.

Lords if you enlighten me, I will be able to enlighten

and I will be able to be a small flame of your Love."

He kept repeating that stupid litany, again and again, not even noticing that some guests had arrived. Clementine was on the verge of interrupting him, but Lance made her desist.

"Sorry for the wait." He stood up and approached them after he was done. "You must be the honored Lady Quintia. It is my honor to serve the Gods by your side." A solemn tone. Perfect diction. And reverence she did not mind at all.

Quaiesse would have begged him to keep a more informal tone, blathering nonsense about equality and being all humans under the sky of the Gods. But she wasn't Quaiesse.

"No, we're the ones who should apologize for being late," Lance replied, his spine probably gone. Had he lost it in the lower floors? Maybe some Adept of Surshana took it, mistaking it for one of armat.

"These are difficult times. Alah Alaf can be sympathetic to those who serve him." What did he have to say, however, for those who mocked him?

"We hope we have not disturbed your ceremony."

"I was almost done anyway. Propitiatory rites like this are the practice before a difficult task." Small, icy eyes betrayed that serene expression he was trying to sport. Killer eyes, which Clementine knew all too well. Like watching yourself in a mirror.

"Tell me. What does the mission consist of?" Having ascertained that if she kept the men talking they would only waste further time, and not to be smothered by that all too oppressive air, Clementine took the floor.

Nigun walked over to a desk, from which he pulled out a map that, though well kept, showed signs of wear and tear.

"We will head here," he pointed to a place west of their current position, where the details were blurry. "Horurener patrols have been spotted in the vicinity of Tiro. We will find out how many there are and if there are any other beastmen in the vicinity."

"And once we ascertain their presence, what will we do?" Clementine asked.

"What we always do," replied the Captain, clutching the rosary bead in his hands even more tightly. "We will exterminate this scum from the face of this world once and for all!"

Clementine tightened her lips in a smile, for her tedium was coming to an end.

Cities State Alliance, Bebard

"There is something strange." Antilene continued to stroll through the streets of the town of Bebard, expecting to find any welcome, but all that awaited her were almost empty streets and a few people walking the roads without uttering a word, in complete silence.

"Had not the mayor been warned of your stay in the city?" At her side Melody was trying all too hard to maintain a professional air, perhaps so as not to look like a naive little girl before her Queen's eyes, but it was all too obvious to the half-elf that the varied presence of races amidst the small crowd was an unusual sight for someone who was used to communicating only with her own kind.

Antilene did not hold it against her. She too did not feel entirely comfortable being surrounded by all that filth. When she saw an orc walk past them in armor, her weapon was almost drawn to eliminate him on the spot, only to realize that he was just a town guard passing through on his rounds.

"I think Etienne took care of it, and I'm sure I received a letter of reply from the mayor herself, wishing me to visit and agreeing to meet today. Maybe she just forgot." Although that was rather unlikely. Antilene tried to distract herself as they made their way to their destination, looking for something to confirm that those worries were just a bad play of her mind.

Parallel roads intersected at right angles forming a grid of rows of rectangular blocks in a monotony that was somehow relaxing.

Surely, though, there was something that caught her attention. Most of all, a few centaurs stood out, silently inspecting every smallest detail of their surroundings, as if intent on studying them closely. Moreover, they were never alone, but always accompanied by soldiers wearing the same equipment as the city guard.

"I have never seen anything like it," commented Melody, widening her eyes at the sight of that bizarre but on the whole seemingly perfect union of humanoid and horse. "Is this also the first time you have encountered such fascinating creatures, Your Majesty?"

"No, many years ago a tribe of their kind tried to sneak through the Theocracy by way of the north passage," the half-elf's mind returned to events she thought had been long forgotten. "They must have passed through the plains of Katze. They were few in number, malnourished and exhausted. My intervention would not even have been necessary, but I suppose the peculiarity of the situation sent the Cardinals of the time into a panic."

Or perhaps Rufus just wanted to use the opportunity to allow her to train with opponents with whom she was unfamiliar. An opportunity that had not really been beneficial, to be honest. More than valiant warriors, they were a bunch of colts - was that the correct term? - and women tired from the long journey. Of warriors there were very few, and not of great skill. But it was evident that those she was now observing were of a far different make. "At the time those were far smaller, according to my memories. And they did not carry expensive equipment like the ones they are wearing now." The difference in quality between the metal of their armor, gleaming and dent-free, and that of the other soldiers, worn and dull, was like that between day and night.

"I don't know much about it, but do you think there is a difference in rank? Perhaps the centaurs act as lieutenants or patrol leaders," ventured Melody, arousing Antilene's puzzlement.

"I don't think so. The other soldiers seem to be sticking far too close together, as if they don't want to let them out of their sight." Although the streets were quite spacious, almost far too big for young girls like them, the half-elf noticed the numerous maneuvers the hooves of the horse bodies had to perform to execute the smallest movement. "And likewise, passers-by watch them in awe. It is not a sight they are accustomed to. They probably belong to a foreign delegation." She seemed to remember that the Union was in conflict with races of demi-humans living on the plains to the west, although she was not up to date with the latest events.

"I see," murmured the maid, with a determined look that tried to convey the intention to treasure what she had just heard. Antilene hadn't said anything surprising, indeed someone with appropriate ranger, rogue or other specialized training could certainly have found some flaws in that elementary reasoning dictated by experience and common sense rather than some concrete skill. "Now that I pay more attention, the mothers hold the children tightly, while the men keep their heads and eyes down, as if they want to avoid any contact."

One of the centaurs, whose height exceeded two meters, turned sharply, provoking the frightened reaction of a child who escaped from his mother's hand before the latter could realize it, heading in a fear-driven wild rush right in the direction of the half-elf, until he slammed into her legs.

"Excuse me... didn't mean to... he's just a child," the mother hastened to apologize worriedly, as she helped the little one up from the ground. Fluffy fox ears twitched in rhythm with what appeared to be disingenuous excuses, wads of disgusting hair, flea nests and who knows how many other insects and disgusting little creatures, covering a squashed snout.

"It's alright," words and emotions were not in perfect harmony. Antilene couldn't help but show an expression tending towards disgust as she cleaned her trousers of the small remnants of dust and hair left attached after the scuffle, almost obsessively.

"Here. Let me help you," Melody helped both the demi-human child and his mother to their feet. The little one and the half-elf's gazes crossed, until the former quickly averted them in embarrassment.

When they were back on their feet, the mother patted him on the shoulder, prompting him to speak.

"I am deeply sorry," he spoke in a low voice, almost a whisper. The whiskers of his muzzle vibrated imperceptibly, lulled by the quiet afternoon breeze.

Antilene merely shook her head, to make it clear that she had accepted the small gesture. Melody exchanged a few more words with her mother, reassuring her that no problems or any other complications would arise.

"Melody," said Antilene, when they were finally alone. "Come closer." The maid whitened, believing she had made an unforgivable mistake. Then Antilene smiled warmly, to let her know there was nothing to worry about. When they were close enough, the half-elf placed her hands on those of the elf. "[Remove Diseases]!" She exclaimed. A soft light covered the elf's hands, reflecting a shade in her black eyes that widened in surprise.

"I don't understand," Melody stammered.

"Strangers can be carriers of disease. We don't want you to catch something, do we?" When she had finished, Antilene patted her, checking that everything was all right, heedless of the blush that coloured Melody's face. "Everything should be fine now. Be sure to let me know if you experience any unusual symptoms."

"I will! Thank you for your consideration!" Her red hair seemed brighter in combination with that grateful expression.

The two women continued on their way, arriving in the middle of the agora, where the town hall was located. An inconspicuous building that would have gone unnoticed among all the others in the city, with windows lined up under simple arches. At the height of the windows on the first floor were statues of people from the past, perhaps the previous governors of the city, with small reliefs highlighting the highlights of their lives in a few sentences.

The main square was surrounded by the shaded colonnades of covered walkways, opened at the entrance with columns lining the side of the building; creating a safe, enveloping, and protective atmosphere. The streets were enclosed by houses with frescoed walls round inner courtyards. The picture was concluded by temples devoted to the Six Great Gods, the Four Gods and numerous other faiths that Antilene was unfamiliar with.

Here, everyday life was still vibrant. A few merchants of every race and age tried to attract the attention of the two elves, offering magical amulets which they claimed were 'the product of the wisdom of ancient arcana nevermore revealed' or jewelry 'belonging to the personal treasures of Queens and Princesses of empires now vanished'. Antilene bought nothing for herself, but decided to purchase a pair of embroidered silver brooches and some enchanted rings that protected against disease for Agravaine and the two servants.

"Compared to your fellow citizens, you do not look downcast. What is the difference?" She asked, as she was intent on paying.

The merchant, an aged but still vigorous man, replied, "We recognise an opportunity when we see it, that is the difference. If one is not able to adapt to change, one would not be able to practice this profession."

"And what would those changes be?"

The merchant chuckled, before dispelling her doubts. "You are not from around here, are you? I should have known from your complexion. There are very few wood elves in these parts of the world. And those that are there, are not as well off as you," he passed the gold coins he had received as payment through his fingers, to check their authenticity.

"You are right. We are guests of the mayor." Antilene would have expected some reaction, but the man remained unperturbed.

"In any case," he continued, without giving the matter too much thought, "if you are headed to the town hall, you will soon find out everything. I could tell you myself but," he opened the palm of his right hand, showing greed, "everything has a price."

"What we bought will suffice for now."

Antilene walked away, leaving him alone, Melody following a short distance behind her.

At the entrance to the municipal building, a pair of guards, a beardless dwarf with a pair of symbols that resembled inverted triangles on his cheeks and an elf with tanned skin, stood between them. "Halt! Who are you?" They asked in unison. "The mayor is currently busy and cannot receive visitors," this time only the dwarf continued, casting glances of suspicion first at Antilene and then at her companion. He had so many weapons on his body that he could well have been mistaken for one of those infamous merchants of death who wandered near the Abelion Hills.

"We have an appointment with Lady Kista," the half-elf replied calmly, tightening in her jacket. "It is not good manners to keep guests waiting."

"And who might you be?" The elf asked, struggling to sustain Antilene's gaze. A dark elf was for sure an unusual view in that part of the world.

"Antilene Heran Fouche. And this is my lady-in-waiting, Melody."

Upon hearing that name, the elf withdrew the spear that until a few seconds before had been pointing at them. "The savior..." he muttered in disbelief, the words choking in his mouth. "The hero who defeated the tyrant and freed our people from oppression... We had been warned of your arrival but I did not think you would actually arrive..."

"Are you also an elf of Evasha?" Melody was delighted to have finally found her own kind.

"My father was. He married a human from Veneria, and from their union I was born. But he never stopped telling me stories about our homeland." An ill-concealed regret leaked from his voice. "I am only sorry that he could not live long enough to know that the nightmare is finally over."

'Here marriages between different races are accepted or, at least, not prosecuted.' Antilene touched the ear under the hair, not knowing how to take that news. She opted to leave possible considerations to the future, though delighted would not have been the best way to describe her emotions.

"So you would be the famous Kingslayer," unlike his comrade, the dwarf was not impressed. "I would have expected better. How can a little body like that hide a great warrior?"

"I wonder about that too," the half-elf shrugged, giving no weight to the question. "In any case, can we go in?"

The dwarf spat on the ground. "We have orders not to let anyone pass." And then he spat again. A pity there were no plants around. The raw material for watering did not seem to be lacking. His gifts were wasted on the rocky ground. "If it were up to me, I'd kill those stupid quadrupeds on the spot." The spear he wielded appeared to be sharpening under his blinding gaze. "And instead... let them wander around like they own the place, leaving them as much time as possible to get a feel for our city. Unheard of. That's what happens to elect a child fresh from the womb. Spineless, I say."

"Don't say that, Hatoi." Unlike the little guy, the dark elf had lowered his weapon and was beginning to show more friendliness. "Lady Kista is doing her best to ensure our safety. If we had refused the Satrap's demands, things might have turned out differently." Then, turning towards Antilene, he said as condescendingly as possible, as if he had predicted her thoughts, "Do not judge our lady too harshly. She is only aware that if a war were to break out, our chances would be feebler than a withered old flower."

"Your lady must be deeply distressed by the situation," commented Melody, letting out sympathy. The maid had been used to living under constant danger from stronger enemies all her life, after all. It was not strange that she saw herself in that particular context of helplessness. "Do you think we could do anything to help them, Your Grace?"

Antilene had no time to answer. "Imagine if we need the help of a little girl. The last thing our army needs is another head creating even more mess in the command line," Hatoi massaged those strange symbols, thoughtfully. "Not that I mean to offend you, of course." But that stunted excuse didn't sound very sincere.

"As if I hadn't heard anything," Antilene retorted, with more than a smile, a string of white teeth.

"I'm sure someone capable of eliminating the tyrant would have no trouble making the Equestrian King eat dust! A lone hero who eliminates cruel warlords with a single swing of his sword! A fable-like story came to life!" Far too much enthusiasm came from the dark elf.

Although Melody was beginning to feel a share in her fellow kinship's ruminations, Antilene rolled her eyes. And she wasn't the only one, it seemed.

"Bah, a kid like you doesn't understand anything about war, Grape." Hatoi sported the same bored expression as the half-elf, showing that similarities went far beyond simple concepts like race. "Even if your heroine were to succeed in eliminating the head, and I emphasize the if... Always no offense, of course."

"Of course."

"As I was saying," resumed the dwarf, clearing his throat with a cough. "Even if she were to succeed in this endeavor, it would not solve our problems. Before long, a new leader on the Great Plains would re-emerge and we would be back where we started. This should have been the perfect opportunity to put aside our differences, but instead we let them divide us even more. But I suppose it's too late now..."

"That's not true!" Exclaimed Grape indignantly. "Prince Alexander has not yet been..." but those last words died in his mouth. The dark elf lowered his gaze, too embarrassed to continue counter-arguing.

'It seems clear that there is no shortage of trouble around here. What to do?'

Melody looked at her questioningly, while Antilene reflected on the situation. It was clear by now that she would not be allowed to cross the threshold until the centaur delegation had left that place. What to do? Stay and wait? Or return to the hotel where Agravaine and Etienne were waiting for them? They wouldn't have much else to do, and the day was still long.

As she tried to find a resolution to those indecisions, the half-elf heard the round sound of drums, which ended the silence. Loud and decisive, it came more from a display of power, with that high and fearsome timbre, than a sincere desire to give a memorable performance for the joy of the listeners.

The palace doors slammed open, and a small group of centaur soldiers, dressed in the same manner as those Antilene had seen in the city, began to come out, the restless pawing of their hooves following the rhythm of their instruments.

Opening the line was a centaur wielding a long golden sword, while a giant wooden bow rested on his back. He wore an entirely silver-plated cuirass, finished in pure gold. Decorating the head was a hemispherical helmet complete with padding agemated in gold at the cusp, the edges and the spandrels, reserves decorated with characters and wild animals on backgrounds chiseled with foliage and flowers; edges also ornamented, complete with gown.

He turned his attention towards Antilene, showing her tiny green eyes as sharp as the weapon he wielded. The half-elf's fingers began to twitch, waiting for a reaction that never came. The centaur knight resumed on his way, heedless of that brief exchange, advancing as if she had never been there, stopping in the middle of the square with the others. Disappointed by that lack of action, the Elf Queen noticed that the doors were closing.

At the end of that compact line was a woman with long brown hair, her expression wrinkled with worry as she adjusted the hem of the long white tunic she was wearing.

"I hope you will think carefully about my proposal." Beside her was another of those quadruped creatures. Smaller than the others, its lower body resembled a sheep more than a horse. The luxurious robes of brightly coloured leather that adorned his body attested to his high position. "The assembly of the citizens of Listaran has been very inclined to accept the benevolence of our king, and both West and East Gaith are about to waver at our demands." He lowered his torso slightly, his long beard almost caressing the woman's face. "I would rather see you in the middle of a play or a sporting contest than on a battlefield the next time we meet, Lady Kista."

The mayoress' dark eyes remained fixed on the large pair of horns that towered from her interlocutor's head. "Likewise, Satrap Tiribazus." Her tone sounded sincere. "It's a shame we both know that will not happen." Even though the woman was giving all her strength to remain impervious, it would have been obvious even to the untrained eye that what was being passed off as an imposing aura, was simple fear. The difference in size was still considerable, and seemed even more accentuated by their respective positions. "The main army of the Union has not yet been defeated, and Prince Alexander still holds out. If I were your monarch, I would begin to worry."

A derisive laugh was the only response she received. The same way an adult dismisses the boastful affirmation of an infant.

"Fucking bastard," Hatoi muttered under his breath, though he didn't seem entirely convinced he didn't want to be heard. Grape tried to calm his friend down, before any disaster could arise from one word said too many.

"That does not sound very friendly, your majesty," Melody whispered in Antilene's ear. It was evident that the maid was beginning to find herself uncomfortable.

Of a different opinion was the Satrap. Confident of his position, Tiribazus moved away, but only a few steps, noticing in the process Antilene, who had been watching that brief conversation from the beginning.

"And you would be?"

"Just a mere bystander," the half-elf replied, atonally.

"You are..." Even Lady Kista had now become aware of her presence. "Queen Antilene?" She opened her mouth slightly, realizing that she had completely forgotten about the visit. "Are you here already?"

"A Queen?" The non-centaur's curiosity was piqued. "I thought the only Queen in the union was the old ruler of Ris. Interesting." He tickled his beard hairs as he analyzed the half-elf thoughtfully. Stubby, fat fingers, not of a fighter. "That our information network has been lacking? Or was there a recent royal succession we had not been informed of?"

"No, she is..." The mayoress did not have the opportunity to finish her sentence.

"I come from a distant kingdom." Antilene moved forward slightly, to prevent Tiribazus from getting too close. "I wanted to take advantage of Lady Kista's hospitality, but I found that someone beat me to it. And judging by the expression on my host's face, yours was not such a welcome stay."

"Since when do elves display such thoughtlessness?"

"Since when does a Bauriar display such arrogance? There is nothing more pathetic than a shepherd posing as a king." Struck in the middle.

"I did not think my race was known beyond the Great Plains." The Satrap flashed a fake smile, his eyes closed in a perfect imitation of friendliness. Far too much so. "The world is always bigger than one imagines."

"The education I was given was not lacking in certain details and finesses." Antilene took a step forward. Tiribazus two backs. His retinue moved with him, surrounding the half-elf. "I have no intention of fighting," she said, her hands raised to show she had no hostile intentions. "However, while I will not be the first to draw forth my own sword, you may rest assured that I will be the last to retract it into its sheath."

None of the guards dared move. The one who had met his gaze earlier, and who had all the air of being the commander, turned to the satrap. "Your Excellency Tiribazus, give me the order and we will cut out the tongue of this insolent one."

Antilene kept standing still. The centaurs raised bows and spears. The Satrap said nothing, but continued to observe. Grape held Melody still, who was beginning to fidget. Hatoi seemed to be about to jump into the fray. Kista prayed to the Gods.

Antilene continued to do nothing. The commander kicked his hooves, a trail of dust lifted. The centaurs followed his example, hesitating. Melody shouted something.

Hatoi gritted his teeth. Grape held his grip firmly. Krista closed her eyes. Antilene lowered her arms...

"No!" Tiribazus raised his voice sufficiently so that everyone could hear him. "We did not come here to create havoc, Arsames. Make your men lower their weapons!" The order was addressed to the most imposing centaur. Although he did not hesitate to carry it out, he kept his attention fixed on the half-elf. "Good. I see we've calmed down and come to our senses," the bauriar's tone softened, but from the labored breathing and bloodlust emitted from those small pupils, Antilene determined that his wrath was not placated.

"I am happy to see that an unfortunate situation was avoided for your men."

The Satrap's nostrils were on the verge of emitting smoke, but Tiribazus continued with the act, to the delight of the half-elf. If he had any luck, he would have paid off that newly formed debt on the battlefield. Or misfortune, depending on the point of view.

"Satrap Tiribazus, I hope this unpleasantness will not result in a diplomatic incident," Lady Kista had found the strength to intervene just when it was all over. "I would not want you to have to report a simple misunderstanding to your King."

"Oh, Lady Kista, you have nothing to worry about," the bauriar reassured her with false politeness, displaying a row of razor-sharp canines. "The decision of your fate was made the moment you refused my offer. But have no fear, I will do everything in my power not to bring this beautiful city to complete ruin. As the future ruler of this area, it will be in my best interest." He lowered his torso, in what was a grotesque imitation of a bow. "My regards."

When they were gone, the mayoress sighed, melting like ice in the sun.

"Good," Antilene murmured, stretching the muscles in her legs that had remained numb from the lack of action. "Why don't you invite me in, Lady Kista? I think we have a lot to talk about."

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