Arakiel briefly lost focus and with it, his posture. He recovered almost right away, but if they had been fighting, he would’ve just committed a major blunder. The blonde-haired elf-like duchess either didn’t notice, didn’t care or she was genuinely interested in talking.

Realizing he should probably say something lest he make a complete fool of himself, Arakiel held onto the first words that sprang to mind. “That is certainly unexpected, my Lady – but do go on,”

The Middle woman’s smile remained constant a little as she gestured towards the table. Her words were melodious, inviting. They also lacked authority. “Please, sit down. We believe in diplomacy among equals.”

He briefly considered following suit, but then he came to his senses.

Arakiel’s muscles relaxed a little and he straightened his back after which he approached the table. Instead of taking a seat, however, he remained standing next to the chair. His response was calm and measured, merely stating the facts. “We are not equal, Duchess Scitath.”

Her smile took a little crack. “We understand,” she responded, still sounding just like before. “We are still hoping you are willing to listen, Lord Executor Djinni… guest from afar.”

“First, you will answer some questions, Lady Scitath.” Arakiel demanded as he internally went through the sultan’s decrees.

Negotiated surrender wasn’t really a topic in any of them as far as he could recall.

She let out a small sigh, answering. “Very well.” Her slight smile returned right afterwards, but Arakiel mostly kept focus on her eyes. Many of her facial features reminded him of Muirne and Nyanna. The slight button nose, the soft contours of the cheekbones and the smooth jawline – she was just a ripened-yet-ageless version.

Very beautiful, but he tried to not let it distract him too much. Emphasis on trying.

Beautiful women did something to him.

“How did you know we were here?” He asked straight away and she gave him a slightly pained look.

“Surely you didn’t expect to march an army from Irialswell into my demesne without me being aware of it, Lord Executor?” She asked softly.

“I did not, but that does not answer my question.” He pointed out, although he had certainly hoped so.

“We received word from Irialswell. I sent scouts and as for this location, it is the one most suitable to observe my city – does this answer your question, honored guest from afar?” Duchess Scitath queried, her eyes searching his for a reaction. He didn’t find any obvious deception, but she looked like someone that could tell a lie without even noticing it.

Elves, or any of the fae offspring, were natural charmers.

“How do you know of me?” Arakiel went on without delay.

“We need to take but one look at you, Lord-wreathed-in-gold. Furthermore, the survivors of Boundary spoke of how you ended an atrocity which is why we believe you can be reasoned with.” The emerald-eyed woman responded in a cordial tone.

Arakiel turned that assumption into a question. “Are you an elf? If so, which kind?”

“We are of good breeding stock if that is what you are asking, honored guest from afar,” the duchess responded as her smile turned just a little seductive. “Queen Ceara was our mother and her ancestral blood runs strong in us.”

She most likely didn’t know any specifics, which could be fairly normal for minor planes. In that case, she wouldn’t be quite as dangerous.

“One final question for now,” Arakiel went on to say before he asked. “What did your daughter do to my companion?”

“A harmless tryst, we assure you.” The duchess hurried to say, smiling. “Alannah is a curious nymph, yet unsure who should nourish her soil with blood.”

A brief pause, and then she spoke up, asking. “Did we satisfy your curiosity for now?”

“On to the matter at hand, then.” Arakiel affirmed, asking. “You wish to negotiate your surrender – why?”

Her expression froze as she responded. “Because I am aware of the kind of forces you command – and what my own forces are. I might be able to stall your Smokeless Host for a day or two… at which point you will most likely burn down my town and keep and when we are done fighting, you will build another pyramid… another monument.”

The elf’s voice quivered near the end and he could tell that she was genuinely afraid. Not outraged, but afraid.

He chose to exploit it in full, asking in a perfectly leveled tone, emphasizing but two words. “So you are aware of the stakes, Lady Scitath. Now, how will you avoid them?”

She looked him straight in the eye. “We are willing to cooperate in full. We will open the gates for you and prepare suitable tribute. We will furthermore expunge disharmonious noble elements and leave them in your care. We are also willing to swear an oath of fealty to you or Zultan Zimraan if necessary.”

He couldn’t detect deceit in her voice, but as an old saying reminded: around elves, watch yourselves. Nonetheless, he did notice a light tremble in her body.

“Your cooperation isn’t an offer, Lady Scitath. It is expected. The same goes for the tribute and the fate of your nobility. The grievances your people inflicted upon the Southern Cities are numerous and go decades back. You are merely offering a fraction of what is already theirs. If you wish to surrender, you will need to pay reparations as an attempt to alleviate their deep-seated grudge.” Arakiel pointed out calmly while his opposite began to lightly move about on her chair.

Her smile had taken a notable crack, but she tried to maintain it nonetheless. “Then what would you consider suitable, my Lord?”

“You, your family and every noble in your demesne will face the Holy Transcended’s chosen people’s judgment.” Arakiel began, leaving her a little time to query, which she did with a slightly unsteady voice.

“What does that entail?”

“You will atone for your myriad crimes against the people of the south either through death or a lifetime of servitude.”

“Servitude to whom?” The duchess asked curtly, having winced just earlier.

“Since you weren’t taken in combat… whoever buys you.” Arakiel stated matter-of-factly.

Her countenance cracked and she gasped at him. “You want to auction us!?”

“In your case, it might be perfectly possible that you’ll end up as a tournament trophy, Lady Scitath.” Arakiel responded with a slight smile, adding. “I’m afraid this is non-negotiable. You and your fellow nobles will either submit, or you will die.”

“Surely there must be a way to at least exempt us and our family!” The duchess of Scithatswood objected, her voice gaining a slight tone of desperation.

“There might be,” he replied vaguely, letting her dwell in false hope for a little while. “Next topic concerns the tribute. All burghers will pay a tribute in goods or flesh to atone for being accomplices in the nobility’s schemes. The peasants, however, are exempt. Furthermore, any warrior of the Smokeless Host is permitted to loot an occupied city for a total of 24 hours and I will not deny my soldiers their rightful spoils.”

“But we would surrender!”

“We do not pillage, Lady Scitath. The burghers will be burdened, but there are clear and established rules for the activity. As long as your people comply, no one will be hurt or assaulted.” Arakiel went on to outline. “Lastly, suitable reparations would be a show of genuine submission and remorse in the context of a feast honoring the rulers of the southern cities.”

The duchess struggled immensely with his demands, yet the sultan hadn’t exactly permitted negotiations in the first place and he was still bound by these decrees.

“These are… quite unreasonable demands, honored guest from afar.” She muttered quite aptly while her hands began to nervously tap the chair.

“The alternative, Lady Scitath, is much worse,” Arakiel reminded her and when she didn’t respond right away, he could tell that it hit the mark.

To think that Zari Amar’s actions would lead to something like this… he was honestly a little shocked.

“You claimed there might be a way to exempt my family, Lord-wreathed-in-Gold,” the duchess queried and he knew that he’d need to provide her a tangible lifeline to cling to.

Right at that time, a male voice resounded from behind and above. He recognized it right away.

“Whatever you decide – I’m keeping this one!”

A slight muffled voice followed and as Arakiel turned around to see what exactly was going on there, he saw Ezekiel, still wearing Selene’s aspect, descending the stairs. A slight, smug smirk enhanced his expression as he held the duchess’s pointy-eared daughter at her upper arm. The upper laces of her dress were unmade, leaving a part of her shoulders exposed and Arakiel was fairly certain that she didn’t have the two fresh bite marks on her throat and left shoulder earlier.

The younger elf’s face was flushed red as she struggled with a piece of cloth that Ezekiel must’ve stuffed into her mouth, but the rest of her dress still seemed untouched.

“Alannah!” The duchess exclaimed and got up, causing Arakiel to immediately reach for his scimitar as he expected the woman to attack any moment in a moment of motherly instincts.

“You have a natural ability to show up at the worst of times,” Arakiel commented in the lingua kalans, to which Ezekiel responded in the local’s tongue. “Fret not, Lady Scitath. Your daughter’s plot yet awaits its first watering – I am a man of principle even with little vixens like this one.”

The gagged elf shot him an outraged expression as she tried to chew through the cloth, to no avail.

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“We apologize for any behavior on our child’s part,” the duchess then went on at which point Arakiel relaxed a little.

Fear still held greater sway over the duchess than the alternatives, which was good.

“She will have plenty of time to apologize,” Ezekiel went on.

“Excuse me?” Arakiel asked as he once again turned towards his party member.

Ezekiel, having arrived downstairs, shot him a meaningful glance. “I’m keeping her, Lord Executor Arakiel. Not only is she exactly my type of girl, she’ll help me in properly educating Selene.”

“Honored guests we’re sure there must be a misunderstanding,” the duchess tried to mediate, but she still did not make any attacks and the longer Arakiel thought about it, the more she seemed to have maneuvered herself into a truly terrible spot.

“There is no misunderstanding, Lady Scitath. Your daughter here put a spell on me and then tried to seduce me and when she noticed that I wasn’t as willing as she thought, she bit me into very sensitive parts.”

“She did what?” Arakiel asked and chuckled, looking over the green-eyed young woman with some wonder. Alannah returned an offended stare, muffling something.

“This little vixen has quite some fire in her belly, but that’s good. She’ll have a good dynamic with Selene.” Ezekiel went on to say and it didn’t seem as though he had any intention of changing his mind. His victim made a pleading glare towards her mother, who looked utterly crestfallen.

“Honored guests from afar,” the duchess began once more as she slightly straightened her back. “We am sure we can talk about everything.”

“Hand me a collar will you, Arakiel.” Ezekiel went on in the meantime, having swapped to the lingua kalans.

“A moment, don’t make this worse,” Arakiel responded likewise before he turned towards the elven ruler, saying. “There is precious little I can do, Lady Scitath. I am honor-bound by Sultan Zimraan’s decree.”

“Then why did you give us false hope earlier?” The woman asked, her posture starting to shift slightly.

Arakiel put the weapon away once again and shrugged. “Because there might be a way how I can personally save your family, but you will need to trust me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I will capture and claim you and whoever else of your family as my own. That way, the people of the south cannot interfere with this decision.” Arakiel outlined and as odd as it sounded, it was truly the only thing he could of that might be in line with the sultan’s decrees which were rather limiting in what kind of diplomatic moves he could undertake.

She looked him straight in the eye, but said nothing so far.

“You will need to believe me that I have no interest in you or your family. You will serve me for the remainder of my time on this plane and when the time comes, I will take you with me when I leave.”

“Hey, Arakiel – what are you harping on about?” Ezekiel asked in the lingua kalans, but Arakiel ignored him besides a small gesture.

“How are we supposed to believe you? We’d be giving ourself, our husband and our daughters over in your care! We would be at your mercy.” The duchess pointed out rather rightfully, yet he shrugged.

“As I said, you would need to trust me – that is all I can and will do for you in light of your honesty, Lady Scitath. You are free to refuse and our forces fight it out. I reckon it’ll end much worse for you.” Arakiel laid out in a calm manner. He’d much rather have her surrender, but he also wouldn’t promise something he couldn’t keep.

“And what exactly do you mean… take us with you when you leave?” The blonde elf queried further, her expression one of heavy internal debate.

Her daughter kept trying to chew through her gag, but she stopped trying to get away from Ezekiel.

“As you already surmised, I am but a visitor from afar – another plane or world if you will. I am here to conquer this plane in my House’s name and once that is done, I will leave.” Arakiel answered without going into too much detail. “When that time comes, I will take my possessions with me and if you and your family happen to be among those, I will ensure that you can find some kind of work in my House’s holdings which are quite vast I must add.”

“How am I supposed to be believe you will stay true to your word?” She asked, but her voice had changed once again.

His conditions weren’t so bad, as long as she ignored what the southerners would do to the other nobles.

“You have to take my word for it. I was taught quite firmly that actions have consequences – and I don’t take my actions lightly, Duchess Scitath. I will make you and your family do servants’ work, but I will not assault you.” Arakiel pointed out.

“And what about Alannah, our daughter?” The duchess asked while looking over towards her.

Arakiel turned to the side and gestured in a slightly taunting manner. “Well, Ezekiel – what about her daughter?”

Ezekiel let go of the girl and lightly patted her shoulder, right where he must’ve bitten her earlier. He then removed her gag and lightly pushed her over towards the mother, saying with a grin on his face. “Alannah will stay with me once you’ve ironed out your deal – and when it is time to leave, she will voluntarily stay by my side.”

“You bit me!” The young elf cried out indignantly, yet she did not cover up the evidence. She also didn’t sound too upset, all things considered.

“Because you bit me first, little feisty one.” Ezekiel returned with a smile on his face. “But don’t worry, we can temper that fire of yours.”

“I’d like to see you try!” She responded and put out her tongue, which caused her mother to gasp in shock, admonishing.

“Alannah! Mind your manners, girl!”

The young woman harrumphed and looked away while crossing her arms. “I don’t need you constantly telling me what to do, mother!”

Arakiel cleared his throat and spoke up in slightly menacing manner. “These are my terms, Lady Scitath. Will you accept them, or do we need to fight now? If so, I suggest you hand your daughter over right away. I wouldn’t want to harm her.”

The elven mother’s expression darkened a little, but she still did not appear as though she wanted to fight. She did seem extremely conflicted, however.

“Curse these people down there, mother! They keep pestering you about none-issues, calling you names and even going so far as to insult Queen Ceara! Why should you give them anything, why even consider them!?” The daughter then suddenly exclaimed, fully turning towards the duchess.

Ezekiel was about to raise his voice, but Arakiel cut him short with a gesture, telling him to remain quiet.

“Because they’re my subjects, dear. It is our duty to look after them.” Duchess Scitath replied, lectured – but her words betrayed irritation, and Arakiel had a hard time believing it was directed against her daughter.

He recalled the term ‘disharmonious nobles’ – she sly woman probably had wanted to use him as a means to purge her court of annoyances.

“Stop playing the saint, Finna!” The daughter replied with obvious annoyance. “I heard you saying just yesterday that–”

“That is quite enough out of you, Young Lady!” The duchess interrupted quite harshly this time, and the younger woman flinched enough to ensure that she most likely wouldn’t talk back any longer.

“So, what’ll it be?” Arakiel queried.

“Do you need an answer right now?” The duchess returned a bit carefully and he nodded slightly.

“Indeed. If you don’t comply, I will be forced to consider you an enemy and I doubt my friend and I here will just let you walk away.” Arakiel pointed out calmly, but his body’s tension began to rise.

“Is this a threat?” She asked carefully.

“Not only is it a threat, but a well-meant advise. I would hate to see you battered and broken, Lady Scitath – but I will do what is necessary.” Arakiel went on, adding. “I will repeat it one last time: the only way for you and your family to survive this with your dignity intact is to become my property for the time being. I will put you to work and I might discipline you if you act out of line, but I promise you that I will neither assault nor abuse anyone of you.”

“Mother – you realize that these men are serious, do you!?” The daughter suddenly intervened, her expression quite agitated.

“Of course I am, Alannah – which is why you should shut up and let your mother do the heavy lifting like you and everyone else always does!” The duchess responded rather animatedly, her own irritation shining through at last.

Arakiel found it curious that she only referred to herself in plural when she spoke to him, although she had broken that once as well.

“Then what is there to think about? Just accept and lets move away from this accursed plane! King Cahir hasn’t even sent me a letter when I passed my rite! It’s clear that Fodhla that snake has him coiled around her finger and she sees any of grandmother’s kin as a danger.” Alannah went on to argue, having regained her courage by being upset.

“You will not speak of her majesty like this, daughter!” Duchess Scitath admonished once again, even sharper this time. Her girl took that as an offense and went over towards Ezekiel, giving her mother an arrogant huff.

“Alannah, come back at once! These men are not to be toyed with!”

“If he’s evil, then why is he so handsome!?” The younger elf shouted back, adding. “I’m not marrying any spawn of Fodhla!”

“It was never even up for debate! I won’t give that snake anything it’s just…”

“Ladies,” Arakiel began in a slightly bemused tone. “How about you solve any drama on the way back?”

“… what?” The duchess asked, her expression slightly confused. For a moment, it seemed as though she had forgotten about the two planeswalkers and his ultimatum.

“We will take you back to our camp, where you will receive instructions on how to perform the demands that we task you with,” Arakiel explained as he slowly approached the beautiful elvish woman. “If you then carry out our orders to our satisfaction, I will take you and your family in. If you don’t live up to our demands, then I will consider our agreement null and void.”

“I haven’t even agreed yet!” Duchess Scitath objected, yet when Arakiel reached for her hands and shackled her wrists, she did not resist or shy away. She more or less watched him in a stupor of some kind – and he actually hadn’t done anything.

“You say that, but your body does not lie. Arakiel stated in a calm voice before adding with the previous hint of menace. “You are afraid, duchess – and you should be.”

“Don’t hurt mother, please!” Alannah called out, with Ezekiel responding right away.

“As long as she complies, it’ll all be fine. No one’s going to get hurt – of you, anyway.”

Arakiel began to tie some of the elven woman’s fingers together to stop her from gesturing. Again, she did not try to stop him and when he finished up with a gag, the duchess of Scitathswood had allowed herself to be taken prisoner without any resistance whatsoever.

He would’ve tapped himself on the shoulder if the potential gains weren’t much greater. A proper elven bloodline was worth a bit even in Kalanaar. They were well-suited for social work of any kind.

“Now, follow me and take a good look, my dear Lady. You will soon find my offer to be more than fair, perhaps even merciful.” Arakiel outlined, promised and when he then tugged her shackles with his chain, she briefly tried to resist, but then it dawned on her and she went along with it. With no voice and gesture, she was just a normal elf right now.

Her daughter fared slightly better, but she, too, became afraid when Ezekiel bound her tightly, but it was too late by that point for her as well.

Akili’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when he learned who the two captive ladies were after Arakiel and Ezekiel woke him up a little later.

He, like the two scouts, was unharmed, only having been sent to sleep by the Nature Thaumaturges, although Arakiel was fairly certain that the duchess had picked another school at level 5 and there was pretty much no way she wasn’t at least level 5. She had to nearly 40 or older, given Alannah’s age.

As they marched their prisoners back, Arakiel fondly spoke of the event in Irialswell, highlighting some of the scenes in a rather vivid glossary and Akili quickly picked up on his intention of further intimidating their prisoner.

By the time they reached the camp, the duchess was in terrified, deep thought and when she beheld the Smokeless Host’s camp in all its evening glory, she might’ve sent a prayer to her ancestors.

Down there, nearly half a thousand people were preparing for the evening, with soldiers training and sparring while their new property was either given special attention or they were used to cook, clean and the like – and although some had opted to strip their captives clean except for a thick grey robe that shielded them against some of the cold, most still wore the noble clothing that used to represent a status.

Nowadays, it only served scorn.

“This,” Ezekiel began to say in a low voice towards Alannah. “This is what I intend to spare you from, little feisty one. These men down there will brook no antics of yours, while I will cherish them.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw the young elven woman nodded, her green eyes widened in a mixture of fear and… anticipation?