Beneath Silifran’s mortal realm, within the foul-smelling confines of its cloacas, a blue-haired female gnome navigated the shallow waters. Clad in special boots and a cloth secured around her nose and mouth, she hurried through the sinuous tunnels until she reached the dry chambers, and thereafter, the entrance to the Lanaen Band’s headquarters.
“Hey, rookie. Where’s everyone? Where’s our fucking merchandise?” The doorman cast a glance at the bloodied and trembling gnome standing before him. She no longer covered her face with cloth. “You look like shit. Something happened, ain’t it? Lanaen’s inside, you better hurry.” The orc unlocked the door.
Without a word, without even a glance in his direction, the female gnome strode in, her pale complexion and sudden tremors revealing the all-too-familair tale of woe that often echoed in this profession. She soon arrived at the boss chambers within the cloacas.
Today, a faint light emanating from an open grate illuminated the room, where only the human boss and two of his underlings were present. The female half-elf and the dogoon stood clad in scant leather armor, armed with blades and explortents as they flanked their boss. The trio’s collective gaze fixed upon the gnome.
The human boss rose from his decrepit throne. “What happened?” He sensed something had gone awry with their last shipment.
The female gnome’s voice cracked. “We... were attacked. And... everyone... is.... is...”
“Death?” interjected Fylian, the female half-elf, locking eyes with the gnome. She detected the desperate hidden plea of a novice, someone unaccustomed to the brutality inherent in their line of work, and a sympathetic sigh escaped her slender lips.
“Yes...” The gnome’s voice faltered, teetering on the brink of collapse.
“Woof’s your name arfookie?” asked Kunia, the dogoon.
“Lucida. I’ve just joined, and... and... I thought...”
The human boss gestured Kunia to fetch a glass of arreci for the gnome. After Lucida took a sip, the human prompted, “Now, tell us everything, and most importantly, who attacked you?”
With trembling hands, Lucida set the drink down. She gazed far into the abyss within her, remembering the massacre. “It was the Valentian Scars! I even saw the ‘Notorious’ Hielle in person!” she exclaimed.
The human boss seized his own glass of arreci and crushed it in his right palm. “Those vermaian scum! I knew we shouldn’t have trusted them!”
Kunia bared her teeth and paws. “Awwwf! They dare arffack us? Steal from woof?”
“That shit about her being a Pulkrata’s Daughter has gone to her head,” remarked Fylian.
“Woofex-daughter, she warf expelled.”
“Maybe from their inner circle, as a vermaian cannot be expelled from being a Pulkrata’s Daughter, either a vermaian is or isn’t. Regardless, that bitch dared to attack us!” The human boss corrected the dogoon feralis, then turned to Lucida. “Are you certain she was the ‘Notorious’ Heille?”
“I am not... entirely certain...”
“What?” sneered Fylian.
“I mean, you’ve heard the stories, right? You don’t look directly into a Pulkrata’s Daughter’s eyes, lest you be cursed.”
“Hah.” The human boss dismissed Lucida’s remarks. “That’s just a myth. Superstition meant to frighten us.”
Fylian approached the female gnome, tracing her chin with her long nails. “Then how did you escape?”
“I... didn’t...”
“Huh?”
“They let me go... I’m the only survivor... sent to... to deliver Heillen ‘s regards for the Nahi’ukat day of Feasting.”
The human boss fell silent, his semblance turning grave. His two female subordinates exchanged confused glances.
“Nahi’ukat day of Feasting?” inquired Fylian.
“Leave us...”
“Lucida,” the half-elf finished her boss’s sentence.
Lucida exited the room, leaving the three to their own interpretations. Their imaginations would fill any gasp in her story, rising paranoia, and soon Delvhario’s time to shine would come.
*
Marika stepped into the ruins that Del’vhario called their lair. She was unsettled by the vawykins and repulsed by the purple goo on the second floor. She wondered where she had ended up and, for a long moment, questioned the wisdom to accompany them. Yet, after a day, she began to perceive them as a big commune, reminiscent of the fae, albeit populated by criminals and dregs. It was a peculiar sort of community sustained by their tangentially related interests.
Nila, who had initially stayed behind, soon joined the trio in the ruins, bringing alone some supplies and a brand-new harp.
“A harp! My harp!” exclaimed Marika, embracing the musical instrument. “It’s been too long without you, my love...”
The trio glanced at each other.
“Marika,” X addressed her solemnly. “We procured you the musical instrument you wanted.”
“And I appreciate it. You’re a... gnome of your word,” she said.
“See, everyone already sees him as gnome already,” remarked Mau with a smile.
“Well, I’m not about to call him a disgusting elf,” retorted Marika. “I wouldn’t associate with any of them. And speaking of which, for my continued silence, there’s another request.”
“You know we could simply kill you, right?” stated X.
“Would you? Impale me, sir...? What’s your name?”
“X.”
“Sir Ekk’s, with your big sword... in my small... body.”
“I... did I say something strange?” X stared at his companions.
The gnomes appeared as confused as he was.
Marika approached the redheaded elf, leaning her body against his. “My captors can decide what to do with me. It’s only fair. But I’d love for you to at least listen to my request.” She ran her hands over X, her mouth grazing his neck.
“Okay. But can you act as you did just a few minutes ago? Or even better, as you did yesterday.”
She backed off and dropped to all fours on the ground.
“My... what a sad, tragic end for me,” she sobbed, then rose to her feet. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Are you really a fae?” Nila interrupted her strange act.
“Yes, I’m mostly fae, but instead of wings like the fae, I have these appendages, inherited from my prunae mother.”
“A what?” asked X.
“One of the ones that you call dregs...,” replied Marika.
“You have to introduce me to your father! We need to compare notes,” exclaimed Mau, a wide grin stretching across his face.
“You horny bastard!” objected Nila.
“What? She came out right, mostly. I want to share notes with such an accomplished male fae!”
“My father is death,” interjected Marika.
“Then I’ll toast to him, next time I waste myself,” replied Mau, winking at the half-fae.
“He’d be pleased to know someone,” said Marika, strolling toward Mau and kissing his hand, “sees me worthy of... such attention.” One of her many extremities emerged, and she displayed her pointy end. “Isn’t it exciting?” she asked.
“Most exciting,” agreed Mau. “I say we keep her.”
“What were you doing with Lanaen’s Band?” questioned X, eager to conclude this sad show.
She turned her back to them. “I was on my way to Silifran, to perform for their boss when you attacked my transport and brought me here against my will.”
“We kidnapped you?” sardonically asked the redheaded elf.
Marika spun around. “Yes, you did! Love at first sight.” She returned to her harp, running her fingers sensually along the strings, then suddenly stopped. “I hate fucking elves! I was en route to Silifran to join Lanaen’s Band. I’m a bard! The finest of all the fae, or half-faes! A harp master! I hate elves, I want to poison each one of them! Lanaen’s Band was going to help me enter the inner ring. Fucking elves!”
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“Then you came to the right place,” declared Mau, unable to contain his grin.
Changing gears once more, Marika approached X. “Now... what will you have me do. I presume you’ll bind me to some pillory, and have your way with me, taking turns. Then, after using me for days, I’ll end my days as a breeding doll—”
“You slut! Have some propriety!” Nila objected again.
Marika approached the female gnome. “Oh, I thought we could be milkfriends, you know, both damsels in distress, and every vawykin here taking advantage... and us unable defend ourselves—”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” yelled Nila, retreating several steps. “How did she suddenly become like this!?” she shouted staring at X.
“You’re too prudish, Nila,” said Marika.
“For taking pride in my gnome heritage and acting like half a decent gnome?”
“What can I say, I’m happy I got a new harp!” exclaimed Marika.
“And these are your happy thoughts? Well shit,” Nila’s only sentiment in this moment was disgust.
“I’ve read about faes,... they’re a race of nymphos... some hornier than others,” spoke the knowledgeable male gnome.
“Really, Mau?” asked X.
“Nah, he’s making shit up. He wouldn’t read a book that isn’t about explosions to save his life,” interjected Nila.
“Yeah, well, my version is better than whatever warped reality inhabits her mind, which I don’t mind at all...” Mau had been ogling Marika since he saw her extremities. “Do you, Ekk’s?”
“To each their own,” replied the redheaded elf.
“Then what, we make a line? I call dibs, me first!” Mau’s quick thinking secured him a prime spot for the flesh carnage.
“If we’re going to take turns, count me out. Suit yourselves, though,” X wasn’t feeling it, not this time.
Music filled the main chamber on the ground floor of the ruins as Marika played the harp, soon singing with her delicate voice. Sung in fae language, no one here understood its meaning. However, the delicate arpeggios and balanced notes, along with the cadence, enveloped all who heard it in a soothing and comforting symphony. The music transported them to the fantastical regions of the fae, and Marika’s voice elevated their spirits to the heavens, granting them a view of the entire fae kingdom.
“Stop! Stop!” suddenly shouted X, halting Marika’s playing.
“What?” questioned Marika.
“Are we being invaded?” asked Nila, startled by X’s abrupt interruption.
“What the hell are you playing?” X demanded of Marika.
“The music of my people, my fae.”
“It’s horrible.”
“What did you say?”
“Really, Ekk’s? It’s not bad,” interjected Mau.
“It’s boring... and... do you have anything else in your playlist... like, real music, you know,” expressed the redheaded elf. He knew exactly what he wanted after so long without melodic sound. “Strong and fast and... with a rhythm that makes you wanna go boom! In your soul, your feet moving on their own—”
“What the fuck did you called my music!?” asked Marika again, her anger rising.
X turned to the gnomes. “You really like this?”
“It’s music, what else,” answered Nila.
“Yeah, nothing strange,” added Mau.
“What the fuck did you call my music?!” Marika stood up, adamant that the music of the fae, her heritage, would not be disparaged in such a manner, especially not by an elf.
“Hear this, and take it to heart,” X wanted to be precise. “It’s freaking—”
“Don’t say it, Ekk’s,” Nila interjected. “Sometimes the best move is to shut up.”
“There are times when you do have the strangest of tastes,” stated Mau.
“Maybe it’s your ears that need cleaning,” added Nila.
“Or his head,” concluded Marika.
Defeated and disappointed, having been alone with his thoughts for far too long and yearning to lose himself to music, X turned around and walked up the stairs to the second floor, not without speaking his truth. “Boring.”
Before Marika could react, Mau grasped her arm. “I loved it,” whispered Mau. “Very special, here in my heart.”
The half-fae dismissed the unrefined elf and his gross disrespect, biting her lower lip as she did so.
Throughout the night, X found sleep elusive. Moans and growls interrupted his fragile attempts at rest. Determined to stop the source of those noises, he rose and proceeded to the adjacent room, where he discovered Mau and Marika engaged intimately. Her extremities, linked to her abdomen, expanded, filling the entire chamber.
“Really? Right next to my room? You’re aware there are no doors and barely half a wall, yet you decide to go full at it?” X questioned the beings engage in ritualistic flesh enjoyment.
“Couldn’t wait until tomorrow,” said Mau between pants and moans, as he thrust his small hips against Marikas voluptuous posterior.
Marika elevated the volume of her moans. “What? Don’t like the sound of my voice?” she questioned.
“Come on, Ekk’s, there’s still room,” commented Mau.
“No, there isn’t for music haters,” quickly added Marika.
“His loss,” murmured Mau, and with this, they both continued to revel in the carnal pleasures that awaited them in the night.
“I do need my rest. Now both of you...” But X knew they wouldn’t stop or take heed of his words. “Whatever, I’m sleeping in the workshop.”
The image of a chihuahua mounting a giraffe with dozens of insect legs prancing about was embedded in the elf’s mind, a somber recollection of the wonders and nightmares still awaiting him in this world. X smiled. What a sight these lands presented him, a banquet for his sophisticated mind.
Next morning, X found Nila and Mau downstairs in the dining room, entranced by Marika’s music. She sang and played her harp, transporting the gnomes to a magical realm. While Nila roasted some meat, Mau fetched several arreci bottles out. The gnomes indulged in drink, while X, desiring a faster tempo and true music, found himself met only with the bard’s disdain.
Upon concluding her concert, Markia indulged in some arreci as well. “You’ve been graced by my music two days in a row now, and my performances do not come cheap. I’m gonna need payment,” she said.
“You’re charging us?” X didn’t make the minimum effort to hid his contempt.
“We can call it.... a request, in exhange for my music.”
“What music?” sharply retorted X. “Those noises?”
Setting aside the hurtful exchange, Marika pressed on. “Regardless, my request is simple and your responsibility. Lanaen’s Band was supposed to aid my entry into Silifran’s inner ring. I have a... business contact waiting me. Since it seems you don’t want me to go to Lanaen, you’ll have to facilitate my access.”
“What are you doing in there? We don’t want to get dragged into some shady business,” interjected Nila.
Marika chuckled inwardly at their concern. ‘Do they even see themselves?’, she mused silently before adopting a more serious tone. “I was on my way to negotiate a contract to perform at a venue in the inner ring of Silifran.”
“You hate elves so much you’re performing for them?” questioned X.
“Yes. I abhor them so much that I’ll gather as many elves as I can and kill as many as as possible!”
“Is this some sort of suicide mission?” X struggled to understand her logic.
“I have my methods, and while I’d prefer not to die, I’m prepared to if necessary. So, can you get me inside?” Marika’s focus was singular, her mission clear.
“I know someone that can help, a reliable human,” offered X.
“A human? A human!? Really?” doubted Marika.
“Yes. Now will you calm down?”
“So how does this human will get me into the inner ring?”
“He knows a half-elf that—” X began, but Marika cut him off abruptly.
“Seriously? Is this one of those ‘my cousin knows someone who knows someone’ scams? What fucking part of your maladjusted head is not in tandem with your mouth?!” objected the half-fae.
“You want our help or not?” pressed X.
“Suddenly you want to help me? What’s in it for you?”
X took a deep breath. “Let’s say we have aligned goals, and perhaps more. Let me propose a business venture—a grander plan for your revenge or whatever you took upon yourself to carry out.”
Marika glanced at the trio. “Then, by all means, speak.”
And speak they did, continuing their conversation and imbibing well into wee hours of the night. Part party and part scheming, the sentient creatures there didn’t stop, didn’t relent, neither in the plotting or the partying. Ultimately, this was simply the Del’vhario way of conducting business negotiations.
*
The gnomes had taught X a couple tricks of the trade. Gaining entry to Silifran through the main gate required the right connections more than anything else. For those without such connections, feralis tunnels bored beneath Silifran’s walls were the last resort for desperate beings risking their lives inside the unstable subterranean passages. Dangerous and costly, Del’vhario had no other viable option for the time being. Mau guided them through the forest surrounding Silifran to a special spot.
Mau, Nila, X, and Marika arrived at a small house in the midst of the forest just outside Silifran. Inside the decrepit shack, two talpin feralis stood guard at the entrance to the tunnel they had recently excavated, leading into the city. After brief negotiations and parting with a few gold coins, the four creatures cautiously crept into the tunnel. An hour later, they emerged inside an unassuming house in Silifran’s outer ring.
“I told you we have our ways in, didn’t I?” Mau’s soot-covered face revealed only his gleaming teeth to the onlookers.
Once outside, the sentient beings cleaned themselves of dirt.
“Couldn’t they make it bigger? If my blood didn’t burn for the elves, I’d never enter this way,” remarked Marika, casting a glance at the redheaded elf.
“You can voice your complains to them on your way out,” interjected Nila.
“These feralis do good work,” affirmed Mau.
“Good? It’s a miracle those tunnels didn’t collapse on us,” retorted Marika.
“They provide a decent service, though we need to get our own crew, our own way in,” stated X, already contemplating larger schemes.
“With what money? We have nothing left after the buying spree, oh, and renting that warehouse— shit’s adding fast,” Nila pointed out.
Del’vhario made several more trips in through the tunnels, bringing in the looted shipment from Lanaen’s Band. They waited until nightfall to transport the chests to an old warehouse on the easternmost corner of the outer ring—the worst part of all Silifran, where dirty, cramped, and old constructions housed the poorest of the elves’ allies.
“We have no money,” Nila continued her litany, finally resting after finishing moving the packages.
“That’s why we’ve got our hands on some nice merchandise. Sell it to the usual junkies, but not before cutting it with some neutral dust,” said X, reclining on the cold ground.
“Are we selling bad quality?” asked Mau.
“Of course we are. We simply use Lanaen’s Brand. What? You thought we would sell this under Del’vhario’s name? No, we’re about quality, we’ve got better things under wraps.”
“That’s something to like,” exclaimed Mau, already excited at the prospect of gain and encroaching on the business of their major rival in Silifran.
“Let the individuals associated with Lanaen distribute the product, just instruct them to report to you,” X continued. “We need to sell it in all the places and to all the creatures Lanaen provides for. We’ll use their structure. The one Nila has kindly mapped for us.”
“And if anyone gets any funny ideas?” Nila smiled at the redheaded elf, already knowing the answer.
“If any fool wants to steal from us, chop their heads off!” X grinned. “And recruit whatever races you can to replenish our ranks, pay them with dusts... but ensure it’s the finest quality. They’ll happily work for us.”
Leaving Silifran behind, Mau and X made the three-day trip back to the ruins. Marika stayed behind in Silifran, playing in taverns, collecting her dues, and preparing for her grand performance, while Nila returned to the sewers.
Kratzika was overjoyed to see X and discussed recent developments. Vawykin’s production of their royal jelly kept increasing, and their colony continued to grow, demanding more assistance with expansion from Del’vhario, while Sikue barely left the workshop. The feralis focused on special research and on creating throngs of scrolls.
X visited the cawinak feralis in the workshop and engaged in a long and productive conversation with Sikue. The feralis had finished drying Del’vhario’s first, and greatest, product: the Purple Haze—a purple dust made from the vawykin’s royal jelly. Of course, the gnomes and X sampled it and were satisfied with the results. They loaded several bags onto a pair of sukullas and prepared for the journey to Silifran. X left Sikue working on the redheaded elf’s most special request—the one that would catapult them to stardom. However, even X acknowledged more time would be necessary.
“Caw! Do elves have beards? Caw-caw,” asked the cawinak upon noticing the stubble on X’s face.
“This one does, Sikue, this one does,” answered Mau, looking at the elf. “Please, do shave it off, shit’s strange.”
X only gave him a passing look, brushing his budding facial hair.
“Greatness does become one,” he said.