“Mister...”
“Jarailo Jarileo,” spoke the human amidst this gathering, predominantly of elves, deep within the inner ring of Silifran. His black hair, tightly groomed, accompanied by a thick beard, distinguished him in the table furthest back.
“Mister Jarailo... I’ve heard you bring a peculiar kind of business to Silifran,” remarked a mature, pale, light blond elf.
“The best,” affirmed Jarailo.
“And what might that be?” sharply inquired the elf.
Numerous elven gazes fixated upon him with anticipation. At this venue, elves engaged in discussions primarily centered around businesses, occasionally veering into political or social discourse. It was no different at this table. However, under the auspices of the Elven Merchant Guild, this gathering prioritized economic matters.
“Culture,” replied Jarailo. “My niece happens to be a fae. Maybe you’re acquainted with her. Marika recently performed in a concert here, within this inner ring.”
“Ah, she’s your niece. I attended her concert,” said a female elf, her delicate features suggesting youthfulness, though the human had learned not to rely solely on appearances to gauge elven ages. Luxury exuded from her attire. “She’s talented. For a...” The female elf left the sentence unfinished.
“A half-fae? A lesser?” asked Jarailo.
A hush fell over the small assembly.
“I don’t care about categories. What I bring here are businesses opportunities,” the human interjected, dispelling the chilly atmosphere that had settled among his interlocutors.
“More concerts, perhaps?” ventured another male elf, appearing youthful.
“Or that tea... that exceptionally delightful tea served at the concert,” exclaimed the elven lady.
“Elven Lady...,” Jarailo politely inquired, “may, I know your name?”
“Anliyi Gide of the Sylhain of the Isle of Pratyor,” she responded. “Just call me Anliyi.”
“Lady Anliyi, regarding the tea, I regrettably didn’t have the opportunity to taste it myself. Although, I’ve heard it was good. But enough about that; I have my own business proposition. I’m interested in trading elven goods: artifacts, portents, talisman, those fancy blades you wield, and spells.”
“You wish to trade in our magical crafts?” queried the rather youthful male elf.
“Those you’re willing to part with, yes,” affirmed Jarailo.
“And what shall we receive in exchange? Because apart from gold, humans don’t have much to offer,” remarked Anliyi.
Jarailo glanced at the four elves seated with him at the table. “Why are you talking to me? In this chamber, I see many other merchants whom you could speak with,” he stated.
“For one, it’s about business. How else can we uncover new lucrative opportunities to excel?” replied the mature-looking male elf. “And regarding the other elves in this chamber... we often converse among ourselves. It’s always interesting when someone new enters the fray.”
“So, what do you propose to offer us, human Jarailo?” Anyili redirected the discussion.
“My elven friends, if I may to speak in such terms, I offer you the very commodity for which people live and die, that which makes or destroys empires and kingdoms. The very thing no one should do without...”
The assembled group of elves regarded the human seated among them. They were aware of his sponsorship by a half-elf, and while humans occasionally conducted business in their midst, their trade typically revolved around consumables or magical crafts. However, Lord Jarailo managed to pique their interest.
“Information,” the human finally declared. “I deal in information.”
This statement pulled the elves attention, prompting several raised eyebrows.
“You, Mister... or should I say, Lord?” asked the young elf.
“I’m Lord Jarailo, of House Dublon.”
“Then, Lord Jarailo of House Dublon, what sort of information do you offer?” inquired the young elf.
“Humans and their ‘information’... we have no need for anything they offer!” interjected a figure who had been quietly observing the interactions between Lord Jarailo and the elves. Shorter and darker than his peers yet adorned with equal elven opulence, his deep voice belied his appearance. Unlike human’s more obscene extravagance, elven luxury manifested in fine attire, comprised of the rarest and finest materials, adorned with minimal jewelry and gold embellishments. Perhaps a ring crafted from Fi’ndua, the oldest tree in the Indir’a Lakes, or a garment fashioned from Sal’hek, a rare plant found in the An’ha, yielding a smooth silk. Unique flora and leaves also graced their hair—a display of luxury that Lord Jarailo later described as rather childish and boring.
“You’re a half-dark yourself, Baray’sil!” retorted the the young elf with a laugh.
“Yes, but of the highest lineage of elves, Nafary’el!” countered Baray’sil.
“What’s a half-dark?” inquiered Jarailo.
“A half-dark elf, half-something else,” explained Anliyi before adding, “As for the nature of the information, we are all interested in valuable and truthful insights.”
“Indeed,” concurred the mature elven male. “Many representatives of other races typically attempt to peddle their family’s gossip as some profound knowledge, but that simply won’t suffice.”
“Last I heard, the elven kingdom was looking for... what was it called?” Jarailo paused, contemplating his words “That insignificant group that recently stirred up trouble here in Silifran. D... De... Del’vhario!” he loudly exclaimed.
The salon fell silent instantly, every gaze turning towards their table.
“It’s nothing, my kin,” reassured the mature elf. “Just a momentary lapse of emotion... nothing for all of you to worry about.” With these words, everyone resumed to their own conversations.
“Shhh... do not pronounce the name of that criminal band,” cautioned Baray’sil, the half-dark.
“I wasn’t aware it was such a sensitive topic. Is it because of the rumor that the leader of,” Jarailo paused, leaning in, “Del’vhario,” he whispered, “is an elf?”
“Nonsense! No elf would commit such atrocities against their own, against their kingdom, against this city!” retorted the young elf, Nafa’ryel.
“What purpose do these words serve, human?” admonished Anliyi, the female elf. “Are you seeking to make friends or enemies here?”
“Hey, I’m just repeating what the word on the street is. I’m sure you’ve heard this too. And no, don’t get worked up over it,” remarked Jarailo, taking a sip of the untouched drink. “There might be valuable information concerning the group that cannot be named. Put simply, information that could lead to the apprehension of this and other factions defiling your pure elven society.”
The elves contemplated the human’s words.
“Why would you, a mere human, be privy to the affairs of the Elven Kingdom?” questioned Nafa’ryel.
“Preposterous! The Elven Protectorate will deal with those who dare besmirch us with their savagery,” declared the mature male elf.
“Another intriguing rumor circulating is that the leader of the Lanaen Band was a human male. Now, that, I find hard to believe,” said Jarailo to his captivated audience. “These rumors suggest that the human lead a criminal group in Silifran for years, selling without much hindrance. I don’t buy that.”
“That’s merely hearsay, Lord Jarailo... Pure hearsay,” said the half-dark elf and continued, “If— and I emphasize, if— that holds any truth, it stands to reason that some humans might possess information about certain criminal elements in Silifran. That... human criminal leader could have had contacts within the HUF or event agents within the city.”
“Are you implying agents like yourself?!” accused the young elf.
“Sir... Nafa’ryel, don’t be quick to dismiss the halfy’s words,” intervened Lord Jarailo., coming to the half-dark defense.
“Who are you—?” began the half-dark elf, objecting to being referred as a ‘halfy’, but Lord Jarailo cut him off. “Come now, you have agents in their cities, why wouldn’t they have agents here? Those needn’t even be human, you know. Gold, silver, and everything in between shine the same upon everyone who doesn’t have them shiny metals, regardless of race. And those lacking them glance at them with need, with obsession. Such incentives always work their charm when you want someone to do your bidding. It’s basic intelligence tactics. Surely, you’re not suggesting you’re unprepared? And have no paid informants?”
The table fell silent once more. For the elves, the silences they imposed during conversations didn’t faze them. In elven society, poorly chosen words were considered more awkward than silence itself. An elf whom Jarailo had previously observed strolling around the chamber approached the table and stopped nearby, listening to their discussion.
The elf in question broke the stillness. “Yes, indeed, we have made preparations. We, merchants and government officials alike, do spend precious resources to gather information,” asserted the newcomer.
“High Viceregent Val’lay Cylao,” chorused all the elves seated with the human, bowing their heads simultaneously. Jarailo glanced at them before turning his attention to the new arrival.
“Hey, lower your head—” began Nafa’ryel.
“Let him be. He is a human, still learning our ways,” interjected Val’lay Cylao. “I overheard your conversation.” Then addressed Lord Jarailo. “If you truly possess information regarding Del’vhario or any other group, yes, we can negotiate terms.”
“I don’t want to sound disrespectful, but... who exactly are you?” inquired Lord Jarailo.
The elf presented a faint smiled. “Forgive my lack of manners. These troubled times seem to make everyone forget them. I am High Elven, Val’lay Cylao, Vicerregent of the Stewardship of Silifran—a rather pompous title, I admit. My duty here is to safeguard and protect the security and way of life of my fellow elves.”
“Viceregent Val’lay is a a High Elf. The High Elves occupy the pinnacle of elven society,” added Nafa’ryel.
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“Well met, Viceregent. Are you also a involved in trade or are you solely to oversee this gathering?” asked Jarailo.
“On a personal level, I am interested in the trades, but I am also here to ensure the security of this assembly. In light of the recent... violent incidents in the outer ring, we cannot afford to take any risks,” explained the High Elf. Drawing closer, he gestured as if to take a seat, prompting the half-dark elf to quickly rise and offer his own seat to Viceregent Val’lay.
“Lord Jarailo? If I’m not mistaken,” inquired Val’lay.
“Indeed, the one and only, Lord Jarailo Jarileo of House Dublon.”
“All these human Houses... I’m familiar with the most prominent among them, but the others... elude me. So excuse my ignorance regarding yours.”
“Do not fret. I would be surprised if you were familiar with it. Very surprised.”
“Lord Jarailo...” Val’lay suddenly halted mid-sentence, looking around him.
The other elves had leaned in, listening intently to the unfolding conversation. That fact that the Viceregent of the Elven Protectorate had chosen to sit with them—a rare occurrence—didn’t go unnoticed. “My kin... if you please,” commanded the High Elf. “I need to talk to Lord Jarailo...”
Taking their leave and bidding their farewells, the elves reluctantly departed, leaving Val’lay and Jarailo alone.
“What information do you possess? And before you answer, allow me to remind you, we do not tolerate deceit. If you lie to us, squander our resources, or waste our time, you will face our justice for such... misconduct,” warned Val’lay.
“I’ll be honest with you, Viceregent. I have my own methods of obtaining, organizing, and analyzing information from various sources. However, I am not the source of the information I bring to you right now. Let’s say... I represent an interested party. This individual desires success, and as an intermediary, I seek to win too. And just to be clear, I bear all the risks, but I do trust my source.”
Viceroy Val’lay settled comfortably into his seat. “I’m all ears.”
Lord Jarailo maintained his composure, suppressing any inclination to laugh at such a statement coming from an elf. “That’s precisely why I’m here, searching for someone willing to listen. I have two conditions for sharing my information...” Jarailo paused, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes momentarily.
“Are you in pain? Is everything alright?” inquired Val’lay.
“It’s my bones... I suffer from a rare disease... they hurt...” After a brief moment, Jarailo continued, “The worst has passed.”
“Your conditions?” prompted Val’lay.
“Ah, yes. Information comes at a cost. If you’re interested in what I have to offer, a gesture of goodwill may facilitate our collaboration without hindrance. It’s a simple request—a letter stating that I am your guest or something similar would suffice. You see, while I do not mind answering the questions of the main gate captain, my bones... are not up to the task. If I can reduce, even slightly, the time spent standing there...” sighed Jarailo. “The main gate captain... she can be rather relentless... and my body can barely endure it.”
“The main gate captain... are you referring to Dinea Fylse?”
“Yes, precisely her.”
“She’s just fulfilling her duties... However, and I’m placing my trust in you here, for the information you claim to possess, I can certainly address that. And the other condition?”
“I wish to meet the Commander of the Elven forces in Silifran.”
“Why?”
“No offense Viceregent, but the most crucial information I possess—and you’ll find my information worthy of your trust—is meant for the Commander.”
“The first request I can accommodate... The second, however....”
“When she or he arrives.”
“Nevertheless, that decision is not mine to take.”
“Fair enough.”
“Then... let’s delve into the matter of your information.”
“Agreed, let’s proceed.”
“But not here...” The Viceregent rose from his seat. “Let’s not disrupt this delightful gathering. Follow me.”
*
The holy spirit of the Goddess Syl’vi’na, emanating from her intricately carved statue, suffused this ancient chamber with its presence. Tall pillars reached towards the heavens, their surfaces adorned with delicate writing that pulsed with a mystical energy. Elaborate banners, depicting scenes from elven lore, hung from poles affixed to the walls. Moonslight streamed into the room through a large hole in the ceiling. Within this sanctum, a group of four majestically dressed elves convened, engaged in a heated discussion, hidden behind elegant elven, about recent events in their kingdom.
“Even we, the elves, the pinnacle of all races, and specially those elves living at the borders of savagery, are not immune to its influence,” spoke a mature male High Elf, his noble bearing accentuated by cascading silver hair.
“We? High Councilor Milsinae, we are High Elves, and those you refer to are common elves. Keep always this distinction in mind. We would never stoop to such depths, even in the face of pure darkness. We are descended from Higher Beings, the very Gods themselves—Ferilyna Ina, the great Mother, and Sy’la’van, her daughter. Like our ancestors, we uphold the higher culture, the greatest arts, the purest knowledge, and we nurture our younger and wilder brethren, the common elves,” stated the eldest female on the council, her attire echoing the tranquility of a woodland glade.
“High Councilors reunited here today: High Councilor Lu’nna’rae Sai’la, High Councilor Ilin’ael Filen, High Councilor Milsinae Dyl’ine,” declared High Councilor Jarlyn, the youngest male High elf serving on the council, his youthful vigor tempered by a keen intellect. “Under Sy’li’van’s grace, we shine, and our light illuminates the entire world.”
“Have you informed the High King?” inquired High Councilor Lu’nna’rae.
“We are still awaiting his return from the Wondrous Streams of Abyl’ly, where one of his daughters rests, regaining her strength,” answered High Councilor Jarlyn. “Upon his return, he will be promptly informed.”
“For the High King!” exclaimed High Councilor Ilin’ael, her inner fire mirroring the intensity of her loyalty to her people and their traditions.
“Might his grand reign last another one thousand years, and may the royal line endure eternal!” added High Councilor Milsinae.
“The movements of the humans are worrisome. While peace talks advanced, we arrived at an impasse. What happened in Saint Jaulea undid years of diplomacy,” stated High Councilor Lu’nna’rae.
“The envoy managed to placate the humans, peace on to him,” said High Councilor Jarlyn.
“Expensive, too expensive, but necessary,” said High Councilor Lu’nna’rae.
“We will find the one responsible for such... betrayal and impart justice,” said High Councilor Ilin’ael.
“An elf... one of our own...” said High Councilor Lu’nna’rae.
“There’s no reason to continue discussing this... we have already given it much thought,” said High Councilor Milsinae.
Suddenly, a loud voice from outside the chamber interrupted the High Council’s discussion. “An urgent report has come from Silifran,” exclaimed Gal’lani, one of the messengers of the High Council.
“The jewel of our border cities. I sympathize with the elves that have to live next to such barbarism,” said High Councilor Lu’nna’rae.
“Enter, Gal’lani, and speak; be concise,” said High Councilor Ilin’ael.
The slim elf, clad in traditional leather armor, designed with aesthetics in mind rather than functionality, addressed the High Council. “In the outer ring of Silifran, the... the sewers exploded and took most of the south section of the outer ring. Fire raged for several days until it finally subsided after countless—”
“What?! The sewers?!” questioned High Councilor Lu’nna’rae.
Gal’lani double-checked the parchment in his hands. “It says so, High Councilor Lu’nna’rae. The sewers exploded and crumbled.”
“Savages... all those races... we give them civilization, the best and still... disappointing,” said High Councilor Lu’nna’rae.
“For the sewer system to explode... and it only affected the outer ring of Silifran?” inquired High Councilor Jarlyn.
“Indeed,” replied the messenger, Gal’lani.
“At least only lessers live there. And while it is worrisome—savagery won’t be tolerated in our Kingdom, least in our own cities—lessers killing lessers is far from urgent. That’s for Silifran’s Protectorate to deal with,” said High Councilor Ilin’ael.
“About that...” Gal’lani cleared his throat, “it’s written in the report that half of the Elven Protectorate forces of Silifran were decimated along with its Commander and many Le’Garantezz units.”
“What?!”
“Lies!”
“Speak truth!”
“Elves in the sewers? I cannot fathom that. Are you reading the report correctly?” questioned High Councilor Milsinae.
“They were following disturbances; a known criminal group had its headquarters in the sewers,” replied Gal’lani.
“Is that right?” asked High Councilor Jarlyn.
“Yes, and reportedly there was fighting between two criminal groups. Infighting between the lessers, so to speak, and it devolved into a battle in the sewers,” reported Gal’lani.
“That explains the elven forces in the sewers, but how were they decimated?!” questioned High Councilor Milsinae.
“It seems... the explosion in the sewers took place as our elven forces were storming the filthy place,” replied Gal’lani.
“What in the Gods is happening there?” asked High Councilor Jarlyn.
“Those poor souls, we’ll pray for them, but how? What happened? What about the perpetrators of this horrific attack?” asked High Councilor Lu’nna’rae.
“We don’t really know yet. As half the forces were wiped out, and many injured, they’ve had no time to look into the matter,” responded Gal’lani.
“This is too much, we’ve never had this kind of violence within our Kingdom,” stated High Councilor Ilin’ael.
“Not since wartimes,” corrected High Councilor Jarlyn.
“And we will not return to those times!” exclaimed High Councilor Lu’nna’rae.
“How fare the elves at Silifran and what is Silifran’s Steward doing about it?” questioned High Councilor Milsinae.
“Panic struck. For several days the elves stayed in their homes, only going out for the very necessities. Now life returns to normalcy. Silifran’s Steward, Duelo Faray, asked for more soldiers and a new Commander. He ordered the forces left to patrol the streets of the inner rings, the outer rings were abandoned, having not the sufficient forces to patrol them,” explained Gal’lani.
“Send a replacement for the Commander, one that has experience and do send more forces. Take them from the Northern Forest, away from the border, everyone there needs each soldier we can spare,” ordered corrected High Councilor Jarlyn.
“That’s not enough, also send General Farra’Lais Dei Lley,” added High Councilor Ilin’ael.
“He is retired, and even if he agrees, that’ll take several weeks,” retorted High Councilor Milsinae.
“Precisely, he has the time and he is needed. The kingdom needs him. Bring him out of retirement,” replied High Councilor Ilin’ael.
“So it will be done,” said Gal’lani, bowing his head.
“Are we finished with this report?” asked High Councilor Jarlyn.
Gal’lani exhaled heavily. “There’s another thing...”
“Talk, Gal’lani. We keep nothing here. If it’s important, we need to know,” said High Councilor Milsinae.
“There’s talk of a new criminal band, one of the factions that fought in the sewers. It is called... Del’vhario,” stated Gal’lani.
“What a peculiar name. Do we have any information about these criminals? These lessers? Who’s their leader? Anything?” asked High Councilor Lu’nna’rae.
“Yes, well...” Gal’lani paused briefly to gather his thoughts. “It’s mostly a rumor, but... word in the streets of Silifran is that... an elf leads them.”
“What?”
“Absurd!”
“An elf?!”
“That is not all, High Elven Council. It seems... that elf... is the same one who betrayed us at Saint Jaulea,” concluded Gal’lani.
The uproar that followed echoed down the hall and throughout the towering castle, perched atop a crystal mountain amidst giant trees, at the heart of the Elven Kingdom. Dire news from border no longer surprise anyone. That was, until this fresh batch of news reached their pointed ears.
Later that day, a knock came at the door of High Councilor Lu’nna’rae. “Come in,” she ordered.
The elf in question entered.
“Gal’lani, guard this sealed letter and deliver it to our special agent in Silifran. He must act swiftly. These are confidential orders; no one, absolutely no one, can know of this,” commander High Councilor Lu’nna’rae, handing him a magically sealed letter.
“I obey the High Council’s commands,” replied Gal’lani, bowing before stepping out of her chambers.