“This is everyone we found still alive in the dungeons,” spoke Dagg, a half-callao.

X strolled casually through an abandoned sawmill on the outskirts of Silifran. Several Del’vhario members stood straight while two groups, one of fifteen individuals and the other of twenty-three, sat bound on the floor.

“As you instructed, we have brought all these from the sewer's dungeon. These are the ‘innocents’. Most of them failed to pay Lanaen for the goods, so they ended there, while the others are relatives of those who were unable to fulfill their debts and fled. Anyway, most were used as slave labor in the sewers, and when they got too sick or weak, discarded, and thrown into the dungeons to finally die,” elucidated Dagg, advancing towards the larger group. “This other group here consists of the prisoners intended for slavery whom we intercepted yesterday, en route to some dinky human town, destined to be used in every unimaginable way. As slaves... and worse.”

“All of them ended up as prisoners and slaves, subservient to those more powerful than themselves,” stated X.

The redheaded elf had conferred with Nila and Mau, and they arrived at the same conclusion: they needed reinforcements. Many of Del’vhario’s members perished on the assault on the sewers and in skirmishes against Silifran’s Protectorate forces and other criminal factions.

“We can have slaves too, can’t we? To each of us, one of them!” spoke a young member of Del’vhario, a lonely and desperate mermyd, though his real intentions shined through.

“Calm down... what’s your name?” asked X.

“Chinnssllaei.”

“Look, Chin... I understand slaves seem like a treasure from another world. Like something out of your dreams and fantasies: to possess another sentient being all for yourself. But think. You’re Del’vhario now. We use our heads here.” X strolled in a circle around the individuals bound down, halting once he found himself at the starting point. He then turned towards the young mermyd. “Slaves? No, no, no. Not slaves! What a terrible idea. Chin, tell me, where are they sleeping? What are they eating? If they fall ill, are you attending to them? Because I won’t lift a finger... and neither will anyone else. And acquiring a new slave isn’t as simple as it seems, and once you do, you’re back at square one. You have to train them all over again.” X walked to the front, where everyone could see him. “You see... slavery is a really bad deal. It may benefit them, but not us. And if they get ideas and become defiant, they'll rebel on our asses, and one day you might find yourself with your throat slit and your dick in pieces. So, no, no!”

The redheaded elf surveyed the eyes of his assembled forces.

“What we need are greatly motivated individuals. Motivated individuals! Slaves to their own desires!” exclaimed X, shifting his gaze to Nila and Mau. “And then... the real question arises... who controls those desires?” He then turned to the mermyd. “Ideally us...”

Advancing several steps, the redheaded elf directed his attention to the bound kinhayas before him.

“I've got a proposition for all of you. But first tell me, what do you desire?” questioned X.

“To be free!” shouted someone from the back.

“Then go. Anyone who wishes to leave, do it now!” X glanced at Mau. “Instruct your squad to release everyone.”

Mau relayed the order, and soon, everyone stood unbound. However, the kinhayas hesitated upon seeing their captor's weapons and, most significantly, realizing they were Del’vhario. No one made a move.

“Go! We will not harm you,” X exclaimed. “You're all free to die in a ditch somewhere, become some human's plaything, or worse, his freaking friend for his lonely existence. Go on, now, go.”

Yet, no one moved.

“And what of your proposition?” inquired a half-orc.

“My proposition is for those who choose to remain, not as slaves. So, those who wish to leave, do so now,” replied X.

Five individuals of various races stepped forward, eyeing Del’vhario, but none of its members budged. Then, the five sentient beings dashed away as fast as they could.

“Good! Is there anyone else?” asked X.

No one else stirred.

“Now, those of you still here, why did you stay?” The redheaded elf peered into the eyes of a slim, ugly, and hunched creature. “You there, what's your name?”

“Ehr’riatt,” replied the karran, a race between dregs and higher sentient beings, deemed by erudites as the missing link. Despite insectoid features concealed beneath a veneer of familiarity—arms legs, two eyes and ears—this particular specimen seemed artificially deformed.

“What are you seeking, Ehr’riatt?”

“I have nothing awaiting me out there, but scorn and repulsion. Even if I left, there'd be nothing and no one for me. I seek to survive.”

X erupted into maniacal laughter. “Survive... no!” Offended by those words, he raised his voice. “You want riches!”

Ehr’riatt’s face contorted with uncertainty, yet his eyes gleamed with a radiant fervor.

“Bring the chests,” ordered X, and Nila’s squad brought forth several coffers, unveiling their contents of silver coins. “Hand five silver coins to each of these individuals.”

Her team complied, distributing five silver coins to each of the sentient beings present. The recently liberated captives, once bound for death or slavery, now held in their hands the gleam of their newfound wealth.

“That’s payment for your time and patience,” declared X. “Take the silver and have a warm meal, a comfortable bed, fine female company or whatever you like.”

The redheaded elf gestured to exchange the coffers and bring forth others, then redirected his gaze to the diverse assembly of races before him.

“Do you desire power?” questioned X.

From the fresh coffers, he procured several firebolt spells and instructed to distribute two firebolt spells and one iron dagger from another chest to each individual.

“Take these as well and do with them what you will.”

The expressions of astonishment on the faces of the gathered kinhayas reflected the unfolding events. Some harbored doubt, other remained scared, yet many thanked their lucky stars. Nothing surpassed the comfort of a warm meal following the imminent threat of enslavement, coupled with the means for self-defense.

X approached Ehr’riatt, and spoke, “What else do you want? Respect?” The redheaded elf retreated, ascending a podium at the rear of the sawmill. “Well, that, I cannot give you. Earn it! Claim your pride, your rightful place in the world! You want all of these things you have now in your hands, forever? Then come with us!” The redheaded elf stretched his arms skywards. “You want to be in my place? To have the power, gold, and the females or males or whatever catches your fancy? You want to be me?” He fixed his gaze on the spellbound creatures.

“Yes...,” Ehr’riatt responded fearlessly.

“Then come and get it. It will demand hard work, but the rewards await you! You only need to seize them...” X extracted several gold coins and second-tier spells from his bags. “What do you desire?” he proclaimed.

“Gold!” echoed the chorus of voices.

“You desire these gold coins!?”

“Yes!”

“You seek power!?”

“Yes!”

“And maybe some violence now and then. To remind those above of those who reside down here. To enlighten them about our existence, and more importantly, our future among them!” X commanding speech took hold of the will of those present.

“Who are you!?” he shouted.

“Del’vhario!”

This time everyone yelled, their convictions and desires enveloping their words.

Amidst the clamor filling his thoughts, X descended from the podium and approached Nila and Mau.

“These are motivated individuals,” he remarked.

“I didn’t think of it like that... but it's a damn good motivation,” conceded Mau.

“And yet, it’s not the most potent,” commented X.

“Really? What’s the best then?” inquired Nila.

“Spiritual.”

Both gnomes appeared puzzled.

“Religion... but we’re not there... yet,” elucidated X with a smirk, one of fascination for things that will be and arrogance for things that are.

Following his address, the members of Del’vhario ushered the new recruits to their assigned posts—some in Silifran, others in Fildeareal, and various cities and settlements in between, and a few beyond.

“Boss, this one’s not budging!” Dagg’s voiced rang out to X.

The redheaded elf noticed a hooded figure that remained motionless throughout his entire speech. Intrigued, he drew near to the individual.

“Hey, you there,” exclaimed X, but he received no response. Peering beneath the hood, he observed the fangs and the green skin of an orc who remained silent.

“And what about you, orc?” X pulled back the hood. “Hey... you seem familiar...” The redheaded elf studied the creature’s visage. “Ah, yes, you’re the assassin orc from the freaking dungeon... What was his name... He... Heiran! That’s it.”

Heiran looked up at him.

“It’s really you. And by the demon-gods! What happened to you? You smell of sewer—well, no surprise there.” Awaiting a response that never came, X grew impatient. “Everything alright in there?” he gestured towards Heiran’s head.

Herian opened his mouth.

“Oh... the classic case of no tongue. Well, since fate brought us together once more, why not come with me? Let’s talk. I mean, communicate... you know what I mean.”

*

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With much fanfare, the elves celebrated the arrival of the new commander of Silifran’s Protectorate—the city’s Steward knew he had to raise moral that had sunk deep into the abyss. Elven society expressed sincere joviality at his arrival, and the elves gladly returned to their activities without fear.

A detachment of the general army assisted them temporarily but had to be withdrawn because the boiling border demanded their presence elsewhere along the edge of the Elven Kingdom, especially on the border with the Human United Front.

The most troubling matter with the arrival of the new commander lay hidden in their midst. The Elven Commander brought elves from deep within the north of the kingdom, who joined the reformed and reconstituted Le’Garantezz. These new additions held nothing back. They even targeted elves if they found sufficient proof of mischief or worse. Their orders? To cleanse Silifran from top to bottom, at all levels and in all elements of society. Of course, their resources were focused on the outer ring and Silifran’s outskirts, but if their investigations lead them to the inner ring, they would not hesitate. The crackdown hit hard on all the kinhayas, all the lessers living on the edges of the Elven Kingdom.

Del’vhario’s usual haunts were raided time and time again, forcing them to retreat and scheme anew in the shadows. Under X’s command, Del’vhario engaged in a game of cat and mouse and ultimately prevailed. While they suffered losses and incurred costs, they not only thwarted the elven forces’ attempts to dismantling their organization but thrived. X had ample experience and the necessary tools to stay ahead in this game of predators. Still, he’d prefer if he didn’t have to play it at all; his expansion into other cities slowed down, and his empire’s rise was postponed indefinitely. Another concern was that the leaders of the other criminal gangs might take advantage of these times, unite under a common goal, ally themselves, and take the battle to them. Against several forces conspiring to bring down Del’vhario, even X had his reservations about their ability to stay in business for long.

X ignored the fact that the Legazz, under the new second commander, had one main priority. ‘Capture Ekk’s,’ read the sealed letter. Second order: ‘dismantle Del’vhario.’ The fiercer, better armed, and even better trained elven members of this reconstituted special battalion became a thorn in his side, a headache that drove him to exhaustion as he struggled to devise a plan to decapitate each and every one of them. Everywhere the Legazz went, they sought the leader of Del’vhario or any of his lieutenants, offering reduce punishments or, in some special cases, hefty sums of gold. But to the elves’ dismay, those who truly knew something either outright lied to their faces or remained silent. As harshly as the elves could punish, Del’vhario’s punishment was far, far worse.

*

In these troubled days for Silifran’s underbelly, the elves boasted and toasted under a bard’s spell in the inner ring. Her music filled the walls of this hall with tender voice, delicate singing, and the emotions that those stirred with each pluck of her harp, each vocalization of the story being told on stage.

“Your nephew is truly remarkable, Lord Jarailo,” stated Anliyi Gide, the female elven merchant Lord Jarailo had met before.

The human turned to the stage, watching Marika lost in her music. “And this is just the beginning. Her ways to charm and surprise are indeed unique. You’ll see.”

“But this tea...” Anliyi cradled her steaming cup, freshly delivered by the gnome servants. “It’s otherworldly... the gnomes, they are reluctant to part with the recipe.”

Lord Jarailo understood Anliyi’s insinuation. “They cannot simply give away one of their successes, can they...”

“I offered them much... but...” She idly traced the rim of cup. “At least I can purchase it and savor it whenever I please.”

“Enjoy it, enjoy life, isn’t it what we do here, all of us.”

“Indeed.” She gazed at Marika. “The combination of this tea and this... exquisite music is... divine, as if Syl’vi’na herself graces us tonight.”

“Maybe she does...”

“I must commend you, Lord Jarailo, you do bring good business to us elves in Silifran.”

“I do what I can,” he slightly bowed his head.

“Hmm? Humans aren’t known for modesty, and yet you....”

“You haven’t encountered all humans, clearly.”

“True.” She closed her eyes, immersing herself in the music. Then, she opened them and landed her sight on the human’s. “But when I speak of you that you bring good business, I primarily refer to the ‘information’ you provided to our esteemed protectors.”

“Ah, that... well, I’m relieved the information proved accurate. I dread to think what might have occurred if my contact had deceived me. And...” Lord Jarailo took a sip of his special brew. “How did you know about that information? Or that it checked out?”

“I know what I need to know. Or rather, what I’m permitted to know. I’m here as an envoy on behalf of an interested party.”

“From Viceregent Vil’lay?”

“No. Think higher up.”

“I’m thinking you’re going to tell me anyway, so I’m not guessing anymore.”

“You do rob my little games of their charm, but yes... the general...”

“The general that just arrived with a fresh contingent? The one everyone is talking about? The one ranking above the Commander of the Protectorate?”

“So many questions...” She took another sip of her cup. “Yes and no... it’s his wife who wishes to speak with you. I am her close confidante and acting as a liaison.”

“Then I accept.”

“I haven’t said anything yet—”

“The elven lady’s invitation,” Lord Jarailo interrupted Anliyi.

Anliyi’s countenance was adorned with a smile, her response to Lord Jarailo's words.

The deeper Lord Jarailo and Anliyi’s carriage ventured into Silifran, the more opulence and grandeur unfolded before them in architecture, attire, transport, and even the cobbled streets they traveled—the pristine streets of the center ring of Silifran. To Lord Jarailo’s surprise, it was his first time entering this innermost circle of the city, the grand mansions, built into ancient trees, crystal-like structures, and golden strands weaving through floral arrangements and water cascades falling from the most unexpected places, emanated an aura of status and power. Birds of vibrant hues and other exotic beasts, unknown to him, frolicked throughout the elven residences, defining the landscape of the center ring.

An ancient tree cradled the structure they approached, its gnarled branches becoming the edifice as though it had grown specifically to serve this purpose. The tree, weathered yet majestic, towered above them, its bark adorned with intricate patterns and its lower branches reaching out like welcoming arms.

Inside, the atmosphere was a harmonious blend of nature and opulence, creating a sanctuary that soothed any weary soul. Verdant foliage intertwined with luxurious furnishings, casting dappled shadows across the space. The ceiling, an expanse of living greenery, brought the outdoors indoors, while the gentle murmur of flowing water provided a relaxing experience to their ears.

“Detentor Anliyi Gide of the Sylhain of the Isle of Pratyor,” greeted a well-dressed and groomed gnome. “Luz’sa En’terra Lai’Seili Fylso Lynya, voice of the Rulseah Family and Steward of Bra’nka, has been informed of your arrival and is already awaiting you on the aviary hall.”

“Then, with no more time to waste, come forth, Lord Jarailo. Welcome to the center ring and its grandeur.”

The gnome led them into a grand chamber with a cylindrical roof, reaching towards the heavens, where countless flying creatures frolicked. A cacophony of chirps and songs welcomed them, with several species of winged beasts flying freely like locusts. The commotion quickly halted as they entered, and the beasts disappeared into the greenery above. Not a spot of excrement tainted the marble floors of this pristine chamber.

Seated around a trunk serving as table was the general’s wife. A radiant female elf with golden hair pulled back, she appeared at first glance like a fragile statue of femininity itself. Her golden eyes stared at Lord Jarailo. Despite being older by elven standards, indicating a mid-adult elf, the beginning of age barely showed on her countenance, in no way diminishing her grace nor beauty.

“Lord Jarailo, I presume,” the elven female spoke. “Pleased to—”

Lord Jarailo walked toward her, and her two guards moved to intervene, but she raised her hand, halting them. The human knelt beside her and took her left hand on her thigh, kissing it.

“My pleasure,” he said, rising and stepping back.

“You humans do act strange. You kiss my hand, even though you all see us as... unworthy. Anticipating your next move is always puzzling.”

“That’s the difference between our races. I see radiance where you see a puzzle, I see beauty where you find me strange, and I see someone worthy of respect, merited respect for such an elven... Lady.”

She regarded the human, a faint smile barely perceptible. “Please, be seated,” she gestured to a chair on the other side of the table. After he sat down, she raised her left hand.

“Thanks, Anliyi, and I apologize, but I won’t see you out today.”

“Lai’Seili, it’s always a pleasure... and... we’ll talk later, as usual?” said Anliyi.

Lai’Seili smiled gently. “As always.”

Anliyi withdrew, nodding towards Lord Jarailo, who returned the nod as she left.

“Are you comfortable? Do you want something to eat or drink?” asked the general’s wife.

“Just water, if you please.”

“Gandai,” she exclaimed in elven, and a gnome served the human a glass of water. Then the servant excused herself and left. “Water... I thought all of you humans loved your liquor,” remarked Lai’Seili.

“I will answer you...”

“Just call me Lai’Seili, no titles here.”

“Then, Lai’Seili, I will answer you the same way I answered Anliyi. You don’t know all humans.”

“I certainly don’t... and don’t wish to. No offense to you, Lord, of course.”

“Offense? I also don’t want to know all humans. I concur with your assertion.”

“Anliyi did tell me you were... peculiar.”

“I don’t deserve such graces. I’m just someone who wants to explore what this life has to offer. Elves, feralis, dwarves, and all the other races and mixes and whatnot—each one has something to offer. If one knows where to look and is patient enough, of course.”

“Even dregs?”

“No. Especially dregs.”

She looked at the human with eyes that sought to decipher his words, mannerism, actions, and thoughts.

“I don’t know what anyone would want with such...” She knew exactly what word to say, but contrary to when speaking with her elven peers, here she had to be careful with her choice of words.

“Lessers?” questioned Lord Jarailo.

She turned her head slightly in disapproval of that word.

“Don’t worry, Lai’Seili. Call them lessers, even call me lesser. I know you see me as one. But I assure you, you’re not breaking my heart. I told you, didn't I? Patience and a push to explore, to experience, moves me. If I were fragile, I wouldn’t be a merchant to begin with.”

She smiled and nodded. “Indeed.”

Lord Jarailo took a sip from his cup filled with water and stared at it.

“Delicious... this water. Did you add something to it?”

Lai’Seili heartily chuckled.

“Did I say something wrong?”

Composing herself, she answered. “No... it’s just... it’s water, pure water from the holiest of our springs.”

“Oh... I see... I’m drinking real water for the first time. That’s what you mean.”

“I wouldn’t put it like that, but...”

“It’s delicious all the same. It’s amazing though, that I’m drinking pure water for the first time in my life.”

At this moment, her smile turned serious.

“As... interesting as it is talking to you, I brought you here for another matter.”

“Information?”

“Yes. My... my...” The word stuck in her, refusing to come out. “My husband!” She forced it out, almost biting her tongue in the process. “He is General Farra’lais, and we recently arrived in Silifran. We are envoys directly from the High King himself.”

“I think I know where this is going... but please, continue.”

“The general... he... harbors a profoundly negative disposition toward every other race that is not an elf.”

“He hates the lessers... I’m not surprised about that, many other elves do. I mean, you do too, even if you’re too educated to tell it like it is.”

Lai’Seil raised her eyebrows. “Are you presuming to know me? Or is this a veiled insult? Consider your answer carefully, one is worse than the other.”

Lord Jarailo smiled. “I’m just stating common knowledge. Elves hate those who aren’t elves. And I see that Lai’Seili possesses education and manners beyond mere mortals, she would never speak ill of anyone.”

She grinned lightly, her mouth opening, when Lord Jarailo interrupted her.

“At least not to their faces,” stated Lord Jarailo, smiling.

Her expression shifted suddenly. One of the elven soldiers approached the human, but the female elf stopped him again.

“I said that with utmost respect. Consider it my thanks for this delicious water.”

“You mean?”

“Manners and education are great and all, but if we are going to deal with sensitive information, then speaking plainly and directly is the better play.”

Lai’Seili pondered Lord Jarailo’s words for a moment, signaling to the guard to step back.

“So be it... Lord Jarailo.” She directed her gaze at one corner of the chambers, towards the shadows cast on a wall. “Commander, come out of there and join us.”

From the darkness emerged the new Commander of the Protectorate, clad in military regalia. He strode towards them, standing tall beside Lai’Seili.

“An ambush...” exclaimed Lord Jarailo, his eyes widening. “I knew it. I shouldn't have had the water, should I? Was it a test? Did I fail? Am I cursed?”

Lai’Seili took one hand to her mouth trying to cover her giggling.