“How are we doing this?” inquired Mau, taking a bite of roasted meat—not ordinary meat, but fat, greasy, quality kullion meat. Since breaking the Lanaen Band, Del’vhario’s good fortune had surged unabated. With funds pouring in from various sources, they now indulged in finer tastes, fashion, and intimacies.
“I have just the right thing to convince the leaders to meet me,” asserted X.
“Of those sub-races and empty skulls... I think the Valentian Scars will come. K’bula and his Sae’gez, having suffered heavy losses thanks to the new Legazz, have no other choice but to hear you out. The problem lies with the Saints, those pesky humans are really picky,” remarked Nila, relishing the meat alongside a drink X had prepared—a concoction that swept through Del’vhario, sweet yet acidic, with just the right dose of arreci and a salt-based frosting.
“Really, Nila? I’m of the idea that the Saints would be the easiest to convince... Humans, you know, are easy to predict and thus... to influence,” remarked X.
“Well, there’s also the possibility that everyone will come only to kill you, and us for that matter. After how we finished the Lanaen Band, with good reason, bunch of fucked-up abnormalities, the lot of them, I suspect the other factions might be afraid of our power,” added Mau, ending with a burp and a sip of X’s concoction.
“Indeed, I anticipate they will come with such intentions, but before they try anything, they’ll hear our proposition. And it is there, where we will win the negotiations,” said X.
“If. And that’s a big if, assuming everything proceeds accordingly to plan,” exclaimed Nila.
“Oh, they will,” assured X, taking a sip from his cup. “And if they don’t, then we blow everyone to high heaven, just as we did with the Lanaen...” X turned to the orc standing at the threshold of the dilapidated chamber. “Heiran here oversees shadows. With him, you both, Sikue’s spells and whatever the feralis concocts in his crazy mind, we will come through.”
Heiran stepped forward and traced several words in the air. The magic lingered long enough for X to read the inscription.
“Yes, our deal stands, Heiran,” replied X. “You know I’m an elf of my word, and I have the brain for this.”
Heiran simply nodded, retreated into the shadows, and vanished,
“Fucking all those groups... I want to see that. Bastard races, pretending they are better than us gnomes!” yelled Mau.
The trio toasted.
Settling into a more relaxed posture, the male gnome took another sip from his cup, savoring the taste. “So... you mentioned meeting Heiran in Dureld Dungeon, didn’t you?” inquired Mau.
“Something to that effect. Yes,” replied X.
“And you also spoke of countless riches within?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Then why the hell aren’t we plunging in to claim all that gold before some dirty sub-race’s fingers take them?” questioned Mau.
“Yeah, what’s up with that? Sounds like easy gold,” chimed in Nila.
“Well, first of all, there’s the little problem of the Swarm, and we ain’t got nothing to deal with that,” spoke X, reclining comfortably in his seat. “Secondly, I’m certain the humans are still there, trying to claim those riches. And third, and most importantly... we are not dungeon raiders, screw that! I refuse to end up buried deep under the earth with some crazed dwarf ever again! We are entrepreneurs, we carry on a business now. I consider us merchants of dust and any inebriating concoction known in these parts, providing a much-needed service for all those who want to escape from the hell they call reality. We are so much more than simply tomb robbers and bandits. Get it in your thick skulls... the excitement, the riches, the luxury—it’s only just beginning. If our negotiations with the leaders of the other factions come through... uff... that’s how an empire is forged—an empire to rival whatever the puny races here call kingdoms or unions or whatever they come up with their deficient brains. We are so much more! We are Del’vhario!”
Nila and Mau joined him in shouting. In the ruins, their chorus reverberated, reaching deep within the ancient structure.
From the second floor, a barely sentient entity descended the stairs.
“Do you freaks have any idea what time it is? Can’t you scheme at decent hours? I’ve been trying to sleep the whole damned night!” bellowed Marika, roused from her tranquil rest.
“Come on, join us!” exclaimed X.
“As if I could sleep,” retorted Marika, taking a seat with the trio and reaching for one of the prepared drinks, taking a sip. “Hey, this shit is good.”
“Our dear leader’s creation,” remarked Nila.
“Not bad... and now that you’re here,” Marika took another sip, “when are the elves suffering? I’ve been sending my pakaos without rest, yet I don’t see them crumbling!”
“Such an impatient one,” replied X. “Their time will come.”
“Well, it better be pretty fucking quick. Living here with you maladjusted members of whatever crooked societies spat you out... rubs me the wrong way,” scoffed Marika.
“Really? I thought you fucking half Del’vhario meant you really liked it here?” interjected Nila.
“Such a prudish one... You’d be more popular if only you’d have a hint of sex appeal, even a minuscule spot of femininity, but alas, not all Gods’ creature ca—”
“What the fuck did you just call me? You, loose cunt half-fae half-whatever your molesting father could pull up from the ground, bitch!”
“Stop, stop, stop!” yelled X, knowing how this would end if he allowed it to continue. “Each of you has your own style. Marika likes to intimate with anything that moves; she’s what we call a loose cannon. And Nila carefully selects those deserving of her shortfigure, as the snob gnome she is.”
“I prefer to call it ‘having standards’,” stated Nila, glaring at Marika.
“Ugh...” retorted Marika.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
“I’m partial to Marika’s style” commented Mau.
“You don’t get it, do you?” X questioned the individuals present. “Diversity is... What was it she said? Diversity is...”
“Fun to fuck?” wondered Mau.
“Exactly!” replied X.
“Until a bug extremity appears out of nowhere and impales you where the sun never shines, isn’t it?” Nila remarked, unable to let the matter rest.
“Are you jealous of my curves? You midget from hell. You’re reserving your ‘ooohhh sooo great’ gnome heritage for when? For when your old and wrinkled and you’re just a bag of loose skin, the same as your cu—”
“This aborted bug bitch, half a monstrous spawn spat from the darkest holes, has stepped out line! Someone—”
A loud yell, blending suffering and celebration, roared through the ruins. Everyone fell silent and listened carefully. Had they been invaded? Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows.
“I did it! Caw-caw! I fucking did it! Ye mighties, bow before my greatness!” Sikue's cry echoed from the depths of his soul.
*
“Not bad for a half-elf,” remarked Dinea Fylse, her face resting against Ferd’inan’s pale chest.
“Not bad? I think they heard you beyond the walls of this room,” retorted the half-elf, idly toying with his lover’s wheat-colored hair.
Dinea blushed, planting a kiss on Ferd’inan’s chest. “Work on your stamina; it could use some improvement.” As she traced an elven letter on his chest, she smiled.
“What are you writing?” inquired Ferd’inan.
“Learn elven, and you’ll find out.”
“That sounds like quite the endeavor...”
“And I’m worth every effort,” she countered with a playful smirk.
“Really? Let me see...” Ferd’inan raised the thin sheets that covered them.
In the dim light of a faint candle, her fair skin gleamed against the darkness of the night, casting her silhouette in soft relief. Her ample and alluring breasts pressed against each other and against his chest. He lowered the sheets, exhaling deeply as he tried to suppress his rising emotions.
“Oh, you liked what you saw...” Dine noticed his growing bulge.
“It’s a... no...” With his manhood between Dinea's soft hands, his words failed him.
“You were saying?” She looked at him. Her light eyes reflected the candle’s flame, her delicate features and her gentle touch further excited him.
He struggled to contain himself, but his willpower faltered. His left hand traced a path from her hips to her waist, over her abdomen, then up to her breasts. Ferd’inan closed his eyes, experiencing something he never thought possible—he savored the delicate taste of elven flesh for the first time in his life.
Initially, the captain stationed at Silifran’s Main Gate presented herself as an ice-cold female elf. Serious in demeanor, she carried herself with a pompous gait, exuding a pervasive aura of superiority. However, upon getting to know her, Dinea’s delicate details emerged like a flower in bloom. None could claim it was love at first sight, for it wasn’t. Instead, through shared experiences and frequent interaction, each began to perceive the other in a new light.
Ferd’inan harbored the notion that the elves did not prioritize the erotic. Their solemn demeanor and lack of smiles or even decent pastimes led him to surmise that they mated out of necessity rather than love or lust, akin two rigid bodies discovering they need to flex, bending the rules slightly for a greater purpose. Yet, to his astonishment, his preconceptions about elven behavior were shattered by Dinea Fylse. She revealed how mistaken he had been living all along. Life did not abruptly alter because some sentient beings acted or appeared differently, or their culture seemed alien from the outside. Maybe, he pondered, life did what it had to do, and it was consciousness that made a deliberate effort to rebel, in vain. Emotions existed, driving them to mingle, to achieve more, to become more, to be one, to lead, and be led.
She nipped at his shoulder, attempting to conceal her pleasure, aiming to tease him—a playful exchange they both reveled in until she could no longer restrain herself and rode him fiercely, pushing the limits of the bed which barely struggled to withstanding such a passionate siege, their will to live, to feel alive, to enjoy life’s fleeting pleasures.
Resting on the bed, sweating, the sheets draped over their lower bodies, they both took deep breaths. The afterglow enveloped them, and though they may have denied it, with each passing day, with each intimate encounter, they grew closer.
With her body positioned upside down on the mattress, her head almost dangling off the edge, Dinea breathed slowly before speaking, “Will you be staying? It’s quite late now...”
Gazing up at the ceiling, various shapes danced into view—shadows that Ferd’inan strained to discern. “I’m afraid not. Tomorrow promises to be a busy day. And aren’t you concerned about what elven society would think of you if I stayed? The gate captain consorting with a... lesser...”
“You’re half and half... and let me assure you, here in the outer ring, elven society doesn’t really exist. All their eyes are fixed inside the inner rings where they never stop scrutinizing each other, critiquing one another for things they do in the shadows or merely wished for. Out here... it’s just us.”
For a moment, the night’s silence surrounded them.
“About the cargo... It’ll arrive in two days. Don’t give them trouble,” said Ferd’inan.
“Sometimes I wonder if that’s the only reason you’ve intertwined yourself with me, or with my body, for that matter. You’re only using me to ensure your cargoes pass through unscathed.”
“Of course,” he replied coolly.
Her head snapped up immediately.
“Of course, I willingly allowed myself to become intertwined with you,” Ferd'inan added and continued. “You’re one of a kind and... as luck would have it, I met you. Now, concerning the other matter... it’s just coincidence that you’re the gate captain. Had our paths crossed under different circumstances, I would still choose to mingle with you.”
Dinea’s cheeks flushed.
“It’s not anything illegal, is it? What’s being transported...,” she inquired.
“I’ve told you before, it’s a mix of everyday items and some special arreci brews from the human lands, but nothing illegal. Just goods that are hard for those in the outer rings to get a hold of... and you’ve already seen what’s in there.”
She sighed heavily. “Be careful on the streets at this hour. Ever since the incident in the sewers, the soldiers have all but abandoned the outer ring, and the shadows took over. The new commander is methodically combing through each precinct, each house, checking everyone’s documents and such. He’s proceeding cautiously, but he intends to cleanse the outer ring. So be cautious out there; both criminals and the Le’Garantezz are lurking. Not that you’re a criminal, but those new elves, they’re not always... just.”
“I’ve heard about the Commander. He’s a tough one, even bringing those... other elves along.”
“Those elves hail from the inner reaches of the kingdom. I don’t know much about them, but they are tough. The Protectorate soon enlisted them, and now... now they’re cracking down on any activity on the streets of the outer ring, as well as beyond Silifran, out on the outskirts.”
“That incident really changed this city, didn’t it?”
“The High Elven King and the High Elven Court do not take any violence within the kingdom lightly. They watch our way of life, our kind, our future.”
“It would be nice to be a part of something like that.”
“Maybe...” Dinea hesitated. The words she wished to express, perhaps belonged to another time, another place, another life. “Just be careful, and... when will I see you again?”
“I was thinking about that... I’ll be busy these days... but I’ll visit you on the fifth.”
She smiled. “I dislike those who go back on their word.”
“Oh, Dinea, I would never... ever... fail you.”