Two sentient beings had been conversing for an hour within the refined third floor of a luxurious mansion, positioned in the center ring of Silifran. Perched atop a lofty hill, the elegant residence found solace encrusted within the trunk of an ancient tree, a relic from the days of creation, infusing tranquility into every fiber of any creature lingering within.
“How do you fare, Lord Jarailo? Allow me my turn to inquire. You appear... fatigued,” observed Lai’Seili, her sight fixed upon a freshly blossomed flower cradled delicately in her left hand.
“It’s hard for everyone out there, and it’s doubly so for those who wish to make a name for themselves. But, answering your question, Lai’Seili, I’m fine. Somewhat unrested, maybe a little tired, but I’ve had worse days.”
“You seem to keep yourself occupied throughout the day, coming and going, retrieving all your merchandise from Silifran... disappearing for days... only to return with information to sell.”
“Are you keeping tabs on me?”
“Well, you don’t always answer my summons. Your household gnomes often inform mine that you’re absent.”
“Oh, so you seek me out. Then you should send a letter.”
“I don’t like...” She paused, gently placing the flower inside a cup on the small center table while she searched for the right words. The flower emitted a soft blue before transforming into a small bird that fluttered away.
“To leave a paper trail? Yes, I concur,” stated Lord Jarailo.
She stared at him, a human in his thirties, reaching middle-age for their kind. Above average looking, though unremarkable. What intrigued her, beyond his unusual character and personality, was his method of acquiring information.
“Speaking of which, my... General inquired if I had recently conversed with you,” remarked Lai’Seili.
“Is he concerned that we...?”
“No, and I don’t care what his opinion is on the matter. The thing is, he can’t say it directly, because, well, he is made that way. However, what he wants to know is if you have told me any information pertaining to this thorn... this criminal group that has recently upended Silifran.”
“Ah... that. I’m pouring a lot of resources into it.”
“Do you rely solely on one informant?”
Lord Jarailo grinned. “A trickster cannot give his tricks away. If he did, how would he eat? Let me ask you this, Lai’Seili. Do you think I give you elves all the information that reaches me?”
“What do you mean?”
“I possess loads of information that I never share with any of you.”
Her expression turned grave. “Why would you do such a thing? Are you purposefully withholding relevant information from us?”
“Yes, I purposefully withhold information from you. Now, relevant? That’s the matter. Before you demand my head, let me explain. I am inundated with information, each piece more outlandish than the last, and everyone expects to be paid as if every word they utter were golden. I conduct my own vetting process, meticulously selecting those pieces that appear more credibly. Then, I try to match them with what others are saying or events that have happened. If my contacts are trustworthy, that lends credence to their words. Of course, I pay for everything, I have to if I want to get to the really valuable insights. If I didn’t do it this way, not only would my reputation be at stake, but my very life, and for good reason.”
The female elf contemplated his words. “I understand. So, essentially, you only offer us information that you yourself have studied at length?”
“Exactly. I’m not going to offer you the first rumors that reach my ears. I am careful.”
“I see that you are, Lord Jarailo.”
“And let me tell you, few are willing to talk about Del’vhario or its leader. It’s like they run a tight ship, and anyone that slightly deviates from the rules faces harsh penalties. I believe that’s why no one wants to talk.”
“Truly? In that case, it’s no wonder information on these criminals is scarce.”
“They’re going to be a really hard nut to crack.”
Lai’Seili eased back in her seat, sipping from the cup of tea in her hand. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
“What do you mean?” asked Lord Jarailo.
“The Commander mentioned...” She quickly contemplated a profound matter before settling on one. “He claims to have reliable intelligence on Del’vhario. They’re soon raiding them.”
“Did they gather this information themselves, or did someone present it to them?”
“You seem worried...”
“I just want to know if a have a rival in this line of work.”
“He didn’t say, but I believe it stems from their own investigations.”
“How do you gather that?”
“They’ve been diligently pursuing it... intensively so, and the pressure coming from the interior... the High Council demands results, as you’re well aware.”
“I see... I really hope their intelligence pan out and they don’t fall into a trap.”
“What do you mean ‘a trap’?” inquired Lai’Seili, her tone laced with concern.
“Nothing... everything will be fine.”
“Now you’ve piqued my interest. Do tell.”
“It’s just that my process of vetting information is exhaustive because I suspect some of it may be purposefully misleading. Those criminals are on the offensive too and... but they’ll be fine, I’m sure. The Commander and his elves know what they’re doing.”
“Hmm.” She took another sip of her tea, falling into a momentarily silence.
“I wouldn’t like a repeat of what happened to the previous Commander. The HUF is looking closely at the Elven Kingdom for any signs of weakness. It wouldn’t be right,” stated Lord Jarailo.
These last words altered her demeanor, a sudden spike of worry disfigured her usual serious countenance. “Is there anything unusual that you’ve heard... that you’ve seen? Any peculiar activity... maybe... tomorrow, specifically regarding the outer ring?”
“Let me recall...” Lord Jarailo deliberated. “No, not tomorrow. I mean, there’s chatter all day, but... no.”
“That’s reassuring to hear. And, Lord Jarailo, I know sometimes we elves may act rude towards your kind, but I appreciate all the assistance you’ve provided us.”
“To be fair, I’m no volunteer.”
She smiled. “Indeed, you’re not. But still, you could have chosen not to involve yourself at all.” Leaning forward slightly, she continued, “Speaking of which, why do you do it? Aren’t you betraying your own kind by helping us?”
“Well, first, they don’t know and don’t need to, and second, I like it here in the Elven Kingdom. There’s a calm, a serenity, and a sobriety that’s absent in the HUF.”
“Is that so?”
“Not only that. I’ve found here that despite the prejudice and some elves’ predisposition to hate humans, which I understand, many of you are welcoming and receptive. From the common elves to the Highest among you, there’s always, even if not entirety sincere, a warmth.”
“Warmth...” She repeated this word, imagining its meaning, her thought drifting to a memory. “I’ve been told you have numerous visitors frequenting your residence in the outer ring. Is this the warmth you’re talking about?”
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
“You’ve been told?” Jarailo maintained his composure with a restrained smile.
“It appears all kinds of... females make unusual late-night visits.”
Lord Jarailo lost his composure for a brief moment, chuckling.
“This is a serious matter, I want to evaluate your character,” said Lai’Seili, her semblance frustrated.
“Of course you do...” The human reclined in his flowery chair. “And yes, several females do visit me at all hours of the day and night.”
“You admit it!” Her semblance shifted into a mix of disdain and superiority.
“Lai’Seili, information comes in many forms. One never knows. Sometimes even a youngling might have overheard something, seen something. And as for the females—they have brothers, sons, or fathers, so... they are a valuable source of information. Most of them prefer to come personally when they believe no one is watching.”
She observed the human intently. “You always have an answer to everything, don’t you?”
“Not always...”
“Such as?”
“When I’m with you.”
“Eh? What do you mean?”
“You make me nervous, and... sometimes I’m at a loss of words or actions.”
“Truly? Because I’ve never noticed.”
“I try to hide it.”
“Am I that... dreadful?”
“Nothing like that. You’re quite the opposite. It’s just that some females have that effect on males, that’s all.”
“Well... I’m not sure how useful is for me to know that, but I shall make an effort to appear more... approachable.”
“You’re fine just as you are.”
“Gods... look at the time.” Lai’Seili’s gaze drifted outside a window at the rear of the expansive room. The crimson hues of the sky covered the spaces within her mansion.
“You’ll have to excuse me, Lord Jarailo. It’s time to conclude our discussion.”
The human glanced at the crimson-tinged rays of light weaving their threads around them. “Then I shall take my leave as well. I have matters to attend to.”
“Have a pleasant afternoon, Lord Jarailo.”
“And you too, Lai’Seili. Have the best of days.”
With a serious expression, Lord Jarailo hurried back to the outer ring.
*
Night descended upon Silifran, yet the bustling activity at the main gate never ceased, though dimmed without their guiding star.
Dinea Fylse diligently inspected the cargoes and documents of all seeking entry into Silifran. Despite enduring sleepless nights, her subordinates diligently obeyed her commands. Stationed at the city’s edge, they carried out their duties with pride, even when the pay fell short of their expectations. These were the kind of elves disinclined to the rigidity of pure elven society, unbound by the spoken and unspoken rules of the inner rings, with its countless rituals and sermons, where prying eyes observed one another, ready to shame whoever dare to deviate from the norm.
Beneath the flickering torchlight, they continued their tasks when, unexpectedly, a half-elf loomed from the shadows before the gate captain.
“Pshh... Dinea... Dinea!” he whispered urgently.
The half-elf succeeded in capturing her attention. As Dinea turned around, her eyes widened in surprise.
Outside the gates of Silifran, Ferd’inan signaled for her to approach him. Despite several carriages still lined up, awaiting inspection and separated by bars, his presence and gentle voice lifted her weary spirit.
“Ferd’inan... What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting to see you until two days from now.”
“I need to speak with you,” replied the half-elf between pants.
“Wait a moment,” she said before walking to her second lieutenant, speaking briefly in elven, then slipping out of the gate, pulling Ferd’inan into the shadows of the wall. “Come here.” Dinea wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him. “You’re trembling and drenched in sweat.”
“I ran all the way here, and... aren’t you happy to see me?”
She smiled “I didn’t say that. But is everything alright?”
“More or less...”
“What happened?” concerned shaped her face.
“There’s something bothering me, and I need to ask you.”
“Ask then, tell me.”
“Have you heard about something... happening tomorrow?”
Her expression twisted in confusion as she stood next to her lover. “Something happening tomorrow?”
“I heard someone mention staying off the streets tomorrow. There’s talk of... a clash, maybe violence. They warned me to avoid the outer ring all day. I took it as a threat, but then others told me the same. Anyway, I thought of coming here to ask you. You know me, I’m a careful half-elf. I don’t want any trouble, and if tomorrow is risky, I’ll stay put.”
Dinea deliberated briefly. “Well, now that you say it... we’ve been tasked with gate closure from dusk till dawn. It’s an unusual order from the higher-ups but considering recent events... nothing seems strange anymore.”
“Anything else? Any places in the outer ring to steer clear of?”
“Ah, yes... now that you mention it, we were told to steer clear of the Markets Quarter on the south side of the outer ring.” She then huffed in slight disagreement. “As if we ever go there. We are always stuck at this gate.”
“Doing Syl’vi’na’s work,” added Ferd’inan.
The female captain softened her countenance. “Our goddess of victory. You’re learning about elven culture.”
“It’s half my culture, isn’t it?”
She nodded.
“And it’s fortunate I have no business in the Market Quarter,” remarked the half-elf.
“Still, do be careful. I agree that it’s safer for you to avoid venturing out at all tomorrow.”
“And you, Dinea, will you be alright?”
“Just so you know, the gate captain is no pushover.” She embraced him once more and kissed him deeply.
“I know, but be careful too.”
They soon parted, stealing a few more kisses, longing to be alone, to evade their responsibilities and lose themselves between the sheets of a second-rate inn in the outer ring.
*
X knew the fight on the streets, whether on cobblestones or dusty dry soil, would become one of Del’vhario’s most significant struggles. The battle for territory would be fierce, an essential element for any criminal organization striving for supremacy. Expansion would be pursued through conquest, yet the subtler, more refined art of survival lay in the gathering of intelligence. Whether through bribery of officials or through the tried-and-true method of social engineering—leveraging individuals in positions of power or grooming members for infiltration into institutions or locations where the important decisions took place—the redheaded elf fully grasped the strategic importance of intelligence.
The leader of Del’vhario grasped the basics like no other. He recognized that the essential activities for any up-and-coming crew and well-established criminal organizations unfolded at the grassroots level. Through toil and strategic networking, weaving mistakes with triumphs, he quickly ascended through the echelons of decision-making and hierarchy within Silifran’s intricate structure—tactically gaining assets in key positions worked wonders for his dream. His tentacles spread far and wide across Silifran and beyond, slowly infecting the entire region.
This web of spies, informants, and simple characters enticed by the allure of wealth and power, driven by the desire to assert dominance over the elves and witness their fall from grace into the depths where they belonged, served him well. Some among the elven populace unwittingly championed his cause, promoting his interests, while a select few did so knowingly. For X, if there was one thing he comprehended thoroughly, it was the dark machinations of those at the fringes of any society—the individuals who saw their peers out of their reach, towering over them, while they themselves languished in the dirt, witnessing time pass with no return date, growing ever older but not wiser nor wealthier. The redhead elf possessed a keen eye for those easy pickings that grew inside every society, especially the ones festering within the rigidness of the Elven Kingdom. With little effort, he harvested their precious resentment.
In these dire moments, Del’vhario plotted. Intelligence gathered by Del’vhario’s network of spies hinted at a significant threat—an imminent strike targeting one of their vital safehouses within Silifran’s borders. While some clamored for the heads of the snitches, traitors who dared consort with the elves, Del’vhario’s priority remained clear in these trying times—prepare a welcoming party for the impending elf incursion.
With haste and secrecy, Del’vhario’s great leader directed his lieutenant to mobilize all resources, ensuring that only the most essential details reached the lower ranks of the organization. Each group, led by a lieutenant, acted with autonomy, armed with general directives rather than explicit instructions, leaving plenty of room for interpretation. These groups further subdivided, painting a diffuse image of an advanced criminal organization. Few were privy to the overarching plans, and even fewer were acquainted with members beyond their immediate circles. What they knew for certain, however, was the severe pain awaiting anyone violating Del’vhario’s rules and code of conduct—punishments so barbaric and extreme that they instilled terror, keeping their mouths shut, coupled with rewards so unprecedented that members would go through hell and back for a taste of paradise.
A well-greased criminal structure, like no other in this world, simply couldn’t be matched by the archaic methods of any of the races populating it.
X trusted that even when the day arrived that he would no longer be at the helm, Del’vhario, or whatever name it took then, would endure. Those close enough to Del’vhario’s leadership, as well as those who worked their hardest, would have learned all they needed to keep going until the end of time. Because for him, this was about more than mere accumulation of wealth, luxuries, or rampant hedonism. It was about doing what you love, what you’re good at, what you’re destined to, and about sticking your big middle finger up at whoever wants you to conform to their rules, their authority, their morals.
A free soul, he always considered himself, even in the darkest of prisons or during the cruelest of tortures. Free until it all came crashing down, yes, but until that fateful day, he’d never repent, never cower in doubt, nor have mercy on those who begged for inclusion in the machine, in the system that swallowed it all—will and mind, violence and freedom, sentient beings and their spirits.