In a sparse yet orderly chamber situated on the second level of the primary barracks within the inner ring of Silifran, Lord Jarailo waited to convene with the commander of the elven forces. It was customary for him to frequent this location, exchanging valuable information with the elves, and this occasion proved no different.
He patiently awaited, seated within, while the commander concluded his address to the soldiers below. After a short while, two elves entered the makeshift office, to the human’s astonishment, with General Farra’lais Dei Lley in attendance. The commander nowhere to be seen.
“This is Lord Jarailo, the human who has provided us with valuable intelligence,” spoke Viceregent Val’lay Cylao.
Acknowledging the introduction, Lord Jarailo rose and offered a respectful nod. “Good afternoon, and... General, what a surprise. I thought I would meet with the commander,” remarked the human, his surprise evident.
The general’s unflinching countenance conveyed much about his character to Lord Jarailo. As the stories went, the general harbored no love for anything beyond elves, and some even thought maybe not all elves.
Observing the human closely, the general seated himself, assuming a rigid posture. His angular, weathered features starkly contrasted with the typical elven grace. His cold, steely blue eyes narrowed in barely concealed disdain as he regarded the human before him. With a gesture, General Farra'lais indicated for Lord Jarailo to take a seat.
“The Commander is preoccupied with official matters. It is to me you will speak now,” asserted the general.
The human lightly smiled. “As you wish.”
“I’ve been told you’ve been providing information to the Protectorate, which has helped us in quelling criminal elements in this and other border cities,” stated the general.
“I do what I can,” replied Lord Jarailo.
The general locked eyes with the human. “I do not trust you, never did, never will, but as long as the Elven Kingdom stands to benefit, we will maintain our collaboration.”
“I never expected any less, and I understand not only my reputation but my life hangs in the balance. I’m not here to play games, General.”
“Good. I’ve come here to ascertain for myself the character of the... human providing us with this invaluable intelligence. I’m evaluating your integrity as we speak. However, I’ve also come to inquire: have you purposefully withheld information from us?”
The human noted the sudden shift in the elves’ demeanor.
“What do you mean?” questioned Lord Jarailo.
“The General—”
Interrupting the viceregent, General Farra'lais raised his right hand. “Allow me to rephrase my question. Has Del’vhario approached you regarding the sale of information or offered you compensation for withholding it?”
“If that were the case, I believe you would already be aware,” remarked Lord Jarailo, casting a glance at Val’lay. “I have nothing to hide, nor would I allow myself to be manipulated by any criminal organization. To be blunt, no, I have not been approached by them, and frankly, I doubt they're even aware of my existence, as you are.”
The general looked sideways at Val'lay. “The Viceregent has relayed as much, but I prefer direct inquiry,” he clarified.
“I understand. Caution is paramount these days,” acknowledge Lord Jarailo.
“You strike me as someone well-versed in such... matters.” The general momentarily diverted his gaze to the ceiling, taking a hand to his neck, before lowering his eyes, fixing them upon the human. Leaning forward with both hands resting on the desk, he addressed him. “Now, setting that aside, what information do you have for us today?”
Lord Jarailo’s grin, almost imperceptible, surfaced briefly. The awaited moment had arrived, for he knew where the commander had gone: to make the final preparations for the evening raid. His right hand concealed within his jacket pocket, Lord Jarailo pressed his fingers against the two parchments he carried. One contained mundane details concerning whatever criminal faction happened that day to be the one to suffer, while the other, meticulously prepared for this occasion, held significant intelligence. Retrieving his empty hand, he placed both on the desk.
“Well, then I believe, General, it may have been fortunate for me to encounter you today,” remarked Lord Jarailo, his tone tinged with gravity.
“Why is that?” questioned the general.
“I have some information... well, I don’t how to put it...”
“You’ve never been shy about this. Is there a problem?”
“I... If you choose to act upon this information, I request no pay, recognition, or anything of the sort,” declared the human, his serious countenance shifting to one of somberness.
“Why?” asked Viceregent Val’lay.
“What do you mean?” demanded the general, his tone growing more assertive.
“The issue is that I cannot vouch for the veracity of this information. To put it plainly, I don’t trust it. It appears too good to be truth,” said Lord Jarailo, casting a meaningful glance at both elves to ensure their undivided attention. “Because if it proves to be true, it will change... everything.”
“What is it?! Your actions are only making matters worse,” Val’lay’s frustration began to torment him. The combination of curiosity and the pressure to deliver precisely as the High Council demanded kept all Silifran officers on edge.
“We will be the judges of the information,” stated the general, maintaining his composure.
Lord Jarailo let out a deep exhale. “Given the sensitivity of this matter... I will disclose it only to you, General.”
“What are you imply—”
“Val’lya,”
“Yes, sir?”
‘Wait outside.”
“But—”
“Now.”
Though offended, the Viceregent of the Protectorate complied without further protest, stepping outside.
“Thank you, General. It’s not that I distrust him, it’s simply precaution on my part,” explained Lord Jarailo.
“I understand. And now that we are alone, tell me.”
“Very well... but I want assurance: once I give you the information, I am out, whatever comes.”
Their eyes met, one concealing his emotions while the other sought to decipher the enigmatic foreigner in his city—the human who one day had suddenly begun furnishing them with invaluable intelligence, leading to numerous successful operations, raids, and the suppression of criminal activity in the border.
“You have been aiding us, the elves, for quite some time, and your information has never faltered. Considering that, and your current hesitance, yes, I agree to your terms. Out with it now.”
“I have obtained intelligence regarding a potential gathering of major criminal gang leaders in the region,” announced Lord Jarailo dryly.
“You mean?” prompted the general.
“The heads of the Valentian Scars, the Sae’gez, the Saints... and...” Lord Jarailo paused, building anticipation before the pivotal revelation. “Del’vhario.” Another moment of silence followed, allowing the general a moment of reflection. “It is as it sounds, General. Allegedly, they will convene no more than three days from now. I can guess the reason behind this meeting: forming alliances in response to your forces’ advances.” Lord Jarailo retrieved the marked parchment, which had been tucked in his pocket for countless days, awaiting this precise moment, and placed it on the desk. “The details are in the letter—the location of the meeting, the participant’s names, everything is there. And that is all I know.”
General Farra’lais stared at the tightly sealed letter, reminiscent of all the others the human consistently delivered. Within it lay, perhaps, redemption—the means to expunge the scum from Silifran once and for all. Given his family’s inability to accrue significant merit during the war with the humans a century ago, this could serve as a form of restitution.
“If this holds true... yes, there will be changes.”
“If, General. Proceed with caution.”
“We always do. Now, on your way out, inform the vicegerent to join me here. We have much to discuss.”
*
The elven Commander of the Protectorate, Ryuley Vai, implemented a stringent information policy for this operation. His intelligence, gathered through detentions, interrogations and informants, led them to an unassuming warehouse. Three stories high and lacking any distinctive signage, it easily blended with the constructions here were it not for the elves’ knowledge about its true nature.
His scouts surveilled the location from a safe distance and noted no changes. The final preparations had been carefully planned and set into motion. Within the building, Del’vhario stored a significant portion of its dusts stocks, which they distributed throughout the entire outer ring. Unlike The Lanaen Band, Del’vhario sold to all, including the elves. The Protectorate discovered instances of elven involvement in the trade, mostly as clients, particularly among those elves who owned businesses in the outer ring and beyond. Such a phenomenon was unprecedented in Silifran, whereas Mylsina and Fildereal, in particular, had previously experienced increased inflows of dusts into elven society.
In contrast to Silifran, where elven districts were clearly segregated from the masses of refugees and other non-elves, cities like Fildereal witnessed only superficial divisions. While this separation offered some semblance of order, it proved insufficient to halt the influx of the lessers’ poisons infecting elven society. Silifran, once hailed as the the crown jewel of the border cities, now grappled with unforeseen issues—a pervasive crookedness seeping into the city, infiltrating the inner rings, poised to permeate all levels of the socioeconomic hierarchy.
The Legazz raid on one of Del’vhario’s major establishments in this section of the city would mark the commencement of reclaiming the outer ring from their grip. It would strike at the heart of their operation here in Silifran—a significant blow to Del’vhario’s structure, as they had largely eluded elven authority since their inception.
Commander Ryuley Vai donned his ancestral family armor, a relic passed down from his great-grandparents and destined for his children, who would wear it proudly when they came of age. Sent from the rigid north of the Elven Kingdom to the southern border, Ryuley Vai embodied the subtle distinctions that set northern and southern elves apart: a slightly paler complexion, a more slender build, but especially, the ferocity and savagery they displayed on the battlefield. His mission: confront the escalating threats growing within Silifran—the proliferation of dusts and the accompanying violence. However, his directives came with clear priorities. Foremost among them: eliminate or capture the elven individual known as X.
This strike would herald the beginning of the end for all criminal enterprises inside Silifran, paving the way for subsequent efforts to to cleanse the other border cities.
Within carriages stationed around the suspected warehouse, these elves made the final preparations. They ensured the main gate of the city remained shut to prevent any potential escape attempts, bolstering its security measures. Though unaware of the impending Legazz operation, the diligent gate captain followed her orders, as did all others within the city.
As dusk descended and the crimson hue of the sun illuminated Silifran’s castle in the center ring, the commander issued the order to launch the assault on the warehouse.
As expected, the Legazz encountered heavy resistance, yet their superior armament, tactics and magic granted them the upper hand. Upon sustaining several losses, Del’vhario’s forces retreated inside the warehouse.
All according to plan, for the elven forces had anticipated such developments. Swiftly, the Legazz, comprising thirteen armed elves, encircled the three-story building. Its spacious layout rendered it an ideal defensive stronghold for the entrenched Del’vharios forces. Not allowing their enemies time to further barricade themselves, the Legazz adhered to their plan, dividing into groups.
A squad of three elves remained outside to secure the perimeter, vigilant for any attempts at escape or potential reinforcements from criminal elements. They also safeguarded the flute of Gryslya, used to call for elven reinforcement if necessary.
Inside the structure, Del’vhario’s resistance persisted as the elves pressed forward. Shielded behind crates, barrels, and whatever makeshift cover they could find, Del’vhario’s forces attempted to mount a counteroffensive. However, their efforts were short-lived, as the better-equipped Legazz easily tore through whatever Del’vhario mustered. Buoyed by high morale, the commander and his elves maintained a relentless advance. While one group of Legazz employed magic against the criminals, the remainder pressed onwards, with elf squads alternating roles. This tactical maneuver drove Del’vhario’s forces to retreat to the upper levels, seeking refuge behind any available barriers.
The elves had anticipated encountering a formidable adversary and prepared accordingly for a fierce battle, expecting criminals to rain destruction from above. Yet, no such barrage materialized. Without dwelling further on the matter, the commander, recognizing their thorough dominance had shattered the enemy’s will to fight, issued orders for his forces to rush the upper floors.
The Legazz swiftly cleared the first floor, dispatching any stragglers they faced. Upon reaching the second level, they found even fewer non-elves hiding in the few rooms on this level. Adding to their confusion, the elves discovered the third floor empty of anything that breathed. As a Legazz member stumbled upon a makeshift ladder leading to the roof, the entire structure trembled, halting their advance. A resounding noise reverberated throughout the building, and the walls glimmered with the light of a spell—several Reinforcement spells had been cast on the entire warehouse.
This unforeseen turn of event posed a grave threat to the elves. The commander immediately ordered his troops to reach for the exits, only to find them equally reinforced, impeding their attempts to force them open through sheer strength. This required fighting magic with magic. But before they could organize, gnomes hiding in boxes on each floor lunged into the open, casting spells, and forcefully bursting several bags, crates, and various containers strewn throughout the building. Soon, a fine dust permeated every corner of the structure.
The Legazz initially shouted to locate each other amid the obscured chaos. After regaining some visibility, the commander ordered them to assemble in a line on the first floor and concentrate their magical efforts on blasting open the main entrance.
“I want a line formed here! At the entrance!” commanded the leader in flawless elvish.
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“Yes, Commander!” Nine Legazz responded, assuming their positions and awaiting further instructions.
“Fire!”
They unleashed a barrage of their most potent spells—a whirlwind of fire, electricity, rocks and bladed winds—aimed at the reinforced gate.
Yet, to their dismay, the entrance remained unyielding, impervious to their onslaught.
“Again, fire!”
Undeterred, they unleashed another volley of elemental fury at the imposing door.
Still, nothing.
“Damn it! Where’s A’livy!” demanded the commander, scanning for the tenth member of their company. “Where is she?!” He shouted once more, pivoting in search of her, but found only swirling dust, fine particles, slowly settling on the floor. Whirling back to face his assembled elves, he found none. Panic surged through him as he called out to them, receiving only silence as response
“Where has everyone gone?!”
In a fleeting moment of clarity, the commander realized that no elves ever assembled in a line, and that he wasn’t even positioned at the entrance of the first floor but rather stood on the staircase leading to the second level.
His troops lay scattered, much like himself, already suffering from the effects of the dust—a potent concoction crafted by Del’vhario. If anyone understood the intricacies of their dusts, it was the addicts themselves—what to mix and what not to mix unless you don’t want to ever wake up. Or in certain occasions, like this one, they knew what to mix when you want to hear voices in your head and see terrors all around you.
“Where are you!?” shouted the commander to his elves, but only darkness hearkened back.
“Commander... Commander!” a voice called out, not in elvish. Commander Ryuley Vai followed the voice, his mind slipping further into the depths of illusion. Suddenly, a dragon’s maw materialized in the blood-red skies above him, brimming with teeth—nothing but teeth, devoid of tongue or anything, followed by a torrent of fire. Walking backwards while staring at the sudden apparition, he stumbled upon several noxious plants, which released a toxic cloud. Rising quickly, he fled from the looming threat of a colossal foot poised to crush him. Exhausted, he stopped running, raising his arms and closing his eyes.
“Commander!” Once more, the voice broke through his chaotic thoughts.
He sprinted toward that voice, tripping over debris, yet in his mind, ferocious demons from the worst underworld in elven culture obstructed his path. Amid the darkness shrouding a pond, one of his elven soldiers floated, an endless cascade of flowers pouring from his chest.
“What happened to you?” exclaimed the commander.
The elven soldier rose, and the surrounding shifted. Now perched on a precipice, the Legazz lifted his head. Demonic eyes, half his face obscured by a black mesh, and red hair adorned with golden curls loomed from the depths of the commander’s psyche.
“You... you are...”
The one they had sought. Commander Ryuley Vai drew his sword and lunged forward. “Die!” Yet, midway, his blade morphed into a feathered serpent, its head readying to bite him. Recoiling, he released his weapon, his eyes darting wildly as he searched out the traitor.
“I’m here, Commander.”
The commander whirled around, but only darkness enveloped him.
“Here...”
In the distance, he glimpsed the redheaded elf.
“What do you seek, Commander? Glory, fame, elven peace, a life without any lessers, or...?” The redheaded elf disappeared.
Disoriented, the commander navigated the dim surroundings, witnessing faint shapes—the remnants of ancient and powerful elven structures.
“Retribution?” That voice, that figure, again.
Spotting the criminal elf descending the ancient stairs to the ground floor, the commander pursued without hesitation.
“Retribution for selling dusts to elves, for upending your laws, your society, or... for what happened at Saint Jaulea...? Well, let me enlighten you, Commander...”
Before Commander Ryuley Vai could reach him, the redheaded elf vanished into thin air once more.
“Come here! Face me!” bellowed the commander, almost tearing his throat with rage.
“Boo!”
Startled, the commander quickly turned around, seizing a dagger from his belt and thrusting it at the figure before him. The redheaded elf grimaced in pain as the blade penetrated his flesh. The dagger had pierced his heart, and after the commander pulled it out, blood gushed from the orifice left. Muttering his last words in elvish, the criminal elf spoke in agony and regret. He collapsed lifeless onto a bed of petals.
“I’m here, Commander.”
The commander’s eyes darted frantically in every direction.
“Right here...”
Commander Ryuley Vai pivoted and beheld the redheaded elf, alive and well, torturing him with every step he took. He followed the criminal’s haunting voice.
“How is Ruianne? You know, I was thinking of sending her a letter, asking how did the lessers she held so dear fare in their escape. Do they roam the free valleys of the in-between, or did they get captured? Tortured? Ravaged? All of them, all your elves.”
“Ah!” raged the commander, striking out at yet another shadow—the redheaded specter of his nightmares, which crumbled lifeless.
“But then I pondered...” The redheaded elf continued taunting him. “Most probably, Ruianne isn’t even alive anymore, right? All those kinhayas and elves, all decimated... all... taken care of with the utmost respect in whichever dungeon they must have taken their last breaths... Just like your elves here.”
“You piece of shit!” Another shadow, then another, succumbed to his dagger—the instrument of vengeance for his land, for his kind, for the Elven Kingdom and the royal line.
“Now, look at you, Commander. Look at your elves, at this city, at your kingdom, at your pride and honor, at everything you represent.”
“Wicked creature! Come here!” shouted the commander.
“But I am here. The question is... are you?”
A shadow stepped into his rage and fell to his righteous blade, its final elven words murmuring of home and family.
“Are you elf enough, Commander? To lose to some lessers... disgusting. What will your kin say of you back home? ‘The Commander and his elves died to a dirty mob’ will be shouted in the inner rings, throughout the Elven Kingdom. Your children at your funeral, suffering the gazes of everyone else. Your wife pondering if the elf she wed was nothing but a coward, a mediocre elf no better than the races she despises so much. Your family tainted.”
“The General! General Farra’lais will certainly get you!”
“Oh, but Commander, I am counting on that...” Maniac laughter reverberated within the structure.
Night had fallen outside the warehouse under siege, where three Legazz stood guard. Though the rest of the unit, including the commander, had been inside for three and a half hours without sending any updates, the sentries didn’t move, didn’t flinch.
Abruptly, the warehouse entrance swung open, revealing an armored elf.
Her visage obscured by blood, she stepped out, unrecognizable in her grim attire. Staring at the vigilant elves, she swept her bloodied right hand across her face, smearing the crimson further across her cheeks and chin.
“Go in!” she shouted. “The Commander orders you to assist in capturing the remainder of the criminals!” Speaking flawless elvish, she smiled, her white teeth gleaming through the red, an emotion not easily given to the elves—victory within grasp.
Without hesitation, the three Legazz entered the building. The female elf closed the doors behind them, vanishing into the streets while wiping her face with a cloth as she made her way to Silifran’s main gate.
“Gate captain, this elven soldier— Le’Garantezz—brings the Commander’s ring and requests to speak to you,” one of soldiers under Dinea’s command informed her.
“What are you waiting for? Let her pass!” ordered Dinea.
With the gates closed for the day, the squad stationed at the main gate spent the afternoon observing the city and conversing among themselves while still maintaining their posts.
“Dinea Fylse,” the female soldier in elven armor addressed the elven captain in their native language. "I require a private audience with you."
Dinea gestured for her elves to depart, and once alone, she turned her attention to the female elven soldier, who appeared resolute and confident in her standard Legazz attire.
“What’s happening?”
“I am a Le’Garantezz, a direct subordinate of Commander Ryuley Vai.” She extended her left hand, revealing a crystal accessory. “This is the Commander’s ring. He requests your presence, and yours alone. Follow me, I’ll escort you to him.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now.”
Dinea entrusted her lieutenant with the responsibility of the gate while she and the female Legazz set off toward the southern outskirts of the outer ring. Before long, they reached the entrance of the warehouse. The darkness of the night weighed heavily around the eerie structure. A strange silence unsettled Dinea, but she brushed aside her apprehensive thoughts as the female Legazz opened the door.
“He’s waiting inside,” the Legazz gestured inward. “Enter.”
Following her instruction, Dinea ventured into the darkness ahead. As she crossed the threshold, the door shut behind her, enveloping her in shadow. She turned, only to find herself alone, her eyes adjusting to the sudden blackness. An unfamiliar scent filled her nostrils. Soon, a flickering light caught her attention—candlelight—illuminating a path strewn with elven swords and bodies. The fallen Legazz littered the way, hindering her trembling steps and causing her heart to pound stronger in her chest. In the center of the main room, several candles encircled the commander, who knelt before a body as if in meditation.
“Commander!” she exclaimed.
“I’ve killed the one called Ekk’s,” declared Commander Ryuley Vai, his back still turned to her.
Approaching him with faltering steps and a racing mind, Dinea beheld an elven soldier sprawled on the ground before the commander. The severed head of the Legazz lay beside its body, terror still lingering on his face.
“T... that’s not him Commander, that’s a... Le’Garantezz...” Words caught in her throat, unable to complete her sentence.
“How strange. Because now... another traitor appears behind me.”
“What... what are you talking about, Commander?”
“I’ll kill you for good this time...” The commander rose to his feet. “For the sake of all elves, for the Elven Kingdom, and the Royal Line, I’ll end you today!”
“Commander, I am Dinea Fylse, Silifran’s main gate captain!”
But her words could not reach him. In a sudden movement, he turned and lunged at her with his bloodied dagger in hand. Dinea recoiled, but the commander pressed on, slashing her left cheek.
“Commander! I’m not—”
The commander thrust his dagger towards her heart. Fueled by adrenaline, she unsheathed her sword and parried his attack.
“I see, this requires my utmost effort,” stated commander Ryuley Vai.
“No, Commander! Stop this madness!”
Dinea stared fearfully at the commander, her trembling hands barely holding her sword. Commander Ryuley Vai infused himself with magic and launched a relentless assault. Dinea struggled to fend off his attacks, sustaining several cuts in the process. As she staggered backward, she tripped over the severed head of a Legazz and tumbled to the ground. Without mercy, the commander lunged at her, his dagger aimed for her heart. With only a finger’s distance from her chest, the commander stopped. He had been impaled by Dinea’s sword, which she had raised at the last second, piercing through the middle of his chest, with the tip of her blade surfacing on his back.
“You... monster... I’ll get you...” were the last words of Commander Ryuley Vai.
Tears streamed down Dinea’s cheeks. The one thing that she never thought could happen in her life had happened. She had taken the life a high-ranking officer, an elf, one of her own kind, in this city, her city.
Her strength wavered, and along with the commander’s spirit, her mind sank to the deepest elven hells. “Commander... why...” she murmured, kneeling beside his body.
Suddenly, applause filled the chamber. Dinea looked around, searching for the source of the sound.
“Bravo! Well done! You certainly exceeded my expectations.”
In that moment, she spotted him walking towards her, looming from the darkness—the one and only, the traitor, the redheaded elf of their nightmares.
“You?!” She stood up, withdrawing the sword from the commander’s chest, ready to lunge at him when Del’vhario’s forces surrounded her.
A female clad in full elven armor placed a hand on her shoulder. Dinea turned to see the same female elf who had led her here, her head shaking in disapproval.
“What...?” Dinea struggled to comprehend the unfolding events.
Quickly and forcefully, the armored female wrested Dinea’s bloodied sword from her grasp.
“Fylian, well done. Masterful performance,” exclaimed X.
The female in question removed her helmet, revealing her half-elven features. With the helmet on, she could easily pass for a full-blooded elf. Fylian, once a lieutenant of The Lanaen Band and now serving under X’s commands, grinned wildly.
“It was easy shit,” Fylean said, her face contorting with disgust. “But don’t ever make me speak elven again. It’s like a disease...”
“I don’t know if it’s a disease, but it does sound sick,” retorted X.
Dinea glanced between Fylian and X, all the pieces falling into place in that moment—she had been manipulated into killing the commander. The gate captain dropped to her knees, defeated, already awaiting her execution or worse.
“Applause for the hero of the day, the great Gate Captain, Dinea Fylse!” proclaimed X, pacing around Dinea as he addressed his assembled forces. Cheers and applause surrounded her as she looked up at X, the shock on her face refusing to leave.
The redheaded elf continued. “You’ll be a hero. You saved the city from the Commanders’ massacre and exacted vengeance for all these Legazz.” He gestured at the bodies of the commander and his elves. “Even as he lost his mind and turned against his own kind, you stood against him, for the greater good. Oh, Dinea, can’t you see, the greatness that awaits you?”
“What... what are you... talking about?” Her barely functioning brain managed to form the question.
“You’ll be lauded. From this tragic moment, a beacon of light will emerge: you.”
“What?”
“And us. For you will work for us, Dinea.”
“What— No! Never! Other elves will arrive soon enough, and you’ll be killed, all of you!”
X yawned, stretching his neck by moving his head from side to side. “I don’t know about that, but... look at what we have here. All the Legazz killed by the Commander, the betrayer, someone who was payed by Del’vhario, someone who worked for us. When his Legazz found out about this... they confronted him, but it was too late. He killed them all, and I’m not lying, Dinea! I was here, I saw it all! And then? Then you came to stop this traitorous menace, and you know what’s best, Dinea? You alone will come out on the other side, clean, celebrated, invigorated...”
“You motherfucker! I will never be whatever you want me to be!” Her rage snapped her back into a terrible reality.
“Oh, but think things through. I understand you’re in shock, but still think things through. I’ve been told the elves’ blood contains traces of magic, so it won’t be difficult for the elves to know what happened here, and indeed come to know that the Commander really killed his Legazz, and that you really killed him. Tell me then... with this knowledge, are you either the traitor or the hero? I’m offering you a path here...”
“I... never... would...” The meaning of his words trickled down before becoming a storm, a cascade. Her words, her mind, herself, broken, never to be repaired.
“If dishonor befalls you, what will become of your family? Do you not care about them?”
“Don’t you dare name them!” Tears streamed down her face as she shouted.
“You know elven society is not merciful to... treasonous actors... or criminals. It does not take kindly to unresolved mysteries and shame, shame that is brought to you all.” X approached her and squatted before her. He saw her tears streaming down her cheeks, and he thought of wiping them away, but resisted the urge. “Don’t sweat it, because you’ve been working for us for a long time.” X smiled. “Many do in this city, some knowingly, most unknowingly.” He straightened up. “That cute half-elf you dote on so much...” Dinea lifted her gaze up, staring like a mad elf into X’s amber eyes. “He’s one of those who work unknowingly for us, and if you ever want to see him again in one piece... then you’d better start acting like what you really are. Reborn under a new star called Del’vhario!”
For Dinea, the nightmare was merely beginning, while for Del’vhario, this very expensive counterattack against the elven forces bore fruit. Though Nila and Mau had reservations, primarily due to the cost, which depleted their reserves of dusts and emptied numerous coffers, they ultimately went through with it. For X, the two pronged-assault on the elves had only just started.
“Commander Ryuley Vai is dead!” echoed through the streets of Silifran. Terrified elves prayed to their gods, while the lessers on the outer ring rejoiced.
The news of the commander’s demise plunged Silifran, and subsequently the Elven Kingdom, into a spiral from which, as many historians would later note, it never truly recovered. But how wrong they were. The gradual unraveling of the Elven Kingdom, indeed the entire continent, began long before this day.
As for Dinea Fylse, she had no time to contemplate her situation; events transpired too fast, one after the other. Alone and cornered, Dinea found herself echoing line by line what X had told her to say and acting how he told her to act. Then she truly witnessed that redheaded demon’s true reach—events unfolding in ways she never thought possible. Despite expecting severe punishment, her kind paraded her as a hero for various reasons, including saving face. And she, unable to mend all the lies, acted along, smiling to her fellow elves.
She went along
for her lover,
for her family,
for herself,
because she didn’t know what else to do
or how to respond to such acts of unbridled consciousness.
And sometimes playing along is the best option
because it is the only option you’ve got
to prevent further suffering of the self.