Ruianne extracted a small rock from her cleavage while strange words rolled off her tongue with a fluid rhythm.

"Hey! What are you doing!?" exclaimed the elf in surprise.

The rock in her hands glimmered with an unnatural green hue. Shock and consternation assaulted the male elf as one event after the other turned increasingly bizarre.

"Get this thing off—" he exclaimed.

"Shut it! I'm casting a simple magic spell. For the Elven Throne, are you going to freak out about every little thing?!" huffed Ruianne.

“Whatever you're doing... it’s not going to make me sterile? Or a eunuch?”

"Hold him, High Mountain,” ordered Ruianne.

“Keep away!” yelled the male elf.

Head Slave-Butler Gnome grabbed the elf and covered his mouth. Ruianne continued her spell without further interruptions.

It tingles! Is this magic?

Ruianne's skin brightened, and a white aura enveloped her. Her hair floated, and a radiant light emanated from her outstretched palms.

Whoa!

"You see it?" asked the female half-orc.

"Yes, it's starting," replied Ruianne.

"What does it say?" inquired the gnome.

"Name: Not yet chosen," announced Ruianne.

"Huh?"

"Level: First grade, permanent."

“Miaooww really?!”

"Skills: None, permanent."

"Ehhh?!"

“How does anyone...?”

“Titles: The cook, two bodies one ax, the self-taught alchemist, the merciless of pound-town... It goes on... Useless titles! What are titles without skills!?” exclaimed Ruianne, disgusted.

“Hey, I bled for those!” objected the male elf.

[And made others bleed too.]

Are you lecturing me now?

"All his stats are at their lowest, permanent."

“What the hell?” exclaimed the gnome, disbelief clear in his tone.

"How could this be?" Ruianne couldn’t hold back anymore and laughed out loud. A beautiful smile spread across her face, her perfect teeth danced up and down.

“Did you get it out of your system?” asked the male elf.

High Mountain hushed them, "Quiet, you two."

But Ruianne recovered, "Wait, there's more. Curses:"

"Curses?"

"Grrrr curses!"

"Are we to die? questioned the half she-orc.

“Miawwee!”

"Let her continue!" High Mountain silenced the group.

“Ks lzs p...”

“Prrrhat language is meeoowis?!” asked a puzzled kinkat.

"May our Gods have mercy on us," prayed the gnome, failing to contain his fear.

"It's not a language... I just can’t decipher it!" exclaimed Ruianne .

“This means...?” inquired the gnome.

"The curses are far, far beyond my level," replied a shocked Ruianne.

“Figures... useless,” sneered the elf.

“And you!” Ruianned faced him. “Now I don’t trust you one bit!”

“You never did,” he retorted sharply.

"This is too strange... all of it" observed High Mountain.

“Grgrrr isn’t he kinda ggrruseless?”

“Kinda? He’s dead weight,” answered the gnome.

"What about plan? Can trust?" asked the half-orc.

No one had an answer, no matter how hard they tried to come up with one. Time was running out for the slaves.

“You people... or whatever you all are, don’t tell me you are planning a rebellion or something?” asked the male elf, a big smile playing on his lips.

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The group became serious, the air heavy with danger.

“I play, I play!” he exclaimed still smiling.

“Damn it!" cursed the gnome. “Now we cannot let him go without knowing for sure!”

“Gbbboaarrr! Danger! Lady grris coming!” alerted the beargang .

"Ah, no way," lamented High Mountain.

"Everyone out!" ordered Ruianne.

"What about him?" asked a confused gnome.

"There's no option. To the dungeon with him," replied Ruianne, stepping forward, her face inches away from the male elf’s. "Speak a word to anyone and you'll be the first to go. We all swear it."

The beings nodded in agreement.

"A kiss and I won't tell—"

"Good!" Ruianne cut him off.

"Well then, my lips are sealed like the legs of—"

"Ah! Take him away already! And you, fellow elf, we'll talk tomorrow."

"Don't keep me waiting," the male elf teased her.

Everyone hastened to exit the room silently. Head Slave-Butler Gnome hoisted the elf onto his back and took him to the dungeon. Soon after, Lady Emelda entered Ruianne's room. She found the female elf brushing her hair while sitting on her bed.

"Good night, Ladyship Emelda," greeted Ruianne as she stood up, putting down her brush.

"I was looking for Head Slave-Butler Gnome, but he's not in his chambers," said the Lady of the House.

"I just returned from the dungeon. Head Slave-Butler Gnome is still attending to the elf. Your Ladyship understands this slave can be... problematic."

Lady Emelda sighed. "Yes, I know. Please inform Head Slave-Butler Gnome that the Lord wants to see him in the study first thing in the morning."

"Yes, my Ladyship."

Lady Emelda's gaze lingered on Ruianne, taking in her exceptional beauty that transcended even high standards. Though she felt a twinge of jealousy when they first acquired the female elf, she quickly remembered Ruianne’s place as a mere creature meant to serve humans. Simply another beast to use and discard as she saw fit. It had been Lady Emelda's idea to buy her in the first place, and the investment had already proven to be worth more than her exorbitant cost.

"That's all for today."

"Then a bid my Ladyship goodnight."

With Lady Emelda about to leave, Ruianne saw an opportunity to gather information. She approached her Ladyship.

"My Ladyship, before you go..."

"What troubles you?"

“The male elf House Liame recently bought...”

Lady Emelda took a step closer.

“He distresses me to no avail.”

“Oh.”

"As low as our status as slave-elves may be, we still possess pride," explained Ruianne. "But this elf... he’s different."

Lady Emelda nodded. “I understand what you’re trying to say. Is there a specific issue you want to clarify?”

"My Ladyship is very astute," complimented Ruianne. "When House Liame bought him, did the slavers mention anything about his past, where he was caught, or anything else?"

Lady Emelda had also pondered about the elf in question. The elf didn’t behave as any slave she had encountered before. She found rebellious slaves to be unruly, boisterous, and chaotic, and thus they met quick ends, but this elf behaved different. He was insidious.

"Mhmm... We got him from the slavers at Marracas. They couldn't recall where they found it... they made it sound like one day the elf simply popped up in one of their dungeons. The slavers probably didn't want to tell us. Ring any bells?"

Ruianne shook her head, "No... my Ladyship."

"If it does, let me know. Now get some rest. Tomorrow will be a long one."

"Yes, my Ladyship."

When not chastising them, the House's masters treated them like children, which was both annoying and demeaning. However, their condescending attitude made it easier for Ruianne and the other slaves to plot and plan. Predictable and easy to manipulate, the masters had fallen under her spell, a unique charm. And now, all the sacrifices she and her fellow slaves had made hung in the balance, all thanks to the new, obnoxious elf.

Lady Emelda retired to her chambers, where her husband lay in bed already. She let out a sigh and snuggled up beside him. "What a strange day," she commented. "Now we've got a duel on our hands."

"We can't do much about it," stated Lord Derreick.

"But that elf has some nerve!"

"Either that or he's just another fool."

Their faces showed signs of exhaustion from the day’s events and from pondering these matters. Lady Emelda spoke again, "It was funny how he tried to hit Mitchell. I don't think the elf is faking his weakness, he's really as feeble as the slavers told us."

“Nevertheless, we must be cautious around slaves. These putrajados tend to violence at the slightest provocation.”

“What happened at House Barbass haunts me still.”

"The elf is too crooked," noted Lord Derreick, "and outspoken for his own good."

“But he wasn’t wrong.”

“I agree. The Adventurer’s Guild... they’re always up to no good. And this thing with Mitchell, it’s personal.”

"We will deal with him and the guild in due time. As for the elf, the duel will be his end.”

“He did ask for help to defeat him.” Lord Derreick weighed the slave’s words. "What if," considered the Lord, "a miracle were to occur, and the elf were to defeat him? We would rid ourselves of one problem, and after the duel, we would dispose of the elf as planned."

"That’s a big 'if',” Lady Emelda pointed out.

"But worth a shot," said Lord Derreick. "In the worst case, the elf loses as we expect him to."

With these thoughts in mind, the Lords of House Liame went to sleep. Meanwhile, in the dungeon below the mansion, another being lost itself in thought.

[Defeat the human? You? In your state?]

“Can’t you go bother someone else?”

[No. I really can’t.]

“I’ll come up with something.”

[I’d pay to see how you survive this.]

“I need to... I won’t let myself be the plaything of demons dressed as gods,” said the elf, looking through his fingers at the lonely moonlight ray descending into his dark lair. “Nor of any other kind of creature.” He tried to hold it. “My destiny is in my own hands.”

[Too late. You should have done it several lives before.]

“What a weird day. I wonder if I’ll wake up back in a bed, tied up somewhere in the middle of a no-man’s jungle. I still can’t believe any of this... and those things, holy...”

[Good for you, you made some friends. I’m proud, but you’re already wondering if they are imaginary? Come on.]

“Fuck yo— Argh!”

A searing pain in his abdomen had him bend over, grasping for air. After the pain receded, his consciousness faded away.