Chapter 238

Neia took another bite out of the meat and stared at the fire, the soft flesh of the deer melted in her mouth, and she made a point of making it obvious how good it was. "Mmm, by the dead gods this is the best meal I've ever had!" She exclaimed into the night, "Mmm, mmm… mmm… and there's so much of it…"

She tore another chunk away, the ones who hid themselves, now that Olasird'arc's nose had caught it, she felt the eyes on her even if she couldn't detect them. It was hours into the night and still they hadn't made a move. 'They don't feel hostile, so… what are they waiting for?' She wondered, and picked up the mug she'd dropped, the rest of her party went along with her exaggerations, picking up her cues.

"Who knew that food could taste this good!"

"The beer… if humans make this, I'd be glad to trade with them!"

"Oh, the stew…!"

Neia was just dropping her mug into the dust and smacked her lips with gusto when the noise hit from where nobody should be.

A growling stomach.

"You're caught." She said to the empty space on top of one of the multitude of crates scattered about. "I know you're there, your stomach gave you away, and so did your smell. You might as well give in."

"Shit." The empty space cursed, and whatever spell or skill was active, vanished. On the empty crate sat a slender elf with his face painted with black and green stripes, a black and green striped shirt, and pants to match. The elf held his hands up as the demihumans shot to their feet, "I'm not here to fight!" He shouted in a booming, half panicked voice.

"Wait!" Neia snapped, and her companions halted in midmotion, her hand went out palm up, and she stood up from her seat on the old log. She faced the elf, "Always eat before getting close, spells and skills, they do a great deal, but I don't know any spell that can take care of all the other stuff 'and' silence a growling empty belly. Still, you got very, very close to me, and that has my attention. Whether that is a good thing or not…" Neia turned the full force of her gaze on the elf, and let him tremble as he filled in the end of that sentence himself.

"I- yes, I think you'll be pleased… My name," the elf stammered, "No, that doesn't matter, ah, I was living in Wenmark, the city was destroyed, I was a slave, like all the elves there… we rebelled and got free, made a deal with Duke Astraka, he's your ally, right?"

Neia grunted, "Yeah, he is. What of it?"

"He's also a human, from the Southern Holy Kingdom… We don't really like them much… ah, he's not so bad, as humans go, I mean. He's dealt honestly with us, but we got hostages of his people too, so he has to. But when everything is over, what then? We won't go back into chains… and we can't trust the Holy Kingdom so…" The elf lowered his eyes, unable to meet the vicious eyes of the dragonid Queen.

"I see." Neia answered when she finished his unspoken words on her own. "You're hoping to move into Demalbion, we're not humans, and we need labor, you want to…" She stroked her chin, "I guess it isn't really switching sides, more like you want to be under new management… is that right?"

The elf's bright eyes sparkled when his face rose up to meet hers again, "Yes, Your Majesty!" He went down to one knee and bowed his head. "Accept us as your subjects, all of us. Give us land of our own to farm, give us equal standing in your Kingdom to all your other subjects, and we will be loyal for as long as we live."

"How many of you are there… exactly?" Neia asked as she thought over his request.

"Men, women, and children… including some half elves… we number some fifteen thousand, but-" He cleared his throat and raised his head to exclaim, "We have no elderly! No one you would call a burden! All of the adults and young are strong, and our very young, they will be!"

Neia's stomach immediately knotted up. 'There's only one good reason that there would be 'no' elderly among their people…' The disposal of useless tools, Olasird'arc's remark to her that she had clearly never seen the slave institution before, came back to mind. 'Perhaps he was right, and even though that is a lot, there is abundant land, including some from tribes that never saw reason…'

She settled on her decision with ease.

"Agreed. You bring your fighters and scouts over to my army, swear eternal fealty to me, release those of my ally you hold as hostages, spend two years working, learning, or teaching in my capital, and every elven family of two or more will be given an omnidirectional bowshot of land to farm in some of our unoccupied lands. Unmarried individuals will get half that."

"Then we are yours. The Wenmark Free Elves are your subjects, your servants, for as long as the Kingdom of Demalbion endures." The elf made his vow as sincerely as he could, his voice clear, even sonorous, the nervousness gone with the promise of a future.

"How long will it take you to bring your people this way?" Neia asked, skipping any ceremony and jumping straight to the point.

The elf blinked, taken aback, he hesitated, looking up at the night sky while he thought, "Weeks. We have been ranging farther from Duke Astraka as the days have gone on, but we are scattered, and we stick to the forests to avoid humans and trouble."

"Fine, communicate my acceptance however you do, and get your noncombatants to the border, we'll send word to take them to the capital as free citizens, get the rest into my army, ready to fight." Neia gave the order to the nameless elf, "But before that…" She pointed to the deer roasting over the flame… "Are you hungry?"

The elf's stomach growled again, and he blushed sheepishly. "I will remember that the next time I need to sneak somewhere."

Neia chuckled and answered, "See that you do."

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Astraka looked over the lines of prisoners bound up in chains and being shuffled beneath his eyes while he sat on horseback, his armor was stained with blood and dented where he'd been hit multiple times. His face was sweaty and in general he, like the rest of his soldiers, looked a frightful mess. 'If I ever have this moment painted, I'll have to leave out some of these details.' The thought cheered him as he watched the people of Prart kneel to him as he trotted away.

The horse's hooves made a steady clip-clop noise while he rode to the center of town. He guessed from the clouds overhead that the rains were moving in. 'Gustav is probably still getting drenched near Yanana, expecting me to show up and stop him. By the time he realizes he's been had, I'll have taken two more minor cities and be on my way to Hoburns. Almost like chess… save I must take the Queen, and then we can have a King.'

It was a warm thought that ran through his breast as he contemplated that. Already he could see the Queen descending from his throne to kneel, and then an unpleasant thought came to mind. 'The Queen of Frost might just decide to take her head… she has betrayed her nation… Beheading the Queen is not a step too far beyond that… and if she does, we'll have enmity for centuries no matter what else happens. Perhaps I shouldn't let her near the surrender… better the Queen be gone as a fool, not as a martyr.'

With that, the Duke dismounted his horse, stepped over some yet to be disposed of bodies, and entered the building that would host his temporary headquarters for the next few days.