Ch.27

As they trekked through the snowy landscape, the dark elf archer moved with a graceful ease that suggested she was no stranger to these harsh conditions. Her supple leather boots left barely a mark on the powdery snow, and her thick fur-lined cloak kept her warm against the biting wind. Her longbow was slung across her back, and her quiver of arrows bounced lightly against her thigh with each step. Despite the frigid temperatures, she seemed perfectly at ease, as if the icy terrain was her natural habitat.

She moved a step behind Erik, clearly cautious of him, but as was he of her.

After several minutes of walking in silence, the elf finally spoke up. ("Who taught you elvish?") She asked.

("No one in specific. There are merely textbooks of widespread languages where I am from. I picked one up.")

("Picked one up?") She scoffed. ("Elvish is not a simple tongue. Though some of your words are clearly of high-elvish dialect, you speak well, despite being so young looking. How long did it take you to learn?")

("Nine days.") He responded bluntly, expectingly receiving yet another scoff in return.

("You jest. What is your name?")

A moment of pondering and hesitation passed before he gave her an answer. ("...Erik.")

("My name is Theovessa Lilac'zyra. I do want you to be aware, that if you think you can trick me, you will be met with a blade in your throat.")

Erik held his tongue, allowing her comment to slide.

Before long, they made their way over the mountain range, through the narrow path and forest, and to the village.

Seeing him return, the men who'd returned ahead of him rushed over.

"My lord!" The orc's eyes were red with tears, but Erik merely acknowledge the orc's feelings with a brief word of condolence, though he felt no empathy or sympathy towards the grieving parent.

"I am fine." He raised his hand. "Go about your day, bury your son."

"Yes, my lord. Thank you..."

With them leaving, Erik turned his head to look over his shoulder at the elf.

("Follow me.") He said.

She followed behind him, her eyes glossing over the buildings.

Every building was built using stone from the mine to lay out the foundation, with walls built from perfectly symmetrical bricks, though the inside was covered in a layer of smooth wooden planks. The roofs were triangular in shape and made of wood, sloping steeply downward to help shed snow and other precipitation. Though each one was small and basic.

("Your architecture is unlike the Telvanians.") She commented. ("Theirs is crude and disgusting. Still, it is simple...") Her speech trailed off as she turned her head towards the towering castle ahead.

He led her up the steps and onto the platform of pillars that led to his castle's entrance.

The castle stood in stark contrast to the cluster of small homes surrounding it, resembling more of a grand temple than a simple castle home.

The inside was a single, large and grand room, yet to be furnished, and with entire walls missing which would lead to other wings of the castle. Every window was just a hole in the wall, the floor was only partially filled in, and various items and crates were strewn haphazardly around the entrance.

It was in one of those crates that he rummaged through, taking out a chunk of raw, unprocessed gold ore that shone brilliantly in the dimly lit room.

("Gold ore, directly from the mine.") He held out his hand with the ore in clutch.

The ore in his hand was little more than a rock with streaks of gold painted across its face, yet from the faint way it glimmered from her perspective, she could tell it was as close to gold as she knew.

("I believe you.") She said, leaving the ore in his hands and stepping back to lean against the castle wall. ("I am rather curious. No... Suspicious, of you. Is this your fortress?")

("It is a castle, or will be when I finish building it.")

("Are they your slaves?")

("They are my kin, which would be the closest translation.") He grabbed a bottle off the nearby table, one made of clear glass.

("And what are you?") She asked as he poured himself a glass of a thick red liquid, a sweet aroma whiffing from the liquid.

("King. God. Master. All of which are suitable titles.") He downed the liquid, before pouring yet another one and wandering over to her. ("Try some.") He offered her.

She considered it for a moment but ultimately decided against it, a faint smirk outlined beneath her mask. ("How foolish. A barbarian offers me a drink. A jest, indeed.")

("Barbarian... Huh...") He downed the drink himself. ("The gold is just one thing we possess. As I told you before, we have iron and copper, but we have other goods as well. Dogs, for one. Tamed and good for hunting and tracking, fruit, crops, knowledge. I want you to tell me about your people, such as currency. Do you deal in gold?")

She pondered whether she would answer him over the next couple of seconds before finally deciding. ("...Very well, in exchange for an ore. It does not have to be-")

Before she could even finish her sentence, Erik placed the gold ore on the table with a loud thud.

("Answer my questions, it will be yours to take.")

("Very well, but I will only answer the questions I deem worth answering. For the first question, yes. Gold, silver, copper, they are worth their weight in coin, even among the many elvish kingdoms, as the kingdoms of man do. What else do you wish to ask?")

("Goods. What goods would we be trading for? Such as fabric and tailors, I really do need someone capable of making my clothing.")

("We have expert tailors. In fact, this fabric...") She pulled down her mask and unraveled its fabric, wrapped around her neck. ("...It is our most widely used silk. Woven from the thread of wood spiders, large eight-legged arachnids that build their webs in trees.")

She dangled what was essentially her scarf on the tip of her finger, holding it out with a straight arm. Erik took it, feeling the extremely light, dark-gray scarf between his fingers, soft and extremely thin, with an almost rubber-like stretchiness to it. All the while, he never broke eye contact with her, and neither she.

Markings ran down the center of both of her eyes, tattooed onto her cheek. They were a few shades darker than her violet-colored skin, sleek and simple in design, yet elegant looking, resembling a bird of some sort.

("Do you have dyes, jewels, ships?")

("Yes, of course.")

("And what of the god you worship?")

("My people worship no god, we pray to the spirits of our ancestors.")

Erik could feel the weight of unspoken questions pressing on his tongue, but he knew prying would be met with silence. She was far too savvy to spill secrets to a stranger like him.

He fell silent, picking up the ore and handing it to her, as well as her scarf. The moment he let go, the full weight of it fell into her hands. It was surprisingly heavy to the point that she almost dropped it.

Erik opened the door for her, waiting for her to leave on her own.

("I take it you are done with your questions.")

("I am. You know the way back, and for the future of both our land's people, I do hope you do well to convince your elders.")

("Yes, do not worry, Erik. I will, but before I leave, I have a question for you. When I speak to my elders, how will I refer to you all as? The name of your quaint village, here.")

"Innah'vadah."

"Innah'vadah..." She repeated quietly. ("A beautiful name. Does it have a meaning?")

("It did, but it is nonsensical since she is now dead.")