The elves stood at the edge of the light, flickering flames casting dancing shadows across their visages. Staffs clattered as the villagers reached to defend themselves from the intruders.
Scanning the dirty people around the campfire with looks of disdain, the elves slowly raised empty hands. The elf in the middle seemed to be in charge; the other two watched him and mimicked his actions. The two elves flanking the leader each wore identical pendants around their necks. A dark gemstone hung from a chain, shimmering in the firelight. They all wore cloaks which reached to the knee, and long, flowing hair fell past their shoulders. Androgenous features betrayed no gender.
“We do not come to fight,” the leader said. “Who rules this land?”
Laryn raised a hand, and all eyes turned to him. His heart raced. Elves were a peculiar race, difficult to work with. They had a thousand important traditions, a cultural minefield. One thing he thought he remembered about them. They had particular rules about reciprocity. He tried offering them a warm greeting, hoping for more warmth in return.
“Welcome to Vallor, friends,” he said. “My name is Laryn, and I am the [Ruler] here.”
“An elvish name, but you are not elves.” The leader’s voice was cold. He appeared uninterested in Laryn’s smile. “Why are you in Elvandar?”
Laryn did not let his disappointment show on his face. Perhaps he misremembered his lessons on treating with elves; there weren’t many of them on Endara. Most of them lived on Cataria, between the Withwyn and the Ebil.
But he’d thought for certain that sharing his name would require the elf to share his own.
“We are not elves,” Laryn said. “We are wanderers and adventurers. We were brought together by the Ebil, and have claimed this island.”
“You have intruded where you do not belong,” the elf said. “Elvandar is the domain of the elves. We claim all that is south of the Ebil. Does not the river run to the north?” He indicated where the river branched and ran around the island. “Besides, you have claimed our lands to the south for your kingdom.”
“I have only claimed neutral tiles,” Laryn countered. “If they were your land, why didn’t you claim them?”
The elf scowled. “We do maintain a kingdom core in our village,” he said. “But we don’t spread our influence recklessly around like you humans. We do not burn our forests to feed the core, spreading its magic thin. It would be foolish for us to claim all the land we use.”
“What land have I claimed that you believe is yours?” Laryn asked. He might be willing to surrender some of the land south of the river, if it meant keeping the peace. Then again, that would cause a major problem for him if he ever wanted to complete more rings. Having the elves in the way of that would lock him at his current level.
The leader produced a parchment from his pocket. He boldly crossed the space between them, walking amid the irritated villagers, and presented it to Laryn.
Laryn pulled up his map and compared it to the one sketched on the parchment.
The elven village was about the same size as Laryn’s domain. Vallor. Their kingdom core sat in the center, and they had claimed three additional rings, making the village one ring smaller than Vallor. A thin, one-wide tile strip separated the elves’ village Vallor-claimed tiles.
When Laryn looked at his own map, only claimed tiles, or tiles bordering claimed tiles appeared. He had no way to know that he’d nearly pushed his border up against theirs.
Marked out on the map were several fields, partially covered by the influence of the elves’ core, partially not. Laryn had expanded his kingdom to abut these fields, and claimed some of the surrounding forest. He could see how the elves might be upset about that. Working in their fields would become more difficult if Vallor’s influence opposed them, but… He hadn’t claimed much of the south shore, just some water, sand, and probably trees. As long as he didn’t encroach further, they shouldn’t be too upset.
“I see,” Laryn said. “And what are your proposed solutions?”
“Leave,” the elf said. “Depart from our lands, and don’t come back.”
“That isn’t going to work,” Laryn said. “We don’t have a coresmith, and besides, I don’t think we want to leave.”
“This is our land,” the elf said.
Laryn thought back to his training. In war, battlefield negotiations were vital. They planted the seeds that would eventually grow into future treaties. This wasn’t exactly a negotiation, but the last thing he wanted was to have another enemy. Fighting elves and voidlings would be too much. Especially wounded as he was. How would he advise a ruler to act?
He didn’t know. His mind was clouded by exhaustion. Recalling a lesson from one of his instructors, he opted to defer. He needed to rest, to address this issue with a clear mind. Perhaps more elvish etiquette would return to his mind as he slept.
“Thank you for coming here, and presenting this offer to me,” Laryn said. “I am exhausted from a long day, where we fought against voidlings. It is not good to make these decisions under cover of darkness.”
“There is not decision to make,” the elf replied, coldly.
Laryn ignored him. “Besides, one in my state can hardly be held to make a binding agreement.” He gestured at his leg. “I need to sleep, before I can discuss anything with you further.”
The elf hesitated. For a moment, he seemed ready to argue. Laryn wracked his brains for further points he could make.
Then the elf relented. “We will return in the morning,” he said with a brief nod. “But we will be watching you.” He and his companions turned.
“Wait!” Laryn said. “Good elf. What is your name?”
The elf stopped, but did not turn to face Laryn. “I am Ilydia,” he said. Then the elves disappeared into the darkness.
Laryn watched them go, then starting heading for his bed, hoping to avoid further discussion of the topic. Hela caught him before he could duck inside his shelter.
“Laryn,” the healer said, playing with the many bracelets at her wrists. “Did you see the pendants that those elves were wearing?”
Recalling the appearance of the elves, Laryn nodded. “Two of them. Black gemstone on a chain, you mean?”
Hela bobbed her head, peering at him curiously. Chains from the ornaments around her neck jingled as she did. “How were you able to notice them?” she asked.
“With my eyes…” Laryn said. “They weren’t particularly hidden.” In fact, the pendants had been one of the first things he’d noticed about the elves.
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“They have an enchantment about them, which hides them from normal eyes,” she said. “But I saw you staring, and knew you had pierced it. Do you know what those pendants are?”
Laryn shook his head. Hela watched him intently.
“I believe you,” she said. “Though, what other option do I have?”
“What are they?”
“Void heart,” Hela said, and Laryn immediately remembered what had happened to him when he’d cut the void heart from the bloom; the way his eyes had wanted to look away from the stone until he touched it. The way he’d wanted to give in to the void and melt into its bliss, until Adi had puled him out.
“They’re void cultists,” Hela said, before turning away and leaving him to ponder her words.
Early the next morning, as the sky barely lightened in the east, Laryn gathered his people.
“What’s the plan?” Gall asked eagerly. “How are we gonna thump ‘em?”
“Yeah, they need to be put in their place, pompous elves,” someone else said.
“I’ve been working on spears,” Thallon added. “Tipped with the wicked sharp points of voidling spikes. I’d like to see how well they pierce elven flesh.”
Laryn waved his hands, a stunned by the vehemence the people showed toward their neighbors.
“Why do you assume we’re fighting with them?” he asked.
“Well, they started it,” Hela said. “Across the river from Jardensvale was a small elf village. They refused every offer we made to trade with them, and fired arrows at us when we tried fleeing the void through the water.”
“That wasn’t these elves, though,” Laryn countered.
"Psh.” Hela brushed his comment aside with her hand. “They’re cultists. They worship the void. They need to be destroyed.”
“I don’t think we should just jump to these conclusions,” Laryn said. “Their leader didn’t wear a void heart pendant. Perhaps he is not a cultist. Have we learned nothing? Tasam and Coril—”
“But Tasam was right,” Hela protested. “He should have acted with more spine, and maybe he’d still be alive.”
“Fine,” Laryn said. “I still want to talk to them more, but if you all need another project, you can start working on building a bridge over the river. Something long and wide, that we can push into place would be ideal.”
“We can do that,” Gall said. “Come on.” He waved several people over and they headed to the trees to look for timber.
Laryn turned to Hela. “Please, if you want to talk about void cultists, would you simply come to me? I’d prefer not to have these conversations in public and get everyone worked up.”
“Where else would I do it?” she said, spreading her arms at the open beach. “We don’t have a lot of options.” Then she spun on her heel and walked away.
Laryn stared down at the hole her heel had made in the sand. Who was he kidding? He didn’t know how to run a kingdom. But then again, who did when they first started? Did he think his older brother would be doing a better job in this situation? No. Yarin would have died alone out here.
The three elves returned. Laryn thought they were the same three elves, but found it hard to be certain in the daylight. He searched their features and their necks. If any of them had been wearing a so-called void pendant the night before, it had been removed. None of the elves wore any kind of ornament.
“Welcome back,” Laryn said, even as he wondered how they’d managed to cross the river without getting wet. Did they have some kind of bridge set up already?
“You do not appear to be getting ready to leave,” the elf—Ilydia—said.
“You and I both know that isn’t going to happen, so let’s drop the pretense. I have land that you want. In situations like this, we humans tend to trade. You offer me something, and if I deem the price acceptable, we will make an exchange.”
“The land you have is our land,” Ilydia said. “Stolen from us. We will not offer to buy it from you.”
Laryn shrugged. He stared into the elf leader’s eyes. The elf stared back.
“I have something you want,” Laryn said.
“You stole what is rightfully mine.”
A few Vallorians had subtly moved closer. Laryn watched them out of the corner of his eye, as they prepared for a fight. The other elves had noticed them as well.
“I would prefer peace between us,” Laryn said.
“As would we.”
Laryn had hoped that delaying this confrontation would allow him to have a better idea of what to do, but now that the morning had arrived, and the elves had returned, he still had no inspiration. He valued the land—unclaimed land—that improved his stats. He refused to accept that he had stolen anything from the elves. If they wanted that land back, they would have to pay him an acceptable price.
During the night, a single piece of information had floated into his subconscious mind. He couldn’t remember where it came from.
Only negotiate with elves after a meal.
He had no idea why that was the case, or if he was even remembering the advice correctly, but it was all he had to go on.
“We are reasonable,” Laryn said. “And I think we can come to an agreement. But first, can I offer you seats? And food?”
Ilydia’s jaw tightened, and Laryn could see that the elf wasn’t happy about the offer. But the elf accepted.
“You may,” he said, dryly.
The elves sat on logs near the fire. More of the villagers had moved into the vicinity. Laryn waved a young Jardensvaler woman over to him.
“My lord,” she said, presenting herself.
“Kenna,” he whispered into her ear. “Can you prepare some food for us? We’ll be sharing a meal this morning. And tell everyone that if they’re going to to watch, at least pretend like they’re working on something. Stop staring so much.”
Kenna returned shortly with strips of dried gobo paste, seasoned with herbs and drizzled with honey which had been harvested from a beehive on the island. It wasn’t much, but it was the best Vallor had to offer.
The elves received the food, but did not eat it.
Laryn ate his portion, doubt creeping into his mind.
When he finished, Ilydia rose to his feet, setting aside his plate. “We’re tired of waiting,” he said.
“We need things. Tools, supplies. We are very poor here,” Laryn admitted. “I am certain that you have many things you could trade to us in exchange for land south of the river.”
“We aren’t interested in trade. We want you to leave.”
Laryn scowled. Maybe a fight was the only way. He wouldn’t allow the Conqueror’s Core to fall into the hands of the elves. Perhaps, if they offered the aid of a coresmith…
“We cannot leave,” Laryn said. “We will not abandon the core here.” Would the elf take the hint, and be willing to work with him?
Or was this visit from the elves merely a formality? Perhaps they knew they had the ability to kill all the humans easily, and weren’t worried about a fight.
The elf shrugged, and rose to his feet, placing his board of uneaten food on the ground. His companions followed suit.
“We have tried peace. If you will not have it, we will try war.”
He turned, and began walking away.
Laryn let him. He clenched his fist. If it was to be war… A surprise attack against their leader? He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword.
The elf took several steps, then paused, and looked back over his shoulder. “However, we must invite you to visit Annar, where we will also offer you food.” Laryn’s eyebrows raised, and he smiled. He’d triggered something, by serving them food. Was it enough to see this through to a beneficial agreement?
Ilydia turned and continued walking away.
Thallon rushed up to Laryn’s side, a spear in hand. A purple-black voidling carapace spike shone at it’s tip. “We should ambush them, now,” Thallon said. “Gall swam the river last night. Their village is small. If we kill these three, we can surprise the village and finish them off.”
As he spoke, Gall and four other men moved to cut off the retreat of the elves across the beach. They bore Tallon’s spears, and wore breastplates of carapace.
“Shame on the elves!” Hela croned. “Liars and deceivers. Betrayers of truth! You harbor the void!”
More Vallorians ran to join the men facing down the elves, carrying stones and staves.
Laryn understood how they felt, but… this felt like a horrible mistake to him. A dozen villagers, aided by influence, could certainly take down these three elves. But then what? More fighting? Laryn wasn’t ready to resort to that. Choose your battles wisely.
“Stop this,” he shouted, running up.
The three elves had drawn swords from beneath their robes, and stood back to back, facing the ring of angry Vallorians.
Laryn shoved a woman aside and entered the circle, hands raised. “I accept your offer,” he said. “I’ll go to Annar.”
“It’s a trap,” Hela shouted. “They’ll kill you.”
“I may bring guards with me?” Laryn asked.
The lead elf lowered his sword. “You may bring her.” He pointed to Kenna—the woman who had served them the food they had not eaten. “And one other, since we are three.”
Laryn scanned the crowd. He needed someone who wouldn’t start something. He spotted Coril’s son, Gaten.
“Gaten,” he said. His heart pounded in his chest. Hela could be right. Was he leading them into a trap?
Gaten gestured at himself, surprised, and stepped forward.
“We three will accept your offer of hospitality,” Laryn said. “We will visit Annar.”
The villagers lowered their weapons and the elves sheathed their swords.
“The rest of you, get back to work,” Laryn said. “We will return soon.” He glanced over at the elves, wondering if he was walking into a trap.
Just softly enough for Hela to hear him, he muttered, “We’ll kill them if we have to. But I’ll kill anyone who moves before I say.”
He followed the elves toward the south shore, wondering how they were going to cross the water.
If the Land Grab was used in a video game, what kind of game would be best? (Which would you want to play?)
