Ch.28

The cold and gloomy afternoon cast a somber pall as Erik embarked on his journey to the city nestled beyond the imposing mountain range. Thick, gray clouds loomed overhead, obscuring the feeble rays of the sun. The wind howled through the twisted forest, its mournful cry echoing through the desolate landscape.

Leading the way were the four drow guides, one of them being Theovessa.

After hours, the journey came to an end. They reached the edge of the forest, where a warm glow beckoned from afar. Iron lanterns, rusted and old, suspended from chains, hanging from homes and lamps, flickered and danced upon the cobbled path that lay ahead.

As they ventured forth, their boots clung to the thick mud splattered on every stone, each step an arduous struggle against the clinging earth, wet from the melted snow.

They made their way deep into the city, passing the humble dwellings they passed were modest and unassuming, their simple structures blending harmoniously with the rustic surroundings.

The city itself exuded an air of unpretentious charm, mirroring the humble lives of its inhabitants. Stalls dotted the streets, manned by weathered men hawking their meager wares: fish plucked from nearby ocean, both fresh and slightly tainted, mingled with thin crops that could hardly satiate the hunger of a child alone, as well as dirtied fur pelts, musty jewels resting atop rusted rings, and dried bread and stale soup. A pungent aroma wafted through the air, an amalgamation of the briny sea and moist earth.

Theovessa turned to look at Erik, who she could see was scanning the entirety of everything he passed on the side.

("Is it different from what you expected?") She guessed he was thinking. ("Did you expect us to be more noble? More beautiful?")

("Yes.") He responded rather bluntly.

("Well...") She scoffed. ("Perhaps we would if the royal family weren't such racist bastards. ...You know, we are exiles. Driven from our homelands, forced to cross the ocean, to settle here. The highborn, yellow-skinned deceivers, used their wealth and influence to take our land. Of course, there are those of us, who sided with them, while us peasantry were forced to settle here, in this barren land.")

She said nothing more, a grim look on her face.

They approached a grand structure that stood out among the other homes for its large size and lanterns that decorated the outside, all around its rounded exterior.

As he entered, the pungent smell of fish was replaced by the warm aroma of smoke. He made his way to the innermost chamber, where the twelve elders sat from seats raised high, behind an imposing stone altar, their regal features and violet garb were a testament to their positions.

Theovessa stood on the sidelines with armored guards, while Erik made his way to the center of the room. The twelve dark-elven elders peered down at him from their high-backed chairs, their eyes glinting with keen scrutiny.

("He speaks Elvish?") One of them asked, skeptically.

("I do.") Erik answered, his voice echoing off the encircling walls.

The elder grunted. ("Why have you come here today?")

("To negotiate, purely for beneficial reasons.")

("Gold?") Another elder spoke out. ("We were informed you have an entire mine, full of it.")

Erik looked into the eyes of the elder for a moment, before shutting his eyes for yet another. The elders anticipated an answer. Erik was rethinking his approach, coming to learn of the somewhat dire state of the elves. When he opened his eyes, he stared off and down at the floor. ("Gold is useless.") He said finally, his expression befitting someone in a trance.

Everyone exchanged looks with each other, not knowing the meaning of what he said. He could overhear the elders whispering amongst each other, asking what he'd said and repeating the words as if they'd misheard. ("What?") One of them asked him.

He again looked up at the elder, relaxing his shoulders and speaking with a refreshed demeanor. ("Our gold is useless to us. We do have a mine where we were able to find gold, as well as other metals, but gold, as in currency, is of no use to us. We have a good amount of it, which we are processing into ingots, even as we speak, and we are willing to hand over however much you want, in exchange for goods, such as dyes, thread, heat-resistant metals, and jewels, as well as live and healthy livestock. We are also well off on food, and could as well offer large amounts of it.")

("And where exactly is your... Uh, tribe, located, outsider?")

("Beyond the mountain range, due west of here. Past the forest and tundra. There is a small clearing, a pathway manageable by slowly trudging over a few, small hills. It is navigatable by foot, far from it when carrying large amounts of goods over by carriage. This being the case, I imagine a pathway could be easily made, given manpower and time, and while that would take a considerable amount of time, I take it you have ships that could be used instead.")

The elders considered his propositions amongst themselves. Given a few moments of whispering, they gave an answer. ("Yes. Your proposal is most enticing, a beneficial transaction between both our people, however, our greatest concern is trustworthiness. We have long had issues with the Telvanians, why are you so different?")

("I am not Telvanian, not a huntsman. In fact, we are yet to have encountered any. The mountains keep it that way.")

("If I may ask...") An elder raised his finger in question. ("From where, did you learn Elvish?")

("I am a noble from the kingdom of man, Highland. The grandson to a duke. I attended school and read a lot of books; from which I learned Elvish. My maid, a very caring woman, was also the daughter of a wood elf, and she too spoke Elvish to a certain extent. It is from her that I polished my pronunciation, but otherwise, I learned every word from Elvish literature books. In fact, I know multiple tongues: Elvish, Common, Berunian, Orcish, Serudinian, and so on.")

("Most impressive. I believe we have come to an agreement.")

("That is most excellent. In that case, I would ask that I see the items in your possession, such as the quality of silk, which seems rather exquisite already, and livestock.")

("Yes, yes. Very well. We shall arrange for you to be escorted...") He raised his hand, gesturing to the elves on the sideline. ("And a steward to assist you.")

("I do appreciate it.")

Theovessa, the steward, and the guards, followed Erik on his way out of the chamber. The steward hurried his steps to get closer to Erik as they went out into the cold.

("Ah, excuse me!")

Erik flashed a gaze toward the elf, wearing a long brown robe, and spectacles.

("You are the steward?")

("Ah, yes. I am. Norion Blek, at your service. ...I must say, I have never seen a human up close before.")

("And I had never seen a dark elf, until two days ago, when I yanked off the mask and hood of the one I was holding hostage.")

His smile froze stiff, not knowing whether or not he was joking, from his stale and serious tone. Theovessa, however, knowing the truth of the matter, snickered from the other side. ("Yes. Marla is still rather, upset, that you managed to get the drop on her, even more so that she couldn't break free from your grip.")

("Is that true?") Norion asked.

("It is. He released her, and we were soon to drive a few arrows into his shoulders, but he suddenly brought up...") She suddenly held her tongue, before scoffing in realization. ("How amusing. You brought up the gold to avoid confrontation.")

("You just realized.") Erik looked at her from over his shoulder. ("Now, steward, show me to the wares.")

Erik was led to the storehouse, a building reminiscent of a warehouse. The guards grappled with the weathered, wooden gates. They pulled open, accompanied by the sound of crackling ice.

A rush of frigid wind swept in, carrying with it a chorus of clinking chains that echoed from within.

The guards rekindled the lanterns throughout the storehouse, while Erik scanned the rows of iron shelves full of miscellaneous items.

As Erik perused the shelves, his eyes alighted upon objects both recognizable and unknown. Some items sparkled with shininess beneath dust, others blended in with the dark iron of the shelves.

He picked up a blue gem, about the size of a pebble, round and unpolished.

("Strange how you have no need for gold, but you want gems. Why is that?") Theovessa asked from behind him, leaning against a shelf.

("Well...") After a moment, he gave a quick-witted response. ("I have three wives.")

("You are polygamous.")

("Well, I am. My people are monogamous.")

He pocketed the gem, making his way further down the aisle.

Nothing more seemed to interest him, looking over old books, metal ingots, scraps of leather, pelts of fur, fabric, glass, pottery, broken weapons, and armor. His foot then kicked the side of a box, and looking down at it, the flickering of the lantern's flame barely giving light to the contents of it, did he come to a decision. ("Steward.")

("Ah, yes?")

("All of this is trash, correct?")

("Uhm... Well, I would not say trash, but... It is not far off. Uh, everything here, are the unwanted items that no use was found for.")

Erik picked up the box. ("Even the gems? Surely, they could be cut, polished, and then sold.")

("Well... There is simply not much of an interest, as opposed to emerald or amethyst. They are considered, the poor man's choice. Not to mention, we do not have the means to process some of these, especially not out here.")

("I see. In that case, how much for it all?")

("I beg your pardon?") A nervous look came across the steward's face.

("How much gold, for all of it.")

("Well... I would need to process it all.")

("Do that. In the meantime, I would like a place to stay and a warm meal, if you could offer one.")

("Sure.") Theovessa placed her hand on his shoulder, her gaze drifting down to the box he held in his arms. ("Hm? What's that?") She asked, taking one of the rocks from inside, only to struggle to even budge it. ("By the night... I thought it was coal. I can hardly pick it up. What is it?")

("Useful.")