Chapter 44

The massive wall loomed ahead, its vast stone surface a grim reminder of just how effective a barrier could be when built by those with the singular aim of division. It blocked the human lands from the elven realms, an imposing structure of gray stone stretching as far as the eye could see, a silent, unwavering sentinel between two worlds. We stood hidden just within the shadowed treeline, the gladiators and I alongside the elven delegation, each one of us sizing up our options with the air of reluctant tourists at a highly inconvenient border.

"Well," Caius said, breaking the silence with a sigh that carried a lifetime's worth of distrust for walls. "I don't think bribing our way through will be quite so simple with elves in tow. Not unless they've become fond of their 'enemy' overnight."

I nodded, glancing at the stern elven faces around me, all seemingly carved from the same mold of serene disdain. Sylvara, the chief elder, gave a mild tilt of her head, her voice sliding through the air with that characteristically cool confidence. "We are an envoy," she intoned, her tone as smooth as silk. "Why not simply march up to the gate and demand entry? Surely, the Empire understands the concept of diplomacy."

"Demand entry, hmm?" I rubbed my chin, considering the idea with some measure of doubt. "A bold approach, Sylvara, and certainly an option. But have you ever been in the unfortunate position of actually requiring something from the Empire?"

Sylvara offered a faint, inscrutable smile. "No. But I was under the impression that was why we brought you along. Expertise in human… complications."

"Complications," I echoed dryly. "More like factions and rivalries. You may not be greeted as warmly as you think. I mentioned it back at the council, remember?" I glanced around, noting a few curious elven faces among them, probably remembering my explanation of human factionalism. "There's no singular voice here. Different groups, each with their own interest, and their own agendas. Some would gladly welcome you in, others... not so much."

Sylvara considered this thoughtfully, her gaze drifting to the wall. "It sounds as though your people thrive on this fragmentation."

I shrugged. "Thriving is one way to put it. It's just the way humans work—power and influence are seldom straightforward. They shift and change, everyone jockeying for position. When you think you know where you stand, you're often wrong." I could practically hear the words of my old lectures echoing in my mind. Human psychology—nothing like the elven unity or their oddly efficient indirectness.

One of the younger elves in Sylvara's party looked at me, eyes narrowed with interest. "So this… 'faction' mentality… it makes unity impossible?"

"Not impossible," I said, shrugging. "Just… complicated. Where you see harmony, humans see opportunity."

Sylvara nodded, her expression as thoughtful as ever. "A strange species you are, always seeking division where none need exist. And yet," she added with a faint glimmer in her eye, "you still manage to survive."

"Survival," Caius muttered with a smirk, "usually by the skin of our teeth." He turned back to the wall, arms crossed. "So, what's the plan, Goodchild? We can't go over it, can't go under it… I'm guessing Sylvara's right. We'll need to try through it."

"Indeed," Sylvara replied, as if she hadn't just suggested we stroll up to one of the most heavily guarded borders in the Empire and politely knock. "Since this wall cannot be bypassed, we must take the direct route."

"Direct," I muttered under my breath, rolling my eyes slightly. "Something tells me the Empire's version of 'direct' will involve us waiting until they sort out who exactly can let us in."

Sylvara didn't seem fazed, as if the concept of delay was as foreign to her as the idea of a sunrise happening late. "If we are required to wait, then we shall wait."

"Alright, alright," I said, sighing. "We'll play the part. Though I have a feeling they'll be more interested in knowing what side you're on than why you're here."

Caius glanced back, shaking his head slightly, his tone wary. "If you ask me, the fewer explanations we have to give, the better. Elves aren't exactly on their list of trusted guests these days."

Sylvara raised a brow, her gaze steady on me. "And yet here you stand, surrounded by them. Perhaps your Empire isn't as unified in its fears as it appears?"

"Now, now," I replied, lifting a hand, "I didn't say we were unified. If anything, it's the opposite. But getting past these walls will be more than just a question of unity or trust."

One of the elves stepped forward, glancing between Sylvara and myself. "And yet," he said, with a touch of reproach, "you think we will not succeed?"

"Oh, I think we'll get through," I replied, smiling slightly. "But not without a few raised eyebrows and questions we'd rather avoid. The Empire loves a good inquiry."

Sylvara watched me, her expression unreadable. "Then you will handle those inquiries, yes?"

"Absolutely," I said with forced confidence, glancing at the imposing barrier. "Though don't expect me to do it quietly. They'll want a show, and who am I to disappoint?"

The elves gave each other quiet, reserved nods, and I turned back to my men, who had taken in the exchange with various levels of amusement and grim determination.

"Well, lads," I said, clapping my hands. "Looks like we're taking the 'diplomatic' route." I gave a pointed look at the hidden runes tattooed on my forearms, glancing at Caius and the gladiators who shared the same enhancements. "That's assuming we can still keep up the illusion of diplomacy while standing around in front of a wall that has no interest in courtesy."

With that, we began our walk forward, the elves moving in an elegant, nearly silent procession that my men could only attempt to mimic. They practically floated beside us, gliding forward with that unhurried, almost spectral elegance they seemed to possess naturally. My men tried their best to match the calm composure, and to their credit, they weren't half-bad. They'd learned a thing or two in our travels, though subtlety wasn't usually one of their strong points.

As we neared the wall, the elven elder, Sylvara, glanced at me with that slight, almost undetectable smile. "Do ensure, David, that they understand we are no simple visitors."

"Oh, don't worry," I said with a wry smile. "I'm quite certain you'll make an impression. Diplomacy, elf-style."

At the base of the wall, a scattering of guards finally noticed our approach, their eyes narrowing at the unexpected sight of elves walking freely toward them. A few exchanged startled glances, and one of them lifted a horn, blowing a sharp, echoing note that reverberated along the length of the wall.

"Here we go," I muttered, squaring my shoulders and adopting a casual stance. The guards looked from us to each other, uncertain. Their weapons were raised, but they hadn't yet decided to use them. That was a start.

One of the guards, clearly the highest-ranking among them, stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He surveyed the group with a mixture of suspicion and confusion, his gaze lingering on the elves. "State your business," he demanded, his voice rough and authoritative.

"Ah, greetings," I said with a forced smile, stepping forward. "My name is David Goodchild, and I'm here with an official elven delegation." I gestured to Sylvara and the others, who stood regally behind me, perfectly unbothered by the weapons pointed their way. "We come in peace and request an audience."

The guard's eyes narrowed further. "Elves don't usually ask. They're more likely to sneak around."

"Well," I said, shrugging lightly, "consider us an exception."

He scowled, glancing back toward the wall, where more guards had gathered. "And what exactly is your purpose?"

Before I could respond, Sylvara stepped forward, her voice smooth and serene. "We are here as emissaries, seeking peaceful discourse with your Empire. Surely, that should not be met with suspicion?"

The guard looked at her, clearly not used to being addressed by elves. He shifted uneasily, glancing between us and his comrades before grunting in acknowledgment. "Wait here," he said curtly, signaling to one of the other guards, who quickly ran off toward a gate set further down the wall.

"Well," Caius muttered under his breath, "that went about as well as could be expected."

I nodded, keeping my gaze on the guards, who were still eyeing us with a mixture of caution and suspicion. "We'll see what kind of welcome we get once the higher-ups come down. Until then, try to look friendly."

One of the gladiators grinned, lifting his hand in a mock wave at a particularly dour-looking guard. The guard's glare only deepened, but I couldn't help but smirk.

Sylvara watched the exchange, her expression faintly amused. "Your people have an unusual way of establishing trust."

"It's called humor, Sylvara. It tends to work wonders in diffusing tension," I replied with a wink.

"Ah, human humor," she mused. "An art form, I presume?"

I chuckled. "Something like that."

As the Empire's small party approached, led by an official whose smug self-importance practically oozed from every wrinkle of his flushed face, I prepared myself for a performance. There was always an art to diplomacy, especially when dealing with bureaucrats who believed themselves to be minor gods.

The portly man surveyed us, eyes narrowed with blatant suspicion, his hand twitching close to the hilt of his ceremonial sword as though we were a crowd of marauding rebels instead of a carefully selected delegation. He sniffed, a deliberate, derisive sound.

"Well, well," he drawled, his voice thick with contempt and sarcasm. "What an unexpected surprise."

"Trust me," I replied with as much charm as I could muster, "the pleasure is all ours."

He didn't look convinced. His gaze flicked to Sylvara and the elves, his expression hovering somewhere between fear and disdain. To him, they must have looked like exotic, wild creatures far removed from anything resembling reason or peace. It was written all over his face: This man was not here to welcome us. He was here to send us away.

"And what, may I ask, is your business here?" he demanded, his voice haughty. "Do you think you can just stroll up to an Empire wall with a band of elves and… gladiators?" He practically spat the word, his gaze sweeping derisively over my men, who stood in formation, muscles taut and eyes sharp.

I forced a calm smile, channeling every ounce of patience I could manage. "We're here as an official delegation," I said, as diplomatically as possible. "A peaceful mission, to negotiate on behalf of both our peoples."

He barked a laugh, the sound as graceless as it was grating. "Negotiation? With elves?" He looked as though he'd been offered rotten fish. "What nonsense. As if the Empire needs to stoop to talking terms with… tree-dwellers."

Sylvara's expression didn't change—if anything, she looked faintly amused by his lack of decorum. Her calm only seemed to irritate the man more, his face deepening to an alarming shade of crimson as he fixed her with a look of poorly concealed fear.

"Now, look," I said, stepping in before he insulted her further, "we have the full backing of—"

"Spare me your nonsense," he snapped, cutting me off with a flick of his wrist as though swatting away a fly. "I don't care whose backing you claim to have. No one's informed me of any such 'delegation,' and frankly, you'd be wise to turn yourselves around and go back where you came from."

Sylvara leaned over and whispered to me, her tone almost playful. "It appears your Empire is rather… fragmented."

I stifled a groan. "It's more of a… collaborative mess," I murmured back.

The official's face twisted as he caught our exchange, his voice rising in volume and outrage. "What exactly is so amusing? Perhaps you think you're in a position to laugh at the Empire?"

I took a deep breath, reminding myself that throttling him would only complicate matters. "Not at all," I said smoothly. "We simply meant that the Empire, with all its… various interests, can sometimes take time to get messages through all the right channels. I can assure you, however, we're here with the express blessing of highly placed individuals." I leaned in slightly, as though this were a matter of utmost confidence. "Unfortunately, those details are… confidential."

He squinted at me, the skepticism in his expression almost comical. "Confidential, is it? Of course it is," he sneered. "You expect me to believe that some 'highly placed individual' sent you here with a band of elves and gladiators on a diplomatic mission?" He looked down his nose at me, his lips curling. "Do you take me for a fool?"

"Well," I began, plastering a polite smile on my face, "that wasn't my intent…"

The man's face twisted further, and I could see him puffing himself up, his entire demeanor screaming of self-importance. Here was a man who had spent his life clinging to what little authority he'd managed to acquire, someone who viewed any disruption to his carefully ordered life as a personal affront. People like him weren't rare in the Empire. Minor officials like this—men who'd carved out petty fiefdoms in the shadows of greater powers—were plentiful, and often dangerous in their own small ways. They were the first to look down on others, quick to assert themselves in any situation that made them feel remotely threatened.

Psychologically, I could already see the patterns of his thinking. On the podcast, I would've called him a "Classic Gatekeeper Personality"—someone who defined themselves by the barriers they could raise and control rather than any real substance of their own. He derived his worth from obstruction, from the feeling of power his small authority provided, even if it was just over a wall. The kind of person who would rather see progress halted than risk being overlooked or questioned.

Unfortunately, this gatekeeper mindset was about as helpful as a locked door when you've forgotten your keys. And judging by his expression, we were going to need more than diplomatic niceties to get through this.

"If you'd only take a moment to understand," I said, my voice bordering on too calm, "that we're not here to undermine your authority. Quite the opposite. We're here to assist, to find a beneficial outcome for both sides."

The man snorted, unimpressed. "The Empire needs no assistance from vagabonds and miscreants. And elves?" He looked at Sylvara, a sneer forming. "We certainly don't need the interference of… of mystics with no sense of order or discipline."

Sylvara raised a brow, clearly unmoved. "Order and discipline, it seems, have not spared you from fear."

The official's face turned even redder, his bluster flaring up at her calm remark. "Fear? I don't fear your kind," he scoffed, though his fingers twitched near his sword. "You're hardly the threat you think you are."

"Oh, trust me," I interjected quickly, before he could make things worse, "no one here is looking for threats or violence. We're here because an agreement has been discussed, and we're merely… here to ensure it goes smoothly."

He gave me a long, withering look, as if I were some unsightly smear on his otherwise pristine day. "If you had any sense, you'd turn around and leave. The Empire has no time for your riddles and tales of 'agreements.' And let me make this very clear: I don't care what 'backing' you claim to have."

"Good to know where we stand," I muttered, biting back a sigh.

"Quite clear indeed," he replied with a smug satisfaction, glancing at the elves with a sneer. "Take your 'delegation' and be gone. Before I call in the guard and have you escorted back to your own lands with a bit more… persuasion."

Caius leaned in, muttering in my ear, "This one's not budging, David. And if he calls in the guards, we'll have a bigger mess on our hands than just this wall."

I felt the temptation to abandon all pretense of diplomacy rising, but I forced it down. We were too close to our goal to let this petty man stop us. I glanced back at Sylvara, who stood impassively, her calm presence almost infuriatingly unaffected. She simply met my gaze with that faint, unreadable smile.

"If you're quite done wasting everyone's time," the official continued, folding his arms with a sense of finality, "perhaps you can leave. Now."

I turned back to him, still holding onto that polite smile with all the strength I had. "Sir," I said, my tone as measured as I could manage, "perhaps you're underestimating the consequences of ignoring this delegation. You may not know what we bring to the table, but it is… considerable."

He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Oh? Enlighten me, then. I'd love to hear what it is you believe the Empire so desperately needs."

"The possibility of peace," I said, holding his gaze, my words slow and deliberate. "Which, if you haven't noticed, seems to be in short supply around here. I'm not here to convince you of its value. But I can assure you, others within your chain of command are far more receptive to it."

He scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. "Peace with elves? Preposterous. And yet you still stand here, speaking as if you hold all the cards."

Sylvara stepped forward, her voice softer than a whisper but somehow managing to pierce through the tension. "What you fail to understand," she said, "is that peace is more valuable than any wall you could build."

The man's sneer faltered for the briefest of moments, but he covered it quickly, forcing a laugh. "And what would an elf know of value within the Empire?"

"More than you might imagine," she replied coolly, her gaze steady on him. There was a weight to her words, as if they carried far more than the simple meaning. And for a moment, I could almost see him hesitate.

But then he turned his back on us with a scoff, signaling to his men. "Escort them away."

It was then I realized this man was too small-minded to recognize the significance of the opportunity we presented. But it didn't mean I was ready to walk away from this.

I sighed, placing a firm hand on his shoulder before he could take another step. He stiffened, his gaze darting to my hand with poorly concealed outrage.

The rumble of heavy footsteps echoed from behind the vast stone wall, their thud deliberate and imposing. My gaze shifted from the pompous official in front of us to the incoming column of soldiers who emerged in a formidable, disciplined line. These weren't the typical gate guards with half-lidded eyes and rusted armor—these were hardened veterans, men who carried their experience like invisible armor. Each step was measured, and there was a deadly grace in their movements that spoke of years on brutal battlefields.

In the center of the column, a man radiated authority, and I knew at once that he was different. This was a leader, the kind of figure who didn't need to assert power because it followed him effortlessly. His bearing was calm, his gaze sharp, as he surveyed the scene with barely restrained impatience. The minor official, practically preening like a rooster a second ago, spun around and paled visibly, his smugness melting like snow in spring.

The official bowed hastily, hands clasped as if trying to keep his nerves from visibly rattling. "My lord governor," he said, his voice both reverent and anxious, "I was just dealing with this rabble." He gestured toward us as though we were an unsightly blemish on the landscape, his fingers trembling slightly.

The lord—the governor—turned his attention fully toward us, his expression unreadable as he took in the presence of Sylvara and the elves with a discerning eye. He lifted one hand, silencing the official with a mere flick of his fingers. The difference in authority couldn't have been starker; where the official's power was hollow bluster, the governor's authority was sharp, quiet, and absolute.

He addressed Sylvara with a polite nod, a glimmer of respect in his eyes. "Honored elf," he began, his voice steady and rich, "may I understand what brings you and your delegation to our gates?"

Sylvara inclined her head ever so slightly, a gesture that held all the elegance and reserve of her people. "We are here as a delegation for peace," she replied simply, her voice calm yet carrying an undeniable weight. "A meeting was requested."

The governor's face lit with a restrained warmth, his voice suddenly smooth with diplomacy. "Ah, the peace delegation. We have been hoping for such an occasion." He shot a subtle glance at the horrified minor official, whose jaw had dropped so far that it looked as though it might never find its way back up. "Indeed, we have waited for this day."

The official, recovering himself, stammered, "My lord, you cannot—"

"Enough," the governor commanded, his voice as sharp as the edge of a blade. Without looking at the official, he gestured to his guards, who moved forward with practiced efficiency, gripping the man by both arms. "Take him away."

A flash of horror crossed the official's face. "But, my lord, I—"

The governor's voice dropped, but its intensity doubled. "You have shamed us by treating an envoy with disrespect. Consider this your first and last mistake."

The guards began dragging the official away, his protests devolving into undignified shrieks. "I am powerful! I have influence! You can't just—"

A veteran guard casually knocked him out with a practiced blow to the back of the head. The man went limp, his protests replaced by the silence of unconsciousness as they dragged him away.

The governor turned back to Sylvara, his expression once more one of dignified calm. "Please forgive my subordinate's… lapse in decorum," he said, clearly doing his best to gloss over the incident. "I assure you, his behavior will not go unpunished."

Sylvara's gaze lingered on the retreating guards for a beat before she replied, her voice as cool as a forest stream. "He was indeed… discourteous."

The governor inclined his head, his eyes flashing with a grim determination. "Rest assured, he will be dealt with appropriately. Now," he gestured to the open gate behind him, his tone warm and welcoming, "please, all of you, enter as my honored guests. I insist that you stay for a time under my care."

Sylvara glanced at me, a look that seemed to question the wisdom of accepting his invitation. She turned back to the governor. "We are grateful for your hospitality, but it is essential we proceed to the provincial capital without delay."

The governor's expression softened into one of polite insistence. "I understand your urgency, but it would be an affront to our hospitality if we did not offer rest and sustenance to such distinguished visitors. Please, allow us to provide you a brief respite before your journey resumes."

The elves exchanged glances, their expressions difficult to read. Elves had a gift for hiding their feelings behind a veil of calm detachment, and I could sense that Sylvara was weighing the merits of the situation. There was a tension between their need to remain cautious and the politeness embedded in their culture, which frowned on outright refusals in delicate situations.

She nodded slowly, inclining her head. "We accept your offer, my lord. A brief rest, and then we must be on our way."

The governor's face lit up with a relieved smile. "Splendid," he said, motioning for us to follow. "This way, please."

As we moved through the gates, I exchanged a look with Caius. He raised an eyebrow, his expression a mixture of amusement and cautious approval. The minor official had been a headache, but this governor was clearly made of different stock.

We were led through a winding pathway that branched out from the main road, flanked on both sides by tall trees whose branches intertwined above us, casting dappled shadows that danced in the afternoon sun. The governor kept up a steady flow of polite conversation, praising the empire's dedication to diplomacy, expressing his hope for a lasting peace, and offering occasional, carefully worded compliments to the elves.

Despite his politeness, I couldn't shake the sense that we were being subtly assessed, each gesture of goodwill a test of our intentions. The elves were calm, though I could sense their wariness under their serene expressions. Even the ever-quiet Sylvara responded to his words with nods and slight inclinations of her head, every bit the dignified envoy.

Finally, we reached a large residence with sprawling gardens that seemed almost out of place in this borderland town. The manor was a testament to the governor's influence, clearly meant to serve as both his home and his court. He gestured grandly. "Please, make yourselves comfortable here. We will prepare a meal worthy of such esteemed guests."

Sylvara accepted his hospitality with a gracious nod, though I could see the subtle tension in her shoulders. The elves weren't accustomed to opulent displays, and I could tell she was uneasy at the spectacle, though she would never admit it.

Once inside, the governor led us to a finely decorated room with richly woven tapestries and meticulously carved woodwork. He offered Sylvara the best seat, and I found myself observing her as she took it gracefully, her gaze calm and observant.

The governor turned to me with a curious look, his eyes assessing. "And you, sir, how does a man such as yourself come to be among such company?"

I gave him a faint smile, choosing my words carefully. "One could say I am a bridge of sorts, a representative of the Empire who is… interested in fostering understanding."

The governor's eyes sparkled with something unreadable, a hint of respect perhaps, or maybe amusement. "A noble goal," he said. "Too often, we forget the value of listening to those outside our own walls." He glanced at Sylvara, inclining his head. "And you, my lady, are a reminder of the wisdom that lies beyond our borders."

Sylvara held his gaze, her expression unreadable. "Wisdom and understanding are often found in places where one least expects them," she replied softly, her voice like the whisper of leaves.

As the conversation continued, I couldn't help but feel like we were all dancing around a larger, unspoken truth. Here was a man who knew how to play his role, and yet, I sensed that he had his own reservations about the Empire's broader agenda. His words were polished and diplomatic, but behind them lay a certain guardedness, a wariness that spoke volumes.

Eventually, he excused himself, promising to see to the preparations for our meal. As soon as he was out of earshot, Caius leaned over to me, his voice a low murmur. "This one's clever," he said, his gaze following the governor's retreating form. "A dangerous sort, if you ask me."

I nodded, my own instincts telling me the same. "He's certainly more astute than the last one," I agreed. "But let's hope that means he'll be reasonable too."

Sylvara looked over, her expression pensive. "He has been courteous, but caution is warranted. Humans in positions of power often wear many faces."

Her observation was as calm as ever, but there was a hint of warning in her tone. I knew she wasn't easily rattled, yet the subtle shift in her demeanor confirmed what I'd already sensed. We were navigating a delicate balance here, one that could tilt with the slightest misstep.

As the governor re-entered the room, he waved over one of his subordinates, murmuring instructions. A trim, nervous man with a desperate smile sidled over to the elves, clearly tasked with the unenviable job of entertaining them. The governor, meanwhile, motioned for me to follow him through the arched corridors of his residence. It was a grand place, built more like a fortress than a governor's home.

Every hall we passed was a tribute to the man's brutal past—a past he clearly took pride in, judging by the array of banners and trophies from past battles. Each wall seemed like an altar to his military achievements. Swords and shields hung in orderly rows, accompanied by banners from various campaigns, each one worn and stained, relics from past conflicts. And at every turn, I could see weapons displayed like relics: axes, halberds, even a wickedly curved blade that looked suspiciously elven. He wasn't a governor in the civilian sense; he was a military man to his core, and this home was his personal museum of conquest.

Finally, we arrived at a study that could have easily passed for an armory. Every inch of wall space was adorned with shields, lances, and an assortment of trophies that suggested his battlefield victories were as numerous as they were savage. Behind a polished oak desk sat a single chair, grand and imposing, and he gestured for me to take a seat across from him.

The instant we settled, he dropped the pleasant facade, leaning forward with an expression that could have cut through stone. "Enough formalities," he said, his voice flat and sharp as steel. "Tell me, which faction in Solis Magna sent you here?"

It wasn't phrased as a question; it was an expectation, and the force behind it was impossible to ignore. This wasn't a man accustomed to hearing "no."

"Governor, I appreciate your straightforwardness," I replied, choosing my words carefully, "but the honest truth is, I'm not aligned with any faction. I'm here as a facilitator for peace, tasked with escorting the elven delegation and ensuring they reach the provincial capital safely."

He scoffed, a harsh sound that echoed off the walls filled with his accumulated weaponry. "No one wanders into the political swamp of Solis Magna without aligning themselves, whether they know it or not. That city eats the uninformed alive, Mr. Goodchild."

"I'd love to argue otherwise, but I'm afraid you're right." I met his gaze, unflinching. "However, in my case, I genuinely don't know who's pulling the strings. My orders came with a threat: complete the mission or watch someone dear to me face a grim fate. It was motivation enough, believe me."

He paused, scrutinizing me, eyes narrowed, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk. "So you're telling me you don't even know which faction holds your leash? I find that hard to believe." His tone was cold, assessing, as if he could pry the truth out of me with sheer willpower.

I leaned back in my chair, trying to match his intensity with a casualness I didn't quite feel. "Governor, I don't know how else to put it. My mission was handed down from a princeling—young, brash, and, quite frankly, unremarkable in his strategic sense. Beyond that, I'm in the dark. All I know is that he seemed to think this alliance, or at least a truce, with the elves would grant him some kind of leverage."

He shifted in his chair, the heavy fabric of his uniform rustling as he considered my words. "A princeling, you say. I could name three who fit that description," he muttered, almost to himself. "One has the ear of the Emperor, another is more ambitious than a starving wolf, and the third… well, the third would hardly have the clout to pull this off."

"Well, if it helps narrow things down, he had a face you wouldn't forget," I said, knowing full well it wouldn't help. "Sharp features, always seemed as if he was two thoughts ahead, but likely not the sharpest blade in the forge."

"Ah," he said, with a slight nod, a trace of amusement in his otherwise stony expression. "Prince Calder. That lad has been stirring up the kind of trouble that makes vultures nervous." He studied me a moment longer, his gaze lingering on my face as though weighing whether to trust me. "But that still doesn't answer why you'd be sent without knowing who you're working for. I'd say you're either very brave or dangerously naïve."

"Call it a blend," I replied with a shrug. "I was told to act as a 'bridge' between the Empire and the elves, and it seems our friend Calder is ambitious enough to risk making a few enemies in the process."

The governor's eyes grew cold again. "If you think ignorance is an excuse, think again. You're carrying imperial interests on your shoulders, whether you know it or not. And in this city, ignorance is death." He leaned back, folding his arms with a look of grim satisfaction. "You're putting us all at risk, inviting chaos to my doorstep."

I could feel the heat of his frustration pressing down, his words sharp with accusation. "With all due respect, Governor, I didn't choose this path. I was given orders, told to escort a delegation, and warned that lives were at stake. Whatever political wrangling is going on in Solis Magna, I'm as much a pawn as anyone."

The governor's silence lingered, his gaze sharp and calculating. "Then let's make one thing clear," he said slowly, his voice like a low growl. "As long as you're under my watch, you follow my rules. I don't care what games these factions are playing. If your princeling decides to pull a stunt, it'll be my neck—not his—that's caught in the noose."

I nodded, doing my best to seem agreeable while my mind raced with possible outcomes. His authority was absolute here, and I could tell he wasn't bluffing about maintaining control. "Understood, Governor."

He narrowed his eyes. "I'm sure you do. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to arrange for your safe passage. Until then, stay close to the fortress. You'll be notified when the delegation is ready to depart."

As I stood to leave, I couldn't help but notice the glint of satisfaction in his eye. This was a man who enjoyed having the upper hand, and for the moment, he'd succeeded in keeping me squarely under his thumb. The challenge now was how to navigate his heavy-handed control without drawing more suspicion—or ire.

Outside, I was met with the ever-vigilant Caius, who looked as though he'd been waiting for hours. He raised an eyebrow as I approached, the hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth.

"Judging by your expression, I'd say that didn't go entirely as planned?" he asked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"Oh, it went exactly as I expected," I replied, shaking my head. "Our esteemed governor is intent on squeezing every ounce of information out of me. According to him, we're walking powder kegs, every single one of us."

Caius gave a low whistle, crossing his arms. "He's not wrong. Our entire city is a mess of factions and allegiances. Any wrong move, and you'll set off a chain reaction that'll make the gladiatorial games look like child's play."

"Precisely," I said, glancing over my shoulder to ensure we were out of earshot. "Our esteemed host seems to be hoping I'll hand him a faction on a silver platter. He's looking for any reason to throw me—and possibly the delegation—into the fray."

Caius nodded, his expression serious. "Then let's make sure we keep that reason well out of reach."

The two of us moved through the fortress's corridors, passing other soldiers who eyed us warily. These weren't fresh-faced recruits; they were seasoned fighters, hardened by battle, with the same distrustful gaze their commander had worn when we first arrived. We made our way back to the main hall, where Sylvara and the elven delegation waited, her serene expression never wavering.

Sylvara met my gaze, her eyes calm but with a flicker of curiosity. "Our friend, the governor—did he prove to be… accommodating?" she asked in that quiet, indirect manner of hers.

"Accommodating is one word," I replied, careful to keep my tone light. "More than willing to lend a hand… just so long as he can keep both eyes on us."

Sylvara's expression softened with a hint of a smile. "He is a human, after all. Control is a thing cherished, and mistrust is a habit clung to."

"That he does," I murmured. "And I'd suggest we don't test that trust any more than we have to. Our governor seems to think his life depends on it."

Sylvara nodded thoughtfully, her gaze drifting back toward the main hall. "Then let us honor his boundaries, but let us also remember that no chain is unbreakable."

I watched her, once again struck by the calm, almost elusive nature of her words. It was a reminder that, unlike humans, elves played a long game.