Richard stepped out of the white-domed tent to find Percival waiting for him. The elf stood against the back of their wagon, arms folded and eyes closed. Sensing Richard's presence and smiling.
"You've finished her training?" He asked, his eyes still shut as Richard walked towards him.
"No, but I have put her on the right path,"
"Magic orbs I figure? Considering this was her first time using magic and how shrewd you are for talent. I guess you started her on an intermediate level one?" He smirked confidently as if figuring it out. A smug look crept on Richard's face as he replied.
"As deductive as ever," Percival's smirk grew wider, " however, you are wrong in this case. It was advanced."
Percival's eyes popped open, bulging outwards. "Advanced? What were you thinking?" his face turned serious. " You could have hurt the girl. I doubt she could have even lasted a second-"
Richard interrupted, "She lasted several in fact, quite well and only slightly tired afterwards,"
"That is impossible...." The shock on Percival's expression became contemplation as he asked,
"What type is she?"
"A special" Richard answered relishing the in Percival's astonishment.
"Just what kind of monster have you taken in as a disciple?" He asked genuinely, feeling somewhat apprehensive.
"Haha, I can't wait to find out." a nefarious simper crept onto Richard's face as pictured the overpowered beast he would help create. Percival's eyebrow twitched, looking disapprovingly at the weird and twisted face Richard was making. He coughed, and Richard realised he was embarrassing himself. His cheeks slightly pinkened as he quickly returned to his normal demeanour. "Ahem, can we continue our discussion in the wagon."
Percival laughed and followed him inside. The two men sat on opposite ends of each other, the comical atmosphere dying down. A tenseness built, neither sure what to say.
"You've changed since we last met....in more ways than one," Richard spoke first.
Percival instinctively raised his hand to the side of his face, the scars still fresh. But as his fingers got close, he suddenly pulled them away as if triggering a flood of unwanted memories. He closed his hands into a fist, almost shaking. Richard shook his head, disapprovingly.
"I told you going after them would get you killed,"
"I WANTED TO DIE," Percival shouted aggravated, standing up with his entire body trembling. Richard stared at him, solemnly, before sighing. The burst of anger faded as quickly as it came, and Percival sat back down, face in his palms.
"What choice had I? Everything had been taken from me: my honour, my title....my friends. I had to get it back.....I had to." His voice trailed off.
Richard's expression softened as he took a breath then asked;
"How bad is it?"
Percival took a moment as if to ready himself, then lifted the bottom of his shirt. Another scar, charred into his skin like a burning sun. The scaring its worst at the centre but lightening outward.
"I can no longer use magic....of the healers and doctors I sought out all said it was irreversible," Percival explained, his face adrift amid a wash of defeat and wretchedness that wished to overwhelm him. Richard's countenance became sympathetic.
"Who was it?"
"An apostle of the dragon occult, his name was Sunspot."
"Hmmm....and so you returned in hopes that the elves can heal you-assuming they even let you in?" Richard said softly.
"That was not the only reason. I have come to clear my name."
Percival pulled out a rolled-up parchment from his back. The brown paper was thin and almost reflective as if lamented. Richard's eyes focussed on it in genuine surprise.
"Monitor scroll?"
"I hunted down some of the perpetrators from the genocide that happened that night. It was Sunspot who exchanged this in return for his life." The parchment flecked off little pieces of glimmering dust as it unrolled itself horizontally, floating just above Percival's palm.
"I've watched this over and over, ingrained every single detail into my mind." Unfettering anger built up in his voice.
A moving image began forming on the scroll as if drawn out by an invisible hand. It was getting increasingly vivid and real as it played. The sky was stark black, the only light from a few torches and a campfire. There was a crowd of people meeting; all sat in a semi-circle. Hoods covered their faces. There was no talk between them, only silence as if they were waiting for something...or someone.
Leaves rustled, the wind blew, and twigs were snapped as five figures descended from the trees. They landed on the circle's other half, gazing upon all those gathered. Some greeted them, others remained indifferent. Likely after this job, they would never see each other again, so a few didn't see the need for formalities. With the five's arrival, the deliberation would finally begin. The central figure stepped out in front of the other four and spoke.
"I've hired you all today to undergo-"
A cough interrupted him.
"I believe our contract requires full transparency," a hooded man voiced.
"Transparency?"
"Think of it as insurance. We know who you are and you know who we are. This way neither of us can renegade on our terms."
The central figure stopped, stunted, he looked over to the others in the circle. None said anything, clearly tacitly agreeing.
"You would dare question my masters wo-" a female voice interceded. She lurched forward, ready to draw on a katana sheathed to her side.
A hand reached in front of her, stopping her movements. She looked to her leader, confused.
"Calm yourself," he ordered briskly. His red eyes roamed over the individuals all sat down. He had no idea who these people were, knew nothing of their strengths. In truth, he didn't hadn't truly hired them, his knowledge of the world beyond the forest minimal. The entire thing was set up by someone else, a mysterious Patreon with shared interests. The payment was even covered by him. As long as these negotiations went well, everything would be in motion. Nothing could be allowed anything to get in the way, not when he was this close.
"We will comply with your terms," the central figure stated before slowly removing his hood. A handsome young elf looked before them, long ginger locks draped over his shoulders and back. The crimson iris around his pupils, reflecting in the light. Elven features made him almost androgynous, a pretty boy, harmless. Yet, his aura spelt the opposite as magic coursed it through his body, eyes glowing. He could not let them think he was weak, the pressure he released powerful. Some were slightly shaken, the others remained neutral and unfazed.
"That young man...-" Richard began.
"It is Ichnar," Percival interrupted, his teeth gritting.
The scroll continued playing and the ginger elf, Ichnar, nodded to his compatriots. The four followed in his lead, taking off their hoods. All were elves, but their hair was in different colours. A woman to his right had bright white hair, tied into a bow. The other three were men, two brown-haired, the last blue. Having complied, Ichnar looked to the man who first spoke up. The man took off his hood, revealing a smiling pale face. Black spiky hair lay atop his head, but two parts on opposite ends came over his forehead forming a pincer-like fringe. Unlike the rest of his hair, they were red, the tips pointing to a black sun burned into the middle of his forehead. The remaining hooded figures showed their faces afterwards, exposing a cohort of different, weird and ominous-looking individuals. However, one didn't remove his hood at all.
Ichnar noticed it immediately and was about to inquire but then realised something. None of the other mercenaries spoke of it, as if oblivious. Some seemed almost afraid, none daring to look in that general direction. With such obvious situational ques, only an idiot would look for trouble with hi-
"You dare insult, my master, by not removing your hood?" the white-haired elf girl yelled out. Her blade drawn and pointed toward the hooded man.
"Ho, ho," he spoke with an old man's voice, coarse and grating. He took a swig of a comically large jug of alcohol. "Young lady you should be careful who you point your little stick at,"
Richard recognised the voice and his face looked instantly troubled,
The girl took the old man's warning as a challenge and seemed about to strike when Ichnar interposed. Grabbing her arm briskly and with force.
"Step out of line again Loralei, and you will be punished," he yelled angrily, fire sparking in his eyes. Her reaction was quick, dropping to one knee to apologise.
"I merely wished to prove myself to you," she explained.
"We move on, stand," Ichnar ordered, calming down and letting go of her arm. A was handprint burned into her wrist. Still, she stood up in silence as he continued. "Now, let us discuss our attack on the dark woodland elves."
"I have seen enough," Richard spoke out, waving away the scroll. Percival rolled it up and returned it to behind his back. It was quiet once again, Richard pondering in the silence, whilst Percival stared in waiting.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" Richard asked vaguely.
"Why are you still against this? Have I not shown you enough?!" Percival stood up in a fury, his veins pulsing, fists clenched.
Richard sighed, his every word seemed filled with sympathy and sorrow. "The current state of the Elfs is not as you know it....."