Azrail leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly against the armrest as he watched the reactions of the three elven elders seated before him. His hooded face remained unreadable, but he could sense the tension rising in the room. They were considering his demands, weighing the cost of giving up exclusive trade rights over their precious wood in exchange for the salvation of their dying forest. The situation was worse than they let on. They needed him more than they were willing to admit, and he intended to use that to his full advantage.