As dozens of hostage soldiers were led through the city of Ferin in a somber line. Their bodies were soaked and trembling from the biting cold, their garments insufficient to shield them from the elements. Ropes tightly bound their wrists, causing discomfort and chafing their skin with each step they took.
The procession brought them to the prisons, where a bonfire laid before in the open. Its flickering flames offered a respite from the harsh chill, and there, they were permitted to huddle close.
Erik stepped forward, standing tall ahead of the line of captive soldiers, and addressed them in their own tongue. ("Which one of you is the commander?")
A moment of tense silence passed before a rasping voice responded. ("That would be me.") The source of the voice, a tall and weathered-looking elf separated himself from the rest of the hostages.
"Bring him." Erik commanded.
The Highelven commander was brought before Erik and pushed to the ground. His knees hitting the thick mud as he was forced to kneel before the human was accompanied by a spiteful grit of his teeth. He had sharp teeth, like fangs, as all elves naturally did.
("Explain to me your position as commander.")
The elf spat on the ground over his shoulder, throwing his head back to look up at his captor. "Your Highelvish is terrible." He said in a loose accent, though in very understandable Common.
"You speak Common."
"Better than you speak Highelvish. Who are you? Are the leader of this captured province?" The elf was calm in speaking, maintaining a straight line of eye contact even though he was a prisoner, and neither did his body stir from the cold.
"Yes, I am."
"I see. I am Stratigos Hermanese Silen of the ebdomou stolou."
"Stratigos... You are a general."
"That I am, man. I ask what you intend to do with my men and me."
"That depends. There are things I want to know, and there are things I want to be known. That being the case, I ensure you, if you answer my questions, which will all be fair to you, I will return you and your men to your homeland, and you can inform your superiors of all that I tell you. However, your ships and all of their valuables, including your armor and weapons, are now the spoils of war."
"I understand..." The elf begrudgingly swallowed his spit.
"Good. Now tell me the capability of your military. Start with those weapons you used, what are they called?"
"Cannons. They are weapons our empire purchased from the Bergzwerge, dwarves."
"We-" The elf began to reply, but before he could finish his response, Erik immediately interrupted him with a tone of absolute certainty, before the words could even escape his lips.
"You're lying." He said; a cold and authoritative voice, leaving no room for doubt.
The elf general's expression faltered, caught off guard by Erik's unwavering assertion. He struggled to find his words, realizing that his attempt at dissembling had been futile in the face of Erik's astute perception. His piercing gaze bore into the elf's eyes, the intensity of the moment palpable. It was unnerving, even to the Stratigos who seemed so stoic.
"Now answer the question, or I put a blade in one of your men's eye." Erik threatened in a most serious tone, that it was no question whether he would act as he said or not.
The commander took a deep breath in through his nostrils, before breathing out and answering again, in truth. "We do not have many allies. His majesty, High Vasileus, Mascheus Gelden Orionriver of the Highelven Autokratoria, has outlawed marriage with other realms. Almost all of his daughters and sons have married within our borders, and there are very few relations that we have with foreigners, those being trade agreements."
"I see. I want to understand your means of communication and travel."
"What do you mean? We use ships."
"I mean. It took you eight months to arrive. I estimated that it would only take six months to travel across Oravin from your capital, and seeing how your ships are of a considerably high quality, I take it your means of communication is rather slow."
"Our means of communication are not what is slow, it is the ocean itself which is dangerous. There are many isles out there, and they are infested with pirates. They have been giving us trouble for years now, and because of them, making our way here took precaution."
"Pirates? I see. Still, do you have no means of faster communication? No magic?"
"We often use owls to deliver messages. Magic is less trustworthy."
"Very much the answer of a Druidic, trusting an animal over ability." He paused, seeing the elf was on the brink of collapsing at his feet. The cold weather was beginning to take its toll. "Warm yourself by the fire, Stratigos. Meals will be prepared for the lot of you, as long as you maintain obedience within our custody, and as long as my questions from this day forth are answered with honesty, I give my word that you will be on a ship to the nearest post by the end of the week; along with the bodies of your deceased. Casualties of war."
With a sweep of his black coat, Erik departed, its billowing fabric leaving trailing in the air behind him as it began to snow. His final words and the intensity of his gaze remained imprinted on the elves' senses, akin to beads of chilly water trickling down their spines.
By the week's end, Erik remained true to his word, extracting every fragment of information the elf was willing to divulge.
In the grand war room of his castle, Erik meticulously spread a map of the expansive Oravin Ocean across a substantial table. With the aid of a charcoal pencil and parchment, he meticulously refined the map, his concentration unwavering and the movement of his hand steady.
It was nearing the late evening, and the only bit of sound to vibrate in the air, came from the charcoal scratching against the paper, the crackling of the fire, and the ruffling of his owl's feathers that rested on the desk in the corner. Then, he heard the lightest of steps, of bare skin against wood, inching closer. He looked to the door just as his third wife, Kalia, came in. She wore a loose and comfortable dress, holding on to her belly which had swollen lightly. She froze at the doorway, seeming rather surprised that he was already staring at her by the time he came into view.
"Oh... Was I too loud?" She avoided eye contact, the slightest of smiles on her face.
"No." He turned back to the map, continuing to work as if she weren't there.
"Astra is making dinner. Would you like anything in particular?"
"Meat."
She idled around while Erik continued to scribble on paper. Curiously, she peaked over at what he was doing, taken aback by the work of art laid flat on the table.
"You are very good at drawing." She complimented him, though his response was blunt.
"Details matter."
"...Right... May I ask what your plans for the future are?" She asked with a tone befitting the curiosity of a child.
"Plans? To win."
"To win? Win what?"
"The war."
"But... Why?"
"Why?" Erik tapped his finger against the table. Unable to focus on his work, he rested his pencil against the parchment and turned to his pregnant wife. "Kalia, what exactly is it that you want to know?"
"I want to know everything about you. Simple as that. Is it not my place to know and understand you, as a good wife?"
"Yes, but laws like that, I made for the commoners." That glint of seriousness in his eye died down as he realized what he'd said. He relaxed his shoulders, shut his eyes for a few moments, before opening them yet again. "You are right, but there would be far too much to explain to you for you to understand me."
"You could try... No?"
"You want to know my intentions for the future? I will tell you. I want vengeance, land, resources, and to be worshipped. This war with the elves is a defensive war, one that will be won through blood, or diplomacy, but this will not stop my expansion. I plan to take Tel'vane, to the north. Unite the Telvanians under my rule, or wipe them out in order to take their land. I will then bolster our development, strengthen our numbers and military, then wage war on Highland, then the Seratholics."
She was startled by his words that spoke of war, and death, with such callousness and disregard. He could tell this from her eyes, but he did not care.
"What is all of this war for? Do your people not worship you enough? Is the fertile land that you have, not fertile enough?"
"You are much too simple-minded, Kalia."
"You, are much too greedy, but perhaps that's just me. I have only ever lived a simple life. Would you not be content with doing the same? Being the leader of so many, who all worship you? To eat your fill, warm and clean, for the rest of your life, raising our children together."
"You think I should be content with the little bit of land I possess?" A wry smile appeared on Erik's face, accompanied by a chuckle, rasp and dry. "Kalia." He slammed his palm flat on the table, frightening Kalia who jumped at the sound of her name being spoken. "Your stupidity is one of your least attractive qualities. Tell me, our numbers near eight thousand. A fifth of them are children, and a fifth of them are elderly. Say I force even the elderly to work and fight. Men take up half the population, still, I will not force the women to fight, nor do the grueling labor the men do. There are those who need to manage the farms and livestock, at least a hundred men, who would be forced to work nonstop, every day. That leaves us with three thousand, one hundred men, who would have to be trained to fight, which costs resources, such as equipment and food. Add in the few women who willingly joined the temple as priestesses, a small portion, of less than two hundred women. Our numbers are just above three thousand. Do you think such a small army can defend a kingdom against millions? Well?" He pushed for an answer, only to be met with a retort from his wife.
"I get it! But is that not all the more reason not to charge into these senseless wars? When they outnumber you by so much, should you not cower?!"
To cower!" He thundered, his voice laced with a torrent of anger, as his fist pounded against the sturdy table, a resounding boom piercing the air. "...Is to surrender the very essence of being a man! To descend into insignificance, to grovel as a dog. No matter how powerful, how many, or how deep the roots of the enemy go, they have weaknesses. As for ours, I alone will compensate."
"How can you shoulder so much burden?" Her countenance bore a look of melancholy, which made Erik's expression and tone turn cold once again. That pitiful look she gave him only further enraged him, yet he reined in his emotions with a measured inhalation through his nostrils.
Calmly, he responded. "It is my responsibility, and my ambition."
"You would have our child, live in fear during war and death?" She retorted with a furrowed brow and bitterly puckered lips.
Erik's reply, however, bore an unyielding demeanor and a frigid glint in his eyes. "You would have our child live under the heel of others? In fear that at any moment, they would press down." As Kalia pivoted away, her departure marked by a retreating silhouette through the door, Erik's own obstinacy compelled him to offer a final vocal opposition. "What I do, is the most prudent option, and I will not resign myself, nor my kin, to being craven to another!"
His voice resonated throughout the castle, gradually dissipating as the crackling fire regained its place as the dominant noise.
Now alone, he spared not a moment on the thought of what had transpired, placing his palms upon the table's edge and allowing his weight to rest against it. His attention was now on his work yet again, his focus on the small dot of land that was Innah'vadah. However, though the Highelves were across the ocean to the south, his eyes drifted north, across the mountains that bordered Innah'vadah as a whole. His intent was on Tel'vane, the land of the Huntsmen.