I have now two willing soldiers to fight for me, but they are not enough. I need more. So, I gather more.
From the smaller villages, we were able to get some more survivors. The raiders weren't as thorough in attacking the smaller villages.
I wouldn't call it their mercy or kindness, however.
The most survivors they leave in these small villages are the young and the old.
They are purposely doing this so that the elves can repopulate themselves with their young, and for the remaining old coots to protect the said young.
No, to be more accurate. The reason they allow the elderly to live is for them to teach the young the natural 'fear' they should have for humans.
We establish a small settlement further south of Lorekleim Forest bordering the Great Anisia River. Trudviar luckily finds this location in his hunt.
Sending the weak elves there, we provide a community for the elves to recuperate. Socialization is a form of healing. People would lick their wounds by saying nice things, and it is the same for elves.
We are people too.
My revenge becomes bleaker at the moment. What can I do with the little forces I have?
We number 37 now including myself, Zeraya, and Trudviar. 20 of them are children, and the remaining are either elderly or crippled.
Do I need to really establish a kingdom from here? To build from the scratch? To have just a fighting chance? I lie to them that I am King in blind hopes I can raise an army, but what army do I have?
What am I expecting from a minor ethnicity? We were primitive and lags behind the humans so much.
What is it that gives me confidence in the elves that would make me want to raise an army from them?
If only I did college in my past life... If I were an engineer, I might be building lots of stuff now that would aid me. If I were a doctor I would have more Divine Knowledge to showcase my people.
Heck, if I know how to create gunpowder, I will be invincible!
I snicker to myself. So this what it is like to be a failure-undergrad-neet in another world?
Ouch...
"Zeraya... would you please gather the elves on me except the children?" I come down from my perch on the tree. I finish my contemplating and now have a course of action in mind.
"Yes, your majesty..." Zeraya respectfully bows to me.
She is adopting the human way how to treat a king. She says that if she will believe in me, she has to go all through the way.
My dear uncle Trudviar doesn't like the way she is acting to me, however. He says elves should do things the elven way! It is not like he knows how to do it the elven way.
We gather in an open clearing. The elves sit on a spot of their choosing. Some on grass, boulders, or tree branches.
I remain standing so that I am above them and this way I can maintain my authority in this social setting.
This is so funny. I call myself a neet yet my emotional quotient seems to be at a level where I can just fuck it, but still maintain my superior advantage in a conversation.
"We gather here today for I wish to recruit soldiers. I will be fighting and taking my revenge for the raiders who are responsible for the many elven lives we lost. For you who do not wish to participate, leave..."
An oppressive silence takes over the open clearing. The elves murmur to themselves. Trudviar and Zeraya similarly had a shock on their faces as they didn't expect me to do something like this.
"What are you doing? This is insanity!" Zeraya holds my arm and scolds me in a hush voice.
"I have a plan." I calmly tell her, but she looks unconvinced.
So, I add. "They didn't kill all of our elf kin. They won't do that. As an adventurer, you must know of the fate of captured elves, do you not?"
Zeraya trembles on her feet, and stumbles back.
Looks like I hit the nail on. If I follow the usual trope, then the captured elves can only become slaves... and worse, what kind of slave can a beautiful elf only become?
A sex slave.
I wish to free as many elven slaves as possible.
If I want to boost my chances, I will need more people. Still, my chances are bleak.
"Tell me Zeraya, would you fight for me?"
If I were really a King, I can force my will on my subjects. I wouldn't even need to ask the elves before me to fight for me.
I guess I cannot truly be King. This part of me that respects the freedom of others remains steadfast.
But this makes the irony more painful. After all, the lengths I put myself in manipulating these elves to believe me as their king is just strenuous.
In the end, almost half decide to leave.
I didn't mind them. Not even saying a word about their departure is an elf's style. They don't need to give a sophisticated excuse to not join my war.
Less than war, what I am about attempt is just a plain suicide mission. The task is enormous, yet it doesn't daunt me.
I look at those who remain.
Most of them are the elderly which is within my expectations. I didn't expect though the blind blonde young elf.
If I remember correctly, his name should be Varen.
"Can you fight, Varen?" I ask the elf.
His eyes remain shut, and if I move my gaze away from him, later on, I might think of him as sleeping.
Varen stands up and addresses me sincerely. "Yes, I can fight." He draws his bow and shoots an arrow to empty air.
Or so I think.
Looking closer, I see that he was able to accurately shoot a leaf in its center. I approach the tree from whence his arrow makes its mark. I pull the arrow and inspect the leaf with a clean hole in its center
"Yes, you can fight." I compliment him.
"We march at dawn. Prepare whatever you need to prepare. Tomorrow, we shall aim to leave the Lorekleim Forest periphery."
At the deep of the night, Trudviar, Zeraya, and I gather at a bonfire.
"Zeraya, do you recognize this?" I take out an insignia I was able to pilfer from a dead raider.
"That's Count Urden's... Where did you get that?" Zeraya looks curiously at the insignia. It is in an image of a bear standing on its hind limbs. The insignia feels metallic to the touch, and by its sheen, I judge it to be bronze.
"From a dead raider," I answer her. "It was hidden well. I have to remove the leather in the boots to get this thing hiding under the soles."
"That's impossible. I thought they were mercenaries, but they are actually soldiers?" She says in consternation.
It looks like it is Zeraya's first time hearing this. The dead raiders were very careful about hiding this particular insignia as if they are afraid someone might find out.
A noble's insignia suggests a militia, and with the experience and battle prowess the raiders were able to exhibit, we can only assume for them to be soldiers.
I was only able to find this insignia on them because of my thoroughness.
Trudviar scratches his chin thinking of what might be happening. "Is this raid perhaps... might cause a territorial dispute? Or something of similar nature?"
I have the same suspicions as Trudviar. "Zeraya, where is Count Urden's estate?"
"Two baronies away... If his raiding army were to get here in Lorekleim Forest, he'd have to get past the adjacent baronies of Baron Zaun and Baron Jeremy." Zeraya realizes that there might be a conspiracy at work, but she cannot pinpoint where.
I offer her my own deductions. "The Lorekleim Forest is a gold mine that the elves have been monopolizing for a long time. Neither of the baronies adjacent to this forest doesn't dare to lay claim over this forest because the other was watching for them. The reason Lorekleim Forest has been safe for all this time is because of the delicate balance between the two baronies. But what if? What if one of the baronies received backing? Like, say? A Count?"
I smile with mirth and manic euphoria. I just had a brilliant master plan in my head. One that would consider the big and even the small picture.
Even with a small force, I believe that this will be doable.
Zaun? Jeremy? Urden?
I am coming for you... My army will be coming for you...
Well, we are few... But in my eyes, we are still an army in the end.