Dusk has long set, and night is slowly creeping into the skies...
Trudviar seats by the boulder eating his share of their final supper. For some reason, the food tonight doesn't taste stale like it usually does, but full of flavor. It reminds him of the beauty of life, and what he will miss after his death.
He has no regrets, however. If there is one, then it will be his inability to save his daughter, and now, even save the King who is hellbent on this suicide mission.
Most often, he questions himself… Why can he not dissuade the King? Does his opinion not matter? He erases his gloomy thoughts as he eats another spoonful of the boar soup.
At the foot of Larson Mountain where the vegetation is thick, the elves set camp. From his boulder, Trudviar sees the high walls of Urden County with torches and movement just above the high walls. A barony has a population of hundreds of families, but a county has thousands, and that is excluding the soldiers.
Trudviar cannot imagine how much work is necessary to manage such a number of people. The scarier part is how difficult it would be to kill all of those humans. He recalls Jeremy Barony. The elves are in an all high-time stress at that time, and any second, he fears that they might fail.
Suddenly interrupting his final moments, Zeraya approaches him in obvious steps. "We need to talk." She tells him. Trudviar nods at her aware of where this 'talk' would go.
The Lorekleim forest is not so big, and not so small either. In some instances, Trudviar did brush with Zeraya while hunting for food. Trudviar's impression of her is fleeting. What he only knows is that he has slight disgust for her. It is a mystery to him why the Clearwater Village even accept a half-elf among them.
In the duration of their fighting on the same side, they are able to form some level of camaraderie.
The two of them look at each other in silence. Breaking the still air, Zeraya opens her mouth as she discusses the heart of the matter. "The King cannot die… I placed a sleeping drug on his food. The same the old alchemist created. Once he fell asleep, take him back to the Lorekleim Forest."
"Why don't you do it? You should do it." Trudviar finds a surprise in his hostile tone. Saving the King also means saving himself, and he doesn't want that. He is ready. He wants to die tonight.
Zeraya calmly reasons. "I am a half-elf. I am a burden to him. He clearly has affection for me, which will be detrimental to his rule, so it cannot be me. However, you are different. You belong to his birth village. He trusts you, and you trust him unconditionally, and that is why I came for you…"
Trudviar shakes his head. "How about the others? Do you think, they will follow you, a half-elf leading them would feel like eating shit for them?" It is odd that Trudviar is talking this harshly, and is even using crass language. This is how strongly he feels that he should fight.
With heavy momentum on his side, Trudviar forces the matter into Zeraya's hands. "I cannot do as you wish. However, your wish is my wish too… Let's go and tell this to Varen…"
"No need," Intruding on the conversation of the two is Varen's solemn words. "His majesty has informed me of your treacherous thoughts, and he wishes to convey his message."
Trudviar and Zeraya freeze at these bone-chilling words. They look around the camp and cannot see the shadow of their King. Zeraya has a slight hope that his majesty heeded her and Trudviar's words, and voluntarily leaves for Lorekleim Forest.
Destroying all of their expectations are Varen's words. "He brought the small carriage containing the sleeping Stalker, and has set off to the main gate of Urden County…"
Stupidity! Crazy! Madness!
Varen solemnly declares to them the King's words. "This is what he said word for word— the two of you have no choice, and no say to this… You are free to act as you like. Just know that there is no plan. Rampage as you like."
"Varen! What got into your head to let his majesty go like that!?" Trudviar angrily rebukes Varen as his emotions flare up. He grabs his sword as he ought to rush off to Urden County.
…
While the remaining elves are panicking, I am leisurely riding on a small carriage with two horses pulling me away. It is so difficult that even with your most trusted people, you still have to be careful.
I am really lucky to have Varen around. If not for him snitching on Zeraya informing me that she was sneaking something into my food, I would be sleeping now and being carried away on a horse. Bah~
What do they know about free will?
I am a free elf!
I should have told them ugly things like they are just tools to me for this revenge. That I am not really a King. That I am just an idiot faking it. That I am just a selfish bastard. I cannot even eat peacefully my share of the supper.
It is true I want to make the lives of the elves to be better, and that's why I have been teaching Kara.
The galloping of the horse resounds on the empty road. I feel the wind touching my hood covering my face. I raise my torch high while I remain in the carriage driver's seat. The sentry by the tower gates sees my attention-grabbing torch.
It is not yet midnight, but it is night nonetheless. In this medievalistic world where there is not much entertainment, people should be sleeping already. And as per how the norm works around the different aristocrats' territory, it is common sense that the gate should be closed before 7:00 pm.
My appearance alone is suspicious, but as I am 'alone', it shouldn't raise the sentry's guard too much. I desperately call to him, drawing my acting skills out. "Please help me! The Jeremy barony has been raided and not one person survived the massacre! I barely escaped with my life! Th-they are tracking me… I have abandoned my other wares, and now I am all that is left with the tiny goods I have, Please help me! I am just a suffering merchant!"
"Show me your face!" The sentry alertly tells me, and I comply.
It has only been slightly more than a week since we razed the Jeremy territory. The capital is quite far from the Fendra province, and from Wisley's and Zeraya's account, it would take some time for the Beyronald King's army to catch a trace of us even if they hurry.
The flow of information in this world is quite slow, and I take this to my full advantage. The county of Urden should be totally unaware of the state of things with the two other baronies. I reckon Count Urden is too busy with the refugees and the mysterious attack on his forces.
I remove my hood and reveal my pretty face to the sentry. My hair is long, and it just aptly covers my long ears that would normally reveal my elven origins. I observe the sentry's face with my sharp eyesight and realize he has the exact reaction I am expecting.
The elves are a beautiful race rarely with any blemish. I carry the same genes in me, and so I must be a stunningly handsome guy too by human standards. It feels so vain complimenting myself, but so far so good as the sentry takes a 180 degrees change in his attitude.
"Forgive me, but the county has been putting stricter measures. We recently lost plenty of our soldiers, so you must understand… honorable merchant…"
Even the way the sentry addresses me changes. It feels so good to be handsome. The sentry kindly tells me to wait.
"I will call for my superior, so please wait for a moment. You just need to prove that you are a merchant, and you can freely enter the county…"
Usually, the sentry would turn me away, but my mention of the destruction of Jeremy barony is not something he can just brush off. I lift a whole bottle containing a dark murky liquid— it is a Berserker Potion like no other.
It uses half of the Aphrodisiac bottle as a solution base and is five times more potent than the Berserker Potion distributed to the other elves. My plan is actually far cruder than creating an 'object' of fear. This is all possible because of the old alchemist.
Because of him, this brilliant plan can come into existence. I thank the old alchemist in my mind for this opportunity.
I plan to create a walking god in this world. I shall embed my name in human history as the harbinger of divine punishment. With my name alone, I shall save the elf sufferers.
I glug on the bottle as if it is some delicious wine like an alcoholic. I force the bitter liquid into my throat. I feel a stinging pain in my nose, ears, and eyes. Blood trickles from my ears, my nosebleed is getting on my mouth and bloody teardrops pour down my cheeks. I cannot really see what is happening but I can imagine it as I recall Allenwood's words as to what will happen after ingesting this Godly Berserker Potion.
I feel my blood boiling at the immediate effects.
I remove my mouth from the bottle after I empty it with air. I nonchalantly throw the bottle to the sides. I wipe my slightly bloody mouth. The taste of iron is still on my tongue, and so is the bitterness, but I savor the taste… as in a sense, this is now my last supper.