Life is precious.
As a half-elf, Zeraya knows this more preciously than anyone else. She witnesses it in her father who is a human with a short life. Despite this shortness, her father treasures it with dignity and relish. The smiles and laughter are just memories now, but to her, it remains her most wonderful luxuries of remembering those small snippets of the past. The same is true for her mother who is an elf. Though elves have a long life, they are few, and every death of kin means losing a great deal.
Sweeping a glance at the organs in jars with disgust, she searches for the miraculous Life Potions on the shelf. The master alchemist they don't even know his name lies dead with a bloody wound on his chest.
While Zeraya busies herself with searching for Life Potions, Varen is interrogating a young elf girl they stumble on the path lying just beside a dead goblin.
"Where are you from? What is your name?" Varen sharply asks.
"Hardwood, a small forest a bit north of Beyronald Kingdom… M-my name is Farah" The elf girl, barely approaching her teens meekly answers. There is intelligence in her eyes and awareness.
Zeraya who is idly listening to their conversation throws a suspicious glance. "Tell me, how tall is the Erendyn tree the villagers worship?"
Farah shoots up in excitement at the question. "Are you from my village? The Erendyn tree is stout, but it is over two hundred feet tall. It is imposing, and we believe spirits inhabit it~!" Singing her praises of their object of faith, Farah discards her grim expression.
And then suddenly, turns depressed again.
"Don't worry about it. I am Zeraya. I once stumbled on your village when I was an adventurer." Zeraya casually comments as she grabs a Life Potion and places it in her sack.
If they want Life Potions, they should target the County's storage. However, in the long run, finding the master alchemist and assassinating him will prove to be worth more than bagging a bunch of Life Potions with too few people to carry them.
Farah suddenly has an appearance of delight as she reverently looks at her saviors. At first, she is frightful of the two when she wakes up at the sight of them murdering someone. Blood splatters everywhere, and with the gloomy lab with jars of organs, the imagery just contributes to the terror more.
But at the realization that the two are elves, and the person they are murdering is the horrible alchemist, Farah starts to open up as slowly, what happened registers to her.
"Please help me! There are other elves that need saving!"
Varen sighs already aware of this crediting his astute mind. If the alchemist has a so-readily available elf for his vile research, there should be a place somewhere here in the underground where they are keeping the elves.
"Miss Zeraya, please look into it. I will continue tending to the loot, while you escort this girl to where they are keeping their elf prisoners."
Zeraya thankfully nods at Varen, as the latter is aware that there is an elf the former wishes to save— her mother. With lithe steps, she has Farah lead the way.
Farah is plump, and healthy both in mind and body. Despite the harsh treatment of elf prisoners usually, Farah the elf isn't much for wear, this is quite a mystery. This baffles Zeraya to no end as the dungeon in Zaun barony to some extent has a very unwelcoming look giving her the impression of despairing helplessness for elves once captured.
Anticipating the worst, Zeraya follows Farah on some turns here and there. The underground seems to desire a labyrinthian design, but miserably fails on doing so, as in Zeraya's mind, she is able to visualize a map of the underground while they continue at an idle pace.
Even a goblin can easily memorize these paths if they have enough training.
"We are here…" Farah speaks up as they reach their destination.
Zeraya fearlessly walks ahead of Farah. To her left and right, she sees elves yet to reach their adolescence. There are elves of older age too, however, they are all women.
Offering a narrative, Farah trails on Zeraya with a sad tone. "The humans caged us here after they abducted us from our villages. We also had men among our numbers, but they were killed recently after an influx of elves joined us in this underground."
At the mention of the influx of elves, Zeraya realizes that it must be the elves coming from the Lorekleim Forest. Farah continues her story.
"The count forced the elves who have families to work for him… The count took hostage of the elves' love for their family. I am lucky as I am an orphan, and the count has no use forcing me to do prostitution. However, later on, the Count found other use for those he cannot take hostage."
Farah grits her teeth, and her young face morphs into an ugly rage. "The others who are in their adolescence were sold into slavery through the black market. If not for the alchemist needing to study and dissect elves of over pubescent stage, the count wouldn't even find mercy in his heart to sell the younger elves only to be played as if they were toys by those disgusting humans."
Zeraya maintains a stoic expression while listening to Farah's story.
"You are a half-elf, correct? After this, where are we going now? Are… you… from a village?"
Farah warily measures Zeraya unsure of how a half-elf relates to the alchemist's death. As Farah is unaware of what is happening above ground, she has no clue whether the 'force' Zeraya is coming from is either friendly or hostile.
This time, Zeraya breaks into a smile. "We are under orders of the Elf King… We are here to retaliate against humanity. Saving you elves are just a bonus…"
Zeraya's eyes widen as she sees a familiar person in the prison cells. "Mom," She walks to the prison cell with increasing speed. "Mom, it is me! Your daughter!" She jovially calls.
Farah notices the elf Zeraya is calling to… "That's aunt Naya…" Farah has a sad look in her eyes as she prays in her heart that it shouldn't devolve into more tragedy.
Naya is half asleep and is on the verge of dying. A deep red is on her belly, she is feverish and is on her last strength. "Da-daughter, is that you?"
Zeraya pales at the sight of her mother.
Farah sympathizes with Zeraya.
It is so cruel. To have hope just right in your eyes stand right there, only for the mad devil that names itself tragedy to grab this 'hope' forcefully from your hands.
However, except for a cry of despair, what rouses Zeraya is a roaring anger. Zeraya with her dagger cuts the prison cells, and the lining bars, into small pieces.
Farah yelps in surprise at the incredible prowess that Zeraya exhibits.
Not missing a beat, Zeraya rushes to her mother with a Life Potion. Zeraya carefully removes the thin cloth covering Naya's abdomen. The red liquid pours down to the wound mixing with the color of the blood. Zeraya then feeds Naya a mouthful of potion carefully administering the best care she can give.
Farah doesn't know what the red potion is… and this further only contributes to the shock that she experiences. Slowly, the wound that already has necrosis in it heals with the dead blood, scabs, and rot falling off as if they are mere dirt meeting water.
"Oh my… Is this what that alchemist is working at!?" She exclaims in surprise as she madly stares at the miracle drug.
Naya remains silent as she is asleep, but the steady rhythmic breathing and the more vibrant color in her skin suggest that she is no longer in severe danger. Except for the worrying fever, Naya, Zeraya's mother, is still quite alive.
Still asleep, but seems to be semi-conscious, words escape Naya's mouth. "Daughter… I love you… and… go… His majesty… needs… saving…" As if dreaming, Naya delivers these words with surrealist serendipity of overseeing fate and prophecy.
Zeraya with a decisive look in her eyes decides what she should do next.
"Farah, stay… I will go and fetch Varen…"
With an unwavering heart, Zeraya acts on her ominous premonition. She meets up with Varen and takes off the sack of Life Potions from him. "I will take care of that…" Without even explaining herself, she turns around and bolts off into a run.
"Also, contact the rescue unit! Lots of elves here need saving!" She shouts in a carefree manner.
Varen is a logical man. He knows that something must be up to her. As he is logical, he also knows the difficulty of saving people and extracting them from this abominable underground. Varen dreads the thought of various human soldiers waiting for en-masse in a circle from the narrow exit waiting to pounce at the very first sight of an enemy. "Trudviar, you better fucking hold them off."
Zeraya rushes outside the underground with Varen following on her trail. The two disperses each of them has a goal in mind. The two didn't even take a second look at Trudviar who is meeting steel with a rather gigantic strong man.
Varen recognizes the strongman and feels an itching sensation to send an arrow, but in the end, he persists to control his emotions aware of his priorities. Lightly jumping over the wall using little effort, he sets on meeting up with the rescue team.
Meanwhile, Zeraya runs in a rush as she follows the almost indiscernible black smoke rising into the air like a dragon's tail in the darkness of the night.