Moral Blackmail.
It is a disgusting method of coercion, but it works. Wisley the merchant after involving himself with the elves falls into the rabbit hole of conflicting morality, conscience, and guilt.
The next thing he knows, he is already a baron of the Beyronald Kingdom by buying the surname of 'Jeremy' from the current reigning King. The irony is nauseous, but Wisley hides his discomfort by busying himself on the development of his domain.
Now Wisley Jeremy, a small-time baron, and ally to Zaun nobility, together with the quarter elf Ririn Zaun, rises among the Beyronald aristocracy establishing fame and glory for themselves. Shortly in over a couple of years, the two have become a powerhouse that serves as an integral part of the Beyronald Kingdom.
"So, are you suggesting to build a marriage alliance? This seems too abrupt, no?"
In front of Wisley is Ririn, a long-old acquaintance. Sipping over her red wine, she casually lies on the sofa while showing a bit of her skin in a vain attempt at seduction. However, Wisley's mental discipline is beyond her as he remains stoic about Ririn's advances.
"Don't be so coy, Mr. Wisley. I am beautiful, and a rank higher than you. If we combine our houses, we shall both rise as Counts. Moreover, with this marriage, we can petition for a new surname, thus leaving the 'Jeremy' name behind. Is this not a win-win situation?"
"Tempting," Wisley mouths off while he weighs the pros and cons. "But don't you think, it will be unfair to you? It cannot be that you want my money. After all, your mercantile talents are on par with mine, and even with starting late, your domain's economy has a leg-up on mine. Moreover, you will live so much longer than me. I must say. You have more to give up than to benefit if we are to go with this marriage."
Ririn simply smiles and gives a vague explanation. "It won't be a loss to me. After all, I will gain authority as a parent for our stepchildren, don't I?"
"You cunning fox," Wisley feels his blood pressure rising. "How did you learn of it?"
"The elven slave branding is very difficult to hide, Mr. Wisley. If not for your masterful arrangement, the whole realm would have found out about your scandalous relationship with these children assuming that they are even yours."
Another blackmail, Wisley comes to realize. The Elf King can do as much as he likes to him because of the power he wields, but this woman, this elf… is just another mortal.
"If this is blackmail, then it wouldn't work. You are not the Elf King. You are no god. You will not compel me." Wisley strongly confronts Ririn with hatred in his teeth, gnashing them tooth to tooth.
"Calm down," Ririn raises her arms as a show of defense and weakness. "I dare not anger the 'Death Merchant' for I wish to live…" She playfully adds.
Death Merchant is a nickname that Wisley earns from working behind the scenes for the past years. The white powder he sells from his farms, the luxurious highly addictive cigarette, the crossbow technology he monopolizes with his soldiers, and his various extending connections to the Allied Kingdoms are something of great renown to the underbelly of the criminal world.
And while this Death Merchant is shrouded with mystery, Wisley is not.
To Ririn, she plainly sees a man doing the bidding of the elves, and while at it, thrives in the process.
Wisley knows what Ririn is seeing, and with this line of thought, he realizes what Ririn is up to.
"You wish to connect with the elves in a more bound manner through me. At first, I suspect, you wanted access to my crossbows and white powder. But you know. The crossbows I have are inferior to what the elves have. The only thing I have going is the white powder. However, this won't interest you, because you already have a source of income you can rely on. I must ask. How many spies did you put in my domain?"
"Not many. But I know enough. I will come clean. You are right. Your white powder does not interest me. The brothel business I have across the Allied Kingdoms is enough to last me for a lifetime and the next. The crossbows are enticing, but I have no intention of fostering a military of my own nurturing. I have no knowledge of the military and no interest in it. I only want money, prestige, and fame."
At Ririn's exposition, Wisley shakes his head in disapproval.
"The military path can also earn you prestige and fame. These are shallow excuses. Just know this, Ms. Ririn. So what if you know of my children's elf brands? You cannot compel me. You cannot force me. As you can see, I am under the elves' rule. I have a more intimate relationship with them ever more than you. They get their goods from me, and I receive the benefits that come with our relationship. This is due to my connections. Unlike you, who solely focuses on the economic side of things, I have been holistically improving. My soldiers are a big part of my success consisting of quarter elves and even a few half-elves and of other demi-human races."
"…"
Ririn shuts up at Wisley's long explanation.
Wisley takes a deep breath and wets his throat with a glass of water.
"Whatever scheme you are playing. I suggest you shoot straight, Ms. Ririn."
What does come out of her request for a marriage proposal? Why does she find the need to mention Wisley's relationship with his specific ten children? What is this unfamiliar beating around the bush from Ririn?
Wisley and Ririn has pretty much a long-standing relationship of mutual cooperation. The two have a tacit understanding of each other's abilities and thinking. To Wisley, Ririn is especially weird today.
It is a clandestine meeting. The middle of the night. It is quiet. And in the lounge, in a secret chamber, the two did meet. Their secret meetings like this are a rare event to which either of them rarely initiates.
Wisley recalls the last secret meeting they have outside from the prying ears of elves, and that is only a few season days ago. This call for a secret meeting is nothing but suspicious. However, as a professional businessman and negotiator, Wisley is not someone who balks away from a deal.
"Last time, we met up, because you had suspicions the elves will get rid of me. Did you not? At that time, it didn't come to me as weird, but now, it does. Tell me, Ririn, what are you so afraid of?"
"Nothing," Ririn quickly answers. "Nothing anymore, dear Wisley…"
Ririn fixes her posture on the sofa, and seductively pouts showing a bit of her canine teeth. Wisley frowns at the protrusion peeking out of Ririn's lips.
Wisley tenses his calves fearing for the worse.
"I heard of stories. In the criminal world, there are people who own the dark. Their methods of brutality… are fascinating, and it is said, they wield power over the whole continent. They own where there is darkness. They are the creatures of the night…"
"Vampires, they call themselves…" Ririn announces with reverence.
Wisley callously runs for the door, only for someone to push it open causing him to drop on his bottom. Waiting for him behind the door is a blonde woman with deep crimson eyes. She is wearing a nightgown swaying with the slightest breeze. Her clothes barely cover her sensual parts except for the skin that shows transparently with the cloth.
"Hello there, the 'Death Merchant'. Do you wish for power?"
Wisley laughs with consternation.
"My name is Wisley, servant to the elves…"
"No. You are Wisley, now servant to the vampires. I am your new master, the vampire, Angelica."
The blonde vampire who calls herself Angelica squats down to level her eyes to Wisley, and with her gaze, she magically put him into a daze.
Angelica, one inch closer to his neck breathes with perverse bloodlust. "Thanks for the meal~!" However, before she can even sink her dirty teeth into Wisley's neck like the gnarly monster that she is, someone grabs her neck and press her onto the floor.
"Shush," Breathing to her ears is a young elf's raspy voice. "Easy now… I would not want to accidentally kill you now, do I?"
Pressing on her back and neck is none other than Varen, his dagger just slightly above the vampire's throat.
Meanwhile, Angelica is in a panic as for the first time, she realizes that there is a being who can sneak up on her, a bonafide vampire with years of experience on her name.
Wisley stands up, showing not to be dazed from the very beginning. He draws something from his jacket, a handful of white powder, and consumes it by inhaling it via his nose.
With a sigh, he cleans up after himself. "Hmmm… It is an honor to see you again, Lord Varen." He opines while he coldly looks down at the vampire. "It is truly my honor to receive the favor of the elves. To ask for my assistance in architecting this trap… is my boon and pleasure. I am thankful for Lady Ririn's cooperation in the matter. It is sad that you will have to become a vampire… just to play this minir role."
Ririn shivers at the sight in front of her. She is thinking to herself what a marvelous success her scheme has been only to fall flat at the end.
"I am sorry, lady Ririn…" Wisley callously draws a loaded crossbow from under the table and shoots a bolt at Ririn. "But please die for me." It hits her skull with perfect aim.
Wisley draws another crossbow hiding from under the chair and shoots another bolt with deadly accuracy. It lands beautifully on her chest where her heart should be.
"I am called the 'Death Merchant' for a reason."