Cinders Falling in a dry forest, had lived in humiliation and exile, bearing the weight of her royal blood. The chief, formerly the bastard son of a deposed duke, retaining power by appeasing his enemies and paying tribute to goblins, had forced her to work in a tavern of ill repute. She served the lowliest of elf society, but even she wouldn't fall so low as to serve a human. Cinder was a royal; she knew her worth even if the bastard line tried to humiliate and cheapen her. Even bound with enchanted bronze manacles, the chief's family feared her and, more importantly, feared the goblins who asked for more tribute every year. How long until they sieged the city and the chief would be forced to free her? She could wait; royal elves lived much longer than the short-lived retches untaught in the ways of sorcery. They spilled their live mana, never knowing how to store the greater power of the world.
Her body was as tight and nubile as it was on her sixteenth birthday when the current chief's great-grandfather sealed her away. 150 years later, she wasn't certain the chief knew she worked at a firewater tavern in little oaks, the part of the bronze mountains the chief allowed to fall to crime.
Cinder's days had fallen into repetition until a human dressed like a foreign royal walked in. A red shirt with sewn black leaves that clung tightly to powerful pecks and abs, a tight-fitting pair of black trousers showing off muscular thighs and a mighty package, and utter confidence. When the man's sparkling blue eyes scanned the room, he saw no rivals. She pulled at her sleeve, and his eyes recognized her manacles, something only those who studied the histories found in lordly houses should know. A quick mental calculus took place, and then violence happened.
She didn't see him move. Limbering Tree Falling without a sound's mouth exploded in a bloody mess, his rotten teeth flew across the room. An elf mercenary well known in both the human and elven lands as Hector the swordsman stepped forward with his hand on the pommel of his bronze gladius. The man had chosen to wear his bronze armor to impress her.
A soldier spouted out some line about humans never serving elves, and the human pulled a device out of his trousers. On the reflective glass surface, she saw the lady Glory To The Mountain River lying over her daughter while this man fucked them both.
"Since even the highest serve me, you shouldn't have a problem getting me a drink." Hector didn't seem to know what to do. His Logos must have been on strike before this deranged and dangerous human. "I may not have a can opener, but I will open a can of whoop ass on you if you don't get moving."
Hector moved to pull his sword until Vincent's hand appeared on Hector's breastplate. She heard a groan before the armor tore away. Cinder heard cracking sounds, and her amber eyes zoomed in to see the human squeezing Hector's hand. It became a bloody mess warped into the bronze. This was power that only vampire nobles were supposed to have.
Cinder's eyes opened wider than they had in centuries. The bastards had done it; the vampires had finally bred a day walker with the humans, and they had infiltrated the city. Who else would have access to the records of what became of the royal line of Oberon?
Cinder froze, as did the room at the sheer speed and violence the human demonstrated. "I had a job, but I don't think I have use for a cripple," Vincent said.
The looked utterly bored at the violence.
"Anything I don't care what it is, tell me, and I will do it." The human released him, and the warped sword fell out of Hector's hand. It clattered on the floor loud enough to make her ears twitch. Suddenly, the human was all smiles. "Please, not something that will betray my city," Hector said.
"Oh, that won't be a problem. You look like a popular guy you even know some funny jokes. Elves not serving humans. That one was a riot." This was an absolute monster with balls the size of horses and the power to back it up. "I have a job I can't handle alone; children are starving in the streets. Round bellies and exposed ribs aren't healthy. So, I need you to round up the toughest bastards you can find, human or elf, with flexible morals, and meet me at the gate in 12 hours. There is a massive herd of cattle near the city, and we will push it this way." The human said.
Everything she had come to understand about the monster in front of her suddenly turned on its head.
"We're mercenaries; we don't work for free," Hector said.
"You can have all the beef you want." The human said.
People started talking, and she felt excited. That was something not many people could offer. Meat in the city was limited to the few goats they were allowed to butcher without risking the herds. Goat's milk mixed with a little blood was a staple food. The meat was reserved for the rich; some lords didn't have meat daily. That was when Cinder decided the human had passed her test. He was trying to make a difference in the city, and maybe if she played her cards right, he would free her.
Despite the chief losing track of her, there were stories about monsters who looked like elves wearing manacles. Freeing them would let the monster show their true form and eat whoever freed them. While those stories circulated, she didn't dare ask anyone in the current generation to free her. A human wouldn't know the stories; this one probably wouldn't care.
"Why would you help us?" A tavern wench asked.
"I live here too. My name is Vincent, and I don't like seeing children starve in the streets. I can't do everything myself, but I will leverage what power I can." The man Vincent said.
"It was those good intentions that placed us in this situation. Food shortages didn't come from dying crops. We are paying tribute because we can't beat the goblins. That wouldn't have happened when we were a kingdom." Cinder said.
Some people gave Cinder odd looks, but Vincent understood. Cinder saw it in the human's sparkling blue eyes.
"Pure democracies are a slow, ineffectual form of government. The parliament is an endless screaming match that gets nothing done but inflating the value of the silver mares." He held up a silver coin and tossed it on the table. "There isn't much silver in that coin; it's mostly lead. Melt it and see for yourself outside the eyes of the law. That's what the people on the street say." Vincent said.
"What do you say?" Hector asked.
"Shrink suffrage only to those who pay net taxes take the right of the parasites away. Bums chewing bark all day and eating government bread shouldn't vote. Who is more frugal with your money, you or your woman?" Vincent said.
He was repeating talking points she had heard in the tavern for a century.
Hector laughed despite his broken fingers. It was like the human was a beacon of sense everyone was drawn to. Cinder alone could see through the spell.
"Alright, I will get the men. The cattle better be there." Hector said.
The man smiled before turning his attention to her. "You wanted to talk to me," Vincent said.
Hector left dismissed, and people began returning to what they were doing. It was the most surreal thing she had ever seen.