Gods are not your friends, at least that's what's taught in the Elven school of thought in the Largest City in the Ducian Realm, the City of the Twin Spires, Kakhda Hanbat. And upon returning, a great cleansing happened. While Meisa was away, the humans started civil strife, burning, looting and killing some elves, all in all the situation was stabilised when the elven troop returned to squash the rebellion.
Instead of killing the 50,000 people rounded up for causing this disturbance, they were swiftly mobilised into the Human Army, and their entire families were used as collateral. If they don't fight their families will be killed, and they will return to their homes after the war. The state is merciful enough to send their corpses back to their homes.
Oh how merciful, the state must be praised, these good for nothing rabble rousing criminals were given the chance to die for their country and be heroes… It's tear inducing, rejoice!
Meisa wipes her tears as she reads what she published in the newspaper, tears of laughter that is. Human nationalists and shit stirrers has existed since the time she was born, and this time is no different. Though she can feel that there are some elves manipulating the humans into action, it's no different to her, in fact some of her political enemies has perished in this war, and a new regime is under way.
The Queen has distracted the Elve's civil war by redirecting our focus to an external war, and after the disappearance of Duke Krall, the situation has quickly shifted into the buckling or forces, a hunker down.
Meisa is in another party, sipping some alcoholic grape juice with her Knight Kaleo standing behind her. Kaleo looks a decade older, well he is, and Meisa is draped in six different layers of cloth with different colours of red, orange, green, yellow and purple all spliced together to form a colourful spectacle with lace trailing to her feet.
These functions usually cost a few 22 Million Cours. For perspective, a regular person earns 20 of those in a day. You'd have to work for 3014 years without spending a single Cour in order to even get that money, and it's true, the rich exploit the poor no matter what race. Not that she cares.
She looks at the other blonde elves and looks down to her lap. She wished she was blonde too but she was born with Black hair, because apparently she is part of the people descended from the Black Snake. As proof of that, her left eye is of the Black Snake, while others like her have both of their eyes in that state, it seems her bloodline's not pure enough.
A lot of these long lived elves are a bit perverted. There's one who's always bringing lewd books everywhere he goes. There's that other one who's actually wearing bondage gear under her clothes and there's another one who partakes in recreational whippings in his spare time. Meisa herself had a fascination for vivisections, but that faded away really quickly once she became an adult at the ripe age of 57. Now she's tinkering with simple surgeries.
The party is in full swing with the sound of laughter, music and the clinking of fine glasses filled with liquid gold, a rare wine from the vineyards of the east. Meisa tries to keep her smile plastered on her face while she makes small talk with the guests, some of whom are her political allies and others her rivals, all pretending to get along for the sake of social decorum.
As she mingles, Meisa's mind wanders to the unrest beyond the city walls. The human army is not faring well in the war, and the whispers of rebellion are growing louder. Her hand tightens around the stem of her glass, knuckles turning white. She knows that this facade of unity is precarious at best. If the humans manage to win a significant victory, the elven nobility will be eager to claim credit, but if they fail, the blame will fall squarely on her.
Kaleo, ever vigilant, notices her tension and leans in to whisper, "Your Highness, a word?" She nods, and they step away from the bustling crowd into a quieter corner. He presents her with a letter, sealed with the insignia of the human rebellion. Meisa's heart races as she breaks the seal and scans the contents. It's a plea for help, a desperate offer of alliance from the humans. They know of her heritage and believe she might be sympathetic to their plight.
"Sympathetic? Well, I'd like a profit. Send them a few weapons and supplies, and send them to a rival's fief." She stares Kaleo in the eye as she signs 'make it happen' on the letter. The Knight nods solemnly before he leaves to carry out her orders.
The evening air is cooler outside onto the balcony, Meisa takes a deep breath. The starlit sky is a stark contrast to the fiery chaos of the battles she's been in. "This is the price of power, to dance with snakes and hope not to get bitten," she whispers to herself.
The classical waltz can be heard from inside, the heavy set of violins almost blaring as the elves start finding partners for a little dance. The music is uncannily sombre, a reminder of the wars that rage on a seasonal basis. Meisa's eyes follow Kaleo as they prepare to leave, contemplating the repercussions of her decision. If word gets out about her dealings with the human rebels, it could mean her head. But if she plays her cards right, it could be the key to shifting the balance of power in her favour.
These parties can last more than a few weeks give or take. Usually an event to socialise and fuck around with the few people who matter in the Government. There's a lot of work for everybody, and most elves have tables for themselves.
In each of the round tables, there's three elves hogging it all so their paper spread has space to breathe. Each one is dressed in fineries that could feed a human village for a year. They talk in hushed whispers about the war, about the Queen's cunning, and about Meisa's recent actions. Some whisper with admiration, others with contempt.
Meisa sits at the head of one such table, her eyes tracing the patterns in the gold-leafed wallpaper as the conversation around her turns to the human's potential victory. Her heart skips a beat as she hears the excitement in their voices. Could this be the turning point she's been waiting for? She sips her grape juice, feigning interest in the mundane chit-chat about trade routes and diplomatic alliances.
Victory by the human armies in the front line means taking over some fertile land, and that means more food production, and that means more money. There's no way those prisoners would mutiny, after all, Meisa has a track record of killing people for less. The humans are her pawns, and she knows how to play chess.
The sound of the waltz fades into the background as Meisa's thoughts turn to strategy. If the humans win, it would be a victory for her as well, a victory over the Queen and her manipulation. But she must be careful not to show her hand too soon.
Her eyes dart to the corner of the room where the Queen's personal guard stands, watching the festivities with hawk-like intensity. Meisa knows that they are not just there for decoration; they are the Queen's ears and eyes. She must not let them suspect her true intentions.
In a few days she'll have to see the battlefield herself.
"Kaleo, you'll be the General of the Army. Take the responsibility."