The forest was eerily silent. As we ventured deeper into the ruins of the Morning Sunder, the oppressive stillness became more pronounced. The book described this place as a haven of peace, where a benevolent goddess once graced the land with her songs, blessing the people and their descendants, many heroes and lovers among them. Now, only withered vegetation and crumbling stone remained. Not a single bird chirped, no rustling of small animals disturbed the quiet. It was as if life itself had abandoned this place.
Then, we encountered him: an Elven traveler. He was tall and lean, but possessed a surprising amount of muscle mass beneath his elegant attire. He hadn't noticed my human ears, concealed as they were by the golden helmet and armor, which he clearly mistook for Elven craftsmanship. Assuming I was a fellow warrior of his race, he approached us, asking for directions. His gaze lingered on Alura, instantly classifying her as a slave.
When Alura responded, explaining our observations about the lack of wildlife, his expression shifted from polite inquiry to open disgust. "Mere humans," he sneered. "We Elves are vegetarians. We have no need for such… barbaric practices."
Even I was taken aback by his arrogance, though I kept my face impassive. He turned back to me, addressing me as "brother." "Why haven't you given her a slave crest?" he asked,gesturing dismissively towards Alura. "I can," I replied, my voice flat. The Elf continued, "Perhaps it's because you dwell more in combat and lack magical talent, but it's rare so how is battle?" I simply replied, "It's been long." He then asked, "I hope the other races aren't treating you as feeble."
He then reached out and grasped Alura's hand tightly. In a swift, instinctive reaction, Alura grabbed his neck and began to strangle him. "Brother! Your slave has gone rogue!" he choked out.
I remained silent for a moment, seemingly lost in thought, still gazing at the sky. Then, in a deep, calm voice, I simply said, "Stop." Alura immediately released him. He crumpled to the ground, trembling and then fainting.
While he was unconscious, Alura, with my assistance, placed a slave crest upon his neck. When he awoke, he erupted into a fit of rage, hurling insults at Alura, calling her a "lower life form," and demanding that I, his "brother," order her to kill herself.
I continued to stare at the sky, my voice calm and even. "I can save you," I said. "If you join my family."
He looked at me, utterly bewildered. "What are you saying?"
I removed my helmet, revealing my human face. His reaction was immediate and visceral. He recoiled, screaming in disbelief. "Remove that… that piece of art!" he shrieked, his voice cracking with hysteria. He babbled incoherently, tears streaming down his face, rejecting the undeniable truth before him.
I took a step towards him. Then another. And another. With each step, his resistance weakened. By the fourth step, he was begging, pleading for mercy, agreeing to anything.
Alura released him. He immediately snatched up his sword, intending to take his own life. But before he could act, Alura commanded him, her voice sharp and commanding, "You will never kill yourself. You will protect us, your masters, in the most logical way possible."
His face went blank. His eyes became dull and lifeless. He mechanically picked up the sword, bowed his head, and knelt before us.He was no longer an Elven warrior. He was a slave, bound by magic and driven by a single, overriding command. The House of Darius had gained its first recruit and his new name is Pladen.