The leaves rejected us, made much more noise than necessary. If it were not a reconnaissance mission, I would send the alchemists to eliminate these meadows and design something to hide our movements. But woe is me! I no longer had my alchemists. They were loaned to train the humans who only wanted to know more... How could the prince allow it? If I were who I once was, we would have already eliminated the city's troops—we would fall or not, but with our faces to the skies. But this would change today.
The area where we were was at the edge of the authentic camp we once possessed. Previous incursions were for medicines, remedies, tools. Today, we were going for magical items. There was one in particular I was dying to try—appearing like a gem, it was a communicator, sending and receiving messages with the high elven council. They would know of our disgrace and perhaps give more appropriate orders for the Blood Elves instead of these conciliatory movements that only made us look weak before the eyes of the diverse races whose ancestors saw us as what we once were... brutal and invincible. But we would be again, at the cost, if necessary, of our novice king's blood.
As I contemplated the destruction of the surrounding areas, I could not imagine who would want to accompany him in this new enterprise. In the previous one—with power, malice, pedantry—there it was worth going out on forays. A hundred, two hundred years were nothing if it brought his name to the king's court. But now... now I was only an exile. Would they really kill us if they found us? Impossible! I belonged to one of the four most important families in the entire kingdom. There was no point in worrying. Within a couple of hours, we would have confirmation, even if what was said was true. Perhaps carrying the culprit's head would earn me some reward.
The weapons were heavy and hazy—using steel blades when true silver was typical of our armory. Our protections were coarse—bronze plates or some poorly made chainmail. Where were our people's shields? The beautiful flags of each elf house, the beauty of their dyes, produced so that no one could imitate them—not with any material, I must admit. The blood of diadre was only one of the ingredients. Here, they only knew of stone residues and some insects, which only gave faded tones. We had to settle for some copper marks in the shape of a leaf... a pathetic logo typical of this pathetic elf who was once proud and imposing.
We advanced into the danger zone. My blades had already claimed a couple of heads—a woman and her child who were rummaging through the belongings. Perhaps they were not the enemy, but it brought me reminiscences of power that I would recover at any cost. The child needed only a slash; the woman returned trying to see her offspring, so an arrow was more poetic. Of course, I retrieved the arrow afterward—first, because we did not have too many, and second, because it was part of the agreement our leader had with the hated Whitecap—a little human who was not killed and gave us asylum as if we were some kind of animal. I asked for lamps, equipment, something, but they were not included. Yet they did not expect that a hunter of my level—I, Golden Edge—would be subject to the basic precepts of a coward. I almost felt bad seeing that they had died from a metal tip—my beautiful weapons with bone points and enchanted edges disappeared—but I would be avenged, of everyone who allowed this misery.
The troop accompanying me was elite—silent, lethal people. Several of the followers of that god Blancir—there were not many, but they were scattered within shouting distance. I made a questioning sign, as I could not imagine so many incursions without arousing suspicion. They made a sign, and I saw that besides these bodies, there were several of ours. I tried to take it calmly—I knew many died in the process. But why were we not recovering them? There were brothers of my house there. I tried to lift them, but they stopped me. My anger grew by the moment, but they pointed—a few meters away was the clearing where the main tents were a storehouse for whatever loot had forgotten. Very well. It was time to find what I came for. While the others watched, I entered the tents of what was once my family. Inside, everything was empty, but I expected something like that. That was why I had some hiding places. Tracing a few family runes on the floor, a portion of it ceased to be dirt and rugs, revealing a door to a small vault I had some humans build. When they finished, I eliminated them so no one would know of its existence.
I descended, and luxury hit me. There were phoenix feathers for writing, various skins of cheetahs—extinct animals by us—watching me from the impotence of their display furniture. But that was for later. At the back of the vault was the chest of enchantments. But before reaching it, I began to hear explosions, along with soldiers' shouts warning of retreat. As best I could, I got out. It was part of the strategy: they would draw out anyone nearby, run in one direction, and we—the novices—in another. Thus, while they distracted whatever they saw, we captured the useful things. Many of these would not be seen by that little king. As soon as I negotiated my status for his life, I would make sure he never breathed as a human again.
I went outside, and the lights dazzled me. What were those attacks? Immense columns of light appeared and split along the paths where the soldiers were supposed to go. But the screams came directly to where I was. I could not fight—not with this garbage protection, not without legendary weapons. This was not for me... I don't want to die! I fled into the forest. The columns came from the back of the tents, where Golden Leaf's fabric palace was. Well, they were there. Better to leave. I would wait for them to focus only on the soldiers and return for my riches. I was sure that even if the king denied us, that would undoubtedly place me among the powerful, and I could quickly buy the respect of the other elves to the point of dethroning the council of King Silver Leaf. But I could not be thinking this—I had to go.
After leaving the clearing, I climbed one of the trees with spots to hide—a grayish trunk, like misery. From there, using a small enchantment that refracted light, I could see into the distance. There were about twenty humans, all launching magic that was enviable—enormous spears of light chasing several of the soldiers. But weren't they supposed to leave? Wasn't the idea to be far away for our maneuver? Why were there so few? Where were most of the novices who came with me? ... It didn't matter. Once they moved them away from the center, I would go for my prize.
Those humans could not move. I had been watching the battle. More than a confrontation, it was something similar to a predator hunting. Agile soldiers dodged the attacks, but the few attempts by them did not seem to have any effect. It gave me time to think that there was nothing in common with those humans—not their build, not their power. That was not typical of the weak ones I knew before we left. The strong ones today did not waste their strength so evidently either. What could they be?
Suddenly, I remembered that a fortune was waiting to be returned to its rightful owner. I carefully climbed down, returned to the camp, but as I entered, there were several soldiers carrying weapons and jewels. I confronted them very angrily. They answered that they could not take out any kind of magical item. There, where the others were distracting, there was a horrible enemy—an incarnation of the god of these humans. They must not extract anything magical, or it would throw itself at everyone and walk to face the nearest city, where we lived. Whether I liked it or not, they could not risk the others. Discreetly, I hid the gem. If they lied, it didn't matter. If not, those who humiliated us would die. I would watch from afar and hope that would give me some kind of advantage.
As we left, I saw that only a few soldiers and I were traveling. I found it strange not to see anyone, but I had more important things to think about—for example, where to take the stone to activate it. What would happen if I didn't do it soon? It didn't matter—there were reasons to celebrate. The other nobles would join my cause, and we would eliminate the rest.
I came happy, so much so that I almost tripped over a weapon. I directed a disparaging smile at the spear for its crude construction when I distinguished the cloth tied to it. It was from my friend Lanceolate. He was so elitist that he used his only luxurious possession. I didn't know he had come on this expedition. But at that moment, pain hit me—an arrow tip emerged from my leg. As best I could, I turned, and there, the rest of the soldiers awaited me. Damn it! I threw a lateral blow—it was devastating, I knew. I was a good warrior even with such poor weapons. But the spear broke; the soldier didn't even flinch. A cut to my knee threw me to the ground. From there, I saw them, insulted them. It hurt—my body hurt from what was happening. It was a horrendous weakness. I reproached them for their actions.
"Simple. You will not betray your king. We saw you—you and all who broke the promises made before leaving the city. Those who respected them were escorted. This was a test... and you failed. Your belongings will be donated to the Silver Elves, just as other nobles equipped the king's elite bodies—even if unwillingly."
I tried to activate the stone, asked for help, needed it. If King Oberon was so powerful, he would be able to save me. But the numerous wounds I kept receiving burned me, made me sleepy from blood loss. The stone glowed, but I didn't know if the message went out—yet I did not survive. How many died? It was so hard to stay awake. The nobles fell. Damn plebeians and cowards—I will curse you with my last breath. I only hope they kill you... before you become stronger.