Chapter 79
Physical strength brought victory in the duel of will. The Death Hag Evil-Lyn was credited with a technical defeat due to her inability to continue the mutual scourging. After the victory, Liandra quickly emerged from her state of battle trance. Her movements became slow and even slightly clumsy. Despite the executioner's lamentations, she put her bodice on directly over the wounds on her back. The fabric immediately began to soak through with blood.
"But Mistress Mordrim..." whined the torture specialist. "Scars might remain like that. Let me treat the wounds first."
"Back away..." the elf replied slowly, and a threat seeped through her voice. "Get your hands off me..."
"I must congratulate you, Mistress Mordrim," said the sorceress, who had recovered from the initial shock. "A glorious victory. Unfortunately, I cannot fully heal your wounds right now, but I will ease your condition slightly."
Alissa called upon the wind of Ghur to turn it into fine golden pollen. Two clouds of magic covered Liandra and the seriously injured Death Hag. Evil-Lyn stopped wheezing. She lay sprawled on the stone floor. Numerous small wounds on her back continued to bleed.
Soon, servants who arrived at the sorceress's command led us to the guest quarters. Before parting to our rooms, I approached Liandra and carefully took her by the hand.
"That witch was wrong about you," I said as confidently as possible. "That is why she lost. You were chosen, and fate brought us together for a reason."
The elf gave me a barely perceptible nod. Mortal exhaustion could be read in her eyes.
"Lord Venil will provide you and your companions with quarters for rest. Do not worry about anything," Alissa assured us.
Yeah. Right! I had enough reasons for concern to fill a whole sheet of A4 paper in small handwriting.
The sorceress assigned servants to me. Servants, specifically, not slaves. These were Druchii who were not particularly formally dressed but quite decently clothed, carrying only short blades as weapons. They escorted me to a spacious room on one of the lower floors of the tower. The windows here consisted of several embrasures near the ceiling, closed with reddish glass. However, there was enough light in the room. In the center stood a brazier, glowing with a cold, white sorcerous flame. Great. If there is an attack, I will be able to recharge from this thing.
"Be... stay here," the servant said in broken Norscan. "Food and water bring to you. No go nowhere."
"I want beer or, at the very least, wine," I replied. "And whether I go or not is not for you to decide."
The Drukai initially bared his teeth out of habit, wanting to respond rudely to the arrogant human, but remembered in time that he was by no means speaking to a slave. The elf glanced warily at my axe and nodded nervously several times.
"Beer? Yes. I will look. Wait here. Please."
Well, there. He became polite immediately.
I inspected my new room. Spacious. There is a table, chairs, a huge bed covered in fur skins, and even an armchair. The room will be much better than the underground dungeons where I stayed recently. I just need to make sure under what conditions Tezal and Bone-Gnawer are being kept. Ideally, I should move them closer to myself.
"Finally, the stupid ritual has concluded," Loom-Pia remarked lazily. "And that elven creature surprised me a little. Such predator instincts are usually inherent in Saurus. However, she does not fully possess them. Her mind is weak and full of meaningless doubts."
"Predator instincts?"
"That is what we call such flashes of cold rage," the Hypnotoad replied. "This state allowed her to surpass normal physical metrics, using the resources of her imperfect body entirely."
The image of Liandra naked to the waist arose in my thoughts. A graceful figure that any fitness blogger would envy, and breasts that turned out to be larger than I had anticipated. An imperfect body? Well, I would argue with that, Pepe.
After a cursory search of the room, a copper jug of water was discovered, covered on top with a hinged lid. There was nothing else here except furniture. They didn't even offer slippers. Let them not count on five stars now.
Opening the door, I found another servant on duty behind it. The elf looked at me in confusion and even fear.
"No go," he said. "Wait for the mistress."
"The mistress? I am still waiting for my beer. And also, bring me my throwing knives. I want to practice. Or should I go myself?"
"No, no. We will bring everything," the servant rattled off and, backing away, disappeared around the bend of the corridor.
I felt a desire to wander through the tower just to spite the pointy-ears. Perhaps I can take a walk if the service is not in a hurry with the food. However, the delivery did not keep me waiting too long.
There was a knock at the door.
"Enter," I replied.
An elf-servant appeared on the threshold, gesturing for a short girl with a short red haircut to pass in front of him. Likely a slave of Norscan origin. Without looking me in the eye, she carried a huge, heavy tray into the room. On it was a meal worthy of an Ogre's light snack. By human standards, it was a hell of a lot of food and drink.
The assortment had my respect. Roasted ribs in some kind of dark sauce, a platter of shrimp, some other sea creatures with a seaweed salad, a huge steak with steam rising from it, a dozen bird eggs—apparently not chicken—a generous hunk of fragrant bread, various vegetables, four baked fish, and a pile of desserts. Nearby stood three small mahogany kegs, each about five liters. They did find beer after all, despite certain stereotypes about elves. However, the dark ones have Dwarf slaves. Likely, they were the ones responsible for the production of the frothy beverage here.
The slave placed the tray on the table. The forks, knives, and sauceboats neatly laid out on it clinked slightly. A very pleasant sound.
The elf-servant left, closing the door behind him, but the slave remained. She stood modestly further in the corner, head bowed. Like she's waiting to take the tray back?
I tried to sit at the table. This turned out to be not so easy, given the small size of the chairs, which were designed for less massive elven posteriors. The table also turned out to be too low for me. In the end, with a heavy sigh, I took one of the skins from the bed, spread it right on the floor, and sat like a Japanese samurai.
Everything smelled extremely appetizing. I immediately hacked off a piece of steak with a knife and, snacking on vegetables, chewed it while simultaneously uncorking a beer. Just right. Only the presence of the slave was slightly unnerving. Standing there, you know, over my soul. Even over two souls, considering the presence of my Hypnotoad.
"Sit down and eat," I said in a commanding tone.
The slave took a step forward but checked herself.
"Is it poisoned or something?"
The girl shook her head negatively.
"Then sit down and eat. I am big, of course, but there is a lot here. Enough for both of us."
The slave, still not raising her head, approached the table with jerky movements. I wonder who she was more afraid of right now? Me or the masters? Fine. The pointy-ears did manage to spoil my appetite a little, but I won't kick the girl out. I need to abstract myself from the problems and enjoy the food. Life here is not sugar. If I don't give my nerves a rest, my mind might say "goodbye."
I continued to slice the steak, adding a side of delicate puree with finely chopped mushrooms. Not Goblins. Ordinary champignons or something similar.
I ate, and ate, and ate, and then I ate some more, and by the end, I was specifically gorging.
Oof!
Another not-so-obvious plus of having this much muscle and mighty dimensions is the appetite. The me from the old world would have eaten the steak, the puree, and some vegetables, and then spent about seven hours digesting it all. My new incarnation was characterized by greater voracity. Without much trouble, I polished off the steak, which was about 400 grams of meat, plus the puree, plus the vegetables. I polished it off with two liters of beer and felt that I could do more. Excellent.
Ribs or shrimp? Let's try everything a little bit and then we'll decide.
I ate for about forty minutes, overcoming about two-thirds of the treats. The slave had barely eaten a fifth in that time. People here are damn intimidated, of course. But what's there to be surprised about? The Druchii even lash each other with whips with great pleasure, so what can be said about disenfranchised slaves.
"I am full. You don't hurry. Eat as much as you want, and I will rest for a bit."
With these words, I began to shift toward the bed and lay down, feeling the beer bubbling inside. Good! I had packed in about six or seven thousand calories. In my past life, after such an attraction, the pancreas would not have been happy at all, but now I'm fine. If I could just doze off...
Lowering my eyelids slightly, I heard light footsteps approaching. Opening my eyes wider, I found that very slave over me, hurriedly pulling a gray dress over her head. A moment later, she stood completely naked. So she came here without undergarments already. The slave's body did not seem thin. A perfectly normal and even feminine figure without signs of exhaustion. However, whip scars peeking from her back hinted at her sad fate.
"You were ordered, right?" I asked.
The girl, still looking at her feet, nodded.
"Get dressed, eat some more, and go about your business. I am going to sleep. I'm tired."
The slave hesitated, but obeyed. Already through a drowse, I heard her gathering the dishes from the table. And for what the hell did the elves decide to plant her under me? Features of local hospitality?
I learned the answer to this question in the morning. There was a knock at my door. The sorceress Alissa appeared on the threshold, accompanied by a couple of servants and a bodyguard.
"Where is my companion?" I asked. "Will you lead me to her or should I look for her myself?"
"Lead you?" the sorceress asked. "Yes. I can do that. Let us go. She is only one floor up."
Alissa indeed led me to Liandra's room. The winner of the BDSM-duel was sleeping, lying on her stomach. Her back was covered in some kind of compresses. Strange that the elf did not wake up when we entered the room. Had she exhausted her strength that much?
"She is sleeping very soundly," Alissa explained. "I gave her Khushalut. This is a special drink. It heals wounds and restores strength but plunges the patient into a long sleep. Your companion will wake up tonight or tomorrow morning, warrior. She will be fine. Tell me, Northman, why did you reject the girl I sent to you as a gift? Did you not like her? I can send whichever you say. Thin, full, with long hair or none at all. With light skin or black as coffee beans. Just wish for it. Here in Clar Karond, everything can be found. Do you want variety? You can have several at once."
Wow, such generosity. But I think I already guess the sorceress's true motives, and I don't like them at all.
"No. I will not sleep with slaves."
My answer surprised the sorceress.
"But why? Can some special oaths really restrain your desires, warrior?"
"Well, think about it yourself..." I replied, trying to act like a simple Norscan. "From all these affairs come children. I will not tolerate my son or daughter being slaves. It is a disgrace for someone like me. If you want to please me, find a free woman."
A contemptuous grimace appeared on the sorceress's face, which she hurried to change for a forced smile. My unexpected refusal went against her grand plans. I am sure the sorceress wanted to plant a slave or several under me to study the resulting children. Like, maybe my unusual properties are hereditary. However, I am not going to condemn my children to the fate of lab rats for the sake of momentary pleasures.
"I am sure we will think of something," Alissa finally replied. "For example..."
There was a persistent knock on the door, and it was opened without waiting for our answer. An elven woman stood on the threshold, accompanied by two knights.
"You should not disturb Mordrim too much, Mistress Alissa," the woman said politely but strictly, speaking in Eltharin. "Lord Venil has entrusted me with the care of the victim. You should not trouble her further. You have already complicated the treatment by giving her too large a dose of Khushalut. Now we must wait until she wakes up."
Ha! So that's how it is. Venil does not trust Alissa in everything, and she took advantage of her official position to knock Liandra out for a while and calmly get busy planting slaves under me.
"Yes, of course," Alissa demonstrated her forced smile again. "We are already leaving. I just wanted to show Jurg that his mistress is fine. We don't want this monster to start rampaging here, do we?"
I held back laughter with great difficulty. Acolytes, witches, and now a sorceress. Soon I can start a fan club. Only there are many problems from such fans. It's like they might actually tear me to pieces in the process of divvying me up.
"I want to sleep more," I yawned demonstratively, leaving Liandra's room.
The sorceress followed on my heels, her eyes flashing. I am sure she would have gladly grabbed me right now and dragged me off to some secret laboratory, but she was afraid to violate the Drachau's order.
Therefore, I calmly returned to the room assigned to me. There, breakfast was already ready, not inferior in scale to yesterday's dinner.
The same slave was present in the room again. We repeated yesterday's joint meal, after which I sent the girl away.
Finally, we were alone: me and the beer I had consumed. I could lie down, relax, doze off, fall into a sweet sleep so as to...
Wake up again to a knock on the door!
It turned out to be a servant. I tried to meet his intrusion with the most menacing barbarian gaze from under my brows, but the elf did not back down. He announced to me:
"Mistress Mordrim has awakened. Lord Venil Coldblade wishes to see you both."
Awakened? Already?
Unsticking my eyes, I discovered that it was already late evening outside the embrasures. I slept quite well.
Having washed with cold water, I was ready to go to the Drachau's throne room. The perks of being a barbarian. No suits, complex hairstyles, or court etiquette for you. If you aren't splattered in enemy guts—that's already good. If you don't stink too much—altogether wonderful.
The servant escorted me to the throne room, where the leaders of local organized crime groups, by misunderstanding called noble families, had gathered again. However, there were fewer elves today than last time. Likely, the issues on the agenda of the evening session were not as important.
I immediately noticed Liandra. The elf was wearing armor again and felt much better. She nodded to me, gesturing for me to come out to the center of the hall.
"Mordrim of the Black Guard..." came the voice of Drachau Venil, who occupied his proper place on the throne, surrounded by the sluts of the honorary guard. "You have managed to prove that the claims of the Khainites are groundless. The trials are passed. Now I command you: continue your mission for the glory of the Witch King! Return to Naggarond with victory or pay for defeat with your life! I feel how many hungry gazes of my predators are turned toward you, but they will all have to curb their appetite. Let no one dare even think that Venil Coldblade hinders the plans of our King."
Hm...
It turned out amusingly, but the turbulent currents of fate suddenly carried us onto a relatively safe shoal. Liandra publicly announced that she is of the Black Guard and performs the will of Malekith. Whether this is true or not—many may doubt, but the information has already spread through the city. If something happens to us now in Clar Karond, then Venil's detractors in Naggarond can use this as a reason to call his loyalty into question. Of course, such a trifle will not allow for the overthrow of the Drachau of Clar Karond. However, almost all dark elves are paranoiacs. Otherwise, it's simply impossible to survive in such a society. Venil does not want to create potential compromising evidence against himself. To give the King even the slightest reason to doubt his loyalty.
"Therefore, I announce the Iron Edict!" the Drachau declared pompously.
Two knights in black and red plate armor brought out a large tablet made of dark metal. Some lines were engraved on it. The letters were large, but I still couldn't read them yet.
"My will gives you the right to move freely through Clar Karond accompanied by my guard. No one shall dare to redden their blades with your blood. However, you should hurry and fulfill your mission without delay."
Yeah. Here's a heavy piece of iron for you—get the hell out of here as quickly as possible.
However, we achieved our goals here. The city of the dark elves threw one challenge after another at us. We stood firm and won.