Chapter 7 Chapter 7
Bartlos Slat's boots pounded against the wooden boardwalks of Limdrion, each footfall sending vibrations through the intricate network of bridges and walkways that hovered above the gentle river below. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool drizzle that perpetually misted the city, and his stubby fingers clutched a long envelope sealed with red wax and Felag Stonedelve's merchant mark. The blue glow from lanterns suspended throughout the city cast eerie shadows across his beardless face.
He dodged between tall, slender figures whose skin ranged from ash-gray to deep purple-blue, their movements as fluid as the river that wound beneath the city. The dark elves stepped aside with practiced grace, though their expressions betrayed mild disgust at the dwarf's hurried pace and labored breathing. Limdrion was a city of measured elegance, where even commerce moved at a deliberate, unhurried tempo.
The buildings rose around him like living sculptures, each structure carved from dark wood that seemed to absorb rather than reflect the ghostly blue light of the glowstone lanterns. Intricate patterns adorned every doorway and window frame with spirals, crescents, and imagery of their lore. From some windows drifted the haunting minor chords of elven string music, while from others came the subtle aromas of spiced wine and incense.
Bartlos cut across a market square where dark elf merchants displayed luxurious fabrics, delicate glassware, and rare herbs beneath canopies that rippled like liquid in the constant drizzle. He ignored the disapproving glances as he splashed through puddles and jostled passersby in his haste.
The Maelis family stronghold rose before him at the confluence of two river branches, a sprawling structure of dark wood and stone that loomed larger than the surrounding buildings. The Maelis compound was imposing and subtly threatening, with sharp angles and shadows that seemed deeper than they should be. Dark blue banners of their house framed the sides of the main entrance. Beneath them, two guards stood watch with impeccable posture. They wore light armor of treated leather with subtle silver accents marking them as House Maelis retainers. Their eyes, keen even by elven standards—narrowed at Bartlos's approach.
The taller guard wore her hair in intricate braids, the light-grey strands forming a complex pattern that denoted her lineage. She exchanged a knowing look with her shorter companion, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips.
"My, my," she drawled, leaning casually against her spear. "The dwarf is in quite a rush today. Could it be you've angered Lord Mavros again? Running to deliver bad news before someone else beats you to it?"
The second guard chuckled, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. "Or perhaps he's simply eager to collect his payment. I hear Lord Mavros rewards his little messenger quite handsomely." He jingled his own coin purse mockingly. "Though I doubt it's just gold you're after, eh?"
Bartlos's face flushed a deep crimson beneath his stubbled cheeks. These dark elves always knew precisely where to strike to cause the most humiliation. His hand instinctively went to his breast pocket where he kept his letter.
“I don’t have time for you two. Urgent Message for Lord Mavros."
The guards exchanged glances but stepped aside without further question. Bartlos's position as liaison between House Maelis was well established, if not entirely respected. The dwarf pushed past them, his short legs taking the steps two at a time.
Inside, the stronghold opened into a series of interconnected chambers and hallways, the ceilings higher than necessary for the average dark elf, creating an atmosphere of grand spaciousness. Bartlos navigated the labyrinthine corridors with the confidence of familiarity, passing rooms where dark elves engaged in quiet conversation, scholarly pursuits, or the practice of illusion magic that made the air shimmer with barely visible patterns.
He reached a heavy door of polished black wood, carved with the Maelis family crest, a stylized scorpion suspended between two crescent moons. Without knocking, Bartlos pushed it open and marched into Mavros Vex Maelis's study.
Mavros looked up from a trade journal, his expression shifting from concentration to irritation in an instant. His pale lilac hair was pulled back severely from his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his cheekbones and jaw. His skin was a medium tone of ashy gray that seemed to absorb the light from the blue-flamed lamps positioned around the study.
"Bartlos," he said, his voice clipped and precise. "I don't recall summoning you."
The study reflected its occupant's personality: meticulous, imposing, and deliberately intimidating. Weapons from various ages and cultures adorned the walls, each one positioned at the exact same distance from its neighbors. Books lined one wall, but it had dust from having not been touched for a while. A large map displaying important trade interests hung on another wall and was marked with colored pins. A strategy gameboard sat on a corner table. A large desk of polished obsidian dominated the back center of the room, its surface bare except for the text Mavros had been studying and a single red quill and its silver holder.
"Forgive the interruption, my lord," Bartlos said, making no attempt to regulate his breathing or adopt the measured pace expected in the presence of dark elf nobility. "But this couldn't wait."
Mavros set down his quill with deliberate slowness. "I was drafting correspondence to the Keltos family regarding boundary disputes. What could possibly be so urgent?"
Bartlos waved the envelope. "Felag Stonedelve sends news that you'll want to hear immediately. No time for formalities."
Something in the dwarf's tone must have registered, because Mavros leaned forward slightly, his interest visibly piqued despite his attempt at maintaining an aloof demeanor.
"Speak, then."
Bartlos could barely contain himself. "A human, my lord. Felag is bringing a human woman to Limdrion."
"This time it's different." Bartlos waved the envelope, a gesture that would have earned most servants a sharp rebuke. "Felag Stonedelve sent a runner ahead of his caravan. He's bringing something to Limdrion that hasn't been seen here in three centuries."
"Unless it's the secret to teaching dwarves proper etiquette, I doubt—"
"A human," Bartlos interrupted, an act that momentarily stunned Mavros into silence. "A human woman. Young. A scholar."
The change in Mavros was immediate and striking. He rose from his seat in one fluid motion, his full height making Bartlos crane his neck uncomfortably. The dark elf's eyes widened slightly, the equivalent of open-mouthed shock in most other races.
"A human?" Mavros repeated, his voice lower, almost intimate. "Here? After the Flight of Men?"
The significance hung in the air between them. Since mankind had fled to the Vyhelm Continent, humans had become treasures in the elven realms. For noble houses like Maelis, a human companion would be the ultimate status symbol—and more importantly, a potential source of magical bloodline enhancement.
"Aye." Bartlos nodded vigorously, extending the envelope. "All the details are in here. Felag wants to offer her to you first, before word spreads to the other houses."
Mavros took the envelope, breaking the seal with a long, elegant finger. His eyes scanned the contents rapidly, absorbing the information with the efficiency.
"Interesting," he murmured. "Very interesting indeed. And she’s a scholar!"
"He's requesting quite a sum," Mavros noted, his finger tapping the parchment where a figure was written.
"But worth it, no?" Bartlos pressed. "Think of the advantage. Your cousin Skotos has been building his influence among the guilds. Your other relatives have their specialties. But you, you could be the first in centuries to bring a human companion into House Maelis."
Mavros's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You understand politics better than most of your kind, Bartlos. Perhaps that's why I tolerate your... directness."
He moved to a painting on the wall, a landscape depicting the Moon's Graces desert plateau under twilight. With practiced movements, he swung the frame aside to reveal a small safe embedded in the wall. His fingers worked the mechanism with precise movements, and the door swung open silently.
From within, Mavros withdrew a heavy pouch that clinked with the unmistakable sound of gold. He tested its weight in his hand, then added several large gemstones from a separate compartment before securing the safe once more.
The dark elf handed the money pouch to Bartlos. "This should cover Felag's asking price, with enough extra to ensure his discretion. One hundred and twenty pieces. Negotiate as needed. Tell him I'll pay half now, half upon delivery, and only if she's unharmed. And Bartlos," his voice dropped to a dangerous softness, "this transaction remains exclusive to me. Not House Maelis. Me. Understood?"
Bartlos nodded, tucking the gold into various hidden pockets in his clothing. "Perfectly, my lord. And the other houses? The Keltos family would pay double if they knew a scholar—"
"They won't know," Mavros cut him off, his tone suddenly sharp. "Not until the transaction is complete. This human will be mine before anyone else in Limdrion knows of her existence."
"As you wish, my lord." Bartlos bowed.
"Where is Felag now?"
"His runner said they're a half day's journey from the city gates. They should arrive by tomorrow evening."
Mavros turned to gaze out the window at the misty city below, his reflection ghostly in the glass. "I'll meet you at the east gate when they arrive. Find somewhere inconspicuous." He paused, considering. "The old warehouse by the lower docks. We'll conduct the transaction there."
Bartlos nodded and turned to leave, but Mavros spoke again, his voice softer now, almost to himself.
"A human scholar. How fascinating." He adjusted the cuffs of his immaculate dark green tunic. "I should make myself presentable for our new guest."
Bartlos witnessed the ruthless dark elf's expression change to genuine excitement, perhaps even anticipation. It was unnerving.
"I'll see the arrangements are made, my lord," Bartlos said, backing toward the door.
Mavros didn't acknowledge him further, already lost in thoughts of what this acquisition could mean for his standing in House Maelis and the broader hierarchy of Limdrion. A human companion would elevate his status immediately. And perhaps, if she proved truly valuable, his position within his own family would finally reflect the ambition he had harbored for over a century.
A smile spread across Mavros's face at the thought.
Bartlos closed the door quietly and hurried back through the stronghold, the weight of gold heavy against his chest. By this time tomorrow, both he and Mavros would be richer in different ways—one in gold, the other in the rarest commodity in Nidelvia.