Hungry Necromancer

"Are you sure you're sure about this, Lord?" Aren asks for the umpteenth time this afternoon.

Last night I'd gone to pick set everything for today; the gems so we can communicate, scouting a proper clothing store as well as mentally preparing him to meet with some of the most dangerous elves in the city.

Right now, I'm standing behind him in the clothing store, thanks to the pristine fine-tuned customer service of the store he's slowly beginning to look like someone with wealth and power behind them.

It took a while but I think what he has on now is fit for my means.

He's got on a short white fur coat, necessary for the cold from the rainy winds, the coat covers a cream embroidered shirt that tightly snugs his body, providing warmth and a sense of prestige with all the bling meshed unto it.

His trousers, a bright crimson radiating a boldness you wouldn't see on just anyone on the street. In this world, colour speaks power and red is one such colour you can't find on mere commoners.

"Don't worry too much, Aren. I'll be right behind you, even if you can't see me."

It's just my luck that the elves aren't the best at hiding. Well, it's either that or they don't have anywhere to hide. I'm sure the Mayor knows their exact whereabouts more than anyone, especially if someone like Aren can find it out.

Anselm and I will be escorting him into the Lions Den, so to speak. He'll speak on my behalf and we'll judge their reaction to the offer I'm putting up. It's all rushed so I can't control all the variables.

Meaning there's a possibility their answer will be no. This was not in the plan.

But I can't help it right now, I've got to be on my way to Frozia so I can get rid of this curse.

"It'd be a lot more reassuring if I could see you. I have no idea how quickly these elves will pounce. Maybe you won't be able to get to me far enough, or their blade will be far too swift." He bemoans, like he's been doing for the past few hours since I came to pick him up.

I don't blame him, if I were powerless and were walking into such dangerous waters, I'd be a bit paranoid too.

"Just keep reciting your lines, Aren. You'll forget about the fear once you get into your character."

A little de-escalation strategy I put to use is something I learned in my past life….as a kid. Back when I could afford to be in school, I put a lot of work into acting as a hobby, and that hobby helped out a lot in my years on the streets.

All I had to do was pretend I had a card I didn't, or was a person of value and worth or was someone with dangerous friends.

If I did this, I'd eventually become so immersed in the character I built for myself and played that I wouldn't feel nervous even with a gun pointed at my head.

"Just pretend you're me. Just pretend you have the power of an army behind you and the wealth of a nation in your pockets. To you, who are they but sheep who need herding?"

Aren nods but I think he's having a hard time getting into character, but there really isn't any time left to drill him. If the worse comes to worst I'll just intervene.

"Great, now let's go, we've got some elves to enlist."

***

If ground zero of the Southern gate is for the poor of Aste then ground zero of the Northern gate is for the unwanted.

The Northern part of Aste is the place with the largest gathering of elves and the obvious hiding place for any wrongdoers.

There are just far too many of them to investigate individually without causing more trouble, and all of them have one or three skeletons in their closets or…moulds.

Yes, there are far more elves living in mud homes, some simply just bury themselves in the sand and call it a night. This is the height of poverty and of injustice.

To think there's a type of poor you'd rather be. An awful thought I've never had.

But, like everything with sentient society, there are always levels to importance, levels to wealth and poverty. 

Yes, even here where the poorest of the poor gather, there is still a class system. 

The place basically runs itself though, I haven't seen any flatfoots, priests or classic merchants with stalls of any kind. All I can see are elves trading and serving each other in exchange for another day alive.

And well, there's the elitist elves. The ones who in a sense run things around here. It's easy to pick them out because they're the only ones holding rusted swords, broken maces and sticks.

And they're the ones that approach Aren.

Walking into such a dire and dapper place wearing such high-class clothes is attention grabbing no doubt about that.

Aren is quickly greeted by a group of roguish looking elves waving their crude weapons around. Their mere appearance makes the others recede into their shanty homes and look the other way.

There's no interest in trouble here.

"And what's a cowl like you looking for in a dump like this? Huh!" one of them brutishly asks.

Aren, true to his limited training keeps his polite smile and spits out the words I demanded he say once approached.

"Take me to the elves behind the attack on the Mayor."

A cold silence washes over. The elves murmur amongst themselves and I suppose that's the last thing they expected to hear from one lone…'cowl'

"There isn't any elf like that here, sir."

The sudden presence of respect in their speech confirms it without a shadow of doubt. The elves are here and they're the ones running this place.

"Take me to the elves behind the attack on the Mayor." Aren repeats the demand, unfazed by their attempts to cover it up.

"I think you ought to leave, sir, this is no place for a man like you…all alone." The warning doesn't go unheard.

From my hiding place near one of the shanty houses I can see Aren's hand tremble. I can't help shaking my head at this; he used to be a guard.

"Take me to the elves behind the attack on the Mayor."

He spits it out again and I can see the elves getting bristled. There's far more to this than just violence and they know it.

If they truly want to cover this up then attack Aren won't help them at all, because if he's some agent from the Mayor then him getting hurt here after asking that question will just give the Mayor more than enough cause to unleash his fury on the elves in the North.

And more suffering is not what anyone needs right now.

"Take me to them and hear me out. I have a deal to make."

Yes, it's good Aren caught on their hesitation, I'm thankfully I told him what to look out for.

"A deal?" they look between each other, their own bit of neverousness wracks through.

"Yes, a deal. A deal I believe your leaders will be very interested in."

I smile, that wasn't in the script. Looks like he's getting a hang of this. Let's hope he doesn't get lost in it.

"Who are you?" The first brutish elf asks.

"You're with the Mayor, aren't you? Why should we trust you, even for a second!" Another shouts

Aren…in a bit of cold confidence laughs. "Because it's already too late for you not to. Your response already tells me you work for the elves behind that attack, if you let me go alive now…you risk the Mayor coming down on you…not like he doesn't already have the tight to do so."

He arrogantly dusts off his fur coat and shifts his weight, "And if you attack me…well, you risk the same thing…" he trails off, judging the look of outrage and horror on their faces, then adds, "But that's only if I'm with the Mayor."

"What? You're not?"

"Your leaders will be the one to find out who I am, now take me to them."

I'd give a round of applause for such a performance if I weren't in hiding.

The elves look to themselves and it's easy to see they have no other options lest the threat levied against them become a reality.

"Right this way then, sir."

Aren nods and follows behind the group. There's still some disagreement and petitions to just kill Aren but nothing happens. In the end, they journey all the way through the North, picking up curious elves along the way and explaining the situations.

Before I know it a crowd of elves are now standing in front of a large, crudely assembled building with spikes, triggered traps and watch towers around. 

The original elves that brough Aren up to this point don't even have to knock, the noise from the crowd calls forth five strong and healthy elves out of the house.

The leaders.