You're currently being dragged through the halls of a castle belonging to the current queen of the elven queen Orelia Windborn. You're a human soldier who's been taken as a prisoner of war after your group was ambushed by elves and you're the only one who survived the torture that followed after being captured and now even after all that and you still haven't been broken the queen herself has decided to try her hand at interrogating you
The castle is extremely luxurious from what you can see through your blurry vision as the pair of big bulky elves drag you through its hallways towards the queens private quarters. Once you've reached her door they drag you inside and throw you to the floor before leaving you on the floor bloody and beaten with your hands tied up and as you mange to get up to your knees again you're met with a cold gaze by a woman in a white dress standing over you
She looks down at you with a cold gaze before taking a step back to look at you better as you're on your knees in front of her "So, you're the lucky survivor? I must say, I'm impressed you managed to survive all that..." She says, her voice cold and distant as she gazes down at you
I look up at the elven queen, my vision blurry.
"So am I," I say, unintimidated by her.
I cough, my throat filling with blood.
"You're smaller than I expected," I add.
Her eyes narrow at your comment but she doesn't seem to let it bother her much as she slowly walks around you, her gaze lingering on every inch of your body before finally stopping at your face once again. "And what do you mean by that?" She asks with a hint of annoyance in her voice.
"Exactly what I said," I reply. "I meant no insult... Your Majesty," I say honestly, though with a hint of annoyance in my voice.
Her expression doesn't change as she tilts her head slightly to the side, studying your features closely once more. "Well, at least you're not completely stupid... That's something," She says flatly before sighing and running a hand through her long blonde hair. "Now then... Tell me, what do you know about our kingdom? And how many soldiers do we have?"
"I know most of you are privileged snobs, and I have no earthly idea how many soldiers you have," I reply, coughing up more blood.
Her expression turns colder than it already was as she crosses her arms over her chest. "Then perhaps you'd like to know this..." She says, taking a step closer to you and raising a hand above your head before snapping her fingers. In an instant, a gust of wind picks you up and slams you against the wall behind you hard enough that the air is knocked out of your lungs again. "This is what it feels like when someone pisses me off..." She hisses as you struggle to breathe against the stone wall.
It takes a long while before I regain the ability to speak.
"Oh, yes... You are a true Windborn," I say.
Her eyes narrow even further at your comment but she doesn't seem to let it show as she steps back and lowers her hands to her sides once more. "What do you know about me?" She asks curiously, tilting her head to the side as she studies you closely.
"Only what you've just shown me... That you're no better than your late father, or your interrogators down in the dungeon. You treat human life as worthless and completely expendable, as if we're animals," I say, struggling to get back up to my knees.
Her expression turns stony as she listens to you speak. "And what would you have me do? Spare your pathetic life just because you think we should treat humans better?" She asks coldly, crossing her arms over her chest once more. "I'm trying to protect my people and our kingdom from those who wish us harm... Is that so wrong?"
"If you're so strong in your convictions, why do you waste your time arguing with me, someone whose life you consider pathetic?" I ask.
Her eyes narrow slightly at your question as she thinks about it for a moment before finally shaking her head and letting out a sigh. "Because... It's not in my nature to simply kill something that can't defend itself," She admits softly, surprising even herself with how honest she's being.
She pauses for a moment, taking in your wounded and bloodied appearance before continuing more forcefully, "
"You humans have done nothing but try to destroy us... To take what isn't yours by birthright. I won't deny that some of my people have acted cruelly towards you in the past, but it has always been in retaliation for something your kind has done first." She pauses again, looking into your eyes as if searching for any sign of truth or deception within them. "I am trying to protect my home... My people. I'm not doing this because I enjoy it or because I relish the thought of seeing you suffer..."
"So tell me, Your Majesty: What is our birthright? To die of thirst, starvation, and disease? You act cruelly when you divert the course of the river that once flowed through your sacred forest and into our land, effectively leaving us without fresh water. You act cruelly when you break trade agreements by taking our metal without allowing us to farm your lands in exchange," I respond. "This castle was built with metal mined by human hands, your guards wield weapons forged by human tools, and you wear jewelry stained by human blood. And yet, you dare accuse us of being unfair for trying to survive?" I add.
Her expression darkens further at your words as she listens intently. You have a point... But it doesn't change the fact that her people are in danger and she needs information from you if she wants any chance of protecting them. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself before speaking again.
"You make some valid points... But there is more at stake here than just our personal grudges or disputes..." Her voice trails off as she struggles to find the right words. "I am not asking for your forgiveness, nor am I asking you to trust me. All I ask is that you tell me what I need to know in order to protect my people and our kingdom."
"These aren't just personal grudges or disputes for us humans, Your Majesty. For most of us, they're a matter of life or death. Your failure to understand that is why I'm not going to tell you anything," I say.
Her eyes widen slightly at your words before narrowing again as she takes another step closer to you. "You are brave... But also incredibly foolish," She says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Do you truly believe that refusing to cooperate will change anything? It won't. All it will do is ensure your suffering continues for however long this war lasts."
She pauses, taking another deep breath as she tries to keep her emotions in check.
"I doubt I'll live long enough for that. If I continue to bleed internally at this rate, I should be dead before the next moon. Your wind magic demonstration has only accelerated that process..." I’m interrupted by another fit of coughing. "I wish you good fortune in the battles to come," I conclude.
Her expression softens slightly at your words, but she remains stern nonetheless. She takes a step back, crossing her arms over her chest once more as she studies you carefully for a moment before speaking again. "Very well... You leave me no choice," She says finally, her voice cold and distant once more. "I will give you one last chance to reconsider your position."
She pauses, taking another deep breath before continuing softly, "If you choose not to cooperate..."
"I won't cooperate. Not on your terms," I interrupt her. "And yes, I know that means my death. But I do not care. You grew up with royalty. You learned their ways, and you learned them well. I grew up with soldiers. I learned how to die a long time ago."
Her expression hardens at your words as she takes another step back, raising her hand once more before snapping her fingers. This time when the gust of wind hits you, it feels stronger than before, slamming you against the wall with enough force to leave you breathless. She watches silently as you struggle against the impact, coughing up blood as your vision begins to blur from the pain.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, she lowers her hand and takes a step closer to you again. "Very well,"
I keep my eyes closed.
Her voice is almost inaudible as she whispers, "Then I will have no choice but to end this now." She raises her hand once more, preparing herself for another gust of wind that will knock the life out of you and finally bring an end to your suffering. But before she can make her move, something stops her.
A sudden realization washes over her, making her pause mid-motion as she looks down at her hand, unsure whether or not to continue with her plan. It's a strange sensation...
My vision blurs further as I pass out.
Time seems to slow down around Orelia as she stares at her own hand, thoughts racing through her mind at an incredible speed. She can end it now... But something inside her won't let her. A strange mix of emotions begins to well up within her chest: regret, guilt, even sympathy for this human soldier who has so stubbornly refused to cooperate with her despite knowing the consequences.
She lowers her hand slowly, taking a step back as she tries to make sense of these foreign feelings that have suddenly taken hold of her.
Her brow furrowed in confusion and her heart racing unsteadily in her chest, Orelia can't help but wonder what just happened. She looks down at the human soldier lying on the ground before her, struggling to breathe as blood pours from his mouth and nose. Something about this moment feels wrong... Intense and overwhelming.
She takes another step back, needing distance from him in order to compose herself. "Get some help,"
she says curtly to the pair of elves that had dragged you here only moments ago. They exchange confused glances before one of them finally bows his head and hurries off to fetch a healer. Once they're gone, Orelia takes another step back, trying to steady her breath as she continues to try and make sense of the emotions churning within her.
Her hands clench into fists at her side as she glares down at the human soldier.
"You are a stubborn fool," She growls, "But even you don't deserve to die like this." Despite her own words and the guilt that still lingers within her, she can't bring herself to help him. For now, all she can do is wait for the healer to arrive and hope that they are able to save his life...
A few tense moments pass before the elf that had been sent for a healer returns with one of Orelia's most trusted advisors, Lord Targon. The old elf glances between Orelia and the human soldier on the ground before speaking. "My queen... What happened here?"
Orelia looks up at him, her expression unreadable. "I tried to question him, but he refused to cooperate," She says flatly, not meeting Targon's gaze as she does so.
"Very well, my queen. I will take it from here." Lord Targon nods solemnly before kneeling down beside the human soldier and examining him carefully. "He has sustained numerous injuries... Broken ribs, internal bleeding... It is a miracle that he's still alive." He pauses for a moment, looking up at Orelia with concern in his eyes.
"Do what you can to save him," She says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "But if he does survive, I want him kept away from me." Targon nods understandingly before turning back to the human soldier, beginning his work with careful hands and a determined expression on his face.
Orelia watches for a moment longer before forcing herself to turn away, not wanting to see any more of this.
It takes several hours for Lord Targon to finish tending to the human soldier's wounds. By that time, Orelia has already returned to her private quarters where she collapses onto her bed, exhausted both physically and emotionally from the events of the past few hours.
Her mind wanders as she tries to make sense of what happened between her and the human soldier earlier; feelings of guilt and regret nag at her constantly, refusing to be ignored.
I wake up in the hospital wing.
A few more tense moments pass before you finally manage to open your eyes, taking in your surroundings slowly as consciousness begins to return to you. You're lying on a comfortable bed in one of the private rooms of the elven kingdom's hospital wing, bandages wrapped around various parts of your body and a salve applied to reduce the pain.
The room is dimly lit, with large windows letting in streams of soft morning light that dance across the wooden floor.
A figure stands near one of the windows, their back turned towards you as they gaze out into the courtyard beyond. Even from this distance, you can tell it's Orelia Windborn, the queen of the elves herself. She seems to be lost in thought, her expression unreadable as she leans against the window sill.
You hesitate for a moment, unsure whether or not you should say anything before finally deciding that perhaps now might be your best chance.
"From here, it almost looks like you're sorry for what happened to me," I say.
Her head snaps up at the sound of your voice, surprise written clearly on her features before she quickly regains her composure and turns back around to face you. "I... Yes, well..." She trails off, looking a bit flustered as she crosses her arms over her chest.
You can tell that she's still struggling with whatever emotions were stirred up during your interrogation earlier; it's clear that she hasn't had much experience dealing with such feelings before.
"I would've appreciated your mercy more down in the dungeon, where your interrogators burned me and pumped me full of poison. So would the other soldiers who didn’t survive their torture," I say, trying to sit up.
Her expression darkens at your words as she takes a step closer to the bed, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "I did what I thought was necessary!" She snaps defensively.
You can see the conflict still raging within her; she knows that what she did wasn't right, but she also can't bring herself to admit it or apologize for it. This only serves to frustrate you further as you continue to lay there, struggling against your injuries and the pain they cause.
As I sit up, I decide to stop arguing with her and look around to get a sense of my surroundings.
The hospital wing is designed to resemble a peaceful grove of trees, with each room its own private sanctuary where the wounded can rest and recover in comfort and privacy. The beds are made from sturdy wood carved into intricate patterns that flow along their surfaces like gentle streams. Soft furs and warm blankets adorn them to ensure that patients stay warm during their convalescence.
The hospital wing is far more pleasant than the dungeon. Although I’m glad to be here, I can’t help but remember that I’ve never seen such luxuries in the poor, desert-bound human nation. I carefully scan the queen’s face, trying to gauge her intentions.
As you glance around the room and then back at Orelia, she meets your gaze cautiously, unsure of what to expect from you. She takes another step closer to the bed, hesitating before finally sitting down on the edge of it beside you. "What do you want me to say?" She asks softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
You can see the vulnerability in her eyes, the raw emotion that she's struggling to keep hidden. For a moment, you feel a strange pang of sympathy for her.
I try to maintain a clear mind.
"You chose to spare me, which puts us both in an awkward position amongst our peers. So, what happens now?" I say.
She nods slowly, considering your words before speaking again. "I don't know," She admits with a sigh. "Part of me wants to send you back to your people as a symbol of goodwill; an attempt at starting a dialogue between our two nations. But another part of me is afraid that they will see it as weakness, and take advantage."
She pauses for a moment, looking down at her hands before continuing in a more determined tone, "
"I cannot allow that to happen. My people have suffered far too much already... We must find some way to end this war and protect our homes." Her eyes meet yours once again as she asks, "Do you truly believe that your people will accept a peaceful resolution?"
"Will yours?" I ask. "Peaceful resolutions require concessions from both sides, and your people were never very good at that."
She laughs bitterly, shaking her head as she looks away for a moment before turning back to you. "You are right, of course," She says with a sigh. "It seems we are at an impasse then... What do you suggest?"
Her expression is hopeful yet cautious, as if she's genuinely interested in hearing what you have to say but also wary of being manipulated or tricked into making a decision that could harm her people.
"Forgive me for what I'm about to say, Your Majesty, but are you truly so desperate for counsel that you would seek it from me?" I ask.
Her expression darkens slightly at your words before she forces a smile onto her face and nods slowly. "Yes... Perhaps I am," She admits reluctantly. "You have been through similar hardships as my people, and perhaps you can offer some insight that I cannot see."
"Then let me start by clarifying something: I have not been through similar hardships as your people. Most of your subjects have only come to know scarcity when the war began. We humans have been dying from thirst and disease for decades," I say.
"So while I understand your concern for your kind, I am quite certain that your kingdom's attitude towards us humans is what caused this war."
Her expression hardens as you speak, but she continues to listen intently nonetheless. When you finish, she takes a deep breath before responding. "I understand where you are coming from," She says carefully. "But I also cannot ignore the atrocities committed against my people by your kind over the years."
"I beg you to consider what I told you when you were interrogating me: The trade agreements that your family broke ruined our economy and left us starving. And as if that weren't enough, your forest priests diverted the river that flowed into the human nation, leaving us without fresh water. We tried to find a peaceful solution, but your predecessors did not concede to any of our demands, calling us stubborn. Our options were to invade... or die,"
I say.
"If you and your court can't understand that, there is no hope for a peaceful resolution."
She closes her eyes as you speak, obviously struggling with the weight of what you're saying. After several long moments, she finally opens them again and looks up at you. "You may be right," She says softly. "I... I don't know what the answer is."
There is a long silence between you as both of you contemplate the situation. Finally, she speaks once more. "Would you consider representing your people in negotiations with my court?"
I'm caught off guard by her offer.
"I don't understand why you'd chose me over a professional diplomat, but yes, of course," I say.
She nods slightly at your words before looking down at her hands once more. "Because you have proven yourself to be someone who speaks his mind, and perhaps that honesty is what my court needs right now." She pauses, taking a deep breath before continuing in a more resolute tone,
"I will do everything within my power to ensure that your voice is heard and that your people's concerns are addressed. But I must ask you one thing in return." She looks up at you expectantly, her expression unreadable.
"What is it?" I ask cautiously.
"I want you to be honest with me," she says simply. "Not just about the events of the past and what led us here, but about your intentions for the future as well." There's a strange mix of vulnerability and strength in her voice that catches you off guard.
"You have my word," I reply.
She nods once more, seemingly satisfied with your answer. "Good. Then we shall begin tomorrow." She stands up from the bed, straightening her dress as she does so. "Until then, you are free to roam the hospital wing and recover at your leisure," she says before glancing back at you one last time before leaving the room.
You're left alone with your thoughts, contemplating the events of the past few hours and what they might mean for the future.
As you lie there, staring up at the ceiling, you can't help but feel a strange mix of emotions. On one hand, you're grateful that she spared your life and is allowing you to represent your people in negotiations. But on the other hand, there's still an air of unease surrounding the entire situation; you aren't sure if you can truly trust her or if this is all just a ploy to gain an advantage over your human forces.
You drift off into an fitful sleep, troubled by dark dreams filled with images of bloodshed and betrayal. It's not until the middle of the night that you're finally able to find some peace, slipping into a deep slumber that lasts well into the morning.
When you awaken, feeling refreshed and ready to face the day ahead, you notice that someone has left a tray of food beside your bed; warm porridge, fresh fruit, and a steaming cup of herbal tea.
As you eat breakfast, you can't help but wonder what today will bring. Will your negotiations with Orelia Windborn be successful? Or will they end in disaster, leading to further bloodshed and suffering for both sides? Only time will tell.
You finish eating and decide to take a walk around the hospital wing, stretching your legs and clearing your head before meeting with Orelia. The building itself is an impressive display of elven craftsmanship; tall windows let in streams of warm sunlight that dance across polished wooden floors, casting dappled shadows across cozy sitting areas filled with comfortable chairs and sofas.
"I need proper clothes," I tell one of the elf healers. "I cannot keep meeting your queen in these rags."
The elf healer, a young male named Tyrin who has been assigned to your case, nods understandingly before leading you to a small room where fresh clothes have been laid out for you.
"These were chosen by the queen herself," He explains as you slip out of your dirty uniform and into a soft, warm robe made from finely-spun wool. "She thought that they would suit you."
"When you see her, thank her on my behalf."
Tyrin gives you a curious look but nods nonetheless before guiding you back to the main hallway. As he shows you out, Lord Targon is waiting nearby, looking impatiently at his timepiece. "Ah, good," He says as Tyrin steps aside. "You're ready."
"Yes... Let's get to it," I reply. "Take me to the court room."
Targon leads you through the palace grounds, the ancient stone buildings towering above you like sentinels guarding their queen. The courtroom itself is located at the center of the main keep, a grand hall with high ceilings and intricately carved wooden panels lining the walls. A dais sits at one end, upon which Orelia will preside over your negotiations.
As you walk into the courtroom, Targon stands beside you, acting as your advisor and interpreter. The other elves in attendance take their seats around the room, watching silently as Orelia steps forward to address you.
"Human," She says, her voice echoing through the chamber, "We have brought you here today in hopes that you can help us find a peaceful resolution to this conflict." Her expression is carefully neutral, but there's an unmistakable air of authority about her as she speaks.
"With all due respect, Your Majesty, I demand to be addressed by my proper name, not 'human.' I am Peter Belmont, the last living son of House Belmont," I say firmly.
"And I demand a temporary seat on your court, where I shall represent the human nation. I will not speak as if I am on trial."
Her eyes widen slightly at your words before she composes herself once more. "Very well," She says with a nod. "Peter Belmont, you have my leave to speak freely and without fear of reprisal. As for your request for a temporary seat on the court... I will consider it."
"If you or any of your wise courtiers oppose my presence among them, then we’ve already started in the wrong direction," I say. "Perhaps we should begin only after you’ve made a decision, and not before."
The room falls silent as Orelia studies your face for several long moments. She looks torn between anger at your audacity and respect for your honesty. Finally, she nods slowly. "Very well," She says with a sigh. "You may sit beside me on the dais."
A small smile plays at the corners of her mouth as Targon leads you up to the platform where Orelia is standing. The other elves in attendance watch silently as you take your place beside their queen, making history with every step.
As the negotiations begin, it quickly becomes clear that Orelia meant what she said about wanting peace. She listens carefully to your arguments and counterarguments, never once dismissing anything out of hand or becoming angry. In fact, there are several times when she even agrees with you on certain points, much to the surprise of the other elves present.
"Forgive my audacity, Your Majesty, but it seems that, while we have come here to negotiate peace, there are some in your court who would rather argue that humans ought to be exterminated. How are we supposed to move forward with any peace agreements under these circumstances?" I say.
"You," I continue, pointing to one elf in the court who has done nothing but speak against making any kind of concession to the human nation. "Do you have something you want to say to me?"
The elf's eyes widen at your accusation before he composes himself and stands up, addressing Orelia directly. "Your Majesty," He begins, his voice quivering with indignation. "I only speak the truth! The humans have proven time and again that they cannot be trusted!"
Orelia listens patiently to his tirade before raising her hand, silencing him. "Perhaps you are right in some respects," She says carefully. "
Another elf rises in support of his colleague, interrupting the queen and declaring that my very presence in this room is an affront to their nation. Orelia looks furious, though a nervousness flickers in her eyes.
"Silence!" She snaps, her voice echoing through the chamber like thunder. "I have given Peter Belmont leave to speak and be heard! If you cannot accept that, then you are free to leave." Her expression is one of steel, and the other elves in the room quickly sit down, their protests dying on their lips.
"You were the one who proposed breaking the trade agreements we were just discussing, stripping humans of our resources. Thanks to you, many human families watched their children starve and succumb to illness, while you laughed and rejoiced in the abundance of your lands. And now, you call my presence an affront." I say to the angry elf named Randyl. "And what's your reason? I am human!"
There is a long silence as everyone in the room watches the exchange between Peter and Randyl. Finally, Orelia clears her throat, speaking again. "Randyl," She says calmly but firmly, "Peter speaks true. Your words and actions have brought suffering to countless humans."