I was wrong—the trip wasn’t bad at all! It was downright godawful.

  It had been so long since I’d felt so sore, but the endless hours of jostling and bumping defeated even my stat-enhanced body. By her grumbling, Aerion wasn’t having an easy time of it either, though her lighter weight must have made things a lot easier for her. That, and the fact that she wasn’t decked out in plate armor. I swear, I’d have asked if I could change out if I’d known it was going to be this bad.

  Not that they’d have listened. While our captors didn’t heckle us, they made no move to ease our suffering, either.

  The first day had been thankfully short, owing to the ebbing light when we’d started. Except, just when I thought we’d have our opportunity to escape after they’d fallen asleep, they removed our rope bindings and snapped on rudimentary-looking handcuffs made of solid steel. These things weren’t nearly as dainty as ordinary handcuffs, either. The metal had to be at least four inches thick, and it was all one piece—no dainty chain running between them.

  They put them on our ankles as well, essentially hamstringing any hope we had of escaping. With these on, we couldn’t even walk.

  At least they set us down on the grass—sleeping while slung over a horse would’ve been an absolute nightmare.

  And while I could’ve stuck Aerion in my inventory, it really wouldn’t have done much good. Nor did I want to risk Aerion activating [Reave]. The second our guards found out, they’d turn hostile. Which meant Aerion’s berserking wouldn’t end until she’d either killed them all or expended her stamina.

  In the end, we decided to get whatever sleep we could. There were still two days until we reached the forest. Plenty of time to come up with an escape strategy.

  Or so I thought, but the days passed without a single opportunity worth taking.

  The damned elves were way more vigilant than I’d anticipated. Hell, a full dozen even joined us on bathroom breaks, and we were never allowed to go at the same time. Considering what they caught us in the middle of, the Sylrithar must’ve known we’d never bail on each other. Smart guy, to exploit that weakness.

  Also, it was The Sylrithar—I came to learn that was a title, not his real name. I didn’t know his real name. Nobody ever said it. They were incredibly tightlipped when within earshot of Aerion and me, even with our Vigor-enhanced hearing. These guys weren’t just paranoid—they were competent as well. A terrifying combination.

  What I wouldn’t give to have Richard here. A few burst hearts and the rest would either run or die…

  Though even as I thought that, I had to wonder. Who was the offender here? Who was the victim?

  Killing things was so much easier when they were mindless monsters. Hell, even Cyrus, back in the Cataclysm Dungeon, had given me pause. The only thing that pushed me through back then was that thousands—possibly millions—would die if we didn’t end the dungeon. It had left a bitter taste in my mouth though, knowing he’d simply been trapped there, forced to fight.

  Here? Where we were the ones attacking their forest? I honestly didn’t know I had it in me to hurt these elves. Not until I knew the full picture.

  Aerion and I passed the hours of monotony chatting quietly with each other. Nothing important, lest our captors overhear, though I did learn a bit about elven culture. If these elves were anything like the ones in Order’s territory, they were obsessed with tradition and the upholding of rules.

  Fitting, for people who worshipped the god of Order. Utterly hilarious, considering how their deity actually behaved.

  That said, Aerion didn’t know how much these elves had deviated from the norms of Order’s territory, if indeed they’d even come from there. Pockets of elvenkind could be found in most of the other territories, just not nearly in as significant numbers.

  We stopped talking about elves after getting jabbed a few times by the guards, moving onto more banal chit chat. Even that helped my mental state immensely, though. I couldn’t imagine going through this ordeal alone.

  I felt our arrival well before I heard it. The air had cooled, becoming less humid as we got closer to the forest. Then came the sounds of birds chirping, critters running around, and the fresh scent of trees and greenery.

  Quite pleasant—or it would be, if we weren’t still slung on our horse, blindfolded and bound. A situation that would hopefully come to an end before very long.

  The horses stopped. I heard some conversation, though my gut told me they were speaking in Elven, rather than Common. My translator bauble was working as well as ever, though, so I could understand them.

  Orders were barked—a lift was made ready—and we were finally taken off our horse and guided somewhere.

  My expectation was a prison cell of some kind, but no. From the sounds of rope being hoisted and the feeling you got when an elevator started and stopped, from what I could tell, we were being lifted up.

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  When the lifting kept going, and going, and going… I had to wonder where the hell we were.

  It did finally stop, though, and we were once again guided off the platform—more roughly this time.

  Underfoot, I felt webbing, ropes, and all sorts of protrusions that would’ve made it more than a little dangerous for the average blindfolded person. Thanks to my Grace, though, I managed to only stumble over a few, barely catching myself in time.

  Aerion wasn’t so lucky. From her yelps behind me, I could tell she’d fallen more than once, requiring help from our guards to right herself. I’d never gotten angry about this for myself, but Aerion? That made my blood boil over. Regardless of the outcome, these assholes were going to pay for that.

  Aerion and I were finally led to our destination, and only after I’d been shoved into a cell did they remove my blindfold, allowing me to finally see where we were.

  The first thing I noticed was that the bars of my cell were made of some root, not steel. They looked sturdy, though. Possibly even magically enhanced. Even if my hands weren’t currently cuffed, I doubted I could wrench them apart.

  After taking a better look around, I realized it wasn’t just the bars. The floor, walls, and rounded ceiling were all made of the same material. Other than that, it seemed pretty standard fare for a medieval jail cell. A pile of straw in the corner, a bucket, and not a whole lot else. At least our captors had the courtesy to unshackle my legs.

  “Aerion?” I called out.

  “I’m here. “I’m fine. How about you?”

  “The same,” I said, relieved they hadn’t taken her somewhere else. Not only would that have greatly complicated our escape, it would’ve been terrible for my mental health, too. From the volume of her voice, it sounded like she was a few cells down. I didn’t know if there were others, or if we were alone, though.

  The building—what little of it I could see through the bars of my cell—was made of the same root-like material, and shaped like a hemisphere. Without the cells, it would be the size of an average family room back home. So, not terribly large. Either the elves had more of these buildings scattered around, or they didn’t get very many prisoners. The latter, I assumed, considering their reputation for slaughtering caravans and pillaging their supplies.

  I paced around my tiny room, thinking of next steps. On the one hand, we were prisoners of the very elves we’d set out to eliminate. On the other, they’d saved us the trouble of locating them, and I still had my Spatial Inventory chock full of Aural Siege Bolt cores that were more aerodynamic and reliable than ever.

  Not to mention I’d managed to stash Light of the Fearless in there when they were confiscating Aerion’s Aurora. We’d have to get hers back, but at least I had some capable weapons on hand.

  Security was much more lax here, with just two guards monitoring the cells. If we wanted to break out, it wouldn’t be impossible—assuming these jail cell bars weren’t invincible.

  To test that, I waited until one of the guards went out for a break, leaving just one guy behind. The way the jail was setup, it was impossible for the jailor to see into every cell, and so he made the rounds, pacing back and forth to keep an eye on us.

  Usually, both of them paced around, making doing anything without getting caught much more difficult.

  With just one of them, though, I had about fifteen seconds before his patrol brought him back to my cell—I’d been timing him diligently.

  When he passed, I immediately summoned Light of the Fearless from my inventory and activated its twin abilities. Lucky for me, both were silent, even if they did put on quite a show.

  With ten seconds remaining, I nicked the jail bar—not so much that the jailor would be able to tell, but enough to know that my sword could damage it.

  And damage it it did. Even my weak ‘attack’ left a gouge inside the material. Clearly, they didn’t intend for the people trapped inside to be armed with exotic magical weaponry.

  Their mistake. My win. With just a few seconds to spare, I shoved the blade back into my inventory, not bothering to cancel the abilities.

  With this, Plan B was set. Worst case, I’d break out of here, free Aerion, and hightail it out of here. We’d have to ditch Aurora if we did that, but I could always Uninitialize it, and we were due for picking out some good gear from Dominium’s vault, anyway.

  That was still Plan B, though. If possible, I really wanted to chat with whoever led these people.

  Something told me I wouldn’t be waiting long, considering who I was and what I represented—namely, the impending raid on the elves.

  I was proven correct when the Sylrithar entered and gave me a stern look before glancing at Aerion.

  “You are to appear before the Sylvan Council and tell all that you know.”

  “And why would we do that?” I asked.

  “Because you will die if you do not.”

  “If we are to die anyway, then why would we divulge details of our caravan?” Aerion asked. “Unless you mean to torture us? Have the elves of the Sylvanglade truly fallen so low?”

  Maybe because the words came from a fellow elf, Sylrithar fumed. “We do not torture! We are not the savage barbarians you lot have made us out to be! Explain yourselves, and you will be treated fairly.”

  “We’ll be treated fairly, regardless,” I said. “You plan to use us as hostages. Last I checked, hostages are little good when they're dead. Except, maybe as a message to your enemies.”

  “Enough!” the Sylrithar said to the guards. “Blindfold them and gag them. Especially this one. He speaks too much!”

  “Now hold on a minute,” I said, smiling. “I’m happy to cooperate. I’m just asking for better terms.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as better living accommodations. And your side of the story.”

  The Sylrithar frowned. “You wish to know about us?”

  I nodded. “Everything from how you came to be here to why you’re raiding these caravans.”

  The elf’s stern gaze broke for just a moment, and for the first time, I thought I saw something like sympathy. Maybe even a trace of guilt? Then it was gone, leaving me wondering whether I’d imagined it all. With pursed lips, he said, “that is for the council to decide. Now come!”

  I let myself be bound, gagged, and led outside. If I wasn’t mistaken, I’d just taken the first step to solving this mystery.