But despite the tensions that erupted between locals and her at first, she assimilated herself into the community well and in time, gained people's respect and love. Her current station was bequeathed to her only recently, and the elf worked twice as hard to live up to the expectations of her beloved father. Not that the deceased man ever doubted her ability.
Elane frowned, as her attention was completely absorbed by numbers and trade finances. The profits her office gathered had to be redistributed back to the people, in a way that would benefit them, and the elf thought long and hard where the funds should go this year. Not to mention maintaining her family's property, paying servants their wages, and countless other things that need to be taken care of when one governs a land. In moments like these, she could not help but wonder if her foster father would approve of her work as his successor. After all, he was the one responsible for bringing such prosperity to this town of displaced and vagabonds.
Another workday was nearing its quiet, mining settlement of Agrid Hill enjoyed the last hours of sunlight, slowly getting ready to conclude today's duties. Days of celebration neared slowly, as the harvest season was over, and after all crops were stored and processed, came a time of leisure for the hard-working peasants. And then, Lucian's Day would appear on the horizon to mark the first half of the year. But not everyone felt the idle moments in the crisp, afternoon air. One resident of this congregation of peoples, tucked between southern Dragon's Spine massif and the sea, was still hard at work. And it wouldn't cross her mind to slack just yet.
Sitting above the calming bustle of the town, quill in hand, the mayor was filling countless reports, reading uncountable letters, and answering them when necessary. It could come as a great surprise to an outsider to see an elven woman, clad in rich fabrics, occupying a chair behind a lavishly ornamented desk that creaked under countless ledgers scattered atop. Elane Ravenloft was a lucky orphan, adopted by local nobility under mysterious circumstances.
But despite the tensions that erupted between locals and her at first, she assimilated herself into the community well and in time, gained people's respect and love. Her current station was bequeathed to her only recently, and the elf worked twice as hard to live up to the expectations of her beloved father. Not that the deceased man ever doubted her ability.
Elane frowned, as her attention was completely absorbed by numbers and trade finances. The profits her office gathered had to be redistributed back to the people, in a way that would benefit them, and the elf thought long and hard about where the funds should go this year. Not to mention maintaining her family's property, paying servants their wages, and countless other things that need to be taken care of when one governs a land. In moments like these, she could not help but wonder if her foster father would approve of her work as his successor. After all, he was the one responsible for bringing such prosperity to this town of displaced and vagabonds.
Stormdale brought in all kinds of people. And they all managed to coexist no worse than the multicultural capital of Arx. At least most did - minus the elves who lost their homelands in recent years and wandered Rivellon, setting down where they could, unwilling to assimilate and follow rules differing from their own customs.
Elane sighed, fending the intrusive thoughts off her mind and fished a misplaced letter out of the papers. She grew pale when she saw it unopened and unanswered. It should have been dealt with two weeks ago.
Nervously glancing over the missive's contents, she didn't hear knocking on her office door. And when the impatient servant let himself in and plopped a covered basket right before the noble's nose, she jumped in her chair.
"Phillip!" She exclaimed, laying the letter down and pressing a hand to her chest, feeling the rapid pulse beneath.
"I knocked. Twice, milady," said the young human, smiling from ear to ear.
A tired sigh escaped the woman's lips before she glanced at the basket in front of her.
"Miss Edinborough had me as an errand boy today; to bring you this."
Phillip moved aside the cloth covering the contents, and the scent of freshly baked pastries and baked chicken filled the room. The servant snatched a sweet roll for himself and winked at the noble.
"A service fee, if you will."
Elane looked at him with comical disbelief and got up to put the basket aside on the only surface not littered with parchment and books in her office that was an old cupboard.
While she did, despite getting his cut of the sweet tax, the servant lingered in the mayor's office, even taking off his worn beret, and crumpling it nervously as if something was at play.
The noble noticed this and was quick to dismiss the man from his extra duties.
"I will take the basket with me when I return in the evening."
"Oh, that's not the case why I'm not leaving…Lady Elane."
The elf's ears perked at the sound of a more official title. It was a tick of hers, usually indicating curiosity, which she helplessly tried to control.
"Yes? What is the matter then?"
"I'd like to ask whether it would be much of a problem… to give me leave for a week."
The woman eyed the face of her old friend discreetly, looking for a sign of illness before she remembered herself.
"I see no problem in this. Are you feeling unwell? Should I send for a doctor?"
Her genuine concern was met with a hearty laugh. "Gods no! Milady, I'm getting married…"
The elf froze for a second, calculating something in her memory. By an innate elven habit, she tended to see humans as younger than they really were. The illusion all the more vibrant, considering that when Elane arrived in Ravenloft manor, Phillip was already there, as his mother worked for Elane's parents. They grew up together, and now here he was, all grown up. Getting married. She realised once again that she was thinking while she was supposed to answer something.
"Am, M-My congratulations!" She exclaimed, sounding more surprised than she wanted.
Was she to shake his hand now or… Social interactions still sometimes puzzled the elf, who spent half her life living like a wild animal in the wilds. She came to the most logical conclusion of all, and opened a drawer of her desk bringing out a sizeable pouch that jingled characteristically as it landed in her hands. She walked stiffly to the man and with little ceremony, pushed the gold into his hand.
"No, El-" The man tried to protest, not expecting any special favours from someone who was basically his employer.
"Take it, and enjoy the rest of your day off." She ordered, still holding one of the servant's hands.
The light green eyes of the servant lit up with a tender glow, as he tried to pry his hand away from the elven vices.
It took Elane a moment to realise she was still firmly holding him, and she let go with a gasp and mumbled apologies. "I am still not any good at those things, now am I?" She looked Philip in the eyes looking no less miserable than a scolded pup.
The man laughed again in response, pocketing the gold. "It's probably the reason why we all love you."
She smiled faintly at those words and took a step away from the servant, smoothing her hair in a nervous manner.
"Any more errands you have to run today? I can take care of them for you," she offered.
"Nope. That's the last one. And, you know, I do expect to see you at the wedding."
Elane jerked and, despite her best efforts, blushed. "Me? Would it not be a…bad luck? An elf at a wedding?"
"Oh please," he brushed her doubts aside with a swing of his hand."Deliah will be heartbroken if you don't attend, and so will other people. They love you, you know?"
The elf was moved, but not convinced.
"With all respect, milady. I will come to the manor just to drag you here."
She clicked her tongue to hide a bashful smile. "Let it be. Understood. I will come."
A triumphant smile brightened the man's face as he plopped his beret back onto the disorderly bed of blonde hair.
"Sunday, around noon. Maids already know. Did I forget something?"
"You probably babbled everything to the maids. You are wasting your time off-"Elane replied as she firmly yet gently began pushing the protesting Philip towards the door.
"-Sunday!" He yelled before she shut the door behind him and leaned heavily against the door frame.
And to think a year ago he was a restless boy who couldn't even be bothered to saddle a horse before riding it. Time seemed to fly for anyone but her, the strange reality of elven physiognomy. She probably ought to present the newlyweds with some appropriate gift, but the time frame was rather slim and the elf was convinced Philip did that on purpose. She had to get creative, but that could wait for the next day. For now, she looked at the intimidating pile resting still upon her desk, she had plenty of other work.
Quill in one hand and morsels of her cold dinner in the other, she once again was filling countless reports, answering stray letters...until she heard a commotion on the staircase behind the door.
A scream, a growl and a howl followed by hasted footsteps amplified by the wooden staircase. A man in a red robe slammed the door open, a yapping Source Hound at his side. Two others soon followed in. One thought crossed Elane's mind - Divine Order.
They became stationed here not so long ago. A peacekeeping patrol from Arx, or as such they were introduced. It took but one glance at this strange sect to figure out they were looking for something in this region.
But Elane was not indulging their strange behaviours, and as long as they didn't go overboard, she believed they could coexist.
"The tax was paid timely. I had seen to it, if that is the cause of your sudden visit." Elane answered calmly, albeit her tone betraying some annoyance at the intrusion and the fact they were expected to pay for their stationing to begin with.
"Milady, I'm afraid you have to go with us," one of them answered, factually without malice.
"I am sorry?" A dangerous glow lit in the elf's black eyes, one of her brows furrowing.
The other red-robed soldier pulled a blue, thornless rose and the dog he held on leash began trotting unnervingly.
"We've been asked to investigate the threat of you being a potential Sourcerer," the first began to explain. "These flowers are beaming with Source, no ordinary citizen could procure such a thing. We've been informed that those were planted by your hand, were they not?"
The creases on her forehead only deepened. Yes, indeed she was the one to plant those flowers, her mother's favourite, but they have grown in the manor's garden even before her arrival. Tended to by an ordinary human gardener, who was no longer in town.
But, those flowers required a speck of blood to blossom fully, that was the secret the gardener revealed to her those many moons ago. And she herself was not without secrets, things strange and inexplicable that puzzled even great wizards from Arx. She never ever wonder she could be one of them.
Those Sourcerers.
"So, you are saying I am one...of them? But my garden never did lure Voidwoken.." Disbelief still rang in her voice.
"And we don't want it to happen ma'am. You need to cooperate for the sake of your safety, others' safety. You have to go with us."
Only now did she notice something strange being held by the other magister. A collar.
She nodded solemnly.
"And what of my household, my town? I was the only one tending to that garden. No one else should be involved."
"Indeed, that is how much we found out. We don't want to drag outsiders into this. As long as you cooperate no one will get hurt."
Her shoulders slumped, dazzled by how quickly the serenity of this late summer afternoon came to an end. She did not put up resistance as they shackled her ankles and wrists. A temporary source collar was closed around her neck.
As she was walked through the town, surrounded closely by the Magisters, she noticed fearful looks on people's faces. Quite a crowd had gathered to stare in terror or confusion at the shackled noble. They neared the main street where an ominous-looking caravan already waited for the prisoner. One of the orphanage's proteges ran from the crowd, standing between the incoming escort and the awaiting carriage. Elane's eyes opened wide, she recognised this girl, being the facility's founder. Tiny Elise raised her hands to the side as if she believed she could put up any real resistance. The noble was about to ask the accompanying men to give her a moment to talk to the child, but the houndmaster was quicker to pit the dog to growl at the child.
"Get outta the way brat!" He barked, but the girl's bravery was unyielding.
"Leave Lady Elane alone, you jackanapes!" She cried in a weak voice, Elise was of poor health, and Elane knew how little this outburst would cost her.
"Please, I-" The elf tried to take control of the situation while she searched for the girl's caretaker, old Mona, in the crowd.
But before the elf could finish her sentence the insane Magister loosened the leash and the dog, trained into mindless submission, jolted forward.
On pure instinct, the elf wrestled herself free of the other man's hold and rammed her head into the houndmaster's jaw and stepped over the expanding leash and pinning it to the ground with her foot, restraining the hound's ability to pounce. It barked and struggled against the shortened leash to no avail, it couldn't make a step in the opposite direction. It all happened in a split second, before any of the humans could react. And then the time resumed its flow. She was apprehended with several additional pairs of hands, while the attacked Magister still squirmed, dazed on the ground. His lip burst open and bleeding. The dog was retained by someone else, and the girl was finally pulled to the side by one of the onlookers.
She spotted the round, youthful face of her brave defender and offered the little girl a smile before she was shoved into the tenebrium-lined cell. The doors were closed and she could see nothing