>>5375457Time marches on, and it eventually comes time to leave the captured keep to its new masters—the Drow. You have left them in the care of the North-Merchant and Translator, who will serve as liaisons between your peoples and as overseers of trade and diplomacy. You have left them a few Amulets of Disguise, as well, but only flawed and limited versions—deliberately hobbled by the Novice, and in the private and secretive safekeeping of your agents. They are to be doled out only in an emergency.
“An elfmaid could get the feeling that you do not trust her or her people,” Jazkarmel half-jokes.
The two of you are enjoying a drink (yours watered down considerably, to preserve your judgement) as you squint against the beauteous setting sun over your mountain range.
“Trust is a difficult thing,” you say, diplomatically. “Perhaps when I have met, and treated, with your queen. What our races require is a full solidification of our alliance… Not one built on precarious footing, where trust could be abused, by your people or mine.”
“An elegant save,” Jazkarmel compliments you teasingly, raising her mushroom-cap mug in a toast and quaffing the last of her drink.
You find yourself reflecting on all you have learned and achieved. You have regrets, of course. Tactical, mostly. Moral, ethical, personal… Maybe a few of those, too. But when you get right down to it, the feeling this sunset awakens in you negates much of the angst. It is a feeling of natural dominion, of homecoming. With every triumph, it grows. You remember again the first sunset you properly enjoyed as ‘king’ here, after the defeat of the kobolds and their false Dragonwrought prophet… With Glowie.
“Only one monarch is missing,” Jazkarmel notes, as if reading your mind, then laughs and corrects herself: “Two, if you count the bugbears! I wonder where their boss has gotten to…”
“So long as he shows his hairy face in time for our next campaign,” you rumble.
Jazkarmel pats you on the back, giving your shoulder a lingering, perhaps too-familiar squeeze.
“He will or will not,” she says, as if that means anything. “If you wish to see the OTHER leader, the worm-princess, you may accompany my honour-guard home. Perhaps it is a good time to speak with the queen, also?”
You look at her with some surprise. You had expected that she might remain here, in this conquered-and-bargained for fortress.
“Duty calls,” she sighs. “This expedition was not authorized, and I will have to justify myself to my queen.”
You think about your journey to the Chaplain. You can relate, and intimate as much, though not in any great detail.
