The Dadæf Chronicles

Albërcht looked out at the window with an expression of deep satisfaction. Every day for the last two years, and this time of the day, early in the morning, he looked out the window. He saw the city. He almost controlled it. He had outlasted Alvas.

He had outlasted many rulers, for he was a zombie.

He had occupied the same job for more than 600 years, and wanted to keep it this way. He was making maximum use of his position. Alvas had had many affairs, and even after the coma, had continued in this habit. Most of these had resulted in odd mutations that had mysteriously disappeared… probably for work on the mines in the more distant areas of the state ruled by Alvas.

Since Alvas’s coma, and subsequent death, he had been manipulating the only heir to the throne. Well… that was technically not true. There was another, but she had disappeared more than 16 years ago. Anyway, she would have been unsuitable… she was technically a half-elf, but the human side had dominated her appearance. An illegitimate half-elf child would cause a massive uproar in the higher-class parts of town.

There were rumours circulating the girl’s disappearance. Some said she had become sick of the life of royalty and ended up committing suicide. Others claimed she was simply plotting to get the throne back. Others still believed she was involved in an intricate conspiracy, and she was another poor beggar, but kept well off by beggar standards, for the day she might be used.

Alvas had known where she was. It was well known among the community leaders – in other words, the people who can afford the most mercenaries – that more than 200 thousand eru went to an unknown fund each year. And this was Alvas’s only secret. He must have been incredibly embarrassed, and gone to massive lengths to prevent anyone finding out where the money was going.

In the time between his waking up from the coma and his death, the number of unexplained deaths in the cities had increased massively.

Oh, well. That was the past. The present is all that matters.

He turned to a filing cabinet, and opened up a drawer.

“What’re you doing, greyby?” said a small, but prominent, voice behind him.

“It does not concern you, Vana,” said Albërcht, pausing, and then closing the drawer.

“But Remi says because I’m the queen I has to know everything going on.”

“You are not queen yet.” And if I have a chance, she never will be, thought Schnübertzen.

The small princess stared at her feet for a while. Alvas had enjoyed her company, as much as was possible while he was mute. Albërcht had a different opinion.

“If you don’t leave me alone right now –”

“I got new boots.”

Albërcht sighed. Vana seemed to have the attention span of a goldfish.

“Please leave me alone.”

“Your ear is falling off again.”

“Close your mouth.”

“NO! I DON’T WANNA!” said Vana, bursting into tears.

“Ah. Albërcht,” said another female voice, although this one wasn’t coming from a three-year old.

He sighed yet again.

“Yes?”

“Vana said you said you’d kill her if she didn’t shut up.”

“What? How would you know, Remara? You weren’t there.”

“True, but I know you did it. You’re predictable, Al.” said the woman. She was human, and looked about 25, but nevertheless had an air of knowingness and wisdom.

She was technically a semi-demigod. Among other things, this meant she had lived for as long as Albërcht had unlived.

They had been very good friends, but recently, a feud had sprung up between them. Albërcht saw Vana as a hindrance to prevent his rule. Remara, on the other hand, saw the girl as an opportunity to “get the city back on the right lines” and was trying to force her into power.

Albërcht was not popular. The only reason that he hadn’t been assassinated yet is that someone, about 650 years ago, already had.

Remara was gaining support every day. Albërcht knew if he attempted to seize power, Remara’s supporters would destroy him and his vision.

But… maybe, just maybe… the girl could be useful. Maybe Remara was right… in a way. Young minds are easily manipulated.

“Vana?”

“What, greyby?”

Albërcht shuddered. While he hated the rudeness of the girl, she did have a point.

He was grey in quite a few places.

“It’s time you got educated. Come here.”

 

*

Serrus woke up on a makeshift bed in Drakaya and Teraura’s room. The two girls were asleep. By the light coming from the window, it seemed very early morning, 5:30 at latest.

He got up. He looked in disgust at the patterns on the girl’s beds, and then stood up.

He tried to open the door, but it was locked.  He looked for his lockpicks, didn’t find them, and swore.

His voice came out odd.
Probably a cold? He thought.

The noise awoke the two girls. Teraura opened her eyes, slowly, and blearily. Then she opened them fully, and gasped.

Drakaya mumbled something along the lines of “h’vn’t h’d m’ beauty sl’p,” before being shaken awake by Teraura, who seemed ecstatic about something.

Serrus watched bemusedly.   

“By Narutia… I never thought it’d work!” said Teraura, pumping both fists jubilantly in the air.

“Who is Narutia, anyway?” said Serrus. His voice was still odd.

“The one true god,” said Teraura. Drakaya rolled her eyes.

“Um… o…kay…” said Serrus, a little concerned now.

“Heh… we better show Darokh this. He’ll be impressed.”

“Look, what’ve you done to me? It was that potion thingy you gave me last night, wasn’t it?”

“Well… to put it one way… those clothes don’t suit you. I mean, they looked fine…” Drakaya added, seeing Serrus rise up angrily, “but… now they don’t.”

“So that’s all you did? You changed how my clothes look?”

“Um… no. It’d be more accurate to say that you don’t suit your clothes,” said Teraura, rather nervously.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a mirror in the bathroom down the hall,” said Drakaya.

“The door’s locked.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Serrus tried the door. It yielded easily.

He left.

After a few seconds, the two girls heard a scream.

“Come on, pay up,” said Drakaya.

“Fine… I really thought he’d take it better,” said Teraura, handing Drakaya a few coins, “I mean… what’s so bad about it?”

“He’ll soon realise it’s for the better.”

“I hope so.”

Drakaya wolf-whistled.

“Hey, come on. You gotta feel a bit sorry for him.”

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?” shouted Serrus, as he ran back to the girl’s room.

“Um,” said Teraura, “Er… Darokh wanted to get you out of the guild… and, like he said… he had a special mission.”

“I want my me back…”

“Um. It’s gonna take me a while…I mean, I can’t just reverse the old one. I’d need to make a new potion based on the old one,” she said.

“And… how long will that take…?”

“Um. About… er. A month.”

“WHAAAAT? I’M STUCK LIKE THIS FOR A MONTH?”

“Yeah,” said Drakaya, “but really… you should go see Darokh now. You’re still humanoid, and still a dark elf. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Serrus whimpered.

“…but… I’m… a boy…” he said.

“You were a boy. Anyway, seeing as you’ve changed, you don’t have to deal with your bounty,” said Drakaya, “and as Teraura said…those clothes don’t suit you. I probably have some stuff that’ll fit you.”

Serrus looked down. It wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. At least he still looked good.

In a different way,

“These… these are mine…?” he stammered.

“No, we cut off someone else’s,” said Drakaya, sarcastically, “of course they’re yours. You’ll get used to them… but still…”

“But what?”

“I’m not letting you use one of my bras. You’ll have to buy your own.”

*

A woman, cloaked in black, moved swiftly through the early morning streets of Arakan, eventually coming to what was referred to as the slum districts. She reached a wall in an alley. She pushed on a brick that it clearly took some time to find.

Nothing happened. The woman swore.

“…damn alleys… they all look the same at this time of morning…” she muttered. She went out, looked around a bit, and found another alley.

She pushed a brick. A pitfall opened up underneath her.

She had jumped, though, and was now hanging off a narrow windowsill.

“Come on, lemme in already!” she said, “my arms are sore today. And I’m hungry.”

There was a pause.

“Look, I didn’t mean it like that. Just let me in.”

“Long time between dwarves, eh?” said a joking voice from a hidden door in the wall.

“… it wasn’t a dwarf. You know that. Dwarves taste of rat,” said another voice.

“Look, lemme in!”

“Why doncha stop hanging and just hover?”

“I’m a werewolf, not a vampire.”

“It’s not easy as a vampire, either,” said the second voice.

“I know. I can’t get the damn mites away. Being in a metre of a dog leaves me itching for weeks,” said a third.

“Oh, shut up. You can’t shapeshift,” the woman said.

“Stop it, you know she’s a werewolf,” said yet another.

“Yes! Just let me in!”

“Fine.”

The brick wall swung away.

The woman jumped surprisingly easily into the cavern behind the wall.

“Okay, am I late?” she said, only just noticing the group of hooded people surrounding her.

“No, but… you should feel privileged. We are all vampires. You are the first werewolf. And the first female.”

“I call the meeting of the brotherhood of the night together,” said an intimidating and booming voice. The members looked up at a throne made of skulls, on which the presumable leader was sitting. It would be more impressive if it wasn’t monkey skulls, but none of the members tended to concern themselves with primate anatomy.

The woman coughed.

“Look, we’re not going to call it the brother-and-sisterhood, are we?” said the leader, in a rather more normal voice, “I mean… there’s only one sister, right?”

“So far, yes,” she said, “but why not change it?”

“Well, firstly it’s been called the brotherhood for eons untold…” said the leader.

“January last year,” said one of the crowd members.

“…and because, like I said, you’re the only sister.”

“You want that to change?”

“What? How’re you gonna do that?”

“Let’s just say I kick really hard somewhere on your person. Then you lose everything that makes you a man, right?”

“There’s no need for threats. You are nearly our equal.”

“Nearly? So you still think you’re superior to me?”

“Yes. We are more powerful, and you are of the weaker sex.”

“Look, I’m the only one with real powers here. You’re just a bunch of dark elves with weird hairdos and fake canines.”

“She dares… she dares insult… us?” said one.

“Yeah. I dare insult you.”

“You may be able to shapeshift, but we are at least as talented at you at magic. And we outnumber you 50 to one,” said another vampire.

“Yeah? Well. I got one advantage,” said the werewolf, “and it’s this.”

“Oh, yes? What is it?”

There was a flash of light. And then there were 50 piles of ash.

The werewolf cut her little finger’s tip. A drop of blood fell on one of the piles.

“Now. I’ll be back tomorrow morning,” she whispered in the ear of the just resurrected leader, “and I expect an improvement of behaviour to your new leader.”

“But… but how… it’s just light… we’re just… dark elves… like you said…”

“Oh, not anymore. Now… you are true children of the night,” said the werewolf, and with that, she morphed into her wolf form right in front of his eyes.  And leapt out of the cavern.

The vampire looked at his paled skin. And swore.

“Urgh, you idiots,” he said to the piles of ash, “I told you we never should’ve invited a woman to join.”

“Yeah, well hurry up and resurrect us already!” said one of the piles.

There was general agreement.

The reason women have never been admitted to proper magical institutions is that all the men are worried they’ll turn out to be much better at it than them.

*

Darokh was going through some paperwork in his office. It was very dreary stuff, though, and so he was surprisingly happy to see Serrus enter.

“Serrus? That is you?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s me. I wish it wasn’t, though,’ said Serrus.

“Right. Here are your instructions,” said Darokh, handing Serrus a sealed envelope, “but it refers to everyone in third person, and in public from now you will be referred to as Sara. We have many operatives working on this and it would be best if none of them truly knew who you were. I believe many of them are trustworthy, but this is a very important assignment, and we cannot afford any mistakes or traitors. 50000 eru is a lot of money, and we’d rather no-one was tempted. Please return to Drakaya and Teraura’s room and show them the instructions, after you have all read this please return here. After you are done here for the second time, an experienced portal mage –“

“So not Drakaya?”

“No. Not Drakaya… anyway, an experienced portal mage will teleport you to your first destination. Quite a lot of this is assignment is simply backstory, but it will all help if you are actually identifiable as your part in the assignment and not simply some pompous dark elf.”

“Um. Right,” said “Sara”, and he, or depending on your point of view, she, walked off, rather bewildered.

*

Albërcht sighed.

“Say it once more, and then you can go play.”

“Um… okay. Though…”

“Throw.”

“Throw… them… inna… dung gong,” said Vana.

“Dungeon.”

“Dungong.”

“Dun-john.”

“Dung-gong.”

Albërcht sighed again. “It’ll do. Now run along and get yourself out of my hair,” he said.

“You don’t have any hair,” said Vana.

“Figure of speech.”

“Greyby? What’s a figure?

“It does not concern you.”

“What’s a concern?”

“Just leave me alone.”

Vana stuck out her tongue, and then left.

Just a few more days… Albërcht thought, and the city… will be mine.

*

“What’d he say?” said Teraura, as Serrus entered the room.

“Well… this is the briefing, I guess. Oh, and apparently you have to call me Sara from now on,” said Serrus, wincing.

“Lemme see that,” said Drakaya, snatching the envelope off him.

She ripped it open, and upon seeing the letter, said “No… way…”

“What? What does it say?” said Teraura, eagerly.

“No. I’m not doing this. Just… no. No way,” said Drakaya, solemnly passing the paper to Teraura.

Teraura cracked up laughing. Drakaya glared at her.

“Look, it’s not funny!”

“I’ll let Lady Sara be the judge of that,” said Teraura, winking at Serrus as she passed it to him. Serrus raised an eyebrow.

The letter read:

Assignment: to infiltrate the palace, raise a diversion, and convince the captain of the guard to abolish the bounty on Serrus.

Method: Serrus enters the town under the guise of Lady Sara, the daughter of Lord Daryun (Darokh). Lady Sara’s lady-in-waiting (Teraura), and maid (Drakaya) will accompany her. S, T, Da and Dr will be teleported out of the city. Upon entering, go to Dadæf Palace and request sanctuary on the grounds of a peasant rebellion…

The instructions went on for more than three pages.

“Oh, well. It could be worse,” said Teraura to Drakaya.

“Oh, really? How?’

“You could’ve been ‘her ladyship’s’ scullery maid.”

Drakaya shuddered.

“Don’t… don’t even talk about that. Okay?”

Teraura stuck out her tongue, then fell backwards on her bed laughing.