“… Frankly, we haven’t had the chance to really establish any sort of diplomatic positions with the other elven peoples since the great massacre. We’ve been doing all we can to merely survive, and that wasn’t going well until you answered our summons.” Creadean laid it all out there.
“Okay, what were relations like before the massacre?” I asked.
“Well, as I believe you have been told, as the High Elves, we served as a governing, mitigating and policing force for the other peoples. We did extract payment for the services we offered. Anytime there was conflict between the other elven peoples, we’d step in, find out who was right, and settle the issue without bloodshed. We established appropriate laws for the interactions between the various peoples. I think the peoples we had the best relations with were the Cloud Elves and the Sea Elves, since there were less territorial conflicts with them. The sky belongs to the Cloud Elves and the oceans belong to the Sea Elves. There were some conflicts, Cloud elves wanting to claim mountaintops for farming, or Sea Elves wanting to use lands on the shores and beaches, but they were rare.” Tavorwen clarified.
“… It was our pride, I think, that led the others to despise us.” Heilantu admitted begrudgingly. “We even took the name ‘High Elves’ simply to enforce our position of power and authority over the other elven peoples. We began to look down on the other peoples and… eventually they just had enough.”
I nodded sadly, it wasn’t an uncommon story when it came to revolutions. The rich and powerful got too big for their breeches, the lower classes got angry and resorted to violence to change it.
“Have there been any conflicts with any of the elves, other than the shadow elves, since the massacre?” I asked.
“No, I believe all our peoples have been simply doing our best to simply survive.” Creadean assessed.
“And no one thought that an alliance of the elves would be helpful in holding Kathra and her forces at bay?” I asked in dismay.
“Oh, I’m sure the leaders thought about it, but who could be spared, and risked, to try and reach out?” Narusil explained. “In the leadup to the great war and the massacre, rules and norms were thrown out. Messengers were slain, temples were targeted, and some even seemed to be tortured before being left dead at the side of the roads. Once temples dotted the lands, but they were quickly destroyed. Then they had the gall to dismiss it when we told them to stop these afronts.”
My mind was racing. Things were starting to make sense.
“Because they weren’t doing it.” I guessed. “That sounds like a classic case of guerrilla warfare. The Shadow Elves were inciting conflict, deliberately performing acts that would enrage the respective peoples, doing their best to remain hidden while driving a wedge between each people to weaken them and make you all do the Shadow Elves’ work for them.”
“Of course.” Amura asserted. “Our histories report that for nearly fifty years before… you called it the Massacre? … well, for fifty years our saboteurs, assassins and mages did all they could to destabilize the surface world. Otherwise you would have been too strong, how could any elven people stand against the combined might of all the other elven peoples.”
“… By the gods…” Tavorwen breathed.
Things made sense now. Of course the Shadow Elves had disrupted the surface world, causing political relations to collapse. If you thought the Shadow Elves had randomly emerged with perfect timing when the battle was winding down and everyone was exhausted, I have crayons for you to eat in the corner. That was no coincidence. It was almost textbook. Disrupt the power structures, seed discontent, ferment disorder, then when things were at their worst, sweep in and exploit the weakness you’ve created. Keeping their foes isolated was also a key to a strategy like this.
“We need to fix this.” I muttered. I knew none of my household would object, but given the historical precedent, it might be hard to convince the rest of the Wood Elves. “How hard do you think it would be to get the Elders behind this?”
Heilantu and Creadean shared a debating glance.
“It might be quite difficult. Even with Amura vouching for Shadow Elf tactics, many of the elders lost children and friends during the lead up to the Massacre. Acting as a messenger was considered a high honor, so many elders sought to have their favorite daughters appointed to this role. And when these messengers were found dead and rotting in ditches, with magic used to block past scrying, and evidence pointing to our sister elves… Let’s just say, strong emotions were had and some have vowed vengeance once the Shadow Elves have been thwarted.” Creadean explained.
That was going to be a complicating factor. I couldn’t throw down one racist genocidal tyrannical group of elves just to have another take their place.
“How many of the Elders were swearing to take revenge?” I demanded.
“That is an extreme case. I believe there were four, and one has passed since the Massacre.” Heilantu assured me.
Three out of thirty-six was a small minority, one twelfth. I was hopeful I could stand between those three and the rest of the elven people. Even if we won against the Shadow Elves, there would be some of the Shadow Elves, probably the common folk, who would need to be salvaged, aided, rehabilitated and reintroduced into elven society. I’d never seen a society, no matter how corrupt or vile, that didn’t have an underclass of oppressed good people. Amura was proof to me that some of the Shadow Elves could be saved, but as my Matrons had just explained to me, planning on calling the gods down for a song and dance to tell them they were wrong was not a good plan. I’d have to find a way to break through the prejudice and hatred between the elven groups.
“Okay, I know I haven’t exactly worked inside the normal systems of elven society… How do I actually get a meeting with the Council of Elders?” I sighed, “I need to go about this right. I need the Council behind me if I’m going to talk to the other elves and get them together.”
“We can send a Scheduling Request to the Council Secretary.” Tavorwen explained. “Then we wait for it to be accepted and to receive Notice of Schedule. Once Notice of Schedule is received, we’ll know when we are to present ourselves before the Council and present our case. If it were something more involved with the running of the household, or a request for more Matrons, then it would be Diamiutar’s responsibility to submit the scheduling request, but since this is more of a tactical decision, it is my place. I can do that, if it is your will.”
“Yeah, do that.” I instructed. “We need to move on this.”
“May I borrow your familiar Narusil?” Tavorwen asked, walking into the kitchen where the writing desk was.
“Of course. I’m coming!” The younger elf declared, hopping up to join her in the kitchen.
“I’m going to the range. I’m gonna need to shoot. It helps me think.” I declared, grabbing my rifles.
Creadean and Risavis fell in as my escort. Amura was never far from me, and she fell in too. I’d gotten used to my elves being around me almost all the time, so it wasn’t too weird.
I went down to the range on the forest floor. There were half a dozen young elven archers practicing at various ranges. They seemed displeased to have Amura watching them, but the desire to see me in action stilled their tongues. I started with my handgun. Practicing with it at shorter range, twenty-five paces, fifteen paces, and then running drills at incredibly short range. At longer range there would be no reason not to use my rifles. I supposed at some point my sword would be preferable at those closer distances, but right now I could do more damage with the handgun.
The elves seemed intrigued and confused by my drills. They tried to ignore me and keep firing, but seeing the handgun jerk and the impacts on the target, they knew roughly what was going on. I spent about an hour running drills, then went to move to my rifle.
“May I try your weapon?” Risivis asked.
“I suppose.” I conceded.
I went through a basic runthrough of firearm safety. The Four Rules of Firearm Safety. Treat every firearm as if it was always loaded. Always keep your finger off the trigger until you are ready to fire. Never point a firearm at anything you are not willing to destroy. Finally, know your target, and what is behind and around it.
Risivis took the explanation very seriously, and Creadean was hovering nearby listening just as carefully. I explained how to hold and aim the weapon, how to brace, the proper stance, in short, everything I’d explain to a girlfriend I took shooting for the first time.
Risivis took aim at one of the targets, took a deep breath, then squeezed the trigger. The gun jumped and Risivis hissed in pain. I took the firearm from her hands, cleared the chamber and holstered it, as Risivis nursed her wrist.
“Are you okay?” I demanded.
I’d seen people distasteful of the recoil of a firearm, and admittedly the elven-made firearms were lighter than most firearms and had more recoil, but I didn’t think it would affect her, not like this.
“It has an unpleasant bite, doesn’t it?” Risivis breathed.
“I’m sorry, I keep thinking this won’t be a problem. I should have listened to Durithana.” I lamented.
“I’ll be fine.” Risavis assured me. “Nothing seems to be broken. I may have just sprained my wrist though.”