Once Adama met up with the others and informed them of his success, it was actually Lilli who negotiated how much Tree Sap the Elves would give them. Both parties were in an awkward spot since neither of them could afford to just walk away from the deal. Yet Lilli and Lana bickered back and forth for hours before coming to a deal, the duo too stubborn to do anything less than haggle abrasively. The elf king watched their verbal sparring match with simultaneous amusement and trepidation, worried that his overzealous councilor would somehow bungle this opportunity. Tim had just grabbed his sword and wandered off into the woods, leaving the king to deal with the chaos. Eventually, Lilli got the elves to cough up 20 million vals worth of the sap, significantly more than what they needed for the antidote.

  Meanwhile, Adama was meditating in the woods, preparing for the upcoming fight. It was late in the day, and he’d decided to make his move in the morning. It was unlikely that the Empire would change their position in the middle of the night.

  As he meditated, however, he turned his plan over again in his mind. This was the most difficult part, since getting the enemy to agree to single combat without promising them concessions wouldn’t be easy. Some people could be taunted into such things, but he didn’t know enough about their commander and elite to know if that was the case with him. The elves had been scantier with info than he’d hoped. As he thought about it, a solution suddenly popped into his mind. Eyes twinkling, he got up and walked back to the village.

  It was Lilli’s time to shine again.

  …

  Marcus Octavian fiddled with a bejeweled dagger, staring at the map on the table with only vague interest. One of his war councilors had stood up and was pontificating, as such men were wont to do, so Octavian mercilessly tuned him out.

  There was little to be further discussed, after all. They had learned what they needed.

  Octavian was the newly minted governor of a large province in the western Empire, eager to use the forces under his command to make a name for himself. His father, a senator, had thrown his political weight and their family fortune behind this campaign. Others within the Empire were leerier of this kind of military action, citing fears of retaliation from Orario. They were all especially afraid of what Riveria llos Alv would do when she learned her homeland was in danger. If she were to take the field, it could draw in the rest of Loki Familia, or even the entire Adventurer’s City. This forest was a useful strategic asset, after all, and a full Imperial attack could be interpreted as the Empire plotting a war against Orario. If that were to happen, Ouranos would likely step in, especially if some of his most valuable assets had already taken the field. The consensus within the Empire was that they couldn’t afford a full-on war with Orario. Yet.

  However, the old men back home differed on how far they could go without provoking such a fight. Some, like his father, insisted that Riveria was too far removed from her homeland to come to their aid. He wanted to send a smaller probing force to capture the forest, betting that Ouranos wouldn’t attack such a force hastily. The elf, he argued, was indifferent, and the white-haired old god was too cautious and distracted to risk a full war with the Empire over one little forest. Marcus and his force were here to test this theory. If it worked, their family would multiply their glory and wealth.

  This all hinged on one question: what would Orario do? Their spies in Orario had been monitoring Riveria carefully over these past days, with orders to notify him via messenger hawk if she so much as stepped outside the city. Others were watching the Guild carefully as well. In the meantime, they sent out skirmishers to test the elven defenses. Even putting aside the High Mage, his generals were concerned about silly things like “traps” and “gorilla warfare”, whatever that meant. Weren’t they fighting elves? But he humored them regardless. Putting that aside, he had gotten the confirmation he needed. Messengers had told Orario about their presence, yet the High Mage had shown no sign of moving. No Quest had been issued relating to this matter either. It was confirmation that his father’s theory was correct. The invasion would move forward in the morning. Everything else was just details he was happy to tune out.

  It was early in the evening when the council finally finished. Marcus yawned as he shambled to his tent, followed diligently by his two bodyguards. He sat at his bed and got down to real business, opening a small treasure box filled with sheafs of paper. Marcus’s eyes widened as he lifted the topmost paper up to the lanternlight. It was a well painted picture of his mistress, Alera, in what might be diplomatically referred to as a compromising position. The raven-haired beauty stared back at him with sultry eyes, lacking even a single thread to cover her modesty. The rest of the box was filled with letters from the woman, describing her love and longing for him in ways that would make even the most experienced harlot blush. Marcus began to read one of these letters, a lascivious grin slowly spreading across his face. Before he could do anything further, however, there was a high-pitched call from the front of his tent:

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  “Master? I’ve brought your dinner.”

  Startled, Marcus waved irritably at the tent flap:

  “Come in.”

  He ignored the slave boy as he went back to reading, grin slipping back on. The boy sat the dinner tray on the bedside table, eyes flickering to the paper before walking out once again. Eventually, Marcus put down his letters, turned off the lantern, and went to bed. The guards remained vigilant as the rest of the camp went to bed, but as the moon rose high into the sky, they began to grow a bit sleepy.

  A shadowy figure, small and unobtrusive, slunk as close as it dared to the duo, hiding behind a nearby tent. Peeking out from behind the obstruction, they held up a palm full of clear power. A brisk night wind sent this powder swirling unobtrusively toward the pair of guards, and as they breathed it in, they grew even sleepier. One yawn turned into a chorus, and both men were soon on the ground and snoozing away. The small figure put the remaining powder away, sneaking out from their hiding place and toward the commander’s tent. They were in and out in less than a minute.

  …

  An hour later, that small figure reached the edge of the camp and snuck away into the forest, easily dodging the clueless sentries. It was only when it reached the safety of the forest that the figure threw off their hood, revealing the face of the slave boy:

  “Stroke of a midnight’s bell…”

  After a quick chant, the slave boy was covered in a light purple fire, peeling away the disguise and revealing a chestnut colored prum girl. Lilli gave a signal to the elven sentries, to prevent them from killing her, and walked off into the woods.

  She found Adama meditating on a tree stump. Shrouded in moonlight, his figure looked like a boy lost in a forest, trying to get some sleep. It was only when he opened his eyes and turned his focus on her that this image was destroyed. Lilli trembled a little under the gaze, though she knew he wouldn’t hurt her, as she rushed forward to hand Adama a stack of papers. He accepted them and began perusing them, before raising an eyebrow at Lilli. She could only shrug back at him:

  “Like you said, ‘Every man has his weaknesses’. Will this work?”

  Adama wordlessly nodded. This was exactly what he needed.

  …

  Where was it? Where was it??!

  As per his normal morning routine, the Imperial commander woke up, yawned, and rolled over to look at his treasure. Opening the chest, however, revealed the inside of an empty box. The man was immediately sent into a panic before hastily tearing up his abode in a fruitless attempt to recover what was lost. While he was in the middle of this, Marcus was interrupted by a voice from the tent’s entrance:

  “Sir? The men are ready to move out. They only require your order.”

  Octavian’s first reaction was a closed fist and a biting dismissal, but he held the toxic response back at the last moment. His family’s future depended on this operation. He couldn’t afford to get distracted:

  “Very well. You have it. Move out.”

  The man nodded and let him be, yet soon afterwards a loud voice boomed out across the camp:

  “Marcus Octavian, I wish to bargain!”

  There were shouts and a great commotion at the edge of the camp. The voice called out again:

  “I have a treasure of yours. I imagine you want it back.”

  Now that got Octavian moving. He hurriedly got dressed and dashed to the edge of the camp, where he found a green-robed swordsman standing between the army and the forest. The man was surrounded by the bodies of several sentries, ivory blade dripping red and scaring away anyone from trying to apprehend the man. Octavian took a step back in fear at the sight. That fear swiftly turned to anger as he looked at the soldiers who were too afraid to approach the man:

  “Why are you just standing there!? Arrest him.”

  “You don’t want to do that.”

  Adama called back calmly, nonchalant in the face of the army. He took a piece of paper out from the depths of his robes and waved it around languidly:

  “The others are with a trusted friend of mind. You wouldn’t want the wrong person seeing them, would you?”

  Despite his many flaws, Octavian wasn’t stupid. He recognized what had happened immediately. Somehow, this swordsman had snatched Alera’s letters. The thought immediately sent a shiver of fear down his spine, for more than one reason. On the one hand, if this man had snuck into his tent unnoticed then he was a masterful assassin. Or at least he had an associate who was. That made him a serious threat. On the other, those documents could create legitimate scandal if they got out. The Empire was rather conservative, meaning adultery was strongly discouraged. Something like this could ruin both his and his father’s career. Octavian’s eyes narrowed as he watched the man in a new light. This man couldn’t be allowed to live:

  “What’s going on here?”

  Just as Octavian was thinking this, a hulking figure appeared. Tulius Agrippa stepped into the group of soldiers, the men scattering at his passage, but the massive fighter only had eyes for the swordsman. Adama studied this newcomer with interest, before turning to look back at Octavian:

  “Now that everyone’s here, let’s get to business.”