The poor elf guard didn’t even get the chance to yell before Tim knocked him out cold with the flick of his wrist, using the wooden bar like a long club. The swordsman calmly stepped out of his cell and walked over to the dumbstruck women. Lilli and Emi both seemed shocked and uncertain, while Naaza was going from totally surprised, to outright annoyed:

  “What are you-!”

  Her outburst was cut off by Tim holding up a single finger to his lips and gesturing to the stairs. But it was too late, as footsteps could be heard coming up the staircase. Tim was forced to knock out the guard the moment he stuck his head up to check on things. He also quickly took out the second guard, breaking off a piece of the bar and jumping to the lower level before throwing the square piece of wood right at the poor elf’s forehead. That drew some gasps of surprise from the other prisoners, but Tim shot them a stiff glare, holding up his finger for silence just as he did for Naaza. That quieted them all down. He walked over to the front door and put the bar down, locking it from the inside, before walking back up the stairs. It was time to explain himself.

  Adama gave the girls a shortened version of his plan, explaining his reasoning and detailing what to do if things went south:

  “If I don’t come back, take the stuff and leave. There’s a settlement just south of here. You can run there while the Elves are distracted.”

  “This is insanely reckless!” Emi exclaimed, looking both awed and concerned, “Why can’t we just wait and negotiate peacefully? The elves aren’t evil! They’re just going through a rough patch.”

  “They aren’t bad, Ms. Emi.” Lilli responded, looking similarly concerned but also thoughtful, “But they aren’t in a hurry to see us. If we wait to negotiate, we’ll run out of time. I think Mr. Tim’s plan is best.”

  Naaza looked a bit more doubtful, but she didn’t raise any objections, which Adama took as agreement. Once Emi nodded in understanding, he tore off the bars holding the girls in. Downstairs, someone was currently trying to open the locked door, banging on it and yelling. So much for secrecy. Before long, they’d resort to battering it down. Tim decided to skip that complication by tearing a hole in the wall. He straightened his fingers and jammed them deep into the wood, straining and pulling apart the wall like taffy. Magically enhanced or otherwise, this place was not built to deal with someone of Adama’s caliber. In a flash, the team split up, the girls going to find their things as Tim sprinted through the forest toward his target.

  He'd seen it while they were bringing him in, a particularly large tree near the center of the village. They hadn’t been stupid enough to bring him right by it, but the elves had badly underestimated his Level, which meant underestimating his perception as well. He’d seen this elder oak and heard the beginnings of the conversation within. Though, it was less of a conversation and more of a meeting. A war meeting:

  “Our scouts report that the enemy has not moved from their prior positions. They are content to skirmish for now, though we suspect they will begin to move soon.”

  A larger, dark-haired elf male spoke confidently, staring down at the map on the large round table below. A large concentration of red flags stood at the edge of the forest, opposed by a smaller line of green flags spread out in a loose line. Another fair-haired elf female on the opposite edge of the table responded with a question:

  “And what of their elites? Do we have a more reliable estimate of their strength now?”

  The dark-haired male just grimaced:

  “We do. The enemy possesses one Level 4 and two Level 3 adventurers.”

  That sent everyone in the room into bouts of concerned murmurs. The Imperial army had held its position for now, testing their defenses with probing attacks but never venturing too far into the elven domain. It was a difficult situation for both sides. The Empire was obviously leery of moving into the forest, fearing traps and unstoppable guerilla warfare. The elves, on the other hand, were grossly overmatched. Individually, the average elven soldier outmatched the typical human warrior, but they were outnumbered 5 to 1. Not to mention the fact that the enemy elite sorely outmatched their elven counterparts. Larfal llos Alf, king of the high elves, could only match a Level 3 adventurer.

  The war council now turned to look at their king, who sat at the head of this table and stared at the map, brow furrowed in worry. Jade colored eyes watched the table, but his mind was far away as he considered their options. If it was just the Level 3s, then there wouldn’t be a problem. But that Level 4 would be an enormous issue. They could devote sufficient resources to deal with just one Level 4, of course, but that would leave unacceptable resource gaps elsewhere. No matter how they deployed their forces, they wouldn’t be able to stop the Empire’s army once they started moving. The army would make a beeline for the village, and they could only slow it down at best. Right now, they were being tested, but that testing would soon end.

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  They only had two choices at bottom. Evacuate the village or make a final stand. The latter would ensure their destruction, but the former was arguably worse. Leaving the village in the hands of the enemy would be tantamount to surrendering the whole forest. Sure, the elves could continue to harass them, but if the Empire dug in their heels and fortified their position there would be little they could do. They could try to make a new home in another part of the forest, but it wouldn’t be long before they were driven from there as well. It was an unwinnable situation.

  As the elven patriarch agonized over this decision, there was a loud knock at the door. The booming sound rang out, startling everyone. One of their subordinates would have announced themselves much more respectfully, and an enemy wouldn’t knock at all. After a few quizzical glances around the room, it was the tall dark-haired male who went to answer the door, drawing his sword as he did. Blue eyes narrowed in anger when he opened the door a crack and peered out at their visitor:

  “You!”

  Who else but Timaias Adama was standing behind the door, answering the elf with a feral grin:

  “Yes. Me. High elves of the Alv Forest, I have come to bargain!”

  …

  This entrance went over about as well as you’d have expected.

  The dark-haired warrior flung the door wide open and stabbed forward, attempting to eliminate the threat without hesitation. His stance was perfect, his form immaculate, centuries of training made evident in a single exquisite maneuver. Natural agility put his speed on par with a high Level 2, and extraordinary skill meant that many Level 3s would be threatened by this attack as well. But not this Level 3.

  In honor of the elf’s obvious mastery, Adama used three whole moves to bring him down. A flick of the wrist brought the Hidden Blade up to turn the stab aside, the swordsman moving within the elf’s guard as he did. His follow up knee to the elf’s chest was held back enough that it didn’t seriously injure, but it was enough to take the wind right from his lungs. Suitably discombobulated, the elf could do little when Adama grabbed the fighter by the arm and casually threw him up and over his shoulder. The other elves barely had time to process things as one of their strongest warriors was handled like a baby kitten.

  Nevertheless, they swiftly gathered themselves together, swords leaping from their scabbards as they prepared to rush the intruder:

  “Wait!”

  It was their king who stopped them, calling them back with an imperious voice. Eyes flashing, Larfal mentally went over what he’d just seen. The stranger had announced himself rather than taking them by surprise, as a normal enemy would, and he had indicated that he wished to bargain as well. The king was one of the few on the council able to track what had happened when this man had defeated Valar. He'd moved with ease and superior skill but had gone out of his way not to kill the faithful soldier. Even now, the man showed no further antagonism, beyond lazily raising his (invisible?) sword in a defensive posture. Faced with numerous potential hostiles, the man seemed relaxed yet prepared. All these facts pointed to one set of truths.

  This man was not their enemy. If he’d meant them harm, he could have done them immense damage by ambushing them. He’d done no such thing. Instead, he said he wished to bargain. It was possible that this was some sort of elaborate trick. But if it wasn’t, attacking this man would likely lose the king several elites. Elites he couldn’t afford to lose. Best to test the waters before doing anything too hasty:

  “You say you wish to bargain? Very well. Speak and tell us what you desire.”

  A dangerous glint crossed Adama’s eyes, before he answered:

  “I have a simple little trade offer. I need Thousand Year Tree Sap, maximum purity. In exchange, I will kill your enemies.”

  That caused Larfal to raise his eyebrows. That was…a bold proposal to be certain. The cost was acceptable. The elf king would gladly part with their entire inventory of tree sap to be rid of the invaders. But…

  “What can one man do against an army? You surely speak nonsense!”

  His councilor, Lana val Alf stared at the man with mistrust, green eyes glowing with doubt as her blonde hair swayed gently in the breeze. The man gave her this newcomer an inquisitive look, before saying:

  “Do you happen to know a little girl named Theresa? Yea big, strong temper, doesn’t know how to keep her mouth shut?”

  Now Lana’s eyes flashed with anger:

  “What do you want with my daughter?”

  The swordsman just shook his head:

  “Nothing. I want nothing to do with her. But as for the army, I can handle them. I’ll challenge their best fighter to single combat, then kill him. Without their best elite, they will be much less of a threat to you, assuming they don’t retreat entirely.”

  That gave the elf king pause. It was a good plan, far from perfect but no plan was. If they could truly remove that Level 4 from the equation, their situation flipped dramatically. But there were still two questions he had before he could agree:

  “The enemy’s best fighter is estimated at Level 4. Can you handle that?”

  Tim shrugged:

  “There are no guarantees in any fight. This won’t be my first duel. I doubt it’ll be my last.”

  The man’s confidence was infectious, and the Elf king couldn’t help a glimmer of hope growing in his own chest. Perhaps this man could really bail them out. There was still one problem, though:

  “How will you convince them to duel you? Keep in mind, I will wager no promises on such a clash.”

  Hopeful or otherwise, the elf king wouldn’t leave the fate of their village to an outsider. He wouldn’t offer concessions to the enemy based on the outcome of this duel. Humans could always double cross each other over such things, but elves despised lies. Even in these desperate times, Larfal wouldn’t stake territory on a throw of the dice. The man was totally undeterred:

  “That’s fine. Just tell me the names of the noble leading the army and their Level 4 fighter. Any other info on who they are would also be appreciated.”

  Larfal took one last look at the swordsman, and gave a nod:

  “You have yourself a bargain, swordsman. May the forest watch over you.”

  They would need to iron out the specifics of how much tree sap would be paid at a later date, but Larfal didn’t care that much. If the swordsman lost, it wouldn’t matter, and if he won, he’d gladly give the man his firstborn daughter in marriage. Though Riveria probably wouldn’t agree to that.

  Objective complete, Adama simply cracked his neck and turned to leave. Slightly surprised, the Elf patriarch called after him:

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get my sword.”