Alastair froze for a second, but with a jerking motion, he walked forward towards the tortured elves hanging from the wall. With a release of energy and a swing of his sword, an invisible sharp force shot out towards the chains from the first elf. 

 

He caught the falling body before it could hit the floor. Slowly, he laid the body on the ground. The elf kept whispering the same words over and over again. His dull eyes shook Alastair’s soul, he had to bite his to keep his teeth from chattering. The taste of blood kept him leveled and stable. 

 

Alastair laid the elf’s head on his lap. He gently held the head up as a glass container appeared in his hand like a dream. For a moment it was a transparent blue, without good lighting, it would be difficult to notice it. 

 

Then in the next, it took physical form. The pink liquid within it splashed against the cork. Even though it was covered, he Alastair could still smell the sweet aroma that wafted out. 

 

He held the mumbling elf’s mouth open with his calloused fingers. Popping the cork out, he poured the light liquid into the proppered mouth. Once the glass container was empty and only a faint smell was left from the droplet remains left, Alastair returned it to the ring. It would come in handy later on.

 

Finally taking a moment to survey all the injuries on the elf, he noticed large lacerations that crawled down their extremities and an endless number of smaller cuts that covered his entire body. That was not mentioning the balck and blue bruisings that covered much of the elfs torso, only after removing the ripped rags did he see them. Alastair could only imagine how many internal injuries

 

Within moments, the pale faced elf looked more alive. The more heinous injuries slowly stitched themselves together but still looked damaged enough to open again at any second. The smaller injuries and bruises completely faded away.

 

The elf stopped mumbling, the previously glazed eyes began to clear. The shaking had stopped, but the tips of his fingers twitched every other second. He blinked a few times before closing them without opening them again. 

 

For a long moment, Alastair thought the elf had died. He felt a desperation creeping into him, he couldn’t let him die. Only when he felt air coming out of the elf’s nose did he calm down a bit. He probably only fell asleep, thankfully.

 

Alastair lowered the head down carefully. He got up and helped each one individually like he did the first. Each one looked much better than previously. They didn’t sport a hundred different injuries and even the largest were well on their way to healing. There were twenty seven of them, twenty male and seven female. 

 

They had long hair of greens, greys, and exotic blues, clipped ears, and their skin was either a clear untainted white or a midnight black. 

 

Even though they looked as thin as a starving child, they weighed more than a fully grown man. The heft they carried surprised Alastair, he had expected them to be as weightless as they looked. 

 

As Alastair sat over the last elf, Jacob finally made it to the back room. With a rush of excitement, he almost tackled Kendo who was standing near the entrance. Just as he was about to say something, his eyes fell onto the laying bodies. 

 

His questioning gaze met Kendo’s, in response he only got a trademark frown and a shake of his head. Now, even the constantly jubilant mountain of muscle had a darkening expression. 

 

“At least now we know where The Boar got most of his stuff. Elves. Who would have thought they would be found halfway around the world from.”

 

Kendo shrugged, only a grunt was his response. 

 

The first elf coughed hoarsely. Alastair jumped to his feet and rushed over. The body trembling coughs continued until he made it there. He held up the body, keeping the elf in a seated position. 

 

The elf’s purple eyes looked around with confusion in his eyes. It took a few minutes for the scene to set in with all the memories that came with it. He looked at Alastair with a despondent face. 

 

He raised a trembling hand and touch his clipped ears. Like a broken dam, the thin elf bowled over in tears. Sobbing and screaming couldn’t help relieve his pain. 

 

Alastair tried to comfort the elf, but found it impossible to get him to stop screaming and crying hysterically. All Alastair could do was hold him tightly lest he hurt himself. 

 

They sat like this for a long time, the elf finally stopped crying but a desperate look replaced the previously despondent look. He grabbed Alastair’s hands as he shook. 

 

His voice was dry and low. He started to speak in another language filled with ‘I’s and ‘V’s. It was pleasant to the ears. Only when Alastair didn’t respond did the elf remember they spoke two different languages. 

 

“With you take me...no,” the elf frowned before a light appeared before his eyes. “Take me with you! Yes, Take me with you, please! I will be exiled to the wastes, please don't send me back...I...I’m earless,” he subconsciously touch his scarred ears. “I don't want to die, please.” 

 

The elf held tightly onto Alastair’s hands and eyes water at the very thought of being rejected. His voice dripped with desperation.

 

Alastair, unable to look him in the eyes, looked away. He didn’t know what to tell him, instead he bit his lip and closed his eyes. 

 

“Please, I...I’ll be a servant, clean your home, make you...meat food like you eat,” his voice broke as tears started to crawl down the elf’s face again. “I don’t want to die, please. I’ll wear a mask so no one ever knows. And...and I won’t leave the building you give me only under your order! 

 

I swear...I swear on Likana the mother and Litus the father. Please don’t leave me here.” 

 

Alastair looked back at the two that came with him. He had a complicated expression gracing his face. It was ironic to say the least, a battle hardened face full of scars and whitened hair from terror looking at them with a look a desperation and utter need. They didn’t know what Alastair went through, How could they when they knew they’ve never graced a battlefield, much less the one Alastair had just participated in not even two weeks ago. 

 

Kendo’s shoulders drooped in resignation. He shook his head with a slight smile on his face. “The curse of an honorable man. Much less one so fresh from battle.”

 

“We’re going to be executed,” Jacob said in a high pitched voice. His face started to become pale and eyes dilated as he understood what was going to happen next. 

 

Alastair let out a deep sigh. He knew this was going to happen, his conscience demanded it and so it became. If he left them here he would never forgive himself, much less the nightmares that had yet to show him mercy once. With a heavy voice, he said: 

 

“Okay.” 

 

The elf perked up with hope. “A-and my caravan, all of them.”

 

“Yes, but on a few conditions.” Alastair said. 

 

“Anything that does not demean us and our charges.”

 

Alastair nodded. “First you must swear to obey my commands, regardless of what it is. Of course, you can deny anything that would bring you either guaranteed death or demean you. 

 

Second, and most importantly, you must wear masks all the time. Without exception. I cannot and will not risk the safety of myself and my people.”

 

The elf glanced at the two behind Alastair for the first time. “Them?”

 

“And many more to come.”

 

In response, the two had confused looks on their faces before it dawned on them. Alastair considered them apart of his people, something the two lowly thieves had not expected at all. At most they would have been given a few coins and not killed on sight by the guards of the nearest major city.