Chapter 20: Prisila takes the helm

Prisila straightened her dress. She had traveled all the way to the capital, to speak with the emperor. Emperor Casimir was someone who had been bribed by the Elathana family before.

 Filarion had cleaned house, for the most part, but Feneria had kept the evidence that the emperor was mixed in with their business. Something for which Prisila was now grateful.

"It will be fine, Prisi," Kaniel said next to her, as he rested a hand on her shoulder. The help had to be let go, but the SS ranked berserker, only SS because he had not done his final battle evaluation, much like her brother, was a silent support for her.

"I hope so, brother," Prisila smiled at her brother-in-law, who smiled back. Feneria marrying Kaniel might have been arranged by their fathers, but the two loved each other. They had just been lucky that their union benefited both families.

In her flowing blue dress, modestly cut, Prisila felt ready to show some of the backbone that Feneria was known for. Prisila was an Elathana, she had to remind herself that. No old immortal would stop her from getting her siblings out of prison.

The two walked pass the guards, up the marble stairs, and to the private solar of the emperor. Casimir had not wanted to see them at court, probably figuring out what Prisila was going to tell him already.

The two elves made themselves comfortable on red plush chairs, rimmed with golden details. In the golden room, as it was aptly named, the vanity of the five-thousand-year-old emperor could be seen.

Prisila knew his dark secrets. She was going to give them away, the golden apple which she ate guaranteeing that she would not be made to disappear. Kaniel was further insurance.

The blonde emperor came in, all flowing robes of the deepest purple, and his golden circle on his brow. Prisila straightened in her chair.

"Prisila, and... Kaniel? Is it Kaniel?" The emperor liked to pretend that his memory was bad, these days. He was playing with his many heirs, some of which being as immortal as he. Pretending to be ready to give them the crown, when in reality he never would.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Kaniel bowed his head in respect.

"You two have to forgive me, if my memory lapses. I am at the age when I feel like my brain is too thin for words," the emperor laughed at his own joke, and sat on a chair opposite the two. "Now, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Filarion and Feneria are in prison," Prisila spoke. "Because of the family business."

The emperor pretended to think about it for a time. Then, he clapped his hands.

"I told you kids. Your business was ok, a couple of thousands of years ago. But now? It is a new age, even if I am still in the thick of it. Soon, I won't be. I view you Elathana elves as my devoted nephews and nieces, but even I can't turn a blind eye to what you are doing. Prisi, I hope you understand?" Casimir gave her a condescending smile, which to anyone else might have looked full of compassion. Prisila was not easily fooled.

"I understand that your age is quite massive," Prisila began, taking out papers from her bottomless bag. "But you must remember that you gave us your blessings to continue. We would have never dared to do what father did, without it."

Prisila placed the papers on the coffee table between them, and the emperor's eyebrows rose.

"These are copies, Your Majesty," Kaniel supplied, his expression respectful. He had eaten a golden apple as well, but that didn't mean he wanted to test if it was just extending his life expectancy.

Casimir's friendly expression dropped. With shaking hands, he took the topmost document. His signature was in the bottom. His eyes scanned the content of the paper. This was for the job of supplying the rebels in Aragos Kingdom with weapons and potions. Looking through the other papers, he saw that it was all different jobs the Elathana family had done for him.

"I don't take well to threats, Prisi," Casimir snarled. Ready to call the guards and throw the two elves in the dungeons.

"Think about it, Your Majesty," Prisila began, a little afraid. "If the Elathana family business is over, you lose an asset. The asset that saw you on the throne."

"You know about that?" Now, it was Casimir's turn to pale.

"It is just a single piece of paper. Handed down from father to son. Filarion is not like the heads of the family that came before him. He gave the paper to me, for safe keeping," Prisila provided another copy, and Casimir saw his own name on the top.

"How did you copy it?" Casimir asked, and Prisila cocked an eyebrow.

"With mana. We can't save your signature, if we copied it by hand," Prisila spoke. There, on the paper, was his own signature, from his days as a budding bandit. Casimir's eyes narrowed.

"What do you want?" The old emperor, who looked no older than twenty-five, asked.

"Filarion and Feneria out of prison. A license for our business. You may say you were our patron the whole time. That we did it all with your blessings, albeit it was never made official," Prisila spoke. The emperor's left eye twitched, and she feared she would be sleeping in a dungeon. Then, the emperor laughed.

"If that is all that you want, niece. Then, as your gracious uncle, I have to agree," Casimir took all the copies, and threw them into the fire. He didn't bother trying to find the originals. The two elves must have left them somewhere in the Elathana estate, or God knew where else. No one could hide something like an Elathana.

"I am glad we came to this agreement," Prisila stood, a gentle smile tugging on her lips.

"Uncle, Prisi. The Elathana family began with my sister," the emperor reminded her, and Prisila smiled brighter.

"Uncle, I hope the next time we see each other, it is for a happier occasion," Prisila then turned around, and left.

Casimir allowed himself a small smile. Ah, the family of his sister. A woman who decided that becoming an arms dealer was better than being a bandit. The woman who paved the way to his throne. How could he hurt her heirs? When his sister was the only person who had loved him?