Hours later, Azareth's meeting with the four other Dark Elves dragged on. All five elves sat around a circular table in the dimly lit room. There was a lot of information to digest. Azareth had ordered Telith back to the temple, as the others did not yet trust her. They wouldn't risk her overhearing their plans.
Cellon, a short stocky man who'd spent his youth working as a thug for one of the city's many gangs of thieves, had taken Azareth's side during the hours-long debate. Both favored bold action.
"We've never had this kind of opportunity," Azareth pleaded for what seemed the thousandth time. "We have a double agent. We have the gods damned Priestess of Ban'ath!"
Cellon nodded along enthusiastically.
"We can accomplish much, if we act quickly," Azareth continued. "We can free the prisoners in in the temple's dungeon! Hell, we could assassinate the captain of the temple guard if we wanted!"
"And then what?" asked Mourena, mousy woman. The confidence in her voice contrasted with her petite stature. "Even if we managed to kill the captain, that act would prompt a response. The guards would ransack every Dark Elf home in the city and hang a few for good measure. Killing one man is an act of petty revenge, not a strategy for restructuring an entire society.
"It was just an example," muttered Azareth.
"We need to tread carefully," continued Mourena, ignoring Azareth. "We have a tremendous advantage, yes, but it's an advantage we cannot afford to lose. Caution is needed, now more than ever."
Azareth frowned at Mourena from across the table.
Nalina, playing the diplomat, interjected, "perhaps there is some middle ground." The tall, lean woman looked warily from Mourena and Azareth. "Surely, we must take advantage this situation, but perhaps a smaller step first? Something that ensures we don't overplay our hand?"
Rakin, a mild-mannered man and a respected leader of the rebellion, took that opportunity to voice his opinion. "A test of our abilities is prudent," he declared. "There will be time for bolder action once we confirm the staff's abilities."
"Hmph," mumbled Azareth. He was outvoted and he knew it. "I didn't risk my life finding the damned staff just for us to sit on our asses. But the counsel's will is the counsel's will." He leaned back in his chair in resignation.
"Then it's settled," concluded Mourena. "We've discussed much tonight and it's grown late. Let us reconvene tomorrow to discuss next steeps, after we've had some sleep. Agreed?"
"Agreed," everyone responded, though Azareth did so unenthusiastically.
Azareth remained seated while the others stood and filed out of the room into the dark alley. Mourena was last to the door, and she hesitated. She closed the door and turned back to face Azareth.
"I know you're not pleased, Azareth. You take things too personally. The counsel's decision is not personal. We are all grateful for what you accomplished, but there is much at stake."
"Grateful..." sneered Azareth. "Grateful, but untrusting. I'd have thought," continued Azareth, grabbing the Staff of Mathgar and holding it out on display, "recovering an ancient artifact that could save our entire race would earn more than a little gratitude. Perhaps my opinions deserve some actual weight."
"Again, Azareth," Mourena replied sounding tired, "no one doubts your contribution to our cause. But it is OUR cause. We have all put our safety on the line; we should all have a say in how we proceed."
"You've put your safety on the line?" shouted Azareth. "Do you have any idea how many times I almost died in that temple? I would have been tortured if I'd been captured in those catacombs. Your safety on the line? You," Azareth jeered, gesturing toward Mourena with the staff.
A flash of red light engulfed the room.
Startled, Azareth blinked, clearing his vision.
He looked back at Mourena who stood near the door with a vacant expression.
"Oh shit," whispered Azareth. "Shit, shit, shit. What did I do?"
"Mourena?" Azareth aseked hesitantly. ""Can you hear me?"
"Yes, Master," replied Mourena neutrally.
"Oh, fuck," exclaimed Azareth in dismay, putting a hand to his forehead. "Fuck! Why does this even work of a Dark Elf! It's a weapon against LIGHT Elves!"
"Okay. I can fix this," Azareth mumbled to himself. "Mourena I'm not your master. Once you leave here, I need you to forget everything that happened in this room after the others left. Can you do that?"
"Yes," answered Mourena simply.
"Okay. Good," said Azareth, taking a deep breath. It seemed the disaster was averted. "Now go home," he instructed.
Mourena turned to the door.
"Wait..." said Azareth. Mourena stopped, her arm outstretched toward the door. She turned her head back toward Azareth.
Azareth hesitated. "You're not my slave, Mourena. You're not. But... I want you to defer to me at future counsel meetings. You trust my judgement and you'll support my suggestions. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Mourena answered.
"Go home," Azareth told her, and Mourena slipped through the door.
__________________________________________________________________
It was late the next evening when Azareth arrived for the counsel meeting. To his shame, he'd had difficulty shaking the image of Mourena under the staff's thrall. Mourena had a husband, Kalmin. He was a bit obnoxious, but still a good man, and valuable to the rebellion.
Azareth made the secret knock on the door and, moments later, the door opened an inch and Cellon peered out. Seeing Azareth, he opened the door and let him inside.
"Well, if it isn't our savior," Cellon teased.
"Oh shut up," Azareth replied good-naturedly. He and Cellon often saw eye to eye on counsel matters, and they got along well.
Cellon closed and barred the door while Azareth fetched himself a mug of ale and took a seat at the table.
Another series of knocks sounded from the door and Cellon went to open it. Mourena, Nalina,and Rakin entered together and took seats at the table. Mourena slipped out of her heavy cloak and hung it on the wall. Beneath, she wore a pair of snug fitting leather breeches and a tight, navy blue bodice over a white undershirt that left a fair amount of cleavage exposed. She took a seat directly across the table from Azareth.
Azareth looked down at his drink, trying not to let his imagination wander.
"Well, now that everyone's had a little time to think, does anyone care to propose a plan?" Mourena asked.
"Ahem," Nalina cleared her throat. "I believe a measured next step would be taking control of a Light Elf courier who delivers messages between The Temple of Ban'ath and the Dawn Palace. It would be useful know what the High Priestess and Empress discuss."
Rakin nodded. "Makes sense."
"Hmph," groaned Azareth. "I knew you lot wouldn't want to start by controlling the Empress herself, but a COURIER? Have you no guts at all? I'd hoped to end our subjugation sometime this century!"
Nalina and Rakin glared at Azareth, clearly annoyed.
"I think," spoke Mourena, "Azareth may have a point."
The entire table turned toward her, Nalina and Rakin clearly surprised.
Mourena shrugged. "Perhaps a courier is somewhat... unambitious."
"Very well..." Nalina said through gritted teeth. "Perhaps Azareth cares to share his plan, which I'm sure will demonstrate restraint."
"Gladly," responded Azareth. "I suggest we raid the temple's weapons cache and arm out rebellion."
"Ban'ath help us," moaned Nalina, looking up at the ceiling.
"I like it," said Cellon, always eager to get his hands on a good blade.
"That's your idea of restraint?" asked Rakin. "You think the armory won't notice when weapons go missing.
"Let's hear him out," said Mourena.
"Thank you," Azareth replied. "Who said anything about missing weapons? You're underestimating the staff. I'll order Telith to have her guards package up some weapons, enough to arm a squadron or two. She'll have the guards deliver the weapons to a storehouse, with instructions that the weapons will be picked up later and delivered to the soldiers fighting on campaign in the Vanthrol Marshes. Then we grab the weapons from the storehouse instead."
"You're going to get us killed," replied Nalina.
"It's less insane than I thought," conceded Rakin. "But it's hardly a subtle first step."
"A vote then," proposed Azareth. "All in favor?" Azareth raised his hand eagerly.
Unsurprisingly, Cellon's hand followed.
A moment later, Mourena raised her hand as well. Nalina and Rankin stared at her. "YOU favor this?" asked Nalina incredulously.
"It's risky, but manageable," answered Mourena. "We need to make some actual progress at some point."
Nalina sighed. "If it's the will of the counsel, so be it."
Cellon stood and retrieved a map of the city, which he laid out on the table. "We'll need to pick a drop-off location for the weapons."
"How about the docks," asked Rakin, gesturing to an edge of the map. "Plenty of cargo stashed there. Should blend in easily enough."
"Too many guards," replied Mourena. "They'll keep watch over any cargo their colleagues drop off. How about the abandoned foundry in Old Town?" she asked, rising from her seat and leaning over the table to point at a spot in front of Azareth.
Azareth found himself staring directly at Mourena's cleavage, the charcoal grey skin of her breasts on clear display. Mourena kept talking, but Azareth was too distracted to catch any of what she said.
Mourena sat back down and Azareth snapped back into reality. He quickly glanced at the others to check if anyone had noticed his leering. His eyes met Nalina's. If looks could kill, Azareth would have had a dagger through his heart.
Nalina frowned at Azareth in disgust, then returned her attention to the discussion. Azareth looked down in embarrassment.
