Author's Note:
A Drow's Dilemma began as a one-on-one roleplaying project and has been converted into a chapter-by-chapter format for weekly posting with the permission and assistance from my partner. It will contain a considerable amount of sexual themes such as femdom, lesbian, straight, 'reverse' rape, BDSM, group sex, romance, and other themes. The main goal of the story, however, is to tell an epic tale of adventures, gods and goddesses, fae, and nymphomaniacs. This episode and every episode to come will be available for free on Literotica for the foreseeable future. All characters that engage in sexual or suggestive situations are mentally and sexually mature: the human equivalent of 18 for their race.
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Episode 85: Insight
The Duskhaven estate was a grand palace, as it ought to be for the family who ruled the city in which it was housed. It was the largest and most decorated structure, carved into the center of the northern wall of the city. The most prominent design was the carvings of giant bats with foxlike faces that screamed out at the rest of the city. They were depicted flying around the two large towers that guarded either side of the large entrance. More stone bats perched -- or, more accurately, hung -- on decorative poles that led up to the front doors like lampposts that shed no light. Those particular decorations only appeared to be mere statues, but everyone in the city knew what would happen if someone within the Duskhaven estate didn't like their guests. Suffice to say, bandits and thieves weren't common visitors to the House anymore.
Hundreds of servants and dozens of nobles could easily fit within the halls of Duskhaven Manor. At present, however, everything seemed rather empty. Which made sense, considering that there were only four known adult nobles and three children (along with the required slaves) inhabiting the rooms. All the inhabitants were past the giant ballroom that had hosted many a dance, orgy, and occasional sacrifice; through the huge dining room that must have been able to seat over a hundred guests; and into the back where the House gardens were situated.
Lord Duagmyr, Patron of Duskhaven House and ruler of Duskhaven City, stood on the balcony that overlooked the gardens. His silver hair had been cut short to artfully frame his handsome, imposing features. The Lord's silver and red robes were likewise cut and tied in the perfect fashion to accentuate his ideal build. Not too tall, not too muscular, not too fat. Perfection. He was leaning against the railing of the platform that overlooked Duskhaven's own private natural cavern.
The House saw fit to fill its private cavern with delicately manicured gardens and artfully designed 'wilderness.' Duagmyr's brilliant red eyes were looking down at another adult male tending three children who barely knew how to walk, but were determined to do so anyway - and in the quickest and most inconvenient fashion. Ethefien, the unfortunate babysitter, was having a bit of a difficult time keeping up.
"Irahc'vic, please," complained Ethefien to another male there who sat at a small table sipping from a cup of something hot and very likely alcoholic.
The youngest drow anxiously ran a hand through his hair, which he had recently cropped short after getting fed up with his hair being yanked by the little ones all the damn time. Ethefien's clothes were likewise a mess barely suitable for clothes one could wear in public and his expression haggard for one so young. It wasn't fair; this was a job for at least two people! One should not be outnumbered by one's young charges. And yet, there he was. And all his cousin could do was laugh.
That was when Adinyraen swooped in a saved the little girl from braining herself on a stone statue. He gathered her up, balanced her on his hip, and absently pulled away his sleek blue-gray hair to the other side of his shoulder before Dizafraerae could grab a fistful of it. "Do be careful, with the young Matron, Ethefien," he admonished. "She may be female, but she is important to our plans. Duagmyr, my brother, were we not going to meet with that mysterious fellow sometime soon?" he called up to the Patron, who was still overlooking the scene in silence.
That 'mysterious fellow' was none other than a tall male(?) drow(?) by the name of Varas(?). And mysterious he was, deliberately so. Annoyingly so. For one thing, his eyes were closed more often than they were open. And he always smiled. Always. Nobody here had seen the mercenary with any other expression other than a genial, contented, quiet, tight-mouthed smile. Nothing so extreme as could be called a grin. A slight smile.
Varas walked into the scene without fanfare. That was another annoying trait of his: he would just show up without really introducing himself. One moment he was absent, the next present. As always, he stood tall and slightly narrow - a bit lanky for a drow - dressed in dark grey, plain leather garments with a cloak of similar color that concealed much of his frame and more than likely some weapons and alchemical concoctions. He always seemed to have what he needed on hand, after all. His hair was grey more than silver or white, his flesh slightly paler than normal for a drow, a grey just a few shades darker than his clothing. Of course, his eyes were closed, that smile on his face.
He also never seemed to look around. Partly because his eyes seemed to be closed most of the time, partly because he always seemed to be looking at the person he was talking to. Looking with his eyes closed. The male drow of Duskhaven had only really seen his eyes opened once, and that had been disconcerting. For set in his too-handsome face - a still drawing of some artist' ideal of drow masculinity touched with something strange and alien - his eyes were large. Far too large. And very, very green with flecks of gold that seemed to shimmer and shift. Green as greed, it was said.
For Varas was avaricious and greedy beyond all compare. The mercenary would do anything for money if the price was right. Anything at all, except break a contract. For Varas was what one might call Lawful Evil, with strong emphasis on both the Law and the Evil. Varas loved money, never spending a farthing more than absolutely necessary, always getting paid, always squirreling away wealth to somewhere. Where? no one knew.
"You called for me, Patron of Duskhaven?" the mercenary said with a voice of oily politeness. The only tone he ever used. He never shouted, never whispered. Always calm.
"Ah. There he is," Andinyraen said with a very subtle look of tight-lipped disapproval. "Go on, you little brat," he said as he set the girl back down on the ground. It wasn't exactly a pleasant tone his used with her, but he was gentle all the same. He had just said that the little girl was important to his plans. Then he made his way up to the balcony to join his brother and the slightly disconcerting Varas.
Meanwhile, Irahc'vic got up from his place watching his cousin's misery and, hot beverage in hand, joined the rest of the people overlooking the gardens. Out of everyone, he seemed the least discomforted by Varas' presence. In fact, he never looked at all phased around the disturbingly mysterious fellow. His fiery orange gaze always met and held Varas' closed-eyed stare, and it seemed to amuse Irahc'vic to match exactly the peculiar smile the strange male perpetually had.
Ethefien was the only one to not join his brothers and cousin. He had managed to pick up the twin boys and placed one on either hip, but now that the girl was down again and more determined than ever to accidentally harm herself. He was forced to abandon the twins and chase after her. At least the twins seemed content at present to entertain each other. That never lasted long.
"I called for you," Duagmyr confirmed, careless of his younger brother's plight. He met Varas' closed eyes with a proud, almost angry look that concealed his discomfort. "We have reason to believe that my sister is back in the city. She was seen heading this direction with two males: my cousin, and another unknown."
Varas listened to Duagmyr's words with his usual smile. Well, mostly usual. He did nod in acknowledgment with a slightly more serious expression. "Ashyr, Selene, and Tsabdrin Duskhaven are all back in the city bearing their name. This, I have observed. I also know the identity of the new male, one Caleldir of a family you will have to pay me to reveal."
"Selene came down here?" Irahc'vic exclaimed with a disbelieving grin. "Our spies never saw her."
"Your spies did not see her because she did not walk into Duskhaven with the others," Varas said unconcernedly. "But she here all the same."
That exchange was ignored for now. "Good to hear it confirmed. Do you offer the same price as before to cause a little havoc?" He tried not to be distracted by the steadily more audible string of profanity that floated up from Ethefien. "They are likely holed up in Father's estate. Which is not a bad choice even if it's predictable. I do not know about the other male, but neither Ashyr nor Tsabdrin can set up the wards that my sire can manage. Getting into his house would prove difficult, which is why we require a man of your skills." Explained Andinyraen.
"The usual price. My contract never really changes, unless it is expired and competing factions are both trying to hire me. Then I go with whoever pays more. That has not happened, and your sister is not rich enough to pay me anyway." Not that Duskhaven itself was exactly swimming in gold at the moment. "So my price to sabotage the interlopers is the same as before. You know what you have to pay me to permanently eliminate the problem as well, right? Still not willing to spring for that much?" Despite it being easier to kill than to merely sabotage, Varas insisted on being paid his normal rate plus whatever an individual might cost on the slave market to actively seek out and kill that individual, rather than just killing whoever happened to cause him trouble on a mission. So he was much cheaper to point at a problem to 'cause it havoc' than he was to hire to actually kill it.
Especially when Varas was quite aware of what he could get on the slave market for the one member of the little party that was not known to be a noble. "I will thoroughly sabotage their efforts, then. Either cripple them permanently or merely buy you some time. By the end of this Cycle, Ashyr and her reclaimers will be rather thoroughly distracted. It is up to you to prepare for their return, though. I suggest hiring me as a guard. Much cheaper than assassinations."
With that all established, the smiling, close-eyed mercenary strode out of the estate. The moment he was out, he morphed into the least interesting, most typical male drow of the servant class that could be imagined. His body language and expression changed completely from disconcerting smugness to a harried worry seen on such individuals. And so, he scuffled of into the darkness of the caverns.
