Chapter Text
The Second Great War at last fell silent and the men of the cities and towns and fields trickled home with war forever trapped in the their lungs, in their eyes, burned into their very souls.
Every soul of very land lay scarred, no matter how far removed from the actual stink of battle they may have been. The very air and water seemed tainted with it, a sapping drain on their energies, leaving them all gray and brittle. Only time would fix that, let them become vibrant peoples once more.
Wary of the violence building again in the Northeastern Wastes, the Amer lands hesitated for years before answering the call for aid grown shrill from their breaking allies. The Elves had been as decimated as their once beautiful lands, the northern territories of the Trolls half-emptied by the sheer numbers of dead, the Griffins enslaved nearly to the last feather and no one dared speak of what had been done to the Fairies and the others of the once glorious central forests. With an ocean separating them from the other sentient races, Humankind had forever been so isolationist, forever caught up in their own madnesses, their own conflicts and insecurities. But once roused, they were a force to be reckoned with. The malformed, evil things that poured out of that whole torn in the very reality of the Northern Wastes had made an implacable enemy and the peoples of the surrounding lands were bolstered by the sheer mass of Amer's Humans. With a last, tragic effort, they sealed the gap for the second time.
But was it enough?
Every intelligent being in all the lands would forever wonder if this time it had worked, despite the ultimate sacrifice of the greatest warrior of the War and his powerful allies in sorcery and brotherhood. Would that towering edifice of ice and stone and ravaged trees and hardened lava be enough to forever cork that gap?
Only time would tell.
Rubbing her eyes against the glare, Anelli left the afternoon's garbage for the bagmen and stretched in the oily sunlight. And to think she was one of the lucky ones, her thankless job of serving the masses food and drink in little danger of being taken by a returning soldier. Small graces, that. At least more coin was trickling back into the city and out to merchant and common worker. Eating a bit better was certainly a welcome change, as were the random coppers left for tips. Though the random jumpy soldier a little too quick to dive for his dagger was wearying on the nerves.
Ah well, it could be worse, for Anelli dreaded being a bar wench and was far happier with dealing with the hungry and not the drunk. The weak smallbeers of the Griffin Inn hardly qualified for drunkenness!
With a sigh, Anelli headed back inside to finish cleaning up from breakfast and ready herself for the midday meal. Same thing, different day. But a surprise strode in through the heavy doors and their slats of wood and glass. It wasn't that the stranger was a woman, that happened irregularly enough, or even the long dagger that hung easily at her side, or even the familiar colors of city workers encasing her in a stylish tunic and hose of blue and red. It was the unearthly lovely face and upswept ears revealed when the woman pushed back her hood to look around. Had the place contained more than four customers, a hush would have fallen over the room, but Anelli was an audience of one. Falling back on the well-practiced aplomb of an experienced serving wench, Anelli fired off her best smile and nodded to the sturdy counter with its worn stools. "Get you a meal or some blackbark there, Elvish?"
Smoky dark eyes blinked around a flicker of surprise and amusement on the beautiful, impassive face, but she strode forward on silent feet to sit. "Blackbark, please."
The low, lyrical voice matched the exotic good looks, the way she formed the words just slightly off in these Human lands. Dark waves of hair fell loosely, the deep mahogany almost disguising the red that always gave away those gifted with magic. The loose curls framed a striking, high-cheekboned face and large eyes so deep and black a person could fall into them and never see daylight again. They swept up in the corners as though in compliment to those delicate ears, the cheekbones, the strong, chiseled jaw.
Anelli's first encounter with an Elf was not a disappointment.
Once the bitter, bracing drink filled a mug, Anelli tilted her head towards the racks of baked goods, half decimated by the morning rush. "We've sweet and savories if you're in a hurry, or the cook can whip you up something hot. There's fresh eggs left today and a selection of the fruit pies that have made us famous."
The patter made the Elven woman smile faintly before she coughed at a sip of the blackbark steep. Some exotic epithet fell from her lips and Anelli bit down a peal of laughter. "The locals like their morning brew to bite back."
"I'm growing accustomed to that, yes. At least yours does not taste as though it might actually be lethal."
That did make Anelli laugh.