Chapter 92.5: Interlude Elia

Elia sat curled up in the farthest corner of her room, ears twitching with every word that filtered through the wooden floorboards. The low murmur of voices from below made her tail flick anxiously, brushing against the folds of her blanket as she hugged her knees to her chest.She had hoped—prayed—that after her conversation with Nick, there would be time to find another way.

But it seemed time was the one thing they no longer had.

Below, the muffled voices of the beastmen council carried through the house. There were more of them than usual tonight.

Anyone who objected was either excluded early enough that there was no concern about them leaking information to the humans or had been convinced to remain silent. Elia didn't know what that convincing involved, but she would bet it wasn’t pleasant.

Elia could easily picture them: older men, grizzled warriors, and younger, sharp-eyed hunters gathered around the dining room. The scent of their unease hanging thick in the air, infused with frustration and the heavy musk of impatience.

She was technically allowed to take part in the meetings, as her class made her an asset to the community. She was encouraged to do so, even.

Her mother wanted her to get involved and understand their struggle and mission. A Kitsunebi was rare and often became a leader. Elia knew her mother was trying to prepare her for the future, but lately, it felt more like she was being used as a standard for others to rally around.

But tonight, Elia couldn’t face them. Not after the seeds of doubt had been planted in her mind.

So she remained in her room, the dim sunlight barely illuminating the wooden walls due to the heavy cloud cover, desperately hoping that things wouldn't unfold as she feared they would.

“…This is the best opportunity we’ll ever have,” a rough male voice argued.

Elia didn’t recognize it, but from the deep, guttural tone, she guessed it belonged to one of the mountain folk—perhaps a bearman. They were the last kin to arrive in Floria, and they resented the semi-servitude they were forced into the most.

“The Captain is gone, the strongest adventurers are gone, and the Prelate is gone. If we act now, we can take over Floria before they even realize what’s happened.”

Elia’s stomach twisted into a knot.

She clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms.

Someone else grunted in agreement. “With Crowley and his men out in the forest, there’s only a skeleton force left behind. The guards wouldn’t stand a chance against us.”

Elia sucked in a sharp breath, but it was her mother’s voice that put that notion to rest.

“You’re all fools,” Wulla said, unimpressed.

A moment of silence followed. The sheer weight of her mother’s authority descended upon the gathered beastmen, as absolute as a queen addressing her court. To any human, Wulla appeared to be a mild-mannered herbalist. To the beastmen, she was the last great-granddaughter of Omo of the Six Tails, the legendary chieftain who waged a terrible—and ultimately fatal—war against the kingdom’s forces. Her words were heeded above anyone else’s, until Elia herself could assume that mantle.

“Do you think taking the town now will do anything but guarantee our extermination?”

Elia heard chairs creak and a few grumbled curses, but no one directly spoke against her mother.

“We could win,” someone insisted.

“And then what?” Wulla shot back. “Do you think we can hold it? You think we can keep Floria when the warriors return?”

Elia could almost see her mother staring them down—golden eyes almost glowing, arms held casually as she played with her claws, and her tail flicking lazily while she waited for the others to try her.

Finally, one of the beastmen muttered, “…If we take the town, we have bargaining chips.”

Bargaining chips. That meant hostages.

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Elia shuddered. She had expected conflict. She had expected the old anger to explode at one point. But she didn’t expect this.

Would they really go that far? Would her parents really let it happen?

Wulla snorted in contempt. “No,” she said firmly. “If we take hostages now, we’ll give them an excuse to go scorched earth.”

That made Elia relax—if only slightly. At least her mother wasn’t reckless. She was ambitious, yes, but she wasn’t stupid.

“Elena alone could inflict devastating damage before she fell, and if you think the Captain would negotiate after that, you’re fools. They would butcher us before even pretending to consider negotiations.” Wulla continued.

A few disgruntled murmurs followed, but no one openly disagreed.

“Then what do we do?” someone asked. “If we wait too long, the opportunity passes. With two Prestige classes, they’ll surely break the dungeon.”

Wulla’s voice dropped slightly, and Elia had to strain to hear it. “We cannot fight for control, it’s a battle we can’t win,” Wulla said. “Instead, we will take the town from within.”

Elia bit her lip.

Her mother continued, “We will use this time to position ourselves at Floria’s critical junctions: the guardhouse, the armory, the markets, and the wall. We will place people strategically so that when the moment arrives, they can seize control without anyone being able to resist. There is a shortage of guards, as Crowley took many with him into the forest, and even if they return victorious, I doubt it will be without casualties. Offering our “services” during this time will be easy.”

The murmurs of approval came almost immediately.

“This way, we won’t have to fight in the streets for every inch of land,” Wulla continued. “By the time the warriors return, it will already be done. Our people will be in place to do massive damage if they don’t meet our demands. They will have to acknowledge our autonomy, because the alternative will be tearing apart their own home to put us down.”

Elia curled further into herself. It was brilliant.

She doubted it would actually work. What she had seen that day at the temple was still burned into her mind. No matter what they did, they would lose if it came to open conflict, and she knew her history well enough to know humans wouldn’t take kindly to threatening the entire town with destruction.

No matter how much she desired her people to have a voice and wanted change, she doubted this was truly the right approach.

Everything was moving too fast.

Her parents had been careful until now, playing the long game, making sure not to act recklessly. But tonight had shown her that they weren’t waiting anymore. There would be no turning back once they moved and rose up in arms.

Elia clenched her fists.

She didn’t know what solution Nick was working toward—hell, she didn’t even know if he had one, but she trusted him.

If he needed time, she would find a way to give it to him. That meant slowing things down, which required interference.

A knock at her door nearly sent her jumping out of her skin.

“Elia.”

She barely had a second to school her expression before the door swung open.

Teo watched her with quiet intensity. He wasn’t armored tonight, just dressed in his usual dark tunic and pants, but it didn’t matter.

Her father didn’t need armor to be intimidating.

“Elia,” he said again, gentler now.

“I—” She swallowed, her throat dry. “Yes, papa?”

He studied her for a moment before stepping inside, filling the small space. “You weren’t at the meeting.”

“I—” She scrambled for an excuse. “I wasn’t feeling well.”

For a long moment, Teo said nothing, merely watching her with that unreadable expression. Then, he sighed. “Elia, I know this is difficult for you.”

She blinked. That was unexpected.

He stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We’re doing this for a reason,” he said. “For the good of our people. So that we don’t have to keep scraping by, waiting for humans to decide how much we’re allowed to have. So that we can stand on our own.”

Elia forced herself to nod. She knew as much.

“We all need to come together and help each other,” he continued. “Even a few people acting on their own could ruin everything.”

Elia’s breath hitched. Was he onto her? Her ears flattened, her tail curling around her leg. She needed to deflect. “You mean the ones who’ve started following Sashara?” she asked, keeping her voice even. “The ones spending all their time at the temple?”

A shadow passed over her father’s face. His hand tightened slightly on her shoulder before he let it drop.

“Yes,” he said shortly. There was an edge to his voice now, something hard and unyielding. “There are… plans in motion to take care of them.”

A cold weight settled in her stomach. She opened her mouth to ask what those plans were—but stopped herself. If she pushed too much, he’d get suspicious.

She forced a nod. “I see.”

Her father studied her for another long moment, as if searching for something in her expression.

Then, finally, he stepped back. "You should get some rest,” he said, turning toward the door.

Elia didn’t breathe until he was gone.

Jumping down from her window silently was an annoyingly complicated effort, but she managed it, and soon she was slipping through the dark streets. Elia kept to the shadows, her ears perked up to hear any sound.

Even though the town wasn’t under strict curfew, there was a noticeable difference in the air. There was tension as everyone waited to hear back from the expedition.

Elia moved quickly, heart hammering. She needed to reach Ogden’s shop. It was the only place she could think of. She didn’t know if the old man would help her or if she could trust him, but if there was anyone in Floria who would have a solution, it was him. She hesitated at the door, hands damp with nervous sweat. What if he turned her away? What if he took matters into his own hands and made things worse for her people?

She sucked in a breath. Then—before she could lose her nerve—she reached for the handle. Before her fingers could touch it, the door swung open.

Ogden stood in the doorway, as if he had been expecting her. He tilted his head slightly, then exhaled through his nose. “Finally decided to come in, then?” he muttered.

Elia gulped. Before she could gather her wits, she felt a firm grip on her wrist.

Rhea.

The red-haired girl pulled her inside with surprising strength, then shut the door behind them. Elia stumbled slightly, only to be pushed into a chair. Soon after, a steaming cup of herbal tea was thrust into her hands.

“Drink,” Rhea ordered.

Elia blinked. “I—”

“Drink first,” Rhea interrupted, crossing her arms. “Then talk.”

Elia hesitated, but the scent of chamomile and honey soothed her nerves just enough to take a tentative sip.

“So,” the old alchemist said, leaning against the counter.

His eyes were slitted and a bright yellow—too yellow to be completely human. That should have been calming, but it wasn’t. Her mother had said he wasn’t a beastman, which left very few things he could be.

“I imagine you are here about the little coup your people are planning?”

Elia nearly choked on the tea. Her ears snapped upright, tail bristling.

Ogden simply watched her, waiting. She hadn’t even said anything yet. And somehow, he already knew.