Maelor and his folk, along with the female elves from Finlor's village, had remained in the forest with the carts. Finlor had insisted on attacking with only the finest of his fighters—and he had proven his strategy sound.
With news of the victory, the rest of the dark elves and their carts finally left the rugged woodland terrain for the plains. What awaited them was a town full of giant corpses.
At Maelor's direction, the serpent scales were dumped inside the stone fort. I had thought we would destroy the ugly structure as soon as possible, but it found temporary use—it would serve to hide the scales from sight.
The now-empty large scales were then repurposed to haul the dead beast-men out of the town. Finlor took charge of digging a mass grave with a group of elves. Lysandra, on the other hand, joined the mostly female group tasked with cleaning the blood from the streets. I doubted any of them would be tempted to lick for a taste. Beast-men had long avoided becoming targets of vampires because their blood was bitter and pungent.
After the tiring journey and the bloody battle, the elves busied themselves with the clean-up. If they had been humans, they would have required half a day's rest and a meal.
"We've seized the land you told me about, Maelor. Now what's next?" I asked as he joined me on the ramparts. As the land stood, it was difficult to imagine a grand city rising here—a capital worthy of a kingdom.
With the impatience of a vampire lord used to inheriting his dominion fully built, I couldn't help but doubt if Maelor and his people could bring to fruition what he had promised me—and if they could, whether they could do it fast enough.
"It's my first time noticing that formation of boulders at the far bank," Maelor said absently, his eyes on the gray rocks across the river. "It looks promising."
"You haven't answered my question," I said, slightly annoyed. "What do we do next?"
"Ah!" he exclaimed, startled as he turned to me. "Well… we are going to build your city, Highness. And I think I just thought of a delightful addition. We'll build most of the city here, but your manor—your seat—will be built across the river, nestled among those rocks. Then we'll connect it with a beautiful bridge."
He grinned. "Does the thought intrigue you, High Prince?"
It did. But that wasn't the answer I wanted. "Yes, but as it stands, you have nothing, Maelor. You speak of trading the serpent scales—how and to whom? And if we even had the gold, where would we go to purchase everything we need?"
Maelor only chuckled softly, his composure unshaken. "You need not worry, High Prince. You can entrust everything to me."
He pointed toward the river's edge. "The first thing we'll do is build a simple harbor and some boats. Then, when vessels pass, we'll hail them and spread word of the serpent scales. Once the word is out, buyers will come to us."
"And we won't be trading for gold, High Prince," he added. "If we deal with the woodland elves, we'll barter for timber and marble. With the dwarves of Dead Ridge—for tools and machinery."
I found myself nodding approvingly. I shouldn't have doubted the old elf. He was as clever as I thought him to be. Just like that, I was in good spirits again. The city—my grand city—no longer felt so far-fetched.
"Your Highness, what do we do with them?"
I turned my gaze away from the ruined town toward the interior of the fort. Beside the piles of serpent scales knelt a group of bound beast-men. The dark elves had captured six of them—younglings, which was a more impressive feat than simply killing them. Likely no older than a few years, they were already as tall as elves and nearly twice their mass.
Yet I was not impressed. I saw no use in sparing them. They were too dull to reason with, much like orcs—fearless only because they lacked sense. I clicked my tongue as I watched them struggle against the ropes that bound their limbs.
"Kill them. Why did Finlor spare them in the first place?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. The dark elves were too mentally strong. Turning them into vampires had not stripped away their capacity for pity—a troubling weakness in what was otherwise a superb race.
Floren swallowed nervously and glanced at Vaelior. The two had been left in charge of piling the serpent scales and must have noticed the captives long before. Hesitantly, they drew their knives.
"Why not… enslave them, my lord?" Maelor suggested. Elves despised slavery, but perhaps not so much when the alternative was death. "If they were turned, they would be significantly stronger than us."
I shook my head. "Have I not told you, elf, that turning the unwilling into vampires is a waste of time?"
"While they are yet unwilling, yes…" Maelor said. "But give me a week. If I cannot tame them by then, I shall kill them myself, High Prince."
---
Frans would have taken pleasure in seeing the virtuous Maelor spill the blood of the helpless young beast-men. But Maelor succeeded again.
After a week, the once-hostile younglings had become as docile as domesticated dogs.
I suspected I had been cheated. Maelor said 'enslave,' yet he had treated them like pampered guests. He ordered hunters to bring them meat in abundance, gave them a warm, spacious hut, and did not even need to remind his folk to treat them gently. Lysandra in particular doted on them like younger brothers. She even made the absurd attempt to teach them how to read and write.
Before long, the beast-men joined the workforce—willingly and cheerfully.
But I was not done. The agreement was to have them tamed, then turned. I expected the transformation to drive them mad—to turn them into feral beasts that Maelor would have to put down.
To my surprise, the young beast-men endured the transformation well. Not as well as elves, but once the violent spasms passed, their behavior barely changed. Their strength and speed, however, had multiplied severalfold.
Those who had already taken to hauling the large carts now did so with ease, even through the forest terrain. They no longer needed food, and Lysandra fed them meat chunks only as treats.
I began to wonder—perhaps I could now turn others without the usual madness that plagued new vampires. If that were true, the potential was endless.
Maelor's success did not end there. After a week of tireless work, the ruined beast-men town had been transformed into an elven settlement. The mud huts were gone, replaced by intricate wooden houses—larger and finer than the cottages of either village they had left behind.
Hedges, flower gardens, and trees were planted. Roads were paved through the grass, and street lanterns erected, all arranged in a semicircular layout facing the river. The other half of the circle, I assumed, would rise on the opposite bank.
The stone fort was finally dismantled, and over its ruins, a large storehouse was built to hold the serpent scales.
Along the river's edge, wooden embankments were constructed—stabilizing the banks while doubling as landing platforms. Once completed, the elves began crafting a small fleet of boats.
Ten days after our arrival, as dawn broke over the water, we finally saw a foreign vessel approaching from the west.