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When Caira awoke from her forced slumber, she found herself tied up next to Jaskier and Geralt in some sort of makeshift home. Geralt grunted as he struggled against the rope that bound his wrists together. "This is the part where we escape." Jaskier mumbled to Geralt and Caira, hoping the two hunters would do all the work to allow for their escape.
"This is the part where they kill us!" Geralt whisper-yelled back at Jaskier.
"Hm." Caira groaned, still feeling the side of her head throbbing.
"Caira?" Geralt snapped his head around to take a look at her. Her mind was still dizzy from the impact and was swaying about as she tried to regain her bearings. Geralt had recovered more quickly than her due to his magical mutation.
Caira's eyes fluttered around the room and she saw the situation they seemed to be in. She noticed a woman figure before her, who then proceeded to kick Jaskier. Jaskier grunted. "Beast!" The woman cursed at them in the Elder language. She was an elf by the looks of her pointed ears.
"Elves." Geralt hissed, gaining a kick to the gut by the woman as well.
Another elf, this time a man, entered the room with Jaskier's lute. He began to destroy it, hoping to get a reaction out of him. "Oi! That's my lute! Give that back. Quick, Geralt! Do your witchering!!" Jaskier frantically spoke.
"Shut up!" Geralt shouted at him.
"No! You shut up!" The woman elf hissed at him in her language.
"My Elder speech is rough. I only got part of that." Jaskier sighed.
"Humans, shut up!" The woman spat at them.
"Ah, got it, thanks so much." Jaskier replied in Elder.
"Do you wanna die right now?" The woman threatened.
"As opposed to later?" Geralt growled at her, his jaw clenched and his blood boiling.
The woman kneeled down before Caira. "Perhaps if I harm you, they'll finally begin to listen." The woman placed her pointer finger under Caira's chin, lifting her face to get a good look at it.
"Leave off!" Geralt spat at her.
The woman turned around and swung a punch at his jaw. "You don't deserve the air you breathe." She punched him again. "Everything you touch, you destroy." She punched him once again.
The male elf then proceeded to snap the lute in half. Geralt tried to hide the pain he was feeling with an angry, psychotic smile. "You hide in your golden palaces. You beat a bound man, too scared to even look him in the eye!" Jaskier screamed at her.
"Do you like my palace? Hmm? Does it live up to the tales you humans tell?" The woman kneeled in front of Geralt and lifted his chin so they could make eye contact.
Geralt threw his head forward and knocked his head against her face, causing her to stumble backwards and groan in pain. Jaskier snickered. "Yeah, take that, pointy."
"You both are going to get us killed." Caira tossed her head back, leaning all her weight back on Geralt since his was tied right behind her. The woman began to cough and wheeze from the strike she received from Geralt. "She's sick." Caira noted aloud.
Another male elf entered, with the sylvan that attacked the trio earlier that day. "Ah, who is this?" Jaskier rudely asked.
"He's Filavandrel, King of the Elves." Torque announced.
"Not a king. Not by choice." Filavandrel corrected Torque.
"You were stealing for them." Geralt muttered, realizing Torque was stealing grain for the elves.
Torque snapped his head over at Geralt. "I felt for them. They were forced out of Dol Blathanna."
"Forced out? They chose—" Jaskier began to retell the lies he was told.
"Do you know anyone that would choose to leave their home?" Filavandrel's words hit far too close to home for Caira. "To starve? To have a Sylvan steal for them?"
"Toruviel, no one was supposed to get hurt." Torque chastised her for beating the prisoners. She must've felt for Caira, as a woman, and didn't touch a hair on her.
"What's three humans in the ground when countless elves have died?" Toruviel, the woman elf, rolled her eyes.
"Two humans." Geralt corrected them. "And you can let them go."
"Then Posada will learn that we've been stealing. The humans will attack. Many will die... on both sides." Filavandrel shook his head.
"The lesser evil. No matter what you choose," Geralt looked up at the elf king with his yellow eyes, "you'll come out bloody and hating yourself. Trust me."
"That's the problem. I can't. This is necessary." The king told.
"I understand. As long as you understand... that it won't be long before you follow me in death." Geralt threatened the man.
"Yes, because they pushed us from viable soil. Even chaos is polluted. Synthetically enhanced so humans can make magic." The king seemed disturbed by this human plan to grow in power.
"Chaos is the same as it's always been. Humans just adapted better." Geralt informed.
"You say adapt, I say destroy." "You're choosing to starve."
"You think this is about pride?! My elders worked with humans, and got robbed by all they had. And when they fought back, they were slaughtered. The Great Cleansing humans call it. I called it digging a mass grave for everyone I loved. And now the humans proudly watch these very fields grow our babies fertilizer for their grain. I don't wish to hurt anyone else. I was once Filavandrel of the Silver Towers. Now I'm Filavandrel of the Edge of the World. If I bring my people down from these mountains, it would mean bowing to human sovereignty. They'll make slaves of us. Pariahs of half blood children." The king's speech was long and tiring. So much hate was in his heart—rightfully so—but all Caira could think about, in her still scrambled mind, was whether he was going to kill her or not.
"Then go somewhere else. Rebuild. Get strong again. Show the humans that you are more than what they fear you to be." Geralt suggested.
"Like you, Witcher?"
"I have learned to live with them. So that I may live." Geralt responded, matter of factly.
"Please, my King." Toruviel spoke. "There are others. A new generation. Evellien who wish to fight! Let us take back what's ours. Starting now."
The king drew his sword. "Wait!" Torque grabbed the King's arm.
"Torque, stand aside!" The king hissed.
"The Witcher could've killed me, but he didn't. He's different. Like us!" Torque begged for Geralt's life.
"If you must kill me, I am ready. But the Sylvan's right. Don't call me human. And, please, don't kill the girl, she's not like the others." Geralt raised his chin, ready to take the blow to his throat.
