REBORN AS A HIGH ELF SLAVE

The two groups faced each other across thirty paces of packed dirt road. Horses stamped and snorted. Dust still hung in the air between them like a thin curtain.

Eon sat still for a moment longer on top of his horse, feeling Elora’s arms tight around his waist. Her breath was warm against the back of his neck, but her fingers had gone rigid. Behind him, he could sense the rest of the caravan holding its collective breath, elves now not leaning toward the windows of the carriages, trying to hide themselves from the newcomers; Alaric’s soldiers also were shifting in their saddles, Elsa’s hand already resting near the hilt of her sword.

Seeing how tense everyone had gotten, he drew a slow breath and swung down from the horse.

“Stay,” he said quietly to Elora without looking back. “Whatever happens, don’t get off the horse.”

She made a small sound of protest but obeyed. Eon took three steps forward, empty hands visible at his sides, and stopped halfway between the two lines. The hood of his still covered most of his head, but the morning light was bright enough that the shape of his ears was no longer a complete secret to anyone looking carefully.

He raised his voice just enough to carry.

“I don’t know who you are or who sent you,” he called, keeping his tone even. “But we’re only travelers heading to Edger County. We have no quarrel with anyone on this road. So, if this is about toll or passage, name your price. We’ll pay what is reasonable and continue on our way. There’s no need for anyone to draw steel today.”

A few of the bandits exchanged glances. One or two even looked toward their leader as if the offer of coin was worth considering.

Then a loud, rough voice cut through the quiet from somewhere in the middle of the bandit line.

“Oi, elf! Don’t bother hiding those ears under that hood. We already know what you are.”

Eon’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t reach for the hood. He kept his hands open and visible.

The same bandit laughed and turned toward the scarred man at the front.

“Boss, why not ignore the order for once? Look at them. A whole pack of elves, and they’re still breathing. We sell this bunch in the market, and we’ll be rich for the next three years. We struck a goldmine here!”

The words landed like a stone dropped into still water in Eon’s ears. Rage boiled in his blood at hearing the bastard talk about his people like a commodity. 

Behind Eon, the atmosphere changed instantly. He heard the soft scrape of boots on carriage floors, the faint intake of breath from several of the elves. Someone cursed under their breath. Elora’s hands tightened on the saddle horn so hard her knuckles went white. Even the horses seemed to sense the shift; a few of them tossed their heads and stamped harder.

He also felt the weight of every pair of eyes on his back. Keeping his own gaze fixed on the scarred boss, he spoke again, voice still level.

“There’s no goldmine here. Only people trying to reach a place where they can live without chains. Turn your men around. Whatever you were paid, I can match it, or more, if that is what it takes to end this without blood.”

The boss had not moved. His scarred face remained unreadable. He studied Eon for a long moment, then let out a short, humorless breath through his nose.

He was clearly in no mood for talk.

From the corner of his eye, Eon saw movement on the left flank of the bandit line. One of the riders had nudged his horse forward a few steps, trying to drift past the main confrontation toward the side of the caravan, toward the horse where Elora still sat, and farther back toward Nora and Elsa.

Nora shifted in the saddle. The dark elf’s posture changed by only a fraction, but Eon caught it. Her hand had already drifted closer to the short blade at her hip.

Eon raised one open hand slightly, palm toward his own people, without turning around.

‘Not yet.’

The signal was small, but Elsa saw it. She stayed still. Nora forced herself to settle again, though her eyes never left the creeping bandit.

A short distance behind Eon, Alaric leaned slightly toward Elsa and spoke under his breath, voice tight with irritation.

“What is this idiot doing now? Does he actually think he can talk it out with these animals?”

Elsa’s reply was just as quiet, and far calmer.

“Let him do what he thinks is right. We’re close to Edger land. Shedding blood this near the town will raise questions we don't want asked, especially with this timing.”

Alaric’s mouth flattened into a hard line. He clearly did not like the answer; being a noble, he had his pride. Why would he have to put up with this bunch of lowlifes on the road, when he can just give an order and be done with them? Despite being caught under the same lowlife he hated so much, an elf, his pride as a noble still remained the same. 

Though he grumbled, he stayed in place for the moment, one hand resting near the throwing knives at his belt.

Eon took another half-step forward and locked eyes with the scarred boss.

“Tell your man to stop,” he said, voice colder now. “If he comes any closer to my people, something irreversible might happen, and I can’t stop it. Consider this the last warning that I will give.”

The boss’s expression did not change. He made no move to call the rider back.

The creeping bandit, emboldened by the lack of command, kicked his horse forward the last few paces. He reached out with a gloved hand toward Elora’s leg, fingers already curling as if to drag her down from the horse.

Though he never got to touch her.

Before he could even touch Elora’s thigh, a flash of steel cut the air.

The knife Alaric threw flew in a flat, vicious arc. It struck the bandit’s outstretched wrist with a wet, precise sound and continued through, severing the hand cleanly at the joint. The severed limb spun once before hitting the dirt. 

Ah-aghhhhh…..

The bandit screamed with a high note and was shocked, as blood sprayed across his horse’s neck. He toppled sideways, still shrieking, and crashed to the ground from the horse with a Thud, shaking the ground a little.

For one frozen second, the entire bandit line stared at the scene, shocked at how quick and sudden that was.

Shock rippled through them like a wave. Men who had been smirking a moment earlier now had wide eyes and open mouths. Horses shied at the sudden smell of blood.

The scarred boss’s face finally twisted, seeing his men fall first.

“What are you fools waiting for?!” he roared, voice cracking across the road. “Attack them!”

He slammed his heels into his horse’s flanks, and several riders around him did the same. They surged forward in a tight wedge, angling past Eon and Elora, straight toward the place where Alaric sat with the remaining throwing knives already in his hands.

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