[LitF] 56. Submission and Culture (Patreon)

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[A/N: A chapter released on schedule! \o/

This chapter was challenging to write and even more so to review. It's also about 50% longer than the goal of 5k words/chapter.

The content is pretty dense, but I liked how it turned out in the end.]

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Unsurprisingly, Margrave's top authorities tried to silence all news about the slaves. However, though most media outlets belonged to Terrell, there was a limit to the moral lines the average greedy person was willing to cross when the truth was thrown at their faces. It was one thing to hear whispers about terrible crimes and never look into them. Countries did just that most of the time. But it was another thing to find well-trained sexualized children before you and look the other way.

Arthur was especially pleased with the populace. They were used to the status quo, to being treated poorly by the rich and powerful most of the time, but they rose to the occasion. Enormous crowds took the streets and camped before the police station and hospital, the places where the women were kept.

The average person and the press had the power to change the world. Before now, that power had been used for evil. Those few days, everything aligned for goodness.

That was most evident when three official vehicles took the "premium goods" away. The seven women, ranging from their teenage years to their late twenties, were gorgeous and had completed their training while still retaining what the press discovered was called "unused status." They had been waiting for a high bidder.

Arthur trembled in fury every time he thought about classifying people like that.

The press followed the three cars, and when one vehicle disappeared in the traffic, the populace reported where it went. The radio revealed the local government was trying to return those women to slavery, and rioters burned cars and tires.

That sparked even more riots everywhere. In the chaos, someone discovered another hotel where men were trained like those women. Since the media got to that place before Margrave's corrupt police, the investigative reporter also found how well-connected those slavers were.

Revealing some names was like pouring oil into people's fury, which became an uncontrollable rage. Police stations, government offices, and business buildings were invaded, depredated, and burned. People were shot. The military was called to restore order.

Arthur intervened multiple times to protect the two hundred victims—there were as many men as women. Often, he had to protect them from themselves. Those people had been brainwashed from very early youth, as twenty percent of the victims' ages evidenced. They knew how to serve their masters and nothing else, often by offering or making their bodies available in enticing ways. It wasn't sophisticated prostitution, nothing like the courtesans of old; they were trained in menial work and sex and nothing else. Teaching them anything beyond elementary education was considered a liability. Their psychological and emotional development had been forcibly stunted, and anything that didn't fit their worldview made them anxious and terrified.

So, the prince almost understood the multiple people who wanted to help them but were too weak-willed to accept their "advances," which were a cry for security in the new world they didn't understand. Arthur stopped at "almost," though. Anyone with an ounce of empathy should know better than to exploit their vulnerability.

Arthur initially saved the victims individually, then concluded he couldn't continue like that. He was only one person, and they were being slowly and sneakily spread throughout the city. The riots actually made it harder to track them. So, on the third day, he rescued them all.

He brought them to an underground shelter he dug in the desert, where he kept Emily and Graham. The knight woke up now and then and "watched" over them. He always quickly returned to sleep, though, even without the prince's intervention. His soul's weakness made him exhausted.

On the fourth day, Arthur overwatched the chaos and killed every escaping person whom he knew to be involved with slavery. He didn't investigate himself but questioned those people after their names were revealed. The media outlets had noticed they could make a lot of cash by acting as "information vigilantes," and it was impressive how much they could uncover when they put their minds to it and had support from a frenzied population.

On the fifth day, the military was called, and Arthur left after killing seventy-two influential people between public officers and businessmen.

His vow had been to kill high-level politicians, but he went beyond. He couldn't appease his ire otherwise. It had swiftly become obvious that most, if not all, of the culprits would escape justice.

Arthur was no paragon of honor and justice. He had no moral high ground to condemn anyone. He had often told himself how he would destroy the world to protect Sophie, and now, innocent people were dying in the crossfire of his war with Terrell.

His actions were technically also an act of war against Margrave and Efrana, the nation where the city was located. He had no right to pass judgment on people from a country he had never belonged to. He was ignoring their sovereignty and interfering with their internal affairs.

Yet, when he judged them, it wasn't because he thought himself any better. It was based on an absolute code of ethics and morals established by countless scholars over the centuries and written in the League's rules.

In normal circumstances, slavery was punished by the League, but Arthur didn't trust it anymore. Was that enough justification for him to take matters into his own hands? When the authority of a king failed, who could a peasant seek? When the League of the Fated Races that theoretically controlled the world for the collective good didn't heed the clamor of the oppressed, who could a person resort to?

Arthur had been taught how to act in such cases, as either king or house head, by learning from history.

Throughout the ages, almost no one with power could or had been interested in making things right. So, corruption and the ability of some to ignore laws increased until the nation became a dog-eat-dog world. People grew to understand only personal power mattered in their twisted society, and they adapted. They did whatever was needed to rise while oppressing the ones below. The lower in the hierarchy you were, the fewer protections you had—yet, like the slaves Arthur had saved, you were made to accept that's the way things were.

Regional fiefs formed, and their rulers rarely were content with what they had. Tyrants fought tyrants for resources and expansion, often in the dark. Unrest increased among the commoners because you can't keep making someone eat shit and believe it's chocolate forever. Internal strife or external conquest was the inevitable end of a world of unearned privileges. It might take decades or even centuries, but eventually, that nation fell.

Few people in power cared about that collapse. Their lives were short, and the future was too distant. No country survived forever, anyway. Why not make the best of their lives while they have the chance?

Occasionally, a strong foreign nation intervened. However, the terrible state of affairs was almost always merely swapped for a slightly better one. The "helping" nations were often already on the path of tyranny themselves.

Rarely, a change for good ensued from the inside. Slowly, over a lengthy period, the powerful limited each other instead of grouping to strengthen their clique. It was even rarer among humans because their lives were short, but it happened.

Only three times in history, at least before Arthur entered the dungeon, had anyone interfered for noble reasons and brought an overwhelmingly positive change to society.

Once, a nation had conquered another despite it being a terrible economic and military decision. The other country was barren of resources, and annexing it expanded the conqueror's territory into hard-to-protect areas. In the war itself, the aggressor's armies were stretched thin, making themselves vulnerable to attacks from other countries. Yet, that king, a dwarf, did it because he couldn't stand the suffering of the dwarves in the shithole that the opposing nation had become.

Two times, the League had intervened. In the past, it did its job.

An individual awakener or House in the country or from a nearby one almost never declared a war of liberation on a corrupt nation's ruling caste. It almost always ended with the ones with good intentions attacked and destroyed by their peers. No one wanted anyone to sit on a high horse and interfere with their business, not even if the "horseman" was justified. To prevent issues tomorrow, it was better to disabuse anyone of that notion today, even if they had a point.

Yet, there were times when a House was well-connected, respected, or liked enough, or when things were so bad in a nation that people agreed that someone had to do something—as long as they weren't the ones to spend their resources for that. Even then, the well-intentioned party was never successful. Ever. There were too many interests for a few people to make a real change.

Arthur wasn't arrogant enough to believe he could succeed where all others had failed, but his situation was different. He was declaring no war of liberation. He was acting individually.

Tamara had offered no detailed recordings of awakeners or groups that took into themselves to make things right only within their reach. There were, however, countless cases tagged as civil unrest, civil disobedience, or rebellion attempts. The perpetrators were always either killed or suppressed, forced to disappear.

Historically, those people were always condemned. No matter their good intentions, the prince had been told to crush them fast. No one in power liked vigilantes. Even if the local rulers weren't corrupt, a vigilante who solved an issue was a slap to their faces, showing the rulers were either weak or incompetent. That increased unrest and represented a risk of generalized rebellion. When the rulers were in on the corruption, the vigilantes were enemies. Either way, they had to be squelched.

Yet, Arthur could read in between the lines. There were no records of vigilantes actually sparking a rebellion. He had also been lied to when he was told vigilantes were either killed or forced to disappear. It was statistically impossible for no one to escape the net. Furthermore, some people likely acted a few times and simply saw no reason to do more; they hadn't been suppressed. The prince himself had already done what he wanted in Margrave. He hadn't been forced by the local authorities into disappearing; he had simply accomplished his self-determined mission and moved on.

So, although history taught it would be suicidal for High House Boria to try to fix things, it also revealed individuals could make a difference here and there.

As king, he shouldn't declare war on another nation for their own good, thus causing the death of countless of his own people in the process. But he was no king. Some things couldn't be ignored, even if he broke the rules and possibly brought doom upon himself. Arthur would rather High House Boria get attacked and destroyed because he broke the laws to save sex slaves in a foreign nation than keep existing as a House that would ignore what he had seen there.

That outlook on things felt obvious to him now, but even after vowing to Fate that he would kill the politicians, he had only reached that conclusion throughout the days. A lonely hero might act without thinking things through, as he had done when he made the vow, but his every action had consequences for his House and people.

So, he had gone through a lot of back and forth with himself. Saving Emily was an easier geopolitical decision because he knew her, and she had been in the Institute because of him. These people suffered more but were strangers and not connected to him.

In fact, even now, the prince couldn't present any argument that saving those women would objectively benefit him, assist with his war against Terrell, or help his High House. The riots in Margrave would be blamed on him. Furthermore, only a stupid enemy wouldn't insist he had used an excuse to recover his investment by taking the victims away; that those had been his slaves. Killing the influential people, on top of being an act of war, was a way to erase the evidence pointing at him.

It wasn't like he had done too little for the women by "only" destroying the hotel. He had saved them from the trainers and unlawful detention. Most victims would end up with better lives regardless of what happened to a few. He had done enough from a logical standpoint.

Still, in the end, what he saw crossed a line of morality that superseded cold logic and strategy, so he acted.

Tamara called that the "weight of power." Powerful awakeners were still people. They used their power to impose their will upon the world just like anyone else, even an unawakened. It was only that most people's actions weren't as far-reaching as his. Arthur believed those victims should be treated better and made it a reality no matter who stood in his way.

The existence of awakeners inevitably led to such circumstances. The only thing anyone could do was ensure an ethical and moral upbringing for awakeners to prevent problems after they grew into power—something the League no longer cared about.

That made him wonder. In the past, had awakeners shaped culture, or had culture shaped awakeners? Cultural control was an important tool, but what if the wrong person was in charge? Should Arthur even care? If people changed and reached a culture that he considered evil, wasn't it their right to live like that? But how could he accept innocents would suffer more in such a context and let it go? How could he not do something about it?

Where was the line between good and evil, freedom and tyranny, acceptance of stupidity and oppressive arrogance? Should he cross it in some circumstances? Had he crossed it?

Weight of power, indeed.

On the eve of the fifth day after he destroyed the casinos, Arthur invested some mana into bringing the two hundred people away from that Fateforsaken city.

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"My name is Candy, master," the blonde whom Arthur had witnessed getting into a cab told him.

She had her hands behind her back and was perking up her assets, even though the prince had hidden them with thick, large winter clothes. He had dressed every victim in clothes like those as he took them away. She only looked at his feet, not daring to raise her eyes.

"Don't call me master," he said softly.

She flinched as if slapped. "Sorry, sir. Please, punish me," she begged, biting her lower lip in expectancy.

Even as she said the words, she felt both terrified and aroused. It sickened Arthur. Without his stat-fueled willpower, he wouldn't have been able to continue this conversation. But he needed to know some things to decide what to do with the victims.

"There will be no punishment," he replied.

He felt even worse when she was both relieved and disappointed. She didn't understand her own feelings. Whenever she had a genuine emotion, she quickly suppressed it unless they were acceptable to her owners or "temporary masters." She knew the consequences of not feeling precisely what she should to match the situation.

Nor, for instance, she didn't hide her disappointment, but only to a point. The prince could guess some people wanted submission but not outright perversion—or some sicker ones would rather she resist them. She had begged for punishment but now displayed less willingness for it and slightly decreased how much she was pushing her assets.

She was adapting to satisfy Arthur's tastes, whichever they might be.

"Fate," he swore in revulsion and pity under his breath, then started asking questions.

The prince had to swallow his bile multiple times as he woke up and interrogated, as gently as possible, six men and women. Candy was the best educated among them, one of the few who were displayed to the "uninitiated" public to showcase the slavers' skills and attract interest. She wouldn't usually have been dealing with taxis that day, yet she had been told to because a wealthy yet exotic client would come that day—the one in the taxi before Arthur.

Surprisingly, she was also one of the few slaves forced to take drugs by the slavers. They used it to control her because she interacted with other people away from prying eyes. Still, Arthur noticed she displayed no signs of abstinence despite the high levels of drugs he had previously felt in her system and her high tolerance. The drugs were irrelevant, and she was one of the rare people who couldn't get addicted to drugs. She didn't think of escaping because the training was that effective.

Every victim's mind was a mess that Arthur couldn't even start to heal. As he had assessed when he first met Candy, only mind control or very long-term magic-assisted therapy could free her and the others from their indoctrination. Making them stop craving intimacy was easier than one might imagine, but cultivating self-esteem and removing most habits would be a struggle.

The prince didn't have the resources to deal with that. He didn't have the time to help two hundred individuals regularly, much less for a lengthy period. Keeping them fed required theft or well-thought-out purchase patterns that also demanded time. He had to keep them hidden, or Terrell's spies would eventually recognize them. He couldn't bring them with him everywhere, and leaving them out of sight would inevitably end up with someone finding them. And without his protection...

In any other circumstance, he would leave them in the hands of someone he trusted, but Graham was too weak to protect them and couldn't provide psychological treatment, anyway. Tamara and Sophie were dealing with the war.

That left him with two options.

One was the high elves. Arthur was a Dan Pharyl Sha'vatör. He didn't want to be tested by them to confirm his "candidacy" and didn't trust the supposed loyalty he could receive, but he needed manpower. As horrible as it sounded, leaving these victims with them would also serve as a test of their ability and trustworthiness. It would solve many issues.

The unsolvable problem was that the elves had been keeping a bizarre silence. The newspapers claimed the elves, as a race, refused to comment about anything ever since the Institute blew up. The high elves were nowhere to be found, including the Joint Commanders. The elves in the League obeyed their superiors but had stopped displaying proactivity.

Even Tamara had trouble piercing the information blockade, only having learned they were waiting for something. What that was, though, was anyone's guess.

That left the prince with the second, worse option: the League. More specifically, Maximiliano Hill, Sector 3's Head of Operations, whom Arthur had met in North Lake City.

Arthur had gone to Margrave's public library to search old newspapers for what had happened to the people he left with the guy, and Emily's treatment was as good as all others, as far as the media reported. He didn't trust everything he read, of course, but he also found no signs of foul play.

That would have to do.

Arthur spent a day hiding underground in Avaria, resting and reviewing his actions, then visited a small city with a little over three hundred thousand people, most unawakened. Larford seemed to have been taken straight from the past. Its streets were ancient, and the architecture was just as old. There was a lot of magitech inside the building, in the cars, or with the people, but the city's structure was a homage to the past.

The prince went there to get Tamara's latest update before taking the victims to Hill. However, just as he approached a newsstand in a park, he heard people discussing the shocking subject a news anchor was reporting on the TV, which he also read in the headlines in the newspapers.

"Elven Conspiracy Unveiled; specialists claim Arthur Boria was a plant to weaken humanity."

"War on the Horizon; the Elven Conclave ignores human sovereignty with its declaration."

"League of Past Glories; someone is lying in Joint Command—proof of corruption and obsolescence."

The Elven Conclave was a complex political structure. Every elven nation was part of it through representation. Most of its internal policies were of an economic nature, but when it came to other races, it behaved like a military, monolithic empire. Only the elves had that level of internal integration among the four Fated Races.

The exaggerated headlines were followed by heavily biased and sometimes outright stupid content, but Arthur found some facts in the sea of misinformation.

The Conclave and the League's Elven Commanders had declared Blaze Terrell a traitor for bombing the Institute with illegally developed nuclear weapons. It was the first time that piece of news pierced Terrell's blockade, showing the elves were investing a lot to ensure that the information went public despite the biased headlines. Of course, no newspaper pointed out how Arthur had previously stated the same thing, which was unknown to the masses and maybe to the media itself.

Furthermore, the High Council, a part of the Conclave with a lot of power, composed of high elves, had made a scandalous statement. It had said they were willing to receive Arthur as a foreign dignitary and listen to the reasoning behind his attacks. If he ever reached an elven city, he only had to say the word and would be brought to the High Council.

The League's Human Commanders—all recently appointed after Terrell was impeached and the other two chose to retire for unknown reasons—denounced the statements as false.

The Dwarven Commanders kept silent, though a reporter's source revealed one of them sent a missive to all dwarves in the League, telling the same things the elves were saying.

The headlines about the League's issues were actually to the point. Two different races in Joint Command claiming opposite things was irrefutable evidence that the League was divided. It should be one step away from imploding.

Arthur appreciated the declarations and invitation but couldn't go. He had to maintain the course of war at least until the monthly meeting with Tamara and Sophie, or he would be putting them in danger. Meeting with the elves meant temporarily stopping acting against Terrell, but the women would continue. For safety reasons, the only communication they would accept from Arthur was to hide for months, including from him. Anything else should be considered as him having been compromised.

The monthly meetings were already a risk, but one they had to take. They needed to check on each other regularly. Still, each meeting would happen only after Arthur caused a huge stir to mud the waters of the future, so to speak.

Bringing the women with him to elven land would be even worse. No matter how his conversations with high elves went, the consequences would be far-fetching and too big to miss. It was the same as giving Terrell's diviners a clear target. He would rather not test the guy's secret weapons after the manaless elemental beams. So, if Arthur ever met with the High Council—or, more likely, the Keepers of Whispers—he had to do it in a way that pointed at Terrell, to protect Tamara and Sophie.

On the bright side, that news solved his issue. He checked Tamara's reports and confirmed that the elves were back and saying those things. Arthur could deliver the victims to them and demand they take care of them as a test before he agreed to a meeting.

Tamara had also uncovered the reason behind their strange silence the past week. Arthur had been the last person to talk to an Elven Commander. A few hours after that, the high elves had declared a lockdown. It had implications with the Elven Enclave that she hadn't figured out but evidently included not acting in any way until the lockdown was over. It had ended the night before, and the high elves swiftly took control of the Enclave using political and military means.

She guessed the Keepers of Whispers were preparing the terrain for him but recommended caution. From her dated knowledge, such actions should only happen after a Dan Pharyl Sha'vatör's identity was confirmed. There were multiple tests for that, and numerous important figures had to be sure the candidate was the one. Either the rules had changed, the Keepers of Whispers had confirmed Arthur's identity through unknown means, or someone else had been established as the Pharyl Sha'vatör and wanted Arthur gone. The likelihood of the latter was almost nonexistent but still possible, just like the possibility that the Keepers of Whispers wanted to control Arthur instead of helping him.

Those possibilities made things riskier for the victims but were still a better idea than delivering them to Hill. Terrell's influence on the League was too strong. The elves weren't a perfect solution, but they were the best he had.

After returning to the underground hideout, Arthur brought everyone to the borders between humans and elves.

As soon as he crossed the borders, the underground changed. With his domain, he felt the worms, ants, and other insects he passed by watching him. Not in the usual way of a creature reacting to unexpected danger, but as scouts. There were tiny spells interwoven in their bodies, constantly sending signals to the surface.

After enough of them noticed his passage, Arthur felt a pulse of mana travel the ground, reach him, and then return like a radar.

A dozen miles away from the first elven city, he felt a hastily built subterranean room ahead. Arthur slowed down and dug into the cave chamber. It had a single awakener inside, a geomancer.

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| Elf — Level 20

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The female elf was young, barely an adult. She had green eyes and golden hair carefully woven into a complex bun inside her helmet. She wore a beautifully crafted armor of golden steel with touches of mythril. Her helmet didn't hide her face but still protected the opening like most enchanted high-level defensive equipment. A massive tower shield lay on the ground, leaning against her, and a mace of heavy steel alloy hung from her waist.

She kept her hands behind her back, but unlike when Candy did it, it wasn't meant to be sensual. Her posture displayed self-confidence and a challenge without being belligerent, though her eyes didn't hide her arrogance. There was also certainty, caution, and curiosity in her eyes. She was there was a doorwoman of sorts, a guardian of the elven lands, without necessarily wanting to fight the unannounced guest.

The prince doubted any random intruder would receive that respectful treatment. Arthur kept his Sage's Eyes always active after it saved Tamara and knew the insects had sent very little information. They could only detect something was happening underground, that biological forms were involved, and the numbers of individuals passing by them. The elves had used other means to conclude that a strong awakener was coming—someone they shouldn't antagonize unless he crossed their bottom line.

Arthur nodded to the elf and took his helmet off as soon as he got into the cave. "I am Arthur Willoughby Naerith-Tracey Boria the Third, Head of High House Boria," he introduced himself in elvish, then added, "Distant Scion of High House Naerith."

His grandfather had been a high elf from High House Naerith. That was more relevant here than his human identity, but he was still mostly human and had to announce his human status first. Elven culture was strictly hierarchical and nuanced.

A Distant Scion was someone without authority in the House but still had the right to bear its name and received considerable status from it. He knew his status wouldn't have been revoked even after so long because it was part of the agreement between humans and elves after the Great War. It included marriages to force interracial relationships and, hopefully, harmony. Any descendant of the direct line up to the third generation was to be given Distant Scion status. Said identity was a mix of honor and humiliation for elves but highly honorable for a half-human like him.

Arthur's identity would be comparable to that of a minor noble in the past. Even as Distant Scion, he was still human, which lowered his status. Then again, he was level 100, and high elves had a high standing in elven culture, not to mention a High House. On the other hand, High House Naerith hadn't been too powerful back then and might've decayed.

By his estimates, unless that woman was royalty or very important in a High House, he should be above her on the social ladder.

The elf was shocked when she saw Arthur's level—he allowed her to. Her eyes widened in fear when she saw his face—evidencing many knew how he looked. Her heart beat in terror when he stated his name.

But she didn't hesitate or stutter as she bowed low and replied, "House Dasys named me Unae Qinralei-Folred-Pywaln Dasys. The House Head assigned me as the Third Attendant to his Second Heir."

Arthur, as Head of a Human High House and Distant Scion of an Elven High House, could declare who he was. Unae, as a mere Third Attendant, could only disclose what had been given to her.

Humans usually considered every born person to have intrinsic rights, including some measure of personal freedom automatically obtained upon reaching adulthood. Elves didn't treat their youth much worse, but the freedom part wasn't there. Feeding a child was a privilege their progenitors and Houses conceded to them. It sounded wrong to him, but it did produce a more united, respectful, and responsible society. At least, of course, that didn't cause abuses. It required a lot of vigilance.

Arthur had never heard of this House Dasys. Still, unless things had changed drastically in the past fifteen hundred years, Unae's status should be absurdly below his. He expected her to bow much lower. Things might've changed, but more likely, his lack of a servant to speak to other servants on his behalf was duly noted and seen as ignorance or weakness—or both. He cared about it, but his hands were tied. It was indeed evidence of his House being too weak to have more servants than he was using in his war.

The elf was rubbing it in his face that he had no one to condemn her for her slight. He couldn't do it himself. It would be seen as petty.

A more respectful society didn't mean one of unearned or unchecked privilege. When you messed up, you paid for it, even in small ways like this. Arthur's improper presentation counted against High House Naerith, even if he were a "mere" Distant Scion. Word of this would reach them, and the prince would eventually have to listen to their complaints. They might also remove his Distant Scion identity for it; shaming his House was in the terms of the agreement that allowed them to do so. Such intricacies kept everyone on edge, always doing their best.

Speaking of abuse, Arthur could think of countless ways to exploit that culture or for it to cause more issues than it was worth. However, Tamara insisted trying to abuse this system brought terrible consequences. According to her, no elf would ever dare to. At least not dare and then survive it.

It brought Arthur back to his musings about culture and how far anyone should push it in any direction for the greater good, but he didn't go into that rabbit hole again.

Regardless of her minor offense, Unae had accepted Arthur's status as above hers. That made things easier for him. He stepped ahead and pulled the victims into the room. "We'll need a larger cave, Attendant Dasys."

Unae assisted him without question. She started using spells and skills to elongate the room. Soon enough, two hundred unconscious humans were lying there.

The elf didn't hide her displeasure at seeing unawakened humans in elven land. Unlike in human society, revealing one's inner thoughts through gestures wasn't offensive among elves. Quite the opposite. In elven culture, everyone knew who everyone was, what they thought and wanted, making it easier to choose who to associate with or avoid.

Displaying what you thought of everyone was a way to prevent annoying situations, connections, and even betrayal, thus better for the collective. Hiding your feelings made you look ill-intended and manipulative, and elven culture despised it to unhealthy levels. A fake polite smile could have direr consequences than staring with unhidden lust at someone's wife.

Moreover, knowing how you felt allowed your close friends and family to care for you. Using anyone's feelings against them was absurdly rude and frowned upon. Houses had gone to war for less.

That said, actions and words were another matter altogether.

For instance, thinking poorly of Arthur was okay, but not bowing as low as his identity demanded was an offense. In this specific occasion, it was a "corrective offense," meant to prevent him from dishonoring his own elven House again in the future. She was both insulting him and High House Naerith and helping them.

A more straightforward example was how desiring someone was natural, but insistently staring or making a pass at a taken man or woman might cause bloodshed.

Arthur believed elves were too honest, but his life domain, on top of his training, forced him into a state of mind similar to theirs. He always knew what people felt about anything they faced. So, he accepted that people were entitled to their feelings and beliefs, and it was his choice whether to feel offended by them. Knowing who thought what did prevent him from remaining in the presence of an arsehole who desired Sophie, which was a positive. One day, and he hoped it would take a while to happen, it would also help him avoid people Sophie felt attracted to.

Did he prefer elven culture over human culture? Definitely not. But he understood and accepted it to a point.

Organizations like the Keepers of Whispers that kept spies were seen as a necessary evil. However, their existence had to be an open secret to the powers-that-be. Manipulative or secret organizations were stomped without mercy.

That, once more, aroused the question: who kept the powers-that-be in check? But, again, Arthur didn't pursue that line of thought.

After placing the last victim on the ground, he told Unae, "Attendant Dasys, I was told the average elf has no knowledge of the Keepers of Whispers..." He paused to test her reactions and found only confusion. "...so send these people to the closest high elven organization in my name. Tell them that Dan Pharyl Sha'vatör wants them to heal these victims of sexual slavery from their indoctrination. Each one must be taught human freedom, experience it, and then be allowed to decide how to live their lives. How well the Keepers of Whispers do it will define if I might ever trust them in any form."

He paused longer this time, and she waited silently, looking at him with an evident desire to speak. He sighed. Propriety demanded that he ask her for input, even though he didn't expect anything good from it. Being rude would be worse, though, as it might decrease his or High House Naerith's status in her mind just enough for her to dare to do more than not bow as low as she should.

So, for the victims, he asked, "Do you have anything to say, Attendant Dasys?"

"I refuse," Unae replied defiantly...

...and the next instant, Arthur's life authority chain descended upon her.

She was made to kneel, her arms were forced behind her back, and every bone of her body was broken. Most of her muscles and tendons were torn apart. Lucky her, he also cut her pain receptors off.

Unae only kept an upright kneeling position because Arthur's domain held her like that. She attempted numerous skills to free herself, but all failed. She was at least sensible enough not to counter-attack Arthur, or her life would be forfeited.

He waited for her to give up, healed her lungs and throat, and asked, "Attendant Dasys, is House Dasys set on declaring war against High House Naerith?"

Arthur felt bad for what he was doing to her. If she were a human, he would feel even worse. But Tamara had thoroughly explained elves were different. His actions and question had been precisely what was expected of him.

Emotions and thoughts were openly displayed in elven culture almost as a required outlet for the seriousness of their every move. Even unawakened elves were beholden to their words and actions like human awakeners would be, in the terms Arthur had explained to Hill in North Lake City. Elven awakeners had it even worse. They were always members of some organization, always more than individuals. They had to think twice before doing anything.

The prince had no authority within High House Naerith, but throughout the world, High Houses were above Houses for multiple reasons. In elven society, even a random Distant Scion from a high elven High House could demand an elf from a lesser House do a small task for them.

Sure, in this circumstance, bossing Unae around further displayed his weakness and lack of people. It was another slap to High House Naerith's reputation. In fact, it was more than enough for High Lord or High Lady Naerith to remove his status, even if they decided to show leniency at his previous lack of decorum. But that was for his House House to decide; she couldn't deny him because he lacked a servant.

A direct refusal like hers was unthinkable.

Even then, while that was a severe offense, it wouldn't be cause for his forcefulness in any other circumstance. The issue here was her devious behavior and motivation. She hadn't bowed low enough, hadn't addressed him as High Lord Boria, and refused his command. Moreover, she was hiding her disdain for his human identity and jealousy of his level in her heart instead of revealing it.

Together, those small things were sufficient evidence to conclude she considered Arthur too ignorant or afraid to act as decisively as he should.

This was no corrective offense, but Unae had attempted to manipulate him into believing so. She had established a pattern—or so she thought; she was terrible at it—and was pushing the boundaries. That went against everything he knew about elven culture. It was one of the abuses Tamara said would always be nipped in the bud—as he was doing.

Arthur didn't wholly understand what the elf had to gain from behaving like that. Even if she revealed it to anyone, they would shun her for her shrewdness. Her own House would punish her for it.

His best guess was a combination of factors. Unae was barely an adult; any random elf in the past would be respectful to him just because of his level, but she was too young to suspect how powerful someone like him was. Despite her early age, she was already level 20, meaning she had leveled up quickly, making her arrogant—and jealous of the younger but higher-leveled prince. She had three hundred stat points distributed among her three mind stats, but there was no substitute for experience. Moreover, the relationship between humans and elves was currently strained. As someone close to the border, she might have strong feelings against humans out of bad experiences or constant propaganda.

Her actions were likely an honest mistake from an idiot rather than something she had thoroughly considered. That's why Arthur had asked her if she was sure she wanted to declare war. He was giving her a chance to rethink her life decisions, as propriety demanded.

And indeed, that level of manipulation was grounds for war.

That's why any attack from her would cause Arthur to kill her. It would be proof of a war declaration. She would be both the aggressor and the first casualty. High House Naerith would be humiliated by his softness if he did anything else. Even capturing Unae for information wouldn't do. Things were set like that so no one would ever dare to cross the line and see what happened—exactly as she was doing.

Unae hadn't attacked him; she had only tried to free herself. Now, she showed overwhelming surprise and panic. Those things were further evidence of her crimes.

Unae instantly replied, "House Dasys has no desire to declare war on High House Naerith, Scion Naerith." In elven territory, addressing him as Scion Naerith was much more respectful than High Lord Boria. She had learned her lesson. "My apologies."

"What about my earlier request, Attendant Dasys?"

"I'll carry it to the best of my ability, Scion Naerith."

Arthur frowned. It seemed she hadn't learned enough, after all. This was no longer a simple request. At least it showed she was indeed inexperienced or stupid and couldn't read between the lines.

The prince approached her slowly. Only then did she seem to understand what was going on. She hadn't felt so much fear until now. He stopped before her and crouched to get to her eye level.

"Wrong, Attendant Unae of House Dasys," he said firmly. "You will accomplish what I asked of you. Should any disgrace befall these victims while under your care, I swear to Fate I'll bring the same suffering upon you. I'll consider them under your care until they are delivered to and accepted by a high-elven organization. Should your House object, they will suffer the same fortune. High House Boria is at war against the League of the Fated Races. Do not doubt my willingness to erase House Dasys from the world."

That was unnecessarily offensive of him. He might need to pay reparations later. But Unae had already misbehaved, and he wouldn't intrinsically trust her. If it wasn't for the fact that staying in elven land for longer might bring too much attention away from the chaos of his war against Terrell, he would head to the nearest Border Guard outpost and talk to her superiors instead of leaving the victims with her.

Enormous amounts of dense mana left his body to establish the vow and rotated around him for minutes. The cave shook violently. Unae's whole body was no different, and even as the trembling made it hard for her to think, she was forced to use skills and spells to prevent a cave-in.

The combination of his words and the might of his vow made her finally grasp the weight of his power and who outmatched she was.

Her body trembled in indescribable horror. "I– I understand, S– Scion Naerith," she stuttered after his mana set on him.

Arthur felt some pity, but he valued the victims' lives and well-being more than that of an awakener who had tried to screw him over. She was young, stupid, and inexperienced. Let her take this fear as a corrective threat.

He healed her, then. His request had been accepted, so now it would be rude of him not to heal her. Elven culture was borderline contradictory at times.

Unae couldn't feel intent strings from the life element, so she should believe he could bypass her equipment's anti-string enchantments, not that he was doing anything special. But even if she guessed something more was at play, Arthur was past the point of hiding that ability.

He let go of her once she was healed enough, but she didn't dare stand up.

After she was back to peak state, he returned her ability to feel pain and said, "Unless a biomancer wakes the victims up, they'll remain unconscious for another day. They'll require water and food as soon as they wake up. Do you have anything else to say, Attendant Dasys?"

She shook her head, her body still trembling. "N– No, Scion Naerith."

Arthur nodded, then turned back and disappeared into the tunnel, bringing Graham and Emily away. He had considered leaving one or both of them with the elves, but Unae's earlier attitude made him reconsider.

The round trip took him a day. He stayed in Avaria only long enough to check on Tamara's reports, then left for a city where Terrell had a few factories. His days protecting the victims, followed by the meeting with Unae, might've made it easier for Terrell's diviners to find Sophie or Tamara. The prince wouldn't take any chances.

The war had paused long enough; it was time to bring more destruction upon his enemy.

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[A/N: The next one or two chapters will be considerably faster paced.]

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