Grimoires and Gunsmoke

It had been a little over a week since the unified Special Operations Forces took residence inside the rather sizable village, setting it on the road to becoming a quaint countryside town. The once homely settlement was going through a process of remarkable transformation in order to accommodate the new refugees. The village itself was the very ideal of rustic charm with its wooden structures as it seemly integrated with sturdy stone buildings.

With the sun cresting over the horizon, casting a warm and gentle glow across the land, the villagers emerged from their homes to begin a brand new day. The air was filled with light murmurs of conversation and the occasional laughter of a shopkeeper or two as they opened their stores to prepare for the afternoon. Bakers who had already been up since the craw of dawn were busily laying out fresh bread and steaming buns full of goodness.

As Coleman, Elijah, Bennett, and Azeline made their way through the village toward the head's residence, they couldn't help but notice the warm and friendly atmosphere that seemed to permeate the air. Villagers went about their daily tasks with a sense of contentment and purpose, their faces etched with smiles as they greeted one another.

However, as they walked, something peculiar started to happen. Villager after villager began to greet Elijah by name, their faces lighting up with recognition and gratitude. Coleman, Bennett, and Azeline exchanged confused glances, trying to make sense of the situation.

"Elijah!" a shopkeeper called out, waving enthusiastically. "Thank you so much for helping me with my broken shelf yesterday. I don't know what I would have done without you!"

A warm smile spread across Elijah’s face as he returned the wave. “Hey, don’t mention it, it was no trouble at all. We’re always happy to lend a hand."

Completely bewildered, Coleman turned his gaze to Bennett and Azeline. The three shared a confused and questioning look as they continued down the only paved road in the village, but before they could question the medic, another voice spoke up. Not even a few steps further, a baker emerged from her shop with a tray of freshly baked goods in her hands. "Elijah, my dear!" she exclaimed. "I saved a few special buns just for you. Thanks for helping me carry those heavy sacks of flour last night."

"You're too kind, Amelia!” Elijah replied as he broke off from the group and grabbed a couple of buns with a gracious nod. “Just let me know whenever you need more help, especially when you’re offering your delicious baking as a reward!” Elijah gave her a wink, causing the middle-aged woman to giggle and blush.

The rest of the group came to a halt, their expressions a mix of utter bewilderment and disbelief as they watched the strange interaction unfold before them. It was as if they were witnessing a scene from an alternate reality where Elijah, the notoriously surly and prickly individual, had been replaced by a sociable doppelganger.

Sure, it was widely accepted and known that Elijah was charismatic, but it had always been overshadowed by his brusque demeanor and his barely-concealed disdain for humanity in general. He would tolerate socializing with strangers when necessary, putting on a facade of civility, but it was clear that it was a struggle for him. The only times he would show a hint of amicability was when he wanted something, and even then, it was a means to an end.

But here, in this sleepy village, Elijah seemed to have undergone a complete transformation. He was engaging with the locals, not just with politeness but with warmth and interest. It was a sight that left his teammates speechless, their minds struggling to reconcile the Elijah they knew with the one before them.

As they watched, Elijah continued his conversation with the baker, his natural charisma shining through. He wasn't flirting, per se, but there was an ease and comfort to his interactions that drew people to him. He listened attentively to Amelia, making her feel heard and valued, his smile never wavering.

"You know, Elijah," Amelia said, her eyes twinkling with mischief, "my offer still stands. My daughter's hand in marriage, it would give me no end of joy to have a son-in-law like yourself!"

A rich, warm laugh that seemed to light up the already sunny morning left Elijah’s mouth. "Amelia, you flatter me," he said, his voice smooth as butter. "But I'm afraid with so much to do in our campaign, my… liege would have none of it. Perhaps when the war is over, I’ll consider it.”

“Especially when if I could get these delicious buns every day!” He gave her an award-winning smile and took a bite out of the still-steaming meat bun.

Amelia joined in his laughter, bringing a hand to her mouth. "Ah, such a shame! The dedicated types are so rare and hard to find!" she said, wagging a finger at him playfully. "But if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me!"

Elijah grinned, accepting another bun from her tray. "I'll definitely keep that in mind," he said with a wink. "I’ll see you later Amelia! Tell Perseille I said hi!"

With a final wave and a smile, Elijah turned back to his teammates, only to find them staring at him as if he had grown a second head.

As they continued their walk, more and more villagers stopped to express their gratitude. A brewer thanked Elijah for helping him repair his brewing equipment, while a farmer praised him for his assistance in warding off small predators attempting to get into the hen house.

Coleman, Bennett, and Azeline watched in amazement as Elijah greeted each villager with a light-hearted smile and kind words. It was clear that he had become quite popular within community in a short amount of time.

Finally, Bennett shook his head in disbelief and turned to Elijah. "Okay, what the fuck is going on? What is this?" he gestured around him in a mix of confusion and suspicion.

A glint of mischief sparked in Elijah’s eyes as he took a bite out of one and dangled another in front of his pocket which started to stir slightly. "Oh, you know, just lending a helping hand here and there. These people have been through a lot, and sometimes a small act of kindness can go a long way."

With a face etched with suspicion, Azeline narrowed her eyes. "And you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart? No ulterior motives?" She spoke in an accusatory tone.

Elijah gasped, flinching away in mock hurt. "Azeline! You wound me! Can't a guy be nice every now and then?"

In unison, Coleman, Azeline, and Bennett responded with a resounding and definite "NO."

For a moment, Elijah’s mouth broke into a mirth-filled smile before he looked up, and he had an exaggerated expression of sorrow on his face. "Oh, ye of little faith! I'm hurt, truly!"

“Ya, sure. Cut the shit, Eli.” Coleman rolled his eyes and pointed at himself and then Azeline. “I know, she knows, Bennett knows, hell, everybody fuckin’ knows you’re a conniving piece of shit.” He then starts making a rolling motion with his hand to indicate to Elijah to hurry it up. “So, come on. You’re not gonna pull one over on us, spit it out.”

Unable to keep a straight face as everyone gave him a death glare, Elijah burst out laughing as he doubled over, waving his half-eaten bun at them as if indicating for them to stop. "Okay, okay, wow. That was harsh," he said, as if he was giving up the act.

Meanwhile, Yana began to stir, slowly poking her flaming head out of Elijah's pocket and rubbing her sleepy eyes. Her eyes widened as her gaze fell upon the bun dangling tantalizingly in front of her face. Elijah felt the bun leave his hand and bump against his chest as the little fairy attempted to drag it into her makeshift den.

Still chuckling, Elijah pulled open his pocket with his finger, gently allowing the bun to slide inside. "There ya go, ya little monster," he said fondly before turning back to his teammates with a predatory grin spreading across his face. "You know how the village head is trying to play it off as if he likes us, but it's obvious he’s really uncomfortable with our presence?"

Coleman nodded, his brow furrowing as he thoughtfully rubbed his beard. "Ya, I've noticed that. He's not exactly good at being subtle about it," he said with an intrigued look on his face.

Elijah glanced around, making sure no one was within earshot, before leaning in closer to his team. "Well, I'm laying the groundwork here. We've already got past the biggest hurdle - making a favorable first impression. Now, we need to focus on not just being a friendly and harmless force, but a helpful one."

“Oh, right.” Azeline bopped herself on the head with the palm of her hand. "Ah, right, the talk we had about replacing him," she finally recalled their discussion before entering the village. "Okay, ya, that makes sense."

Snapping his finger and pointing at Azeline, a mischievous glint entered Elijah’s eyes. "Exactly. And here's the thing—the blacksmith is arguably more important than the village head in a village like this. He's the one who keeps the tools sharp and the weapons ready. He's the backbone of the community."

Bennett leaned in, humming with interest as he put two and two together. "And we've already got him in our back pocket, thanks to saving and bringing back his daughter."

"Bingo," Elijah replied before taking a bit out of his bun. "That's a huge point in our favor. If we can leverage that relationship, really show the blacksmith that we're on his side... it could go a long way in pushing the village head out." The man said with a full mouth.

Coleman stroked his beard, considering the implications. "It's a solid plan. But what if the village head never actually does anything? What if he just stays passive and tries to ride it out?"

Elijah's grin took on a sharp edge. "Oh, he’s definitely the type to do that. He’s probably gonna run to the Empire and snitch behind our backs when he gets the opportunity."

Azeline frowned, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes toward the large stone building at the end of the street. "So, what do we do then?" She asked, glancing back at Elijah. “If he never creates a problem and puts the villagers in a position to choose, we can’t exactly put this plan into action.”

Elijah's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Simple. We make the problem happen, and then we solve it. I've been working an angle with his son already. There’s a massive rift between them."

Azeline raised an eyebrow. "A rift you can exploit?"

"A rift I’m already exploiting," Elijah corrected before letting out an insufferable chuckle. "The son, Afton, is young, ambitious, and hardheaded. He has this all-powerful bow that his father thinks he shouldn’t have. The father thinks he’s too irresponsible, too inexperienced, and too undeserving.”

Pausing for a moment and taking another bite of his bun, Elijah stood there chewing while gathering his thoughts. "As of late…” He continued between bites. “I've been feeding into Afton's preconceived notions. I mean, these ideas were already in his head; I’ve just been… watering these ideas so they percolate further and grow."

Coleman leaned in, intrigued. "What kind of ideas?"

"Well, for starters…” Elijah grinned as he finished off his bun. “I've been poking and prodding at the fact that his father is trying to offload the village head title onto him. He already thinks his father wants to trap him and tie him down with responsibility, but I’ve been pushing the idea that his father is jealous of his youth and capability."

Bennett whistled low. "Damn, that's devious. Playing on the kid's ego like that."

Elijah shrugged, a picture of false modesty. "It's not hard. As I said, Afton already thinks thinks this shit.” He shrugged in a way that said this wasn’t any of his business, nor was it his problem. “The dude thinks he’s just better, and he's destined for greatness or some shit. I'm just... nurturing that belief."

“A comment here, a question there, and bam!” Elijah slammed his hands together, eliciting a loud clap and causing his patron to jolt. “You have an already rebellious teen being suffocated with tradition and conservative conventions of responsibility, even more indignant than he rightfully should be!”

Coleman scratched his beard as wore a thoughtful look. "Wow, that’s pretty goddamn scummy. But I gotta admit, it's pretty clever."

“Thanks, I try,” Elijah replied as he resumed the trek towards that village chief’s home.

After a few chuckles, the rest of the group chased after their menace of a medic and continued their trek toward their meeting with the village head. This was going to be one of many attempts over the past week to get the irrationally stubborn village chief to authorize his people to set up a trade caravan to the large town of Glennsworth. The town wasn’t very large by modern human standards, but reconnaissance efforts had shown it to be bustling with activity.

Nestled deep within enemy territory, Glennsworth presented a unique opportunity for the ODA team to subvert it toward Coalition interests. Approximately 30 miles away from their current location, it was one of the weaker links in the Empire's chain of controlled settlements. According to Azeline, Glennsworth had become a haven, a fortress even, for freelancers and less-than-lawful types, bristling with illicit activity and corruption, especially when it came to the town guards and the Imperial garrison stationed there.

But what made Coleman and Elijah nearly giddy was when Azeline detailed the multitude of criminal networks deeply ingrained in what was considered ‘The Uncivilized Territories.’ Such fractured groupings of societies with weak alliances and expansive underbellies made for an ideal and very tantalizing target for the team's unconventional warfare tactics. The Special Forces operational charter outlined the parameters for subverting enemy populations, and the team was well-versed in these methods.

But they had to be careful. These kinds of missions were delicate and finesse. Push too hard, too fast, and they risk exposing themselves and becoming dragoon food. Push too softly, too slow, and they would effectively just be wasting their time as the locals took advantage of them.

However, as the group neared the building, Elijah couldn't help but notice Azeline's slightly strained movements. It had been hardly a week since she sustained her injuries, and by all means, she should still be bedridden. However, here she was, walking around as if she didn't have a care in the world.

“How you holdin’ up?" Elijah tilted his head toward Azeline. “It’s only been a week since you got thrashed. Don’t push yourself if you don’t have to.”

Taken off guard by the uncharacteristically gentleness of his voice, Azeline seemed to recoil in shock. “Eh… still feel like shit, and everything hurts. But I can put up a fight if I have to." She replied, looking him up and down suspiciously in an attempt to discern any ulterior motives.

An incomprehensible look crossed Elijah’s face as he furrowed his brow. What Azeline had said was patently insane. By all accounts, the woman should be writhing in excruciating pain, barely able to move. Yet here she was, talking about fighting if necessary.

But, before Elijah could press her further, Azeline continued. "But if I got my hands on a healing potion, I'd be at 100% literally the day you found me."

At this, Elijah's expression froze, and he looked off into the distance with a perplexed expression written all over his face. After a few minutes, the man mouthed the words "What the fuck?" as he tried to process what was just said.

His thoughts then started to wander to the convoy they had ambushed and the satchel full of vials and bottles he had so eloquently relinquished from undeserving hands. Each and every one of those ‘potions’, a word he’d never thought he’d ever use in real life, came in an assortment of colors. It was as if someone had liquified the rainbow and shoved it in a bag.

At first, Elijah was going to send them back to command with the spooks to give to the egg heads to study. However… he did notice that there were quite a few duplicates of specific colored liquids in the satchel. It wouldn’t be too much of an issue to depart with a few, especially when it came to maintaining operational integrity.

Plus, it was better to ask for forgiveness than it was to ask for permission.

“Funny you mention that…” Elijah hummed in thought as the group came to a stop infront of the imposing stone structure that served as the village chief's residence. Stroking his beard, Elijah seemed to have an internal debate raging within before he continued, "I think… I think i might just have something. I can’t guarantee that, but I’ll let you take a peek and see if its what you’re looking for."

Coleman and Bennett turned their head to the man while Azeline raised an eyebrow. "Why? Do you have a healing potion?" she asked, her tone a mix of skepticism and hope.

A few moments of silence reigned as Elijah continued to play with his beard, trying to find an answer to this question. If he was honest? Then he didn’t know. However, logic would dictate that anything that would be able to heal you from wounds sustained, especially one as grievous as Azeline’s would be extremely valuable. So logically… within a bag full of expensive valuable items, there was a rather decent chance one of those bottles or vials could be a healing poition.

“Perhaps-” But before Elijah could properly answer, the large wooden door with intricate ornate designs carved into its surface swung open.

Standing in the doorway with a face contorted in a mixture of anger and frustration was Afton, gritting his teeth as his eyes darted to each of them standing outside. Clenching his fist in barely contained rage, the teenager then stormed out of the building, cursing with each step.

"I knew it! I damned well knew this was gon’ happen!" Afton growled as he glared at Elijah. "I told you so, Elijah! That old bag of bones, he's trying to stifle my growth, keep me locked in this podunk town at the ass end of nowheres!"

The group exchanged odd looks as Afton stomped away, continuing his tirade as he marched off down the street. The team, however, stood there for a moment, unsure of how to respond. This was not the reception they had been expecting, and the sudden outburst had caught them all off guard.

Cautiously, they peered inside the building, only to be met with the equally irritated face of Sofan, the village head. The man had a sneer on his face before violently knocking over wooden bowls and other affect on top of a table. "God’s damned foolish and irresponsible child!" Sofan yelled, his voice echoing off the stone walls. It was clear that he was just as upset as his son, though for entirely different reasons. “Gods, curse you!”

Coleman, ever the diplomat, stepped forward. "Uhhh... is this a bad time?" he asked, his tone careful and measured.

Sofan sighed, his anger seeming to deflate slightly. "No, no. Let's just be done with this pointless meeting," he said, waving them inside with a dismissive gesture.

As they entered the building, Sofan led them to a small room, sparsely furnished but functional. He sat down at a table, motioning for them to join him. "I've given it some thought," Sofan began, his voice tired but resolute. "And I've decided to agree to this trade run to Glennsworth. Our town is growing critically low on supplies - tools, medicine, salt."

The team exchanged glances, surprised but pleased by this sudden turn of events. It seemed that despite the family drama, they were getting what they wanted.

But Sofan wasn't finished. "However," he said, his tone brooking no argument, "I will be leadin’ this caravan in place of Donnut. And Afton, sure as the infinite hells, ain't going. He has responsibilities here, responsibilities he needs to learn."

Coleman immediately nodded, agreeing to Sofan's terms. "Of course, we understand completely," the team leader responded in a smooth and professional manner. "We're just glad we could come to an agreement that benefits everyone."

As the two leaders began to discuss the logistics of the expedition, Elijah furrowed his brow, his mind racing. This development complicated matters. He hadn't expected Sofan to abruptly take charge, thinking the man would prefer to hide away from the outsiders for as long as possible.

With Sofan leading the caravan instead of Afton or even Donnu, Elijah's plan to groom a replacement for the village chief role was starting to become much more complicated. He needed someone on friendly terms with enough sway in the village, someone he could mold into leadership for their eventual coup.

As Elijah's gaze wandered around the room, his eyes suddenly fell upon Afton's prized bow, sitting in the corner of the reception room.

Suddenly… a thought popped into his head.

Clearing his throat, Elijah interjected into the conversation. "If I may," he began, his voice carrying a note of concern. "We've noticed there's been a significant increase in dangerous monsters roaming the area. This journey may not be as safe as we'd like."

Sofan and Coleman paused their discussion, turning their attention to Elijah. The medic continued, his tone growing more serious. "I strongly recommend that all the villagers accompanying us be armed. And you," he said, his gaze fixing on Sofan, "as the leader of this expedition, should arm yourself with the most powerful weapon you can find. There's Grovemaws out there, and Azeline here could attest to this."

Sofan's eyes widened slightly at the mention of Grovemaws, and a flicker of fear passed over his face. It was clear that the beasts were a threat that even a seasoned warrior like Sofan was wary of. As if drawn by an invisible force, Sofan's gaze drifted to the corner of the room where Gladeheart rested.

For a brief moment, an evil smirk floated across Elijah’s face when he saw the twinkle in the village chief’s eye.