"If Lynch were here, he would certainly understand what they were saying," Zilvra thought with a slight sense of self-bla. So far, she had never seen a Mage who didn’t understand a language, as if they were constantly under the "Mastering Language" magic.
Fyyian’s tone grew increasingly assertive, while the Fishn remained at their leisurely pace. Zilvra had also heard that these creatures were always insatiably greedy, eager for things they didn’t even need. The First Family had once organized a campaign to purge the Fishn of the Underdark as a punishnt for their "provocation and disobedience." Whatever the reason, there were no longer any Fishman Tribes around Ratris City, not even an egg left. The First Family returned with full loads, greatly enriching their storerooms.
Among the spoils were a large number of human artworks—Fishn actually lacked any appreciation for art—several magical devices, though Fishn had no Mages, and even armor commonly seen among Dwarves. Who knew what they did with such small-sized armor? Surely they couldn’t swim in heavy tal armor, could they?
Fishn never traded with these items; they rely hoarded them continuously. Thus, every few decades, the Dark Elf Families would unite to help the Fishn clear out their warehouses.
After so ti of negotiation, Fyyian spoke less and less, holding back his words more frequently. Despite his disfigurent masking any facial expressions, Zilvra could still sense the elf’s anger. The Fishn kept chattering unceasingly, repeating phrases so often that even Zilvra, who didn’t understand their language, had morized them by now.
Finally, Fyyian raised his hand to put a stop to the Fishn’s long-winded speech, nodding at last as he extended his right hand with the palm facing up toward the Fishn. The creature across from him placed its sticky, webbed forelimb on his hand, sealing the deal.
Fyyian had no intention of having the Fishn stay to entertain them, and the Fishn, in turn, did not seem to notice this breach of etiquette after the transaction. When the Fishn left the Undead Tower, Zilvra had already quietly slipped back into her room.
"What should I do about this?" Zilvra thought anxiously. Erutalon’s river waters were devastatingly harmful to evil creatures, including the Fishn. Yet, Fyyian had still managed to reach so sort of agreent with these aquatic beings. If she considered carefully, there was indeed a possible passage for Fishn to launch an attack.
Salantir was surrounded by the sea on three sides, making it a paradise for Fishn. Although, in Lynch’s defense strategy, the coastline of the Elf Kingdom was included in the defensive plans, could it maintain its original strength when faced with an attack from the Undead?
If Lynch’s prediction was correct, the Residual Star Swamp would be the main target of their attack, with Ghosts and Vampires serving as feints, then the Elves could still concentrate their forces to deal with these enemies. But adding a third mariti force into the mix, could these pointy-eared beings handle threats on all fronts?
"Who knows if there will be any helpers?" Zilvra worried. "Promise aid before the battle, then deplete all the paid rcenaries during the fight to save your funds; the Dark Elves frequently engage in such tactics."
She gazed out at the pouring rain, too afraid of being discovered and provoking Fyyian’s suspicion, unable to leave to report the news imdiately, leaving her heart at a loss.
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