Headed by a Snake

Whatever the Ancient's background was, he had the knowledge to tell a demon apart from a devil.

It was something that even Zhevra, herself, had trouble with... as the the bloodlines of her kin were largely diluted after so many generations.

So regardless as to whether her respect was real or feigned, she decided to take on a servile role. She'd practiced it often, as people were generally easier to deal with when their egos were properly stoked.

"Yes, Sovereign. I would ask the noble Sir to forgive my outward appearance. This humble one counts devils amongst her ancestors... though I know not their names."

Zhevra hid her widening smile, her eyes still directed to the ground. Her position allowed her mark an excellent view of her ample cleavage... enough for any hot-blooded man, Ancient or not, to go mad with lust.

"Hmph," The elf crossed his arms, "This king judges by word and deed, rather than by the color of thy skin and the circumstances of thy birth."

Zhevra felt her heart rate quicken upon hearing words of... tolerance? That was not a virtue many Ancients possessed.

The peculiar disposition of the 'King from Across the Sea' was a noble one... one she wished was not so ironic amongst actual nobles.

Of course, Zhevra knew how to manipulate that kind of person, just as well. If he would not be poisoned by self-serving suggestions, she could honey her words to appeal to his notion of honor.

The Ancient lifted his palm, "Rise."

Zhevra stood up straight, a practiced motion that accentuated the spring of her bosom, "You have my thanks, Ancient One. As often as I am cursed by humans for my horns and hooves, it gladdens me that you are so magnanimous."

The Elven Ancient's gaze drifted towards her chest area, a quick and subtle glance that Zhevra would have missed had she not been looking for it.

"As you say," He shook his head, "I am sovereign. I am King. Fairness and impartiality are to be expected."

"Yet... these are not values held by those who rule this Realm, Lord," Zhevra pouted, shyly rubbing the outside of her arm. "You are more fit to rule than any human..."

"Is that so?" King narrowed his eyes... "The Realm has changed much in my absence. In the current age, this king has found the nobility... and even the gods to be lacking."

He sighed... and oddly enough, wore a gentle smile. Even though King was clearly an elf, for a moment Zhevra saw in him the father she never knew.

"I wouldst inquire of thee, child, the reason of thy presence," He said, "Thou does not... belong in this dark place, so close to the faewyld and so far from thy mortal home... nor with such hatred in her heart."

Spurred on by her mission and nostalgia both, Zhevra approached him gingerly, shy and vulnerable-- as men so often enjoyed. She put on a tearful face and spun a tale about how she was chased out of her home by villagers with tools and torches.

The lies flowed easily, so mixed with the truths of her past.

...She might have believed them, if she hadn't held the memories of burning that village to the ground so dear to her heart.

It was her first act of wanton murder-- long before she became a contract-killer. She killed every man, woman, child and beast in her childhood home... so long ago, that even its name was forgotten to the ages.

Zhevra was incredibly confident in her body... her sex appeal her greatest weapon against the preconceptions men had for horned women with red, tattooed skin. However, the Ancient was not forward enough to comfort her physically.

Either he was holding onto some useless notion of honor and celibacy or he had no interest in women.

She was tempted to send a signal for her brother to return... but for all his beauty and sexual expertise, he was not trained in the art of seduction as she was.

...She decided not to push. A rejection would damper the effectiveness of her already effective propaganda.

The lies, the sycophancy... the Elven Ancient believed wholeheartedly, and his fury was riled in earnest.

"Incompetent fools!" He growled. "True nobles must be righteous in both word and deed. I had once thought that to be true in any generation... that it was only ability they lacked..."

"But... but my Lord," Zhevra sniffed. "What can we do? This land is ruled by uncaring nobles. Even the Princess of Whitehearth turns a blind eye to my village's hatred."

"There will be a reckoning, Sapling, "King grimaced." The nobles of this land... I have seen how they treat their people... sons who have forgotten their forefathers... daughters bled and treated as tools. They will answer for their crimes... and I shall cast divine judgment with these two blades."

He took a deep breath and lowered his head, "Of this, I grant thee my word..."

His what?

Zhevra was taken aback as her heart shook. Though it was almost insultingly casual, the Elven Ancient had sworn an oath. From a man with his bloodline and power, his word was as good as a magical contract.

She was a red-skinned, ram-horned tiefling... a people known for cunning, duplicity, and power mongering.

Yet... she was dealing with a good man who saw beyond that... a man honest, pure, and righteous.

...He was a man that she didn't think existed.

...and the most gullible fool in all the Realm.

He needed only but the smallest push...

"Sovereign," She collapsed to her knees, kneeling at his feet. "Why have you come to the Tree God's forest? There is so much corruption in this land... Children are forced out of their homes every sun-- like I once was..."

"I..." The Elven Ancient hesitated... "I act on behalf of my mortal companions, goodly men and women on a noble quest..."

He knelt down and picked her up... his hold gentle, yet firm, "Raise thy head, daughter of Bael Turath. Though we share no blood, thou art a child of this land... a land I seek to restore."

Zhevra sat up, wiping away her fake tears... "My lord... have you heard... of the song of which legends are sung?"