A huge mansion

You stare slack-jawed at the building Tri'lanna is indicating towards. Or rather The Building. A house of such immensity deserved capital letters.

How can someone live in a place so big? You think. Even the largest building in your village, a barn belonging to Jan Fink the horse breeder, was only about two thirds as high as the highest room in that mansion, and nowhere near as wide or long. And it didn't have a veritable park in the grounds around it.

The mansion and the grounds around it were like a symbol of the Elven culture as a whole. You can feel the vain pride that is etched in every inch of the place. Each tree was perfectly manicured and pruned, the marble statues flanking the pathway were polished and buffed to a sheen, and each and every window of the building was spotless. Your boots thump against the stones, and as you look back you can see that you're leaving muddy track marks on the pristine white path to the front entrance. A dirty muddy spot. That's what this place makes you feel like, and you suspect that that's what the architect had in mind.

You are not alone in this feeling. Ceinwyn and, most surprisingly, Tri'lanna both give off the same nervous mood. Your elven friend also appears to have a sour disposition on top of that.

"Welcome to the Quenoth estate. Home to one of the oldest and proudest noble families of Elohin," Her words have bite, and you can easily see how much she resents her family. "The house with the second-highest manpower in **** labor, and is a strong supporter of 'reconverted slaves'."

"Mithtress Tri'lanna!" Comes a female voice off to the side among the trees. Although they are spoken with sternness, the lisp makes the words sound comical.

"And here comes one now..." Tri'lanna mutters.

A woman on the end of her sixties approaches your group from the gardens, carrying an empty straw basket. Her skin is peppered with pockmarks and liver spots. Worse, One of her eyes is just a black, yawning pit, and the woman has made no attempt to cover it up. She sort of half-limps, half-slinks, toward Tri'lanna.

"Where have you been, young mithtress?! It's been four months thince we heard from you last, and even then you thtayed only a two days!" Spittle flies from her toothy mouth, and she focuses her one good eye on Tri'lanna.

"Good afternoon, Flem." The elfmaid says.

The old servant Flem rambles on, ignoring you and Ceinwyn, ignoring what Tri'lanna was saying. "You best be thtaying longer! I've got a whole menu set out today! There's chickens to slaughter, pies to bake, fish to skin, chestnuts to roast. That reminds me, I've got 'ta pop into the market and buy tomatoes, cabbage, pumpkin, parsley, green pepperth, garlic-"

"Flem, enough. Please." She interrupts, exasperated. "I don't plan on staying long today. I just wanted to go to my study. Are my sisters here? Is mother in?"

"Here, Tri'lanna."

From the other side of the hedges, a female elf emerges. She's wearing a pale green-colored silk gown with gold threads woven into tree patterns down the side and along the hem. The neckline of the dress is cut very short, exposing a generous amount of milky white cleavage. Her hair is silver, like Tri'lanna's, but it is styled in a completely different way. While your Elven companion leaves her hair free-flowing or occasionally in a ponytail, this elf has her hair held up in a complex series of loops. It is extravagant and, like the house, all about pride.

"Hello, Kiraea." Tri'lanna makes no attempt to embrace her sister, and Kiraea is the same. "Everyone, this is one of my elder sisters, Kiraea."

The elf has a bored expression on her face and it is a stark contrast to Flem, who seemed so worried in comparison. That is, until her eyes fall upon you. You hear a noticably sharp intake of breath, as Tri'lanna's sister gazes at you, and watch rapid changes happen to the elfmaid. Her chest begins to heave and her cheeks flush. Kiraea's eyes show unmistakable lust for you, but it is predatory, like you are tool to be used and abused as she wishes. All she has to do is pay the fee.

"And who is this wonderful man?" Kiraea says in a honeyed tone.

"Not yours." Tri'lanna replies, taking a step towards you protectively.

"Notyours? An interesting name, but then again, everything about him seems interesting. So I am hardly surprised."

"You know what I mean."

"Really? Do I?" Kiraea challenges, her tone sharp and unquestionable. "And when has my sweet, little sister ever been able to tell me what is or is not mine?"

Tri'lanna and her sister Kiraea square off intensely. Although you have never met Kiraea before, her pride is something you recognize easily, and you know that she won't back down from this confrontation. But you've never seen Tri'lanna show such a fierce glare before or become so riled up before. Her eyes are narrowed into slits and her lips are curled in bubbling anger. It comes to the point where you're getting ready to dive in between them, just to prevent an almost inevitable fight. Luckily, Ceinwyn steps in first.

"Um...hello?" She says carefully.

Both elves turn their poisonous gazes to the druidess and she shrinks back, squeaking, "I'm Ceinwyn."

Kiraea has such a black look on her face that she looks like she is about strike Ceinwyn across the face for interrupting her, but the elf notices that Tri'lanna is smirking at her. She quickly regains her composure and scoffs, the mood lost.

"I have no more time for this today. Goodbye, sister." She says, striding past Tri'lanna and Ceinwyn. "It is so good to see you again. And be sure to say hello to Dasille and mother. They'll be just as overjoyed as I was. Come, Flem."

As she passes next to you, Kiraea speaks to you in a low, sultry voice. "I'll be sure to see you later."

You, Ceinwyn, and Tri'lanna watch as Kiraea walks away, her hips swaying, and Flem skittering behind her. When her sister is out of sight, Tri'lanna sighs in relief, turning to you two apologetically.

"Perhaps you should brace yourselves. It will only get worse from here onwards."