The Greater of Elven Society

eing second in my class was not good enough for my father, mother, or grandparents. The moment I dropped from the top of my class, a shadow fell over me. The favored hobby among my family became strategizing over how I would regain first rank in school.

My parents started inviting teachers over for dinner and coached me on traditional elven etiquette. I spent whole days completely silent except when spoken to. If it wasn’t my posture, it was my hair; if it wasn’t my hair, it was the food I ate. My grandmother felt that it was my ears, that they were not “properly pointy,” that I looked too much like a human.

The one thing it was not was my grades. Since very my first lessons, I had never answered a question incorrectly on any test. It was never difficult. I simply remembered everything. Even when the exam required written or oral answers, I recalled the lessons and rephrased them back to the teacher. I learned that teachers appreciate hearing their own ideas returned to them, so I learned to take special note of key phrases and emphasis.

It was unclear at first how Sylwin Rootgyld surpassed me, but everyone knew that student rankings were two parts: one part grades and one part faculty opinion. At every level, there were always a handful of elves with perfect records. The question of how to determine who was most perfect had been a long-running debate, but each school had their own secret method determined by the faculty.

After a few months, my father came home less angry at me and more angry at the world; he had learned something. My father runs the largest courier business in the whole Drasylva Forest, so he had a way of collecting rumors. The Rootgyld family had ties to the high elven council, and Sylwin’s aunt had been discreetly nominated to take the place of an ailing council member. The heads of my school were high enough to hear about this. They most likely bumped Sylwin above me as a way of gaining favor with Sylwin’s aunt, who would have one of the six most powerful seats in elven society.

My father only explained part of this to me, and the rest fell into place in my mind. It was set. The highest I could ever achieve was second seat. The news was surprisingly eye-opening, because it exposed me to something completely logical, yet wildly unfair. I felt a force that was bigger than my school and bigger than my family. For the first time, I felt part of something grand: an elven society. That society felt like a closed door.

The only immediate change was that I felt strangely relieved. The next few days of school were some of the easiest days I had ever experienced. Seeing as I could not rise above second, the idea of third did not scare me. And seeing as my family knew I had done nothing wrong, their disappointment seemed scattered. That was until they surprised me with a plan.

My father sat me down in his office and revealed a set of false books on the top row of his bookshelf. From one of these false books, he produced a vial of what looked like water. He set the vial in front of me and began talking about family honor. I could not look at him. My eyes were fixated on the curious vial. Of course, I heard every word he said; my mind was conditioned as a trap for information. He said nothing remarkable or new to say, until he finally talked about the vial.

Gray Viper Venom, the vial contained an exotic poison from some rare snake found in the goblin jungles. It was tasteless and odorless. It was not lethal in small doses, but once ingested it would degrade an elf’s nervous system, causing tremors. Slurred speech was a common effect as well as blindness.

My father’s intentions were strangely innovative despite their simplicity. I must admit that I had given up on the idea of being top of my class, but my father had not. I felt proud, like my father truly was smarter than me. He wanted me to poison my competition because he knew that the school would never allow someone with an obvious flaw to be at the top of the class.

I asked him how he would like me to do it, and he gave me a second surge of pride by saying that I was “a smart elf” and he would leave it up to me. I picked up that vial, expecting it to be much heavier than it was, and handled it as if it was as fragile as a phoenix egg.

That night, my mind raced with ways to administer the poison without suspicion. In and out of sleep I ebbed, drifting between outlandish dreams and short fits of panic. One would expect a restless night to hinder me, but when the sun rose, I had three different plans—each with contingencies.

During our morning tea ceremony, I volunteered to serve the tea. Cup by cup, I went around the room pouring tea until the last remaining cup was Sylwin’s. She looked at me as I stood there for an awkward moment. Then I said, “This is empty. I’ll get another pot.” The teapot was actually empty, because I knew how many cups I could pour from a teapot. I didn’t trust myself to successfully lie under pressure but I knew I could always calculate under stress.

I went to a counter in the back of the room for more boiling water and produced the vial. The cork was stuck tight, which caused me to panic. I struggled, and then there came a pop that made my ears tense up. I looked around, but no one seemed to notice. Hastily, I dumped the whole vial into the teapot and carried it back to the table.

Sylwin didn’t even look at me as I poured her tea, but as soon as I finished pouring, she reached for the cup and took a tiny sip. For some reason, I expected the poison to take effect immediately and I stared at Sylwin intently. She didn’t even look up at me, but one of the elves at her table surprised me. He told me to stop staring at her and leave, and I did so right away.

Despite going over the scenario in my head numerous times, I was surprised how poorly my plan had played out. I learned a valuable lesson about planning that day: one should plan for more than just what they mean to do. They should also plan for the moments after. My plan to poison Sylwin was completed exactly as I expected, but I had forgotten to pour myself a cup and had a whole pot of poison tea with no place to dispose of it.

Nervously, I left the poisoned pot next to the empty ones and sat without tea. To my surprise, no one noticed even though I felt incredibly out of place. Our teatime ended, and the rest of the day went by uneventfully.

That night, I went to my father and gave him the empty vial. I expected him to be proud of me, like when I gave him a report card with perfect marks. This time though, he did not look at me with pride. I could not place the look in that moment, but now I know that he had the slightest look of fear when I returned the empty vial of poison. He asked how I did it, and I told him the most concise version. He then revealed something that I should have considered during my planning, which is that it would take days for the venom to take effect.

After four slow days of waiting, Sylwin spilled a bottle of ink. She also struggled to hold a tune in music class. Later that week, she was asked to solve a problem written on a chalkboard and she squinted in frustration until the teacher called on another. After eight days, Sylwin’s hands noticeably twitched and she struggled to pronounce words that contained certain letters.

Students were talking. They were saying that the stress of being top of the class was affecting Sylwin. It was only a matter of time until I was first again.

Something strange happened though. One of my teachers also developed a tremor and resigned mid-semester, which was unheard of in a school of that caliber. It seemed likely that he may have drunk from the poisoned teapot after I left that day.

As I reflected on the poisoning, it felt sloppy, like I had taken a test on a subject I had never studied for. I wrestled with how there must have been a better way to poison Sylwin.

The day came for the school to update their rankings. Sylwin had begun missing classes, so it seemed that my father’s plan was a success. Then I saw the posting: Lief Hemthorn was now top of our class. It was an embarrassing surprise.

There were five students with perfect grades, but I had been top of the class for years. With Sylwin gone, it made no sense why they would choose Lief over me.

That night, my father seemed defeated, but he was not angry. I asked him what we could do, but he dismissed me—had no desire to discuss the situation.

That night, I crept into my father’s office and opened the false book cabinet. There were several vials, all without labels but with colored corks. Whatever convention my father had did not matter, for he had refilled the vial that I returned, and it stood out like a familiar face in a crowd.

After the mistakes with Sylwin, I already had a better plan. Now that I had the venom, I was excited to see how I’d improved. I wasted no time, and the next day Lief and I had archery class together. The teachers wanted to make sure we stayed hydrated, so everyone had their own waterskins. This seemed more efficient than the tea ceremony. Because each waterskin had our names on them, no one shared waterskins, and the school’s custodians washed the waterskins every night.

There were of course potential issues, but if they occurred, I would simply administer the poison another day. As expected though, everything unfolded as planned. What really surprised me was that I did not tremble or hesitate at any step. And during archery class, when the teacher reminded us all to stay hydrated, I did not even look at Lief to make sure he drank.

Days later, Lief could barely hit any part of the target in archery class, which is very embarrassing for an elf boy. On top of that, he developed a twitch on the right side of his face. The Hemthorn family all had slightly larger ears, and when Lief’s face twitched, his pointy ear snapped like a whip.

The next semester’s rankings were still weeks away, but the effects of the poison were far more obvious on Lief. Classes were boring, and I wondered if I should preemptively get rid of the two other elves who were tied for first, but it seemed more logical to wait.

Something unexpected happened the week before the rankings were posted. When I went to my school storage locker, I found a large glass bottle in plain view with the words Gray Viper Venom written across it. It was not mine. Someone had clearly placed it there. It was the middle of the day, and I could not investigate it or dispose of it without being noticed.

I could not focus during class knowing that the bottle was just sitting in my locker. My eyes darted around to the room to see if anyone knew, and during our tea ceremony, I dared not drink. As soon as class was over, I hurried back to my locker. When I opened it, the bottle was gone.

I thought about asking my father if he knew anything about this, but he was already angry that I took more of his poison without asking. There were too many unknowns, I did not want my father to panic, and strangely, I didn’t want him to think less of me for being discovered. That night, I thought about all the people in the school who could possibly figure out what I was up to, and there were a few too many possibilities. The one thing that stood out to me was that it had to be a member of the faculty, because it would be too difficult for one student to access another student’s locker twice in one day. There was that one teacher who left under mysterious circumstances; he likely drank the poisoned tea. Perhaps he wanted revenge, but that felt more like paranoia than logic.

The next day, the bottle was there again, but this time it had a note inside. I peered around me inconspicuously to see if anyone was watching, but the halls were too crowded. The note read: Meet at the teapot. Sundown.

I hid under a teacher’s desk, waited for the last bell to ring, then waited until all was quiet. It was eerie to walk through a place that I only saw bustling with activity. I had never seen these halls so empty, after the lights had been extinguished. Sundown was nigh, and I stood in the room where I had served Sylwin her tea. I perked my ears as I listened for any sign of movement. Faintly, footsteps approached from outside the door.

I tensed up and wondered if I should hide under a table. Should I have brought a weapon? The metal teapot I had used to poison Sylwin was within reach. I could throw it at an attacker. But when the door opened, it was a school custodian who entered. He had a candle with him that he placed on a table. For a brief moment, I thought maybe I went to the wrong room or had the wrong sundown, but then he placed the glass bottle from my locker next to the candle.

The custodian spoke to me while looking at the candle. “It never had any real venom in it. I just wrote that to get your attention.”

He then turned to face me, and it was then I could see the side of his face clearly. Just under his cheekbone was the jagged burn mark of a cursed silver moon. He was a glif elf. Normally, being born under a silver moon was a great blessing. However, there is a jagged, black mark on one side of the silver moon’s face, and any elf born under a marked moon is considered a pox on society. Any baby born under a marked moon is immediately branded with a glif mark in order to prevent upstanding elves from accidentally associating with them.

The custodian approached the counter where the teapot sat. “Three elves drank tea from this teapot a few months ago,” he said, gesturing to the metal pot. “You definitely know one of them. A young lady named Sylwin. You might suspect that the teacher who resigned mid-year is another, and your assumption would be right. But the third you most likely did not notice, and that was Hedera Bittersweet.”

The name held no meaning to me, but I could tell it meant something to the custodian. He had a faint inflection on that name that teachers normally use when they want a student to remember something.

The custodian continued, this time looking at me with a cold expression. “She was a custodian here, a glif elf like me. She cleaned up after your class, and after the teacher had a cup of tea, she finished the pot. She always felt it was wrong to pour perfectly good tea down the drain.”

Once again, I had no idea how blind I was. Custodians and other workers were simply never a factor for me. Who else was I not seeing? What other factors were at play in my life that passed by unnoticed, like blinking or breathing?

I must have been making a face because the custodian reacted to me as if I was thinking out loud. He said, “There’s no need to panic. She wasn’t my lover. She was a predictably good person who did what I asked, but not someone I could really count on.” He smiled a bit, and the smile was a little unsettling. I had never seen a glif elf smile–his mark on his cheek curled in an ominous way that pricked my very core.

“What do you want?” I asked hesitantly.

His face went back to a cold, serious expression. He stated effortlessly, “You’ve managed to poison several elves. Now, they’re too closed-minded to understand this, but even a whisper from a glif elf like me would put them on track to figuring it out. You left too many loose ends, but to be honest”—his face changed to that half smile again—“You did well. better than some professionals.”

I was taken aback for a moment. I didn’t expect a compliment. It wasn’t the response I was looking for, but it was surprisingly refreshing after so much tension.

“What I want,” continued the custodian, “is to train you.”

This was another notion that again was unexpected, but strangely interesting. The glif elf gestured to a table, and we both sat.

The custodian leaned forward and began to explain. “Most glif elves see their mark as something to be ashamed of; they only see the negative side of it. But long ago, I realized that having this mark made me invisible to certain people. The higher an elf’s status, the less likely they were to notice me. The most influential elves see me as someone else’s problem, that I’m too low in society for them to even think about. They might even speak about sensitive matters near me, as if it was a foreign language that I could not comprehend.”

His words rang true. I certainly never took the time to remember a glif elf’s face. All I saw was the mark, and immediately thought either “criminal” or “servant.” The wealthiest elves even had hierarchies of servants.

“One high-ranking elf was having an affair, and despite his best efforts to hide it from his family, he made no effort to hide it from his cleaning staff. It was easy to blackmail him, as long as no one knew that I was a glif elf. Of course, it is easy for a glif elf to go missing, they have a special prison for us after all. But the amazing thing about an anonymous threat is that they never suspect someone like me.” The custodian’s demeanor changed from serious to as if he was speaking to an old friend. He even started to laugh as he stated, “To be honest, I suspect they think we cannot read and write!”

Looking back, I was probably still afraid. I remember asking, “Are you going to blackmail me too?” But he just laughed.

“I could blackmail you,” he replied with a wink. “But no, I think you belong with us.”

The words “with us” echoed in my head. At first, I thought he meant with other glif elves, but I still was not seeing the bigger picture.

“Most people look at me and think my job is to clean floors.” The custodian sat upright with a sense of pride. “But that’s just a front. I’m actually a recruiter. I’ve spoken to my associates, and we think you have a real future with us. To be honest, with your drive, you might run our organization one day, maybe even the whole damn elven nation; you were top of your class, after all.”

Accepting his offer forever changed my life, but it didn’t happen all at once. The transition was strangely organized. It felt like joining an inclusive club instead of a criminal organization. The custodian became my mentor and he slowly showed me that things like laws and status were merely illusions. The organization was intricate and raw; people were valued based on what they could accomplish instead of arbitrary scores and opinions. The best were undeniably the best, and I was good at being the best.

Before that day, I thought the six seats on the high elven council were the most powerful voices in the whole Drasylvian Forest. They were certainly the loudest voices, but the most influential are the quiet voices in their shadows. I became one of those voices.

I stayed in school to keep up appearances, but it was easier to drop to the middle of the class. My father was furious until he realized his hidden poisons were gone, after which he did not question me. I later took over his business and had access to rumors throughout the elven nation, parts of the goblin jungles, and even extending out to the mixed city of Brexia.

The custodian was wise and taught me how to bend people. He told me that the proudest day of his life was when I made a few prominent elven bodies disappear by simply adding a mark to their face. He was elated; he said that he “wished he had thought of it himself.”

Once again, I am the top of the order. My mind is a trap of information and I hear all. Wealthy patriarchs, wizards, and noblemen fear me without even knowing my name. They refer to me as the Gray Viper, the head of the largest syndicate in all of Drasylvia.