"Don't be so hasty, Tyler." Carl smiled as he pressed down Tyler's hand, letting a card slip from his other hand onto the ground. "Dwarf King."

  "Go to hell, Carl. Damn you." Tyler hurled his cards to the ground, snatching up his cup and gulping down the contents. "Bastard, you were cheating all along." He roughly wiped the beer from his chin with a harsh spit. "If you had the Dwarf King, why didn't you use it when I played my Dwarf Queen?"

  Carl drained his wine goblet. "Ah, that's where your understanding falls short. When you played your Dwarf Queen with such smugness, I knew you must have Titan cards in hand - that's why you were so pleased about your dwarf. You probably thought since you held the Queen, what were the odds I'd have the King? Well, fortune favored me. I considered playing it when you dropped your Queen - she would have been mine then. But I thought, if you're likely holding the Titan Giant, why not save my King for after your Giant makes his grand entrance? Every move was calculated, Tyler."

  "Alright, I'll give you that. But riddle me this, how the hell does a measly Dwarf King take down a Titan Giant, a goddamn legend!?"

  Carl shrugged. "How should I know? Perhaps dwarves are skilled at chopping giants off at the knees? Though it's an elven game - you could ask a half-elf about it." He glanced left. "Well, speak of the devils."

  Tyler turned right, his eyes falling upon two lithe silhouettes. As they emerged through the campfire's haze, he saw they were young half-elves. Their matching attire was richly colored - silk garments and deerskin boots far too fine for common camp followers. They moved in perfect sync, their firm hips swaying hypnotically, drawing every soldier's gaze. A man rutting against a tree with a whore stared at them, slapping his companion harder. "If you had an ass like theirs, I'd double your price."

  Elven beauty was legendary, yet many humans found it too ethereal, too remote, a beauty best admired from afar. Half-elves possessed a more approachable allure. Their mixed heritage yielded a beauty that resonated more readily with human desires, particularly those of men. Yet they remained outcasts, scorned as "cross-bred abominations."

  (Gods, they're exquisite.) Tyler stood transfixed. (I've never seen such beauty in any woman.) He remained entranced until Night Queen perfume tickled his nose. Two shapely legs stood mere inches away.

  "Playing cards, sir?" (Even their voices are like music.) Tyler looked up to find one half-elf smiling down at him. Up close, they were nearly identical, though the one addressing him stood taller. He scrambled up, realizing she matched his height. "Yes, miss. What brings you to us?"

  The women's laughter chimed like bells. "Teresa, did you hear? He asks why we're here."

  "Indeed, Treni. And so polite! How charming."

  Tyler remained confused. "We're here to serve you, of course, sir." Treni leaned close enough that their noses nearly touched. "And please, no formalities. We're just common camp whores, unworthy of such respect."

  (Ah, of course.) Tyler had wondered at half-elves in camp, forgetting prostitution was the typical trade for their women. Though not his first encounter with half-elves, he felt nervous, remembering how his last such night had nearly emptied his purse. "Ah... I see, miss. But with respect - I don't recall requesting your services?"

  Treni wrapped her arms around his neck, soft cheek brushing his stubble. "Lord Devalosfang sent us." Tyler breathed in her scent, Night Queen mingling with her natural perfume, his mind swimming. "You're quite the gentleman, sir. Most clients are brutal, leaving us battered and bruised. But you're so gentle." Her warm breath tickled his ear, stirring an unbidden response below.

  "Our captain's picked us prime merchandise, and they're eager too." Carl smirked as Teresa sprawled across him, her right hand exploring boldly. "Well, sir?" Treni pressed Tyler. "Shall we begin here or in your tent? Outside works too - some enjoy an audience. Makes everything more thrilling." Sensing his hesitation, she urged, "Choose quickly. Night waits for no man."

  "If I may, lovely ladies." Carl gently displaced the girl working at his trousers. "We're married men, you see. And after tonight's battle, we're spent - no energy for play. Though we appreciate Lord Devalosfang's gesture, we must decline. Of course," he added to Tyler, "if you're interested, don't let me stop you."

  Tyler wavered. After a moment's thought, he answered, "He speaks true. I deeply appreciate your generous offer, ladies, but... I love my wife. Please excuse us."

  The beauties looked stricken. "So we're not good enough for you? What other reason could there be, other than some high-minded elven excuse? We're half-elves, damn it! And not to brag, but we're the best-looking whores in this whole godforsaken camp! What's not to like? We've never been turned down before, it's insulting!"