"...and with that, I believe we can adjourn for the day," the elven queen concluded, her exquisitly beautiful features and impeccably formal and regal presentation expertly masking her boredom with the negotiations from all but the most astute observers. However, you—a middle-aged, retired human general recently appointed your kingdom's ambassador to the elven realms that you once successfully lead military campaigns against—are one of those rare exceptions. The tightness in the queen's ever-youthful features, the way she shifted her weight in her crystaline throne, the carefully practiced neutral look in her saphire blue eyes... all small signs that she had grown weary of entertaining her human guests. Seeing the questioning look in your eyes, she gives a slight nod of acknowledgement. "Worry not, ambassador. I have not forgotten the Caerwys matter, and it shall be at the top of our agenda when we reconvene tomorrow."

"Thank you, your majesty," you say, bowing your head respectfully. She doesn't verbally respond, instead motioning to one of her attendants waiting in the wings of the throne room to escort you out, and with that, you are dismissed. A male elf, wearing the garb of a courtier but carrying himself like a soldier, walks to your side and says, "If you'll follow me, sir, I shall show you and your men to your quarters, and introduce you to your personal attendant for the evening..."

You look the elven man over, smiling a bit to yourself. His stance, while perhaps courtly to the untrained eye, clearly showed him to be a living weapon. A member of the elf queen's royal guard, no doubt, and a clear indication that, for all of her feigned aloofness, the queen still viewed you as a threat, and rightly so. Though she may not have meant it, she honored you. You then nod and follow him out of the throne room. As you walk out of the huge, ornate doorway connecting the throne room to the rest of the royal palace, your own personal bodyguards join you, falling into step to either side and just behind you. You chose these men as your guards personally; they're both a bit younger than you, each in their thirties, but they they had both served under you directly during your campaign against the elven realms, and were the best of the best, veterans of more than ten years of constant warfare. You trusted them with your life, and they you with theirs. Indeed, that trust had been tested and found warranted on more than one occasion during the wars. You had also selected men who had fought the elves alongside you for diplomatic reasons. Reasons that the queen had clearly picked up on.

The three of you are led through the opulent palace, up spiraling staircases and through elaborate hallways, until you come to the diplomatic wing. Your escort leads you to a set of doors, presumably leading to the guest quarters, and stops before a young elven girl. He motions to her and says, "Your personal attendant, sir. She will serve you and see to your every need. I will be back to collect you tomorrow morning." Then, without another word, he turns on his heel and walks away.

This leaves you and your small entourage alone with your assigned attendant. "Hello there, I am Elya, and I will be attending to your needs tonight!" the girl says cheerfully. You turn to look her over. She's a small elf girl, standing just shy of five feet tall from the looks of it, with long, golden-blonde hair and emerald green eyes. Her exact age is hard to judge; elves age like humans until puberty, at which point their development slows dramatically and nigh-exponentially with each passing year, leading to their seemingly unaging natures. This girl, who wears an ornate, mastefully tailored formal courtier's dress that manages to be form-fitting and flattering without appearing immodest, has the slight curves of what would indicate early puberty in a human girl of perhaps twelve or thirteen years of age, but as an elf, that could mean that she has only recently crossed that threshold, or she could have been experiencing her gradual transitioning into womanhood for years now. The nervousness in her eyes, along with her visible—despite her poor attempts to hide it—excitement at being entrusted with serving such an important figure as an ambassador during peace negotiations suggested to him that she was on the younger side of things.

It was also a veiled insult from the queen; elven attendants were renowned the world over for their exquisite training, and their seemingly supernatural ability to perceive and address any and all needs of their clients before their clients voiced them, or indeed even realized they had them in the first place. By sending one so young and inexperienced, the queen was making a statement, no doubt in response to your choice of body guards. And, to a lesser negotiator, that might have been the end of the assessment. You sent a message, she responded. But, as you studied her, you realized it was more than that. The girl was breathtakingly beautiful, even by elven standards, and while her looks currently manifested as youthful charm, no doubt she would grow into her beauty to become a world-class heartbreaker, and a potent weapon for her queen in the realms of diplomacy and espionage. She also wore a simple gold-and-emerald tiara, marking her as a member of the royal family, albeit a distant one—likely a daughter of a head of a cadet branch of the family. This told you that, while the girl was indeed meant as an insult, she was also sent as a grudging mark of respect. Clearly she was important to the queen, and by "training up" a member of the royal family on you, even a minor one, she was acknowledging your influence.

Still, the insult was there, and would need to be answered in an equally subtle way. You continued to ponder the issue in the back of your mind as you finally favored the increasingly nervous girl with a warm smile. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Elya. I'm [name]. I'm sure you'll do a fantastic job," you tell her, noting her blush as she realized you recognized her novice status. "Would you mind showing us around our quarters?"

Elya quickly nods and opens the door to your quarters, ushering you and your men in. She then leads you around the spacious quarters, showing you where all of the amenities are, where the master bedroom was, where the guards' quarters were, where the washroom was, etc. As she does so, you continue to ponder your response to the queen. Then, as you glance over at your men and see their hungry looks as they watch the young elf girl walking in front of them, you realize you have your answer. It had been weeks since any of you had been with a woman, as you had travelled here from the human kingdom at brisk pace that did not allow any stop-overs in brothels. Elven attendants were trained in satisfying the sexual needs of their clients, just as they were trained to satisfy any other needs, but typically that training came later in their education, after attendants-in-training reached sexual maturity. She had likely just begun to learn those skills, and it was likely expected that, due to her young age, any clients she was assigned to would be very unlikely to call on her to put those skills to use. Indeed, in most situations, that expectation would be correct, including in your current one; stunning as she was, you typically preferred your girls to be a bit more developed than she was. But she was a royal, and while having her service you and your men sexually could not be considered at overt slight—it was one of the duties that could be expected of her, after all—it would nevertheless send a clear message in turn.

As you come to this conclusion, Elya finishes her tour, and then looks up at you with a smile and asks, "Now that I have shown you around, perhaps I should grant you and your men your privacy?"

You shake your head. "No, not just yet, Elya," you answer. "My men and I have a rather pressing need that we need your help with before you go." As you speak, you lock the door to your chambers, ensuring you will not be interrupted.