Chương 29: Chapter 27

The Greenwood Mallorn the elf His room had been exactly as he remembered it, untouched save for the regular cleaning that the housemaids performed upon it. He awoke in the same fashion as he had for years prior, to the same ceiling, in the same bed, with the same scents and songs surrounding him. It was so familiar that it wrapped all the way around to being foreign again, with how used he had become to each and every night spent under different canopies and stars on his walkabout.

Immediately, his distaste was reinforced. He pushed his way out of bed, throwing on a pair of his roughest pants, tying his bangs back with a bit of twine, and grabbing a familiar old stick and line. The window was forced open, he slipped his way out, and dropped down to the yard below. From there he walked to the side wall, hoisted himself up and over the ten-foot brick barrier, and walked along the gently winding cobble road.

"L-Lord Rasil!" one of the knightmaids called out from the wall behind him. He waved a careless hand over his shoulder.

"I'm fishing," he called back, not bothering to slow his pace. His bare feet trod over smoothed stones and packed earth, and stands of clipped grass ticked his soles as he made his way along the path. Houses flanked either side of the road, the smell of baked goods, well-groomed flowers, and slightly damp grass carried over the foggy morning. Mother took the news about his new divine mission about as well as anyone could've expected.

Amarami was their chief goddess, after all, and most elves were very religious individuals. That is to say, there was a lot of wordless crying and he was stuck hugging a woman he didn't really know anything about for a good hour or two, then released. He practically collapsed into bed with how draining the entire event had been. He spent most of his time trying to not think about how his nanny was a microform of his mother. He had been back among elves for all of one day and he needed a break again already.

He plopped down on the edge of the long dock that led into the third-largest pond in the Greenwood- the closest one to his home. Filled primarily with a kind of small, curious, and scaled fish with a handful of fat, lazy predators to keep their numbers manageable. The fish beyond the Greenwood were far more fearsome and wild, having not been thoroughly domesticated for so many hundreds or thousands of years by the long-lived elves. There was no real sugarcoating it- they were boring fish.

A handful came up to nibble on his toes at the surface as he unfolded the stick, tied a hook and bait, and cast it as far as reasonable into the water. He reeled it in slowly, passing the line over his arm and thumb, working the slack as gently as possible in the process. A bite already. He almost sighed as he began to pull it in, the fish giving a bare handful of lethargic thrashes to resist the capture. It wasn't a small fish either- longer than his forearm and ten or twenty pounds of meat.

It could've resisted far more had it only tried. He held the thing up morosely before sighing, unhooking the poor creature, and letting it swim back into the pond's depths. He threw his line out again. The wind shifted, and his nose twitched with familiar scents.

"Titania," he greeted over his shoulder, pulling line and bait back in at a steady pace. His martial instructor walked forwards along the docks, pulling to a stop next to him and gaze fixed out onto the surface of the pond. It was nearly impossible to actually look her in the eye at the moment, on account of her generous chest, loose white shirt, and his current viewing angle. More eye-catching, however, was the absence of an arm. Still just as gone as it was the day before. He returned his gaze to the pond.

"I owe you a new arm, methinks." She turned her gaze down from the pond towards him, ears flickering. She slowly raised a hand to brush against the stump before shaking her head.

"An unreasonable woman would ask that of you," she replied with the slightly cryptic manner of the elves. Titania was better about it than most, but she was still an elf. An unreasonable woman would ask that- followed by a distinct lack of a request for him to do that.

"Nope," he refused bluntly, drawing the line up and casting it out again.

"You've lost the hand in service to my friends. I will get you a new one. That's all there is to it." He grimaced as another lethargic fish took hold of his bait, and weakly struggled against him as he pulled it in. He lifted the fish, checking its maw in suspicion… Sure enough, this was the exact same fish as before. He gave it an unimpressed look as he removed the hook and let it swim away again. She responded after a few moments of silent consideration.

"... Burdening yourself with expectations will hinder your development."

"If I don't have any goals to work towards- what's the point of growing at all?" he countered bluntly, casting his line out again.

"If I didn't have any expectations, I wouldn't bother doing anything at all." They returned to silence for several more casts and reels.

"... A lost hand is no great concern, Rasil. Not for one such as I." She spoke softly, reaching down hesitantly, then firmly patting him on the shoulder.

"I use a one-handed blade."

"It's not about whether or not you can endure the loss," he almost growled, pulling in another weak fish with somewhat more agitation than normal.

"It's about my obligation. You lost a hand for my sake. I owe you one hand. I will have your hand returned as soon as I figure out how." He pricked his thumb with the hook while removing it. He glared at the fish and the slightly bleeding digit for a moment before letting it go and slumping back onto the dock.

"Nothing you say or want is relevant here. I don't care that you don't care about the hand. I am not going to run around accumulating foolish debts like that." It took a few minutes for her to respond. The lethargy of the elves clinging to every exchange.

"Is fishing no longer a comfort to you?" He dropped his fishing pole to the side and simply leaned against the side of the dock, staring at nothing in particular, one foot hanging off and treading water.

"They're not challenging," he replied with a flicker of his ears.

"The fishing beyond the walls- they thrashed against me with vigor and rage, and I struggled for every inch against them. These fish are long tamed- the vigorous ones removed long before I was born." He sighed.

"I'm not hungry- so what's the point in reeling them in if not for food or challenge?"

"... To pass the time," she replied gently. He stared at nothing in particular for a few moments. Wasting time, huh? He pushed up from the dock, grabbing his rod and line as he did.

"I'm done fishing here." He hefted both and turned around, walking away from the end of the dock. A cool breeze washed over his bare chest.

"Will you fish elsewhere?"

"There is no point in fishing at the moment- there's no ponds in the Greenwood worth fishing in." He frowned, casting a side-eye towards his mentor.

"I won't fish again- not until I leave once more. There's no point."

"H-hey! Lord Rasil!" A shout came from shore. He turned his gaze away from the contemplative Titania and towards the source. An elf, slighter and shorter than himself, wearing a frilled shirt, shorts, and a wide smile. With short, curly brown hair and a wide, freckled smile, the elf hopped upon the dock and ran over to him, a basket of apples under one arm.

"Eh-heh! Strange to cross paths like this again, isn't it?!" Rasil was familiar with this one, a blabbermouth that turned every conversation into something ten times longer than it needed to be. His ears were flat and his lips pulled down into an unimpressed grimace.

"Galen. You've walked that same road and hour every morning for years." Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. The freckled elf giggled, bringing a hand up to curl a lock of hair around one finger.

"Ah- but, Lord Rasil doesn't fish in this spot every day, does he? Last I heard he had run off and done some incredibly dangerous thing like slaying a dragon!" Galen cocked one hip to the side with a grin. Rasil stared at the elf for a few moments longer.

"... How old are you, Galen?"

"Eh?" Galen leaned back with furrowed brows.

"... Well, about thirty, I guess?" Rasil glanced back at the pond and slowly set down his fishing gear.

"Did you ever end up learning how to swim?" he asked blandly.

"Heh- well- if you're inviting me… I'll need some lessons… eep!" Rasil grabbed the much smaller elf with both hands, spun once, and tossed him a dozen feet out into the pond. The elf soared with a panicked wail and flailing limbs, eventually smashing into the surface of the pond.

"... He cannot swim," Titania observed. Galen, despite appearances, mannerisms, and everything he did and said, was a male. One of the elves that invited him to participate in their 'tea parties' once.

"The water is only to his waist there," Rasil said, distinctly unworried, reaching down to pick up his fishing supplies and walking away, towards the house again.

"He'll be fine as soon as he figures out how to stand up." He really wasn't in the mood to have Galen blabber in his ears for hours. —"Brother dear! Your beloved sister requires your tongue once more!" He stopped mid-swing, the golden axe shaking in his hands and arms burning. The axe was perhaps the heaviest weapon he had ever lifted, and the strain of swinging it only a handful of times was something he'd have to get used to. On account of the interruption, however…

He let the head of the axe droop down and planted it upon the soft sands of the training yard, turning an annoyed expression towards the door leading into the interior. There, in the doorway with a tray in hand, was Florella. Ears waggling, smile practically plastered on, and fresh confectionaries laden upon her serving dish.

"You know that I don't like sugar," he stated bluntly, ears pulling back as she skipped over to him.

"You pretend to dislike many things!" she replied, skipping over next to him and holding the tray out. A decadent array of cupcakes laden with a multitude of dried fruit slivers and a heavy drizzle of caramel and melted chocolate.

"Eat! Your crude tastes are the best for my testing!" That's what she always said.

'If I can make even you like something- then I can make anyone like something.' A reputation for being difficult to please only encouraging her Elven sense of one-upmanship, and forcing him to suffer through even more random sweets. Seemingly her favorite hobby was making him eat her experimental treats- once a month at minimum. Rasil didn't like sugar.

"No," he bluntly replied, hefting the axe again and going through a series of swings again.

"I shan't surrender this endeavour until you partake!"

"No."

"Hm!" Silently, he kept swinging, arms burning as he ignored the persistent smile and stare of his older sister. Years ago- she'd be bothering him much more by this point- sighing and moaning and bitching until he would finally relent and eat one of her overly sugary abominations against nature. Over the years, this process became more and more automatic until he'd just take a bite and then move on with a roll of his eyes. He didn't feel like indulging her today. So instead, he decided to throw her off.

"I'm leaving again, by the end of the week," he stated bluntly. Her ears flickered.

"Heh- As coarse as ever, you'll survive a single bite as surely as you always have."

"After attending the wedding in Erem, as I swore to, I'll be gone once more." He swung twice more.

"I have a quest to complete."

"A quest will surely wait a few years, won't it?" She sighed and waved a hand at him.

"I'm not leaving your side till you sample the platter. No excuses!"

"I prayed to Amarami before attacking the dragon. My prayer was answered, and an angel spoke of what I must do thereafter." He continued on without any particular hurry, swinging the axe again and again.

"Find the Chosen Heroine and aid her against the Demon Queen." Swing, swing, swing.

"Whatever you have to tell me, I'd suggest getting it out before I'm off again. I won't be back for years or decades after."

"My darling brother, who never bows his head in prayer at the temple, who never has words for the divine, bestowed with a divine mission." Florella cocked her head and hip with a confident bluster and smirk.

"I suppose the Archangels must have fallen over themselves to whisper into your clever ears- a more pious elf there never was."

"I never had a reason to pray before," he answered simply, arms screaming at him.

"Believe me or don't. I've long since stopped caring for your input."

"And I'm still waiting on the most coarse tongue to give me an answer on my latest masterpiece!" Florella chirped, holding the tray out at him with a grin.

"A gracious sister ignores the strangeness of her rude brother!" As always, the elves never listened to anything he said. The axe slammed into the sands, kicking up a cloud of dust and shaking the earth with impact. He breathed in and out, slowly and steadily, before letting go of the handle and pulling back. He grabbed one of the treats, biting down and chewing, staring at nothing.

"It tastes like it always does." He relayed, putting the rest of the treat down on the tray and stepping back to the axe. Like sugar and nothing else- a nauseating amount of confection in a single package. Something sure to make him sick if he tried to actually eat everything.

"Heh! Marvelous!" Florella cheered triumphantly, twisting on a heel and stepping back towards the door.

"I'm moving in the right direction then!" He stared at her blankly as she moved through the door, leaving it open behind her.

"You forgot to shut the door," he muttered, forcing his arms to heft the axe again. —"Tell me of your years, Brother. It has been some time since I saw you last," his eldest sister asked him, rather directly and politely for an elf. A smiling, blonde-haired woman who looked nigh identically to all other women of his family. She was shorter and slighter than him, but not by as much as the others, with hair that fell in a golden waterfall around her shoulders and back.

She had a slightly weary look to her eyes, and a faint white scar that traced from the neck and across her right jaw, next to her lush red lips. She wore an impressively modest dress for an elf, a short white sundress and sandals, and little more.

"You'll have to be more specific," he replied, not quite sure of her character yet. The last time he remembered seeing her was a bit more than nine years ago, and that was long enough to eradicate most traces of her from his memory. All he really knew was that she was apparently his eldest sister, and hadn't done anything exceptionally annoying yet. The maid's ears flickered awkwardly as she poured a cup for the two of them. Rosalina's smile flickered, and her ears tilted.

"... I suppose so," she agreed gently, nodding back and forth.

"Tell me of your friends then. I would like to hear of them." He licked his teeth in consideration.

"... Two of them died facing the dragon," he responded after a few moments. Rosalina's ears pulled back, and the maid visibly flinched. He grimaced. He hadn't intended to damper the mood- but it was the first thing that came to his mind.

"Two of them lived, however, and I will be meeting with them again when I attend the wedding at Mount Erem. One I have promised and the other I had a letter delivered to." He leaned back.

"Dura Gravelbrook is one- a short dwarf woman- and I met her in the midst of her abduction. A band of goblins had spirited her away for unknown reasons- and I had happened among them as they argued, and struck them down and rescued her." He grinned at the memory.

"She couldn't speak a word of Elvish, and neither I Dwarvish, so the entire first day we played a game of pointing and naming things." He waved a hand.

"And she's as frightful as a nervous cat and as busybodying as an old priest- with a face that scrunches up whenever you tease her, which Rayne and I did constantly." He paused, before nodding.

"And Rayne is the other, who survived, and he first approached Dura and I on the road. A menacing human, clad in dark colors and carrying a crossbow and axe on his belt, with a sorry looking horse as mount. I thought him first a bandit, and he gets snippy if you ever leave out his title 'The Bastard'!" Rasil chuckled to himself.

"He and I are very much alike, I think. I'll see about looking after his kids and grandkids, when he's old and dead and I'm still young and hale. That would be proper of me."

"These friends you met along the road, yes?" his eldest sister asked with a curious, complicated expression.

"Yes, they are." Rasil nodded, smile dropping slightly with the question. His fingers brushed against the handle of the golden axe.

"What of your friends in the Greenwood?" she asked with a sip of tea.

"Hmh." He hummed disinterestedly, leaning back and sipping his own cup.

"I have no friends here- their mannerisms infuriate me and their hobbies are trite. I prefer solitude to pretend tea parties."

"I- I see…" Rosalina responded with a complex flickering to her ears.

"... Tell me more of Dura and Rayne then. I'd like to hear much of them- before I meet them properly."

"Meet them?" Rasil asked with a nonplussed raise to his brow.

"At the wedding." Rosalina smiled slightly awkwardly.

"I'll have to bring gifts, to excuse my uninvited presence, but a greater shame would be missing the opportunity entirely."

"Hmh." He hummed into his teacup again. He supposed he wasn't really surprised that members of his family would like to attend some big festival-wedding event too.

"... So long as you're humble when there…" he grumbled. If she decided to act like a normal elf, he'd probably try tossing her out himself.

"... Rayne's horse- it's a terrible, shoddy beast. A horse of worse breeding I've never seen. It's a perfect fit for the man in question," Rasil began to smile as he spoke on. Rosalina's brows were faintly furrowed.