“Because they are blue- no, humans are not blue. They are generally either pinkish-tan or brown.”

It was intriguing, the way that he carried a conversation.

“Yes, no. Wait yes.”

The man in the orange outfit stood there arguing with himself in a muffled voice, clearly his headwear prevented sound from escaping though I had no method of verifying how exactly.

“They don’t have a mouth, how am I supposed to ask them?”

I sat in the brush, twelve feet from the man. I could only assume it was a human because they showed no signs of noticing my presence. Humans had somewhat dull senses.

The make of his armor did throw everything into question though, it had a slight gloss that caught the light similar to enchanted equipment. Though most of it could be identified as some sort of leather variant there were obvious plates covering the torso.

That brought up some questions, like why a mysterious armored man was running through the woods or where this person got this strange outfit. In general humans considered body armor expensive, so he should be highborn in some sense if he has full body protection.

If that was the case where was his entourage? Rich humans flaunted their wealth and for that reason they needed a group of bodyguards to prevent them from being robbed and killed by the poor.

I watched as the human approached the silent monk and began asking questions.

“Can you point me towards town, I believe that I got a bit lost-”

He continued as I sat in thought. He didn’t know where town was, he was lost and he had no nearby companions unless they could avoid my notice.

A foreigner? Someone unfamiliar with these lands?

It would match the unique apparel. A narrative was forming in my mind. Somewhere nearby there is likely a caravan, this person was separated from said caravan either from an attack or from him getting lost in the woods.

I wondered if I could collect other examples of his equipment for study, but quickly disregarded the idea. Armor was far too cumbersome, humans were endurance predators capable of moving long distances while carrying weight. Elves were ambush predators that needed to quickly overwhelm a target before their own stamina ran dry. It was why humans made such excellent laborers.

I could walk out and crush the human’s neck before he realized I was there, but I could not strap fifty or sixty pounds to my chest and march to Porton and back.

I decided on my next move. Slowly with precise movements I raised myself from the ground and walked forwards. My footsteps carried me with silent grace towards the human.

“The target does not seem to be responding, I’m going to disregard. I will begin following the trail towards a possible town.”

The human continued his one sided conversation so quietly that few creatures would have been able to even recognize that he was talking. It was far too structured to be the ravings of a madman, could it be that he was somehow communicating with someone?

I would have to find out.

The human turned to leave my blue companion and almost ran straight into me.

I watched as his eyes went wide, I could see them through the glass he had on his face, he stepped back and his hand went towards his side to grasp a knife I had identified before I even stepped out of the brush.

The movements were so slow, they were untrained. I could have grabbed his wrist and broken it before he even had the chance to go for the knife.

Instead I noted that his only weapon was a belt knife, what had happened to his main weapon? People in armor had larger killing implements as a rule, did he not have a halberd or at the very least a sword?

When humans ran they tended to leave such things behind, had his caravan been ambushed?

In the time it took for the human to find words I had concluded that I could find his caravan nearby.

I decided to speak first, adopting a friendly grin I had practiced in a mirror for years designed to fool a human.

“I see you reaching for your blade, though I would hardly call that a weapon. If you seek a duel then I will answer.” I placed my hand across the hilt of my elven made rapier. “Though, you seem to be troubled. Looking for town was it? I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with my friend over there.”

The human relaxed the grip on his knife, then straightened and tried to figure out where he should put his hands.

“Uh, yes I do need to find town. If you could show me the way then that would be very helpful.”

I gave him an overexaggerated bow, customary for high ranking lordlings. “Why of course. Why do you not travel with us? I can tell you are not used to wandering alone. Lost in the woods was it? You could come with us to Porton to charter a ship downstream.”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Yes, thank you. I would love to travel with you. Though uh, would you mind telling me what this is?” The human pointed to the blue silent monk behind him. “They don’t seem to be able to communicate.”

The human showed no fear towards me, nor the monk. It was so strange that I didn’t even pick up on it at first. Most humans avoided the silent monks on principle, the color and strangeness warded them like a spell. Humans were generally intimidated by elves as well, or at the very least walking up and speaking to one was something only the bold would do.

“Well, as they are a silent monk and have taken an oath of silence I doubt they would have a conversation with you if they could. It would be a violation of their oath and whatnot.”

The human seemed surprised, “Ah, so the reason that they don’t have a mouth is…”

“They have sworn to the pact of Cheburim, strange that you haven’t heard of it. It is a great honor for most of your kind.” I stated.

Where had this human come from to not know of this? People were taken from across the lands to prevent depopulation in any one specific area. Even outside of the empire’s territories these things were spoken of.

“Oh, of course.” The human lied. “I simply have never seen one up close.”

That could easily be the case. But if that were true…

Why was the human not terrified of the monk’s alien visage?

Both never seeing a clearly inhuman creature and not being even mildly fearful did not happen. He even looked somewhat curious, watching the thing with a newly acquired interest. Humans never reacted like that.

“This pact of Cheburim, what does it mean?” The human asked.

It meant you swore off all speech and human desires in return for power. Something reserved for the most zealous of monks.

Most people did not realize what they needed to give up.

“It means you take a holy pilgrimage to the city of Cheburim, you should speak with a temple should you need more details. Porton may have one. We can talk on the way to the city.”

The human seemed drawn to the idea, was he desperate for power?

This human was alone, likely rich or possessed significant backing, he was lost and did not know the area, and he was desperate for power.

A deposed noble?

I wanted to study his armor, to collect samples and determine what the orange glossy material was.

To find out where he had come from. In my five hundred years of life I had never seen anything like this.

“These monks, are they… Trained to deal with curses or evil spirits?” The human asked and I almost laughed at him. Humans were well known to be superstitious, blaming everything from crop failures to curdled cream on evil ghosts and whatnot.

“Monks are well known for this ability.” I lied, “Can you tell me what curse ails you?”

“Something…” The human searched for the words, “Something tied me down and carved a circle with symbols that looked like…” He began tracing the symbols into the ground and my heart almost skipped a beat.

I did not recognize the symbols themselves, but the angular patterns and the circle they surrounded were uncannily similar to symbols I did know of. Things that only the highest rank inquisitors were privy to.

“Hmm.” I feigned disinterest. “That does seem to be a form of evil script, though I can’t tell what they mean.”

I reached to my side and drew my blade in one swift motion, before turning and handing it to the human.

“This is an enchanted elven blade.” I stated. While it was magical ‘enchanted’ implied magic was anything other than science. “I have been told that magical weapons can harm evil spirits. Why do you not trade me this weapon for that knife you have? After I contact some of my kin we can launch a full on investigation and you can return it to me after we are sure you are safe.”

It was true that humans often said magical weapons could harm spirits, though ghosts were not real and I had no idea how a bloodletting sword could possibly harm an ethereal being, the real reason I was handing this weapon to the human was much simpler.

I could track this weapon and even if I couldn't, elven blades were of such rarity to humans that there was no way I wouldn’t be able to find him. Even through rumors alone.

As an inquisitor it was my sworn duty to capture beings of interest and to learn from them. This human, this armor, this knowledge. None of it was something a human should have. I intended to find out why he had them. I would take him to Porton, I would convince him to spend a few days there pretending to investigate his curse, then my subordinates would arrive and we would take him into custody.

The human held my blade in his hands, the oversized handle fitting clumsily in his smaller grasp. He marveled at the lack of weight and gave it a few swings before holding it in the air. I untied my sheath and tossed it onto the ground in front of him before holding out my own hand.

The same way he had investigated my weapon I checked his. Though, the first thing I observed was the writing.

I could not read it. How many years had it been since I found a language I couldn’t read? It wasn’t the supernatural script that few had ever seen, nor was it a new offshoot of a human language.

The blade itself was sharper and denser than any steel I had ever seen. While the handle looked well worn and there were scratches on the paint there were no signs of rust or marks on the blade itself.

This blade was not steel, nor was his armor covered in leather. I needed to find out what these materials were, I needed to learn how he had discovered this script, I needed to learn where his friends were.

The human watched me and I found that I was in error. I had spent too long staring at the script on the blade of this knife. He knew I was suspicious of him now.

I tried for a simple question to appear curious. If I showed disinterest he may sense the trap.

“A strange language. Where did you say you got this blade?”

“A friend gave it to me actually. Dunno where he got it.” The human said, and I knew it to be the truth even if not the full thing.

“Interesting, I may like to ask your friend for one if I get the chance. But we have more important things to get to if we want to deal with the…” I searched for the word, of one of humanity’s worst evil spirits. “Demon. The demon chasing you.”

“How did you know-” The human began to ask, but I payed it little mind.

Demons were their most evil spirit that the superstitious blamed on everything. If this human thought whatever was haunting him was seriously bad there was little chance he attributed it to anything but a demon.

We continued our path to Porton, hearing the gravel crunch beneath our boots, until my silent companion turned and faced the shrubs to our right.

I held up my arm to halt the human, whatever had attracted its attention could not be good. I drew my new knife and wondered if I should take my sword back.

Probably not, I could overpower a bear with my hands in short bursts. The monk could not be killed by mundane tools. We both turned to face the brush and that was when I began to regret my decision.

I saw a face, not one belonging to human or mine own kin, but to my half breed cousins.

A half elf faced me, only a loincloth separated him from a naked animal. He lacked clothing or steel tools, but what he did have was something that managed to threaten me.

An elven longbow, it was not elven due to its materials but rather due to its sheer size and the strength required to draw it. A human would not be able to budge that string and the bow itself was almost taller than the person wielding it.

An arrow streaked by, cracking the air like a thunderbolt. One moment the monk next to me was standing and the next they were sprawled out on the ground eight feet away. The arrow stuck out of their forehead, it had shattered the thing’s skull and caved the bone in before exiting the back of its head.

I held my tiny human knife in front of me, this was a bad matchup for me and we both knew it.

Even so…

“Run to town human, I will hold this fiend off.”

After the human finished panicking he began his pitiful retreat.

I watched the mule across from me knock an arrow, but he did not draw. He did not draw because if he did I would need to respond in kind. He might have the advantage. In a fight I would bet money that he would win.

But that was not how elves fought, though I loathed to call him that. You did not live for a hundred years taking odds like this. I still had a significant chance of surviving and causing him injury. Even if I died there would be vengeance, my clan would not let this affront stand.

Both of us calculated the risk, and we both concluded the risk did not match the reward and so neither of us moved nor showed weakness.

Slowly the fallen monk healed the hole in its head, and by the time it once again stood wordlessly the half elf had left. And after that I continued on, the human would outpace me in an eight mile run to town, but I would find him sooner rather than later.

After all, he still had my sword.