Erea started to tell her tale with the face of someone who was thrice as old as she was. Though Michael quickly remembered that she really was thrice as old, probably. Easily that. That was among the details he would learn, but not when she first started. Her start was wobbly, evasive, but she quickly found her words. And that was before they started to pour out of her, like a dam breaking loose. She wasn’t fiddling the truth when she told him that she’d never told this tale before, he felt and it showed.
“I know humans don’t think much about being an orfan. Or other races. But for an elf… it’s like you said. A taboo. I think, since I’m not that clear on the word. And that’s because elves never abandon their children. Not with as few of us as there are.”
“I kind of got the hint of that.” Michael said. “I mean, I got the feeling your race is really powerful, magic wise, so I thought it strange that so few of you were here, at the academy.”
“Yeah.” She said. “You know how Gnosis was started by elves? That’d a really old story and I don’t know nearly as much as I should because of… reasons. But everyone says that and my people take pride in that. But yeah. Not that many of us here. And that’s because… we elves are really not that many to begin with.”
Michael listened on, as Erea got as comfortable as she could, as she kept on talking.
“It’s not exactly a secret, but maybe don’t mention this too much. There’re a few reasons why things are like that. The first is because, sometime back, like… a lot of time back… alright, I’m a bad storyteller, but bear with me. I don’t know how long ago, probably millennia, but a long time ago there was a war. Back before magic itself was harnessed. When the wider world was ruled by different classes, not magic users. |Warriors|, |Archers| and so on. |Trickster Kings| and |Iron Queens|. Back then, my race was still young. We didn’t have that many magic users, if you can believe it. We only had the aptitude for it.”
“You had the ability to use magic, but didn’t?”
“No. Because… my race isn’t like other races. We didn’t just… appear. We were made.”
“By who?”
“I don’t know. Only the high elves know. Like Regitris.”
“High elves… that’s like a different type of elf?”
Michael was thinking about different subspecies, common is so many of the games he played.
“No, thought that was also a thing. Something we lost, apparently. Now the word only means elves who attained a lot of power. Through magic, in most cases or status, in a few. But, like I said, my race was made. And my people said we were made to be servants.”
“Really. I mean, you seem… perfect.” He said, making her smile. “No, really, you Regitris the others? You all look like you were made to be superior.”
“We probably were. Or we’ve perfected ourselves in time. The stories differ. But we were made like that by a race that wanted us to help them preserve the natural state of things. Nature. I guess…. Hmm. Did you notice how Regitris doesn’t really care about the natural world.”
Michael thought back about his attitude towards the dryad. And about his, let’s say, specific taste in aesthetics.
“I think so.”
“We’re all like that.” She smiled. “Or we’re supposed to be. Personally, I don’t really care, but I’m… special. Anyway, yeah. We were made to serve. To make sure things stay the same. I’m not really sure what that means, but I was never told more than that. But it appears that our makers also made us with a high aptitude for magic. Higher than theirs. They didn’t mind at first, when we were good little elves, but when we started to have opinions and tried to make our own decisions… it got bad.”
“How bad?” Michael asked, a little indelicately.
“Bad bad.” Erea answered. “Bad in the sense there was a war. We tried to rebel and there was a war. That race cursed us. I don’t know what the curse is and it didn’t look like the high elves knew either. Or maybe they were really good at faking. But whatever it was, it made most elves infertile. Killed out all female elves. It was their way of keeping us in line. If we wanted to keep existing as a race, we’d have to serve for that privilege.”
“That’s… horrible. What happened? Did you break free.”
“We did. We, as a race, decided it was better to die free than live as servants. My people take pride in that. How they managed to beat magic into submission in their last hour and used it to break away from their makers. When everything was over, we were free, but only a few hundred elves remained. All male.”
“I… see. But then, how did you…” he asked, gesturing aimlessly at her.
“Got born?” she sardonically laughed. “The end of that war was still a long time ago. Long ago that we don’t remember the exact details. Heck, I don’t even know who the makers were. No, after everything was done, my race survived by magic. We… forced magic to make more of us. I don’t know how, but we did.”
Michael had seen enough SF movies about cloning to get a decent idea about how that happened, but refrained from mentioning it.
“For a long time, that’s how we survived. But it caused a something to happen with my people. We started to think differently. The change wasn’t physical, though there were plenty of those. It was a change in thinking, in…”
“Culture?”
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“Yes! Culture. All elves started to be obsessed with perfection. We proved we were the best and we had to keep proving it. And we did that by ever improving our magic. To be an elf that was not a magic user was to… not be an elf. And we did that for enough time, that the impossible happened. A female elf was born.”
“You.”
“No!” Erea said, playfully swapping him upside his head. “You think I’d be an orphan if I was the first female elf in who knows how long? No, that was still… I think a thousand years ago? None hundred maybe? I’m not sure. They never told me, I just guessed.”
“Right. Makes sense. I’m an idiot.” Michael grimaced.
“Eh, you’re lucky you’re good looking.” She laughed. “So. A female elf was born. You can probably guess what happened next. Everyone tried to make more of her. Tried to use the same magic they used on the males. It failed to work. So, from that point on, they expanded our race the old-fashioned way. It was still slow work. Both because we live long and because a female was only born one in every twenty births. And that was when my people got a second think to be obsessed about. Children. Elf children need to be raised on the most proper, perfect way possible. Because some day, they might have the chance to sire children and a the better they grow up, the better they children will be. In magic and mind and body.”
“Can I ask something? Were your women used- I mean, did they have the liberty to…?”
“Choose their own mates? Yeah. I know what you’re thinking, but my people still remembered their lessons. Live free. No one would be forced again, male or female. But that’s also why everyone needed to be raised perfectly. Male elves would someday get the chance to be picked to sire children, so better grow up perfect. And women would bear those children, so they’d better be perfect too. But… no one is forced, but there’s still this pressure, you know?”
“Yeah. Everyone is doing it, so you have to do it too.”
“Yup. And this is where the story gets to me. You… noticed that I have gaps in my story, right? Like I’m telling it as if I was raised outside my society.”
“I did, yes.”
She opened her mouth to speak again, but she broke down sobbing. Michael held her in silence, until she slowly stopped crying. She wiped her tears, drew in a large breath and started to slowly speak again.
“There’s this… practice. Among elves. No one speak about it, but it’s there. My people are obsessed with perfection… or not. Not perfection. Continuous improvement. I think describes it better. But there’s only so much attention one can spare. So, if a child doesn’t look like it has any chance of shaping up as it grows and there are others that would better benefit from the attention… my people cut their losses.”
“What do you mean? Michael asked, warily.
“I mean, as shameful as it is, if a child doesn’t show any potential at all, they get abandoned. Not like humans do, because that would be less than perfect.” She said, scornfully. “But we there are enclaves of thrown out elves, far from the eyes of the world. Like… orphanages. There the are raised to be useful to elven society by having them learn other classes. Why hire human or dwarf servants when you can make your own?”
“I don’t understand. I thought all elves have an aptitude for magic.”
“We do. But some less than others. And… some spontaneously develop natural magic classes. Like |Shaman|. Those that do are instantly thrown out.”
“So they just keep them there until they learn an useful Class?”
“Yeah. Whether they want to or not. Very few refuse until the very end and those are just let out into the world. But… no one hears from them after that, so… I don’t know. I didn’t really think about it then. I prefer not to now.”
“And that’s what happened to you.”
“It was. But, here’s the kicker, I am the first female elf in recorded history to be kicked out. Because as precious as we are, we are given a more lax treatment. We don’t have to be that good at magic, we just have to get by. But… I couldn’t even do that.”
“That’s stupid. You’re awesome! You could totally kick my but!”
“You’re sweet.” She smiled. “But I wasn’t at first. I don’t remember my first years all that well. Or may parents. I was twelve when I was sent there. Basically, a baby. And, for all my people are so high and mighty, we can be just as petty as any other race. I was a girl. The first girl that orphanage had ever seen. I was different and I didn’t have any magic.”
“Did… did they do anything to you?” Michael asked, feeling his blood starting to broiling.
“Not… nothing special. But I did get beat up a lot. Quite a lot. I got beaten almost daily, so much actually that I got a class from that. |Brawler|. That’s when I first got beaten up by the attendants, since it was an ‘useless’ Class. But I learned later that this Class allowed other Classes to rise in me. Magic too. Like…”
Kickstarting an engine.
“I think I get what you mean.” Michael said. “And you got a magic Class after that too.”
“Yup.” She smiled, this time for real. “|Mage|. The simplest one. But I Leveled up fast. So fast, that I got on Gnosis’ view. So, just like any other potential magic user, they sent a recruiter for me. I… I know it was petty, but the night before I left, I beat up every one of those shitheads that hurt me. I hurt them.”
There was a vicious look in her eyes, before she calmed herself down.
“But guess what? When I arrived here, I got a better treatment yeah. By my people still thank me a failure. Oh, they want to fuck me, that’s for sure, because my children might be proper elves. But me? I’m just a breeder. And they judged me, because my interest was in learning how to better protect myself, not to learn magic for magic’s sake. So, I said fuck you right back.”
She was grinning now, released from her pressure.
“I’m guessing you said no to the Ascentionalists.”
“Hah! Regitris was alright, but he was the only one. No. I found my home not two months after I arrived. Err… the fights I got in probably helped.” She laughed. “But yeah. The Martials received me and I never looked back.”
“I’m happy to hear that, Erea.” He said, kissing her. “Look like you finally got yours in the end.”
She looked at him sadly for a second.
“Not really. I’m an elf, but a bad elf. I’ll never be looked at as a normal one. Never be part of my people. Because I’ve lived almost a human life learning to behave like a bully at best and servant at worst.” She said, before catching his eye. “Right. I didn’t mention that. I never did. Michael… elves live a lot longer than humans. I got sent there at twelve. And… and I lived there for fifty plus years. I’m sixty-four this year.”
“Wow.”
“Does that… weird you out?”
“No. I mean, I’ve never been with someone this old, but you look pretty good for your age.” He grinned.
“Oh, shut up.” She laughed.
“No, I’m serious. I don’t care about you not being a proper elf. Because I’m human. And a pretty weird one too, as it turns out. I don’t want you to be something your people tried to turn you into. I just… want you to be you. Maybe kick my ass a little less, but nothing other than that.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” She grinned. “You… really mean that, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“In that case. Hi. I’m Erea. Short for Ehreahreh. I’m sixty-four, almost. My Classes are |Mage| Level 15 and |Fighter| Level 19. My top wish is to consolidate my Classes.”
Michael laughed at her earnest description, before offering her his own.
“Hi, Erea. I’m Michael. I’m twenty-one. My Class in |Mage| Level 9. My top wish is to get as much use from my time here as possible.”
“Happy to meet you.” He laughed. “By the way, I know what you meant, but I choose to interpret that last part differently. So. What do you say we find out how well that dryad managed to mimic me?”
He didn’t actually get to answer that question, since she didn’t actually want to wait for an answer.