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1.4
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It was a disaster.
A catastrophe not often heard of in the lands of the Woods Clan. An unforeseen blunder the likes which hadn’t been seen since the founding of Pineskeep after the great battles which liberated the Greenhold from the yoke of the Mana Beasts. Yet here they were, returned as if from the annals of history to purge them from their lands and reclaim absolute dominion of the forest.
It was terrifying.
It was far beyond a problem, having crossed into the realm of a calamity.
“Which ceremonial sash should I wear for the meeting, Ms. Jasmine?”
And Caladium was living for it.
Finally, at long last, there was something he was needed for. The alarms and movement across the village put a pep on the governor’s step as he rummaged through his closet, trying out different strips of assorted material and color, a giddiness the man had long since thought forgotten driving him to look his best for the impending crisis.
Across from him, sitting on a nearby couch was his assistant, carrying with her another bird-like mana construct.
“Sir, we have another message from the Captain.”
Oh, so she’d received his missive.
Good.
“She is returning to the village then?”
Jasmine dispersed the bird into a cloud of mana, looking as serious and professional as always.
“She has yet to finish setting up the village’s defenses. According to the reports, she might return by tonight, failing that, tommorow at the latest.”
Well, it was to be expected. Aspen took her job seriously, and he did give her leave to do whatever was necessary to make sure that Pineskeep would be safe until a permanent solution could be found for their little… infestation from. By the Mother Tree, they had an actual Mana Beast infestation.
He couldn’t be more excited.
This was his chance.
The chance to show what his administrative skills were worth. To help his people in a time of need and etch his name in the annals of history! Truthfully, this nightmare was nothing short of a dream come true for the Governor, and it showed in how he skipped in and out of his changing room.
Ah, a Burnt Burgundy Sash.
Respectable.
Worthy of attention, but also fashionable.
“How do I look, Ms. Jasmine?”
The blond looked up from her wooden pad, eyes barely flitting over his form before turning back.
“Dashing, sir. I’m sure your meeting will be a success.”
Yes, the great meeting he put together as consequence of the looming threat to Pineskeep. A grand affair uniting the Heads of Security, Production, Education, Infrastructure, and himself, the Governor. A grand council headed by himself in search of solutions for a problem. Why, just thinking about it had him skipping.
Work!
Actual work, for once!
While the threat to their lives and home was indeed an unfortunate travesty against the peace cultivated by their forefathers, Caladium would be lying if he said that he didn’t look forward to putting forth his best efforts in quelling these issues, and the best way to start would be to look presentable, imposing, but humble.
A true leader worthy of respect.
“What of the long distance communication array?”
Flipping through her notes, the assistant dutifully reported.
“The spell is under construction, sir. The Head of Spellcrafting believes they will have finished by tommorow morning. They wish to know exactly where they are supposed to key the array to.”
Caladium sighed.
“Havensbark.”
It was a rare treat to see his assistant caught flatfooted, that much Caladium would admit. The way her eyebrows would wrinkle as she tried to divine the meaning behind his sage advice and strategic mind. Truthfully, only someone whose talent was handpicked by himself should have been capable of such.
“Sir… you do realize that you are currently feuding with Lady Gloxinia, yes?”
The governor scoffed
“That silly competition? It is of no importance, my dear.”
“Your competition for transfer to the Royal Capital is of no importance?”
He nodded firmly.
“I’ll be sure to hammer out the details with Gloxinia herself when the time comes. Unfortunately, Havensbark is the closest village to Pineskeep with properly organized and trained Hunter units. If mere foot soldiers were enough to deal with the threat of Mana Beasts, we wouldn’t have the Hunters to fall back on.”
And the less said about the Royal Capital, the better.
If he sent a help request now, his name would forever be tarnished. His reputation as an administrator was on the line, and failure meant being mocked to the end of his days as a coward incapable of handling matters.
There was a brief pause.
“Very well, I shall notify the Spellcrafters. Is there anything else you require assistance with, sir? The meeting will be starting soon.”
Caladium considered the offer.
He could feel it in his skin. The caress of mana in the form of a comforting breeze, winds carrying the intents and worries of his subordinates as they approached the meeting room down below.
The governor would be down shortly.
“Please, before going, fetch me some fresh ink and parchment. At the very least we should compile a report for the Royals.” He would do things within the confines of the law and he was sure that Gloxinia would come around to see his point once the meeting was set up.
That miserable hag wouldn’t lose the chance to show off how much better her homegrown hunters were.
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
In fact. He was counting on the crone’s hubris.
If that failed… well… there were always other options. Less effective ones, for sure. But he had yet to play all the cards on his hand, and while his initial plan for a Beast Hunting Festival was all but ruined by the presence of a second, larger, and more dangerous beast, Caladium would find a way to turn this around.
‘Now, where to start?’
Sitting at the desk of his private study, the governor considered the fresh parchment, dipping the tip of his quill on a nearby inkwell before starting.
To the Honored Hunters of Greenkeep
Not a very good beginning.
‘Too formal, too impersonal.’ With a wave of his hand, he evaporated the mana-made ink from the parchment and started anew. If the meeting with Gloxinia didn’t work out… well, it paid to have another option in hand.
Ah, it felt so good to be working again.
Leaving the unfinished title on the parchment, the older elf threw the ceremonial sash over his shoulder with a flourish, string out of his room with what others might have considered and exaggerated gait as he closed the door with a silent command.
Ah, Burgundy really was his color.
The intrigue, the sense of danger.
This was truly the battlefield he’d been born for.
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Ghoti woke up in pain.
As if he’d been run over by a carriage, and the horse made sure to turn around to make sure he was well and truly trampled. The sensation traveling up his arms and down his legs was nothing short of pure misery as he lay there, trying to process what happened and who he was gonna have to punch for it.
Then his brain caught up to him and he started remembering.
Elves.
Giant pigs.
Tree houses.
Giant Turkeys with three heads.
Either someone spiked his drink with the good stuff and then beat him up, or he was still in a strange land populated by bedtime stories his parents used to tell him about. Blinking blearily, the armored man moaned pitifully, his body refusing to cooperate as he lay there, the light of a torch flickering in the dark of the room he’d probably been tossed into.
Well, not quite tossed.
Whoever dragged his carcass here at least set him on top of a sheet with… bags of beans under it. Hardly the least comfortable place he had ever stayed over at. But at the same time, he was sure something was digging into the side of his kidney and it was starting to annoy him.
All around him he saw similar bags lining up the walls and on top of shelves, the furniture having seemingly been grown out of the thick roots that seemed to grow from the ceiling and spread down underground. The air was slightly stale, and there didn’t seem to be anyone else around… outside of the two pulses he felt outside.
Two strangers, filled with anxiety and uncertainty.
‘Guess they didn’t want me around when I woke up.’
It wasn’t quite a prison, but he couldn’t exactly stand up and punch his way through the thick wooden doors blocking the exit. And he certainly wasn’t anywhere near fighting shape. Wouldn’t be for the next day or so, when his body recovered enough Vita.
If only that Turkey hadn’t hit him.
He wouldn’t have lost control then. And if he hadn’t, then his body wouldn’t have just shut down after he finished butchering it for dinner. And he probably would do that once his arms stopped feeling like they’d fall off his shoulders.
“At least I’m not dead.” And wasn’t that a relief.
He’d used way too much Vita, got knocked around by the giant monster turkey, and then lost consciousness just as the backup arrived. Escaping by the skin of his teeth wasn’t something new by any means, but that meant that if his teacher ever heard about it, she’d drag him to the fields and beat him up some more until he stopped almost dying.
Guess there was an upside to being in Elf-Land after all.
The architecture was another.
How did they manage to grow houses?
‘There was clicking noise, the roots running over the sides of the door slithering away like serpents as someone pushed the door open, bathing the room in the glaring light of the sun, revealing… a stranger.
Definitely an elf.
Dressed in long flowing robes, she looked like an adult woman with strange bright green hair, matching her eyes. On one hand she carried what looked like a small purse, on the other, she had a carved staff of sorts made of white wood, adorned with vines that seemed to move and twitch as she walked.
Her Vita rippled placidly. Like the surface of a tranquil lake, he felt nothing but peace and serenity radiating from the woman.
She looked at him, impassive.
“Ah, you are alive. Boring.”
What?
“I’m sorry?”
She walked to the table set to the side, putting down the purse.
“You should be. Do you understand how boring it is to care for a village of eternally young, supernaturally healthy people? Boring. Nothing but scrapes and the odd case of whole milk poisoning. After I finished patching up that friend of yours, I was hoping to get a little something more. Are you sure you’re not hopelessly infirm and in need of treatment?”
Ghoti couldn’t find the words to respond.
Talk about a contrast.
“My arms hurt?”
Her lip curled in distaste.
“A simple case of muscle pain, it should wear off in a matter of hours provided the medicine works as intended. Do you feel any other discomfort or injury. Anything that might necessitate a throughout examination?”
The man in armor shook his head.
“Ah, no. Nothing outside the usual?”
“Unfortunate. I was told that if you were dead, I’d be allowed to examine you.”
Ghoti blinked.
Whatever he expected… this wasn’t it.
“Are you sure you are a doctor?”
“Physician.” She corrected him, dully.
The elf sat to the side, picking up a flask from her bag with the same detached uninterest as before, shaking the liquid inside until it glowed a soft pink, she sighed and wrote down something on a piece of parchment before setting it to the side. Completely ignoring him as she went about her business.
“Is that… it?”
She didn’t look up from her work.
“Your life is out of danger. I shall be prescribing you with another glass of the same medicine before we move you to the village. Though I’m certain the captain will want to talk to you before we leave. On that note, does your kind experience any history with contagious diseases or birth defects?”
The human was utterly flummoxed.
“Ah, no?”
She sighed.
“Unfortunate.”
He was starting to see a pattern here.
“Is that normal for elf physicians? The whole ‘wishing deadly harm upon patients’ thing?”
There was a brief pause.
“Not in particular, no. I was merely bored. If you wish to donate your body to the cause of medicine, I would be eternally grateful.”
Well, given how often he almost died…
“I’ll think about it.”
She nodded, pleased.
“I am called Xinnia. Does your kind have a concept for individual identity?”
The man in armor chuckled.
“Just call me Ghoti, you weirdo.” So this is what it looked like from outside, huh?