Chapter 17

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I pulled the analog stick back, halting the knight mecha’s movement a pace away from the injured squire. The squire gingerly stood up, from the bent oak he was leaning against so he could tilt my knight’s frame with a small nod of respect. Oona was hovering by Amelia’s pauldron, watching the greeting stiffly.

The squire spotting her beamed a smile directed at me. “You got a Fae guide!” He said, eagerness in his candor.

“Ye-Yes. I do have a fae guide.” I agreed, still debating on what to say or what to do.

“Are you alright Sir?” The squire asked me, a wince on his face.

'Why did he ask such a question, he was the one that seemed Injured?'

Curious, I inquired, “what do you mean?”

“Uh, pardon my rudeness Sir Knight, but your voice is rather shrill.”

‘Oh right!’ I slammed my fist on my palm, knowing the reason why. Size-volume differentials, and also time to scale manipulation, of course, I’d sound like a fast-talking squeaky individual. It’s because of my small lungs and vocal cords that would be audible to humans as a high pitch voice, inadequate to conversing with giants. But, I wonder why Amelia did not mention it? Granted she saw me as a grass folk.

Contemplating a new invention of a loudspeaker with gravel stones attached as a sort of voice mixer, I could maybe sound like an average male human in armor. I’m distracting myself, this long pause was making the squire jittery in his patience on his splint. This time I will account for the time dilation when I next speak., for the fair folk experience time, 2 times faster than the average human.

With no other recourse, I mimicked my shout to sound reasonably manly.

“Ahm, yes. I was--kicked in the gonads by some ruffians.” I excused the reason for my high pitched voice, parsing the words out within a human’s timeframe. Mimicking a human is something I need to get used to doing.

The squire winced again from my answer. “I’m sorry I had asked, Sir.”

Oona had burst out laughing at this point. “You should hear him sing!” She chortled. “You’d be sorry then! Hahaha!”

“Iris cursed me,” I muttered under my breath. Bad enough all my family and friends know I have a horrible singing voice, Oona just had to, had to add another one into that posse. I wiped a tearful glimmer that was brimming in my eyes when reminiscing the torment of having such a disability.

“Ahem. Pardon this fairy here, she is a bit stunted you see.” I hurriedly and loudly reply, breaking through Oona’s shrilling laughter. She halted to then suddenly swivel her head to eye me with a tremendous glare.

“Stunted!? I’ll-I'll stunt you!” She was about to uncover the whole plot when the squire spoke.

"Sir Knight, I was rude for not introducing myself. My name is Dravon from the house of Drakengard, squire to lord Tiggart of Tigmont, the Teal Knight.” He paused, waiting for a signal from me for some reason. Was he expecting something?

“Good, Good.” I puzzlingly answered.

He stepped back, affronted at my ignorance with a tinge of suspicion. “ Have you never heard of my family or the Teal knight? That is peculiar, Sir. I would think my family would be known across the Kingdom of Armont…”

Annoyed with Oona, and also annoyed with this squire and his prattling about his house, I ended it with.

“Never heard of them.” But it was good to know which kingdom the Fae Forest is situated though.

“Never heard of them?” Oona repeated, a smug grin creeping out from her mouth. “Everyone heard of the heroic house of Drakengard, the house of dragon slayers. I guess, only a bumpkin, in some backwater would not have.” She over exaggerated with a leering tone directed at me specifically.

“Oh you,” I muttered, about to call her names that would make a mushroom man blush. I composed myself by reciting my mantra that had crossed between eons, ‘be a professional when dealing with idiots.’

“They don’t know any better, kids wallowing in mud. Let it go.” I muttered, talking to myself.

“And you are Sir?”

Oh verdant hells, I was too busy contemplating of fae murder, that I didn’t have time to create myself an alias for my Knight Mecha.

“Uhm...my name is…”

‘Come on, think of a good name.’

“Ghras...” My voice turned up a few octaves when parsing out the name.

“Sir Ghras...?” Dravon repeated.

“Yes, the H is silent…” I continued, my shoulders slumping in defeat at the excruciating name.

“From…?” The squire slowly inquired, trying to figure out if he heard the name before.

“From the House of...Grass.”

“Ghras from the House of Grass.” Dravon’s face was bewildered in bafflement at the peculiar name.

“Ah yes.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” Dravon remarked, now suspicious of my origins.

“Well that is peculiar, Sir. My family is well known in the Kingdom of Armont.” I countered.

A silent moment of awkward tension spoke in those seconds while the two men silently deliberated upon each other. One was in a splint, bloodied, and the other; was a gaggle of grass folk hidden in armor pretending to be human.

“Well...I’ll be on my way,” I said, not wanting to be involved with humans at the moment in such a close parameter.

I was about to walk off when he halted my passing. “Wait, Sir Ghras?”

I shrugged inside the armor and turned the Mecha to face him. “Yes…?”

“I’d like to request your assistance, as squire to a knight in the bonds of Chivalry.”

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“Ah damn it.” I knew there was some sort of knights code or something. I always thought knights and their chivalry were just an excuse to do some skullduggery whilst acting like a pious asshole.

In my history class in high school, I had picked the subject of knights to do an essay on, because I loved the concept of saving a damsel in distress in metal plating, specifically the metal. I was a metal fan, not the music, but the actual metal...Carbon steel, cast iron, magnesium, aluminum. I could go on and on, on facts and uses of metal, just the utter appearance of metal will send me into a tizzy.

If a girl can talk to me about how chromatic steel sizzles in a pitch of carbon dioxide, it would prompt me into an orgasmic release. I was distracted eyeing the squire’s breastplate, which was reflecting the silver tint in the morning light. I controlled myself. Save it for when I have a moment alone, polishing Amelia’s plate…

“Okay!” I said out loud, I’m distracting myself again.

“Okay? You will help?”

“Oh no, not that,” I said.

Dravon’s face sank down at my reply.

“Wait, I mean, I’ll consider it.” I cringed, criticizing myself on speaking out loud.

“What am I considering exactly?”

“To help me in searching for my lord knight, the Teal Knight.”

“Teal Knight?”

‘What kind of knight paints himself bluish-green? That's a crime to metallurgy!’ Aghast at the idea.

“Yes, Milord and I, with a few other adventurers were sent on an errantry to kill a green drake that had sequestered itself in the Artolian mountains above the Fae Forest north-east from here.”

“A drake...Hmm?” I speculated on what a drake would look like in this world, probably similar to the imaginings of my world.

“Yes, we were making camp at the peak between the mountain pass and the forest, when the drake snuck behind us, ambushing us through the green foliage.” He told with a pale pallor plastered on his face.

“It was harrowing, our whole party was split up, and he killed the adventurers one by one with his sharp extended claws.” Dravon then began to bawl up in tears at this point, “Milord Tiggart, for he was the bravest of knights, told me to flee, and to my dishonor and shame, I fled, while he held off the green drake in its frenzy.”

Dravon had slumped back into his oak, moaning for his lord’s safety. I tried to calm him down by giving him a few choice words but was lost to the hubbub of the sobbing.

“You did the right thing.”

He then looked up to me with tears brimming eyes.

“I have brought dishonor to the family. Please Sir Ghras? Will you assist me in finding my lord Tiggart?”

Hesitant, I stood, well, I sat, but he didn't need to know that he was requesting aid from a small folk that was one-tenth of his size.

“Uh, fairy? Is our destination.”

“Fairy?!” Oona repeated. “I’ll fairy you, you little-”

“Do we have to trek through the north-east mountain pass?” I continued, ignoring her words.

Oona composed herself, realizing she was about to give everything away. She nodded to my question, still annoyed at being called a fairy.

‘What the heck can I call her then?’

“Woman.” I cursed under my breath.

“Is there another way?” I asked.

Realization struck Oona at that moment on what I was contemplating to do. She shook her head in the negative to my inquiry.

I guess I have no other course to follow but this one. Taking a sigh of a man twice my age, for I am an old spirit in a young small folk’s body, I nodded stoically on what course I had set.

“I’ll assist you in finding your lord,” I spoke, parsing every word slowly and heavily, like two tonnes of weight added onto my responsibility.

“Really? Sir Ghras?”

“Yes, I have no other choice, but to assist you, young squire...”

The squire stood up straight from his weakest to give me a huge embrace. I stepped back away from him, so he could not see through the eye slits of the helm.

Seeing this moment of comradery shunned, abashed he gave me a small nod.

Avoiding the awkwardness that was ensuing.

“Well daylight is running, and I doubt we will find your lord in the night,” I remarked.

“Yes sir!” He stood up straight and huddled towards the trek that was heading north-east, whilst I followed behind.

After 30 minutes of walking, he asked me a question.

“Do you have the Dragon Slayer Title? Sir Ghras?”

‘Dragon Slayer Title?’

“No.”

“That’s a shame."

“Why is that?”

“Well aside from the prestige the Dragon Slayer Title will give you amongst your peers, it would have helped us tremendously in our quest, in case we get into a fight with the green drake again.”

My curiosity peaked at the title, I asked: “What benefits does the Title rewards you?”

“Reptilian damage one-hundredth percent, and will give you the ability to add resistance to the fire element.”

“Resistance to the fire element you say.”

“Yes it’s quite the boon.”

Now that is an interesting boon. For my knight mecha is 50 percent grass, and having the grass fire resistance, would help tremendously on my journey. One of the major weaknesses of grass was...Fire. Wait, wasn’t there a way for cultivators to add lower-tier fire resistance into their cultivating?

I whispered a shout below me. “Wink? Can you cultivate fire resistance?”

Not wanting to be heard, Wink climbed atop the ladder to poke his head out from the helm’s platform.

“Never tried it, but I think I know how it goes.” He said, giving me a wink for confidence.

My face was blank to his wink. “Well, can you try to cultivate the grass with that resistance?” I pleaded.

“Yes commander!” He saluted, then headed back down to the chest compartment to start his cultivation meditation.

The knight mecha stepped on a deep furrow, which nearly made her tripped onto the ground. But with quick reflexes on the analog twigs, I manage to save the whole enterprise of not being exposed to being not being entirely human inside an armored frame.

Swiftly the relief vanished when a jangle of stones in the waist region began to bounce about inside the interior. Peb was trying to hug the stones into quiet, but the noise was audible to the squire ahead.

“Sir Ghras?”

“Ahem, Yes?” I replied, after cursing my sidekick with a few stony words.

“You seem to have some things loose in your armor.”

I was about to say, “It was just a pebble.” When the baby in my golden backpack began to start wailing awake. I cursed the goddess Iris, and how fate was unkind. Well Dravon would have found out sooner or later about the baby.

The flap of the backpack opened to reveal Sera trying to whisper sweet lullabies to the baby.

The squire Dravon had his mouth agape at this display, of a knight having a baby inside his backpack whilst one of those peculiar grass folk sang to it.

“Why do you have a baby and grass folk in your backpack?” His bewilderment bypassing his suspicions.

“Ahem. I use the grass folk...to…”

‘Think, think…’

“I use them to look after my gear, they are my servants.”

‘Yes, that will do.’

“And the baby?” He inquired with incredulity.

“It’s part of my errantry. Yes, errantry.”

The squire Dravon paused to look at me in consternation, seeing a weird garb knight wearing a golden fur backpack, with a grassy plume on his helm, and grass folks as servants. He is probably thinking, what kind of bumpkin of a knight uses grass folks as servants and has an errantry with babies?

Whilst I? The greatest inventor of this world, the revolutionary thinker of my age, was sweating droplets to juggle all these obstacles that were thrust upon me with my hands tied behind my back.

All this, so we don’t get exposed as the phonies we are. I’m literally tying all these charades up with grass strings. I can’t comprehend, how stupid my situation is, at this moment.

Dravon mystified, nodded, then swiveled back to the front, heading back to the trek.

I slumped on my stool, relieved, whilist the baby behind me continued wailing for hemp milk.