The day had barely started, and Thistle found herself already growing very, very tired this morning. Usually, her morning routine consisted of stretches, breakfast, going through a few quick martial forms with her teacher, then heading off to her morning patrols. But as the sun just started to rise she was instead playing mediator to two young elven boys as she scanned their bruised and scratched faces with a meanest scowl she could muster. One boy was a bit on the taller side, just a head shorter than Thistle with tan skin, bright grayish green eyes, and a rather ugly black eye on his otherwise cute face. The other was a shorter boy with slightly lighter skin, dark brown eyes, and an ugly looking gash on his cheek that had a damp cloth held to it by Thistle. She looked both boys over with narrowed eyes, trying to look more disappointed than angry, a challenge given her annoyed mood.
“Alright,” She began, doing her best to keep her voice patient but stern. “Explain to me again how this happened?”
The two looked at each other, glared, then the taller boy spoke up first.
“He called me a name!” The taller boy shouted, pointing at the smaller boy. “Dirk said I was stupid and weird for collecting clovers, so I hit him to make him stop!”
“Only because you called me a name first!” The shorter boy retorted, pointing back at the taller boy. “Reed made fun of me for being short and laughed at me!”
“Nuh-uh! I said you couldn’t reach the flowers on a tree branch because you’re short!”
“Well, you still laughed at me!”
“Did not!”
“Did too!”
“Di-”
“Enough.” Thistle raised her voice, giving the two a harsh glare that made them shudder. The two only pouted but said nothing more. “I didn’t tell you two to argue. I asked for an explanation, but clearly I’m not going to get one with you two like this.”
“He-” The taller boy started.
“E-nough.” She repeated. “You two are going to be seventeen soon. And at that point I’ll have more than a few ways of solving your little altercations.” At that, she gave a very slow, very unsubtle, very loud crack of her knuckles.
The two boys shivered at that, immediately covering their heads. “No, not the Thistle Thorns!” The tall boy shouted in a panic.
“No wait, we’ll be good! We won’t argue!” The shorter boy exclaimed, staggering back.
Thistle only gave a cold smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh? Are you sure? Because you know how good an elf’s memory is…” She teased, her cold smile chilling further. “Maybe I’ll count every time you two bug me and then give you an extra nice present on your birthdays…”
The boys shuddered at that, both taking a step back.
Elven law dictated that children under seventeen couldn’t be given corporal punishment. It was a good law on paper, but if you asked Thistle kids just acted up too much and took advantage of the fact that they’d be given slaps on the wrist for their early childhood. Unless they were put through the wringer in a martial training school like Thistle was or taken into some religious or educational course like some other elves, they just turned annoyingly bratty until their adolescence. Thank the gods Master took me in so early and I got into my healer’s apprenticeship right after I turned 18. So glad I didn’t in up like these brats.
Then again, Thistle got into her fair share of mischief around their age too. She didn’t tattle about it like these little brats did, but still. She let out a short sigh, shaking her head. “Just… don’t come to me for things like this. Settle your own problems and deal with the consequences.” With that, she took a slow breath and felt a warm sensation along the base of her palms that started to spread through her hands as a soft white glow enveloped them.
The two boys slowly approached, and Thistle gently placed a hand over the taller boy’s black eye, watching him flinch as white steam washed over the injury and healed his bruise.
“It always hurts when you heal…” He complained.
“Because the mana in my hand is giving your body the extra nutrients and materials it needs to heal the bruises and cuts.” She explained in a short, matter-of-fact tone. “I’m forcing a wound that would take weeks to heal normally to take seconds. It’s going to hurt.” There were ways to lower the pain to a dull ache or even just numb the skin so the healing couldn’t be felt, but that took too much mana for such a simple wound. Only proper surgeons would go so far, and only for extreme injuries. “Alright, you next Reed.”
The smaller boy approached, and to his credit he didn’t flinch or complain like his taller friend when Thistle touched him. It honestly made the healing go by a lot faster.
“Alright, next time you come to me this early to heal something this stupid I’m just going to slap you two with mana and fix you that way.”
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
The shorter boy pouted. “But Thistle,” He started.
“Don’t care.” She interrupted. “I have things to do that are more important than your issues. Come to me this early again for something this stupid and I will tell your parents about it.”
The two boys shivered, immediately nodding before running off.
“She’s so violent for a healer…” The taller boy muttered.
“Hope someone beats her up so she acts nicer…” The smaller boy replied.
“I heard that you brats!” Thistle shouted, getting the boys to yelp and run faster.
She sighed again, rolling her shoulders. “Alright, time for me to get ready for my patrols.” With a small huff, she turned and headed into the training hall she lived in, going up the stairs and to her room. She changed out of her morning clothes and into a simple brown tunic, putting a leather breastplate over it, dark brown cloak with the village’s militia emblem on the back, fingerless leather gloves, dark brown long pants, and thick leather combat sandals. It took a while to get everything together, but once she was done, she looked herself over in the mirror before she put her wheat-colored hair in a low ponytail for a more practical look. After that, she took a short breath to channel mana within her body before throwing out two quick palm strikes and a kick, each strike letting out a short burst of white. Then, she put her hands in a resting position, standing with confidence in front of the mirror. “Alright, ready to go!” On her way downstairs, she spotted a human man with short, dark-brown hair in the center of the training hall, going through various martial forms that were a bit more complicated than her own morning routine.
“I’m heading out, Master!” She said.
The man gave Thistle a curt nod. “Be safe, Thistle.” He said, before going back to his forms as Thistle went out into the village.
----------------------------------------
HornLeaf was pretty typical for an elven village. Like most elven villages it wasn’t a settlement in the human sense. Unlike humans who cleared out flora and fauna to create a living space, HornLeaf mimicked nature itself, infusing trees with mana and elven runes to grow and strengthen the branches. Rather than making houses of wood and stone on the ground, the elves had terraformed the surrounding wood and branches into nest-like structures atop a tree’s first layer, every home an upside-down dome of runic branches, or massive tree trunks outright hollowed into proper homes, or even hive-like homes on the side of trees made from mana-infused beeswax. It kept the forest floor free for the animals and flora to grow properly, without the need for elven hands to interfere with nature. It was what Thistle liked most about her village compared to the human settlements she had visited during her apprenticeship.
Upon exiting her home Thistle jumped down onto the forest floor, then sprinted to the village entry markers of two thick redwood trees with bright purple flowers around their trunks, the eponymous Tree Gates. Standing around the Tree Gates were a group of elven adolescents wearing similar attire to Thistle of leather armor and cloaks of brown and green, her patrol team and friends. A young man about a head and a half taller than her with long arms, long black hair in a messy ponytail, and a long spear of black manawood looked her over and gave a charming smile, their main frontliner Pine. A shorter, stocky young man with broad shoulders and thick dark red hair, Ashroot, brightened up with obvious relief as he saw Thistle, adjusting the large shield on his hip as he readied the quiver on his back and a red bow in his hand. He was both the archer and emergency defender of the team. And last, two young women of similar height and wavy brown hair, one very thin with freckles along her face and twin wooden short spears at her hip, the other a little wider around the waist with a quarterstaff lazily held in her hand, the twins Sheathe and Blade. Sheathe was the other frontliner that worked with Pine, and Blade was a spellcaster and scout that observed and controlled their surroundings. Combined with Thistle providing commands, emergency healing when needed, and occasional extra offense when able, they formed a very balanced, well-coordinated team.
And the jerks all decided to call this team the Thistle Thorns, much to her chagrin.
“Look who finally showed up.” Sheathe said, rolling her eyes.
“Sorry, had to do some morning healing before heading here.” Thistle said, getting a scoff from Sheathe.
Ashroot gave a quiet chuckle, giving Sheathe a placating wave of his hand. “Eh, it’s fine, Thistle. Was just chatting about what to do for dinner. Thinking of hunting something during patrol.” He said, double-checking the string of his bow with an eager smile.
Pine grinned and nudged Ashroot’s shoulder with his elbow. “Hey, no hunting on patrol, Mr. Chef. You know how the elders are about doing side jobs during morning work.” He teased. “Buuut, if you spot decent game that looks dangerous then maybe the Elders’ll let it slide.”
Ashroot grinned back, playfully bumping Pine with his shoulder. “And would you keep your mouth shut if I cooked it?”
Blade’s ears perked up and twitched, her eyes lighting up as she gave Pine a sharp gaze. “I’ll shut Pine’s mouth up with tree sap if you bag and cook up a decent fox or even a wolf while we’re patrolling.” She interjected, causing Pine to shudder.
“Seconded,” Thistle stated, raising her hand. “I know a decent silencing spell that should last for about four hours.”
Pine hung his head low, throwing his arms up. “I was kidding, guys! Seriously!” He said theatrically, getting chuckles from the group.
“Let’s get going guys. I can see some of the adults glaring from here.” Ashroot said.
Thistle looked up into the trees, seeing the disapproving and annoyed looks of several adults, some even motioning for them to leave for their rounds and others starting to come down from the tree branches to scold them.
“Yikes…” Thistle frowned, looking at the group and quickly starting to walk past the Tree Gates. “C’mon guys. Master’s gonna’ have my head if he hears we were slacking this early in the morning.” She said, trying to keep her tone somewhat sharp.
The others got in the last of their conversation before following after her with quick steps, making it out of the village just before the adults could actually say something to them. The last thing any of them wanted was to hear a grown elf talk their ears off with how ‘irresponsible’ they were being. The other four looked back, saw the disapproving glares of the adults and immediately quickened their pace to catch up to Thistle.
“You don’t get to say all that after cracking jokes with us, Miss Leader.” Sheathe sneered once they were out of view.
“I nearly slapped two kids, Sheathe. Don’t tempt me.” Thistle shot back.
“Heh, oh I hope I tempt you after patrols today. Still want payback after last week.”
Thistle rolled her eyes. “Job first, spar second.” She said, raising her voice a little. “That goes for all of you. No nonsense until we head back. We got all the silliness out when we left.”
“Yes maaaaa’am…” They all droned in that patronizing way to make her stop talking, getting another eyeroll from Thistle.