1

“The Mankind Monarchy’s countryside is not that different from the Elven Empire’s one,” Flavia pondered as she traversed a dirt road that was barely wide enough for one carriage. The early summer sun had begun its descent, mirroring the decline of her vigor. A week ago she crossed the border between the two countries. By now her predicament was getting worse on an hourly basis: her elegant shoes succumbed to the relentless journey, her last remaining ration became today’s breakfast, and her purse was all but empty. In order to cross the border discreetly, she had to hand out healthy bribes; the last thing she wanted was for her one-sidedly renounced family to learn of her whereabouts.

Upon climbing a modest knoll, Flavia’s gaze fell upon a settlement, which was minuscule by elven standards. She pressed on. By sunset she arrived at a bustling town adorned with vibrant decorations. She looked around and approached an elderly human woman.

“What is this place?” the elf asked.

“What?” the woman cupped her ear.

“What is the name of your town?” Flavia enunciated louder, drawing nearer.

“Why, it’s Appleburn!”

“Thank you,” Flavia nodded, “May I ask why the decorations?”

“What?”

“Would you let me know the cause of this celebration?” Flavia raised her voice above the growing commotion.

“Why, the new High King was elected!”

“What happened to the former one?”

“High Queen Hedda, bless her heart, was getting old. She summoned a vote. The Council chose our little Jaeden as High King—imagine that!”

“Your little Jaeden?” Flavia was getting lost in this conversation.

“Just so! His parents are from Appleburn! He was my pupil!”

“Very… intriguing. Where might I find lodging for tonight?”

“What?” The clamor intensified, making it hard to keep talking.

With a sigh and a bow, Flavia delved further into town.

***

The locals directed Flavia to the Old Orchard Inn, a three-story building at the town’s far end, adjacent to a legitimate apple orchard. Pushing open the weighty door, she was greeted by a wave of warm air, redolent with the aromas of food and alcohol—the ground floor doubled as a tavern. The establishment bustled, every table and chair occupied by patrons—humans of all ages.

In a corner a teenage girl in a flowing white gown was playing the lute. Flavia noted that the melody was skillfully performed. At first the sight of an orange-haired elf attracted some attention, but everyone quickly returned to their plates and beers.

“Excuse me,” Flavia approached the bar, where a man bellowed orders into the kitchen.

“Huh?” He looked at the elf. He had black hair and was in his early forties. “What can I do for ya, missy?”

“I seek lodging for a week. And a meal.”

“Makes sense,” the man nodded, “but the problem is that we’re full. The only room we have left is the grandey suite! And that’ll cost ya.”

“Is this enough,” Flavia confidently smiled and poured all the money out of her money bag onto the bar counter.

The innkeeper’s laughter erupted at the sight of the modest sum, drawing the attention of onlookers.

“Missy,” he chortled, “this currency won’t do here! Oh, and the nearest changer is three days away! Ha-ha!”

As Flavia readied her explanation, a weary yet enthusiastic voice interjected:

“Four more ales, love,” a woman with dark brown hair in her late thirties juggled empty platters. Flavia stepped aside.

“Right away! And would ya look at this,” he gestured towards Flavia and her coins. “She wants our grandey suite for this!”

“Oh, good evening ma’am” the woman greeted, depositing dishes at the service hatch. She wiped her hands on her apron and reached out to the elf for a handshake.

“Ah…” Flavia didn’t know how to react.

“Oh, my bad, I forgot you don’t do that there,” the woman retracted her hand. “I’m Lonera Distale, and this is Adin, my husband. We run this place. Unfortunately, all standard rooms are taken, as you have heard already. Also, we no longer accept Empire coins—too many forgeries recently.”

“That’s news to me,” Flavia’s brows arched. “But please, may I stay for at least a night? I swear on my fami—I swear on my name that I will return with the money within the week.”

“No can do missy,” Adin declared, lining up the ales. “And can’t give ya any food for those either.”

“Perhaps we could barter?” Flavia surveyed the room. “It appears the house is full; I can help serve.”

“Out of the question, ma’am,” Lonera observed Flavia’s attire, which heavily hinted at nobility. “We couldn’t possibly—”

“Ha-ha-ha!” The innkeeper’s laughter boomed. “Here’s an offer for ya: clean the stables—they utterly neglected since Mem was maimed by a bear last week—and the grandey suite is yours, on the house!”

Lonera was shocked. She wasn’t sure what could happen if one was to offend elven nobility and she really didn’t want to learn. Before she could tell her husband to shut up and apologize, Flavia confidently says:

“Agreed. And the meals?”

“Ah, finally, someone who knows how to bargain! Very well, any dish you want for a week, personally prepared by me!”

With a nod, Flavia extended her hand as Lonera had earlier, and the innkeeper shook it firmly. She departed in silence, leaving Lonera awestruck and the patrons exchanging smirks.

***

As the evening unfolded, the Old Orchard Inn’s bustle intensified. The owners frantically scrambled to fulfill the mounting orders. The peculiar orange-haired elf was all but forgotten amidst the hubbub. A patron, quite blond and very drunk, staggered to the bar. He asked without batting an eye:

“How much for my hay and for my steed’s steak, hic?”

Laughter erupted throughout the tavern. Adin’s guffaw resonated above all. He quoted a sum and aided the tipsy man in sorting his coins. The blond customer stumbled out toward the stables. A minute later his screams pierced the night. Bursting through the door, his facial expression suggested that something supernatural occurred just now. He exclaimed:

“The stables! They’re—”

“Squeaky clean,” Flavia materialized behind the astonished man.

The chatter ceased. The music stopped. All eyes turned to the elf: delicate feet muddied, elegant attire sullied, and her floral scent overpowered by less pleasant smells. She made her way to the bar, leaving a trail of muddy footsteps.

“Umh,” Adin gulped, his nerves very apparent. “Missy, did ya clean the entire…”

“Verify for yourself,” she invited.

“She speaks the truth!” the blond man endorsed, still in disbelief, but nodding furiously.

“Did… Did ya use magic?!” Adin was incredulous.

Flavia offered a weary smile, shaking her head.

“I’m not a magic-user. Otherwise, you’d already owe me a large sum of coins.”

Adin faltered, his words trailing off as the tavern’s patrons regarded him with reproach.

“Adi-i-in,” Lonera’s voice cut through from the middle of the tavern, stern and unyielding.

“Da-a-ad,” the lute-playing girl chimed in, appearing beside the elf woman, her gaze fixed on Adin.

Flavia extended her hand, palm up, and requested:

“The key to my grandey suite, if you’d be so kind.”

2

One month later, the orange-haired elf was still at the Old Orchard. Primarily, she had nowhere else to go, and she wasn’t ready to hit the road just yet. Secondarily, she grew to like the Distale family—they were the first “real” humans she interacted with.

Even though Flavia was smart and more self-reflective than the average elf, being a noble in the Empire significantly warps your perspective on mankind. For her entire existence, she interacted with one of two main categories: the courteous and humble servants who moved to the Empire to earn some money, and the arrogant and eccentric rich whose stay in the country was a show of financial force. There were also the occasional diplomats, but with all the masks they wore, they were as far from the average human as they could get.

But here in Appleburn, the men and the women were simply… people. Every one of them was unique in some way, shape, or form. The culture shock that Flavia experienced was eye-opening.

Additionally, after cutting all ties to her previous life, for the first time since birth, she had no clearly defined purpose. No need to be an obedient sister, a tireless student, or an exemplary candidate for the elven throne. And that felt… liberating.

“Flavia,” Lonera’s face appeared in the service hatch, “two steaks, well-done, love!”

“What kind of monster would do that to a perfectly good steak?!” the elf placed two pieces of meat on a frying pan.

“Out-of-towners, duh!”

All right, so Flavia did have a purpose, at least for the near future: helping out at the tavern. Lonera’s parents turned out to be former servants to a family of elven farmers, so they quickly connected with each other. Because of the coronation, a lot of people flooded into the town—they wanted to see where the new High King spent his childhood. For the Old Orchard, this meant constant understaffing. In came the former noble elf, who needed to earn some money, so Adin offered her a more permanent job.

During the first week, she tried serving food and drinks. News of a mysterious foreign waitress spread like wildfire; the length of the line of people waiting outside for a chance to see her later became local folklore. This worsened the understaffing situation. On top of that, after exactly one and a half days and evenings of interacting with customers, her demeanor changed. The honor graduate of Eldarion Academy lost all the politeness that was instilled in her. Her colorful, inventive, and snarky comments were subsequently added to the same folklore.

Thus, Flavia found herself by the frying pans. Initially, the kitchen staff were skeptical of the new cook; but seeing how quickly she learned and how diligent she was, she soon became everyone’s darling. As a bonus, she found a new hobby. There was a certain meditative quality to repeating the steps of a recipe over and over, day in and day out. In the end, this change of profession fixed the understaffing issue.

***

The owners’ daughter—Alona—was slightly younger than Flavia, but since elves matured a tiny bit slower than humans, they were basically the same age. After a while, the elf noted that the young lute player had a very limited repertoire. Back at the Academy, she was taught to play a plethora of musical instruments, including the elven lute. She always saw this as a waste of time, never thinking it might come in handy, but now she was proven wrong.

Since the tavern was busiest during evenings, there was a lot of time to spare. Flavia approached the musician with an offer to teach her some of the songs of her people. By now, Alona was already keeping an eye on their guest from her corner of the tavern, intrigued by the foreign mannerisms and culture. She happily agreed.

They immediately ran into a problem: the elven lute had four strings and used the perfect fourths tuning, while here in the Monarchy, the instrument had five and used all fifths. The elf’s music theory knowledge was limited at best—swordplay lessons took priority every single time—and she knew most of the songs with her fingers, rather than the actual notes. Fortunately, the human girl had a very good pitch and a natural feel for how a melody should progress.

Short clarifications turned into discussions; discussions began to lengthen first by minutes, then by hours. Before long, every waking and non-working moment, the two girls spent together. The parents smiled at them every time they passed by. Before long, the two became best friends.

One night, a bard was passing through the tavern, who had participated in a bar fight in another town a couple of nights before. In this fight, the lute was damaged and only two strings could still somewhat hold tune. The two girls got him sufficiently drunk and, before the night was over, the broken lute was exchanged for a bottle of cheap booze. The next morning, the defective instrument was tuned to fifths—a poor man’s faux-elven lute. They could finally figure out some elven melodies without the need to constantly retune the main lute.

***

It was another busy evening in the tavern. Adin was pouring ale, Lonera was moving the plates around, and Alona was playing the lute. Flavia was in the kitchen, fulfilling orders and listening closely to the melody. As always, the playing was flawless.

…until a note was missed. The elf ignored that altogether. Then three notes were misplayed, one after another. Well, the musician was only human after all—not a music box. Then the melody ceased completely.

“Hey Adin,” Flavia called, “can I take a break?”

“Sure thing, missy!”

She went into the tavern’s main hall, which was as busy as ever, and immediately saw the reason that stopped the music. Two young men were standing a little too close to Alona while talking to her, which she clearly did not enjoy. Flavia immediately recognized them—they were Tenace and Gevaar Riggs, sons of a local tax collector. They both were blond and a couple of years older than the girls. This wasn’t the first time the younger brother—Tenace—had tried to make a move on Alona, which she had turned down more times than they could count. The older one was playing the role of a wingman, at which he was failing miserably. The elf insolently brushed between them with a tray in her hands and stood beside Alona.

“My-my, who do we have here? Why, if it isn’t returning customers! What can I offer you?” Flavia gave them a condescending smile. “I would suggest our signature ‘Forgotten Manners’ stew. It’s served with a side of a ‘Respecting Boundaries’ salad. Ah, but I see you’re quite thirsty. Can I tempt you with our ‘Read the Room’ cocktail? Perfect for those needing a boost in facing rejection. Oh, and if you’re planning on staying, I suggest ordering something more substantial. Like a backbone.”

“Ugh, go away, elf! We’re trying to enjoy Alona’s phenomenal music,” Tenace croaked.

“Are you now? My apologies, darling,” Flavia leaned over to her friend. “I didn’t realize you were entertaining moths tonight. Don’t worry, I’ll shoo them away.”

“Watch your tongue, girl,” Gevaar barked.

“Seems I wasn’t clear. Perhaps some fresh air would do you good, gentlemen. Unless, of course, you prefer the stale scent of desperation.”

The older brother menacingly hovered over the elf.

“You know what,” the younger brother said in a smug tone, “perhaps I’ll listen to you, just this once.”

With that, he reached out and grabbed Alona’s forearm, trying to drag her outside. A moment later, Flavia struck his wrist with the edge of the tray. Tenace cried out in pain.

“You bi—” Gevaar lifted his fist over the elf’s head.

“AHEM,” an unhappy female voice resonated through the walls.

The brothers looked back to see every pair of eyes in the establishment glaring intensely at them. Both owners were standing with their hands on their hips, a punch-length away from the boys.

“You’ll regret this,” the older brother grabbed the younger one and hastily left.

Once the door was shut, everyone returned to their food.

“Are you two alright?” Lonera asked.

“I think I… broke your tray,” the elf lamented.

“Don’t sweat it, missy, we’ll deduct it from your payment!” Adin burst out laughing.

“Oww…”

Alona grabbed her savior’s hand and exclaimed muffledly:

“You looked so badass! Let me treat you to something special!”

“Like what?”

“Like a sauna.”

“Oh, sweet! Let’s go tonight!”

***

They walked together on the night streets of Appleburn. Alona was in her usual white gown. She was about half a head taller than Flavia. She had dark brown hair, brown eyes, and barely visible freckles, which you could properly see only in direct sunlight.

They reached the bathhouse and walked through the entrance to the female half. Inside, they found a line of women and girls. After some negotiation, they managed to secure a tiny, but private sauna. But only for a mere ten minutes—this place turned out to be as popular as the Old Orchard!

After washing themselves, the girls were sitting shoulder to shoulder in the sauna. The only light source was a big candle near the ceiling. The elf’s face showed bliss, while the human’s was flustered—they were physically very close to each other. Five minutes had passed, without them saying a single word.

“Is it just me, or is the silence uncomfortable for you?” Flavia checked with her neighbor without opening her eyes.

“No…”

“And it shouldn’t be! You know, there are people you can talk to, and then there are people you can be quiet with. Over the years, I learned to enjoy the company of both.”

“I guess… I wanted you to know that I really admire your resolve. To think that you made a decision to run away from your family… and then went through with it! I could never do that.”

“Well, if my parents were still alive and were as amazing as yours—I would have never left.”

Flavia threw her head back, still keeping her eyes closed. This allowed Alona to openly stare at the other girl.

“You know, you’re so… pretty,” Alona mused.

“Nah, I’m just exotic. You’re much better looking than me.”

“When I look at you, it feels like… there’s a fire inside of you. And, if I get too close, I might… burn myself.”

“Telling you, it’s the orange hair. Or eyes. Or both!”

Flavia started massaging her shoulders.

“Will you get mad if I ask to touch… your ears?”

“Why would I be mad at you? Bet I’m the first elf you’ve been this close to. Go ahead.”

She gingerly reached out and touched the tip of Flavia’s pointed ear.

“It is so… soft,” Alona concluded.

“Obviously. Imagine sleeping on the side of your head if they were hard. You’d need some magic pillows for that, he-he.”

The human’s hand went down along the ear to the lobe, then down the neck. She stopped on the shoulder, resting her palm on the elf’s hand.

“Hey,” Flavia finally looked at the girl, “is the temperature too hot here? Your face is way too red.”

Alona yanked her hand away and covered her face.

“Wait a minute,” the elf said, slowly drawing out the words, “are you—Just now, were you trying to—”

A knock on the door startled them a bit. A female voice announced:

“Time’s up, ladies!”

The human girl quickly got up and left. The pointy-eared friend sneered and followed her.

***

“You were acting kind of sketchy back there,” Flavia gave her friend a sly look. “Calling me hot and all that!”

“Good heavens, you’re such a tease!”

The girls took a few steps outside of the bathhouse. The moon glinted on their not fully dry hair. Three male figures emerged from the other half of the bathhouse. One of the men was bald and had an eyepatch. Alona threw a quick glance at them; in the next second, she grabbed the elf’s hand and started walking in the opposite direction of where they came from.

“Whoa, what’s the rush?” Flavia chuckled. “The streets are empty, might as well slow down and enjoy the night stroll!”

“Shut up.”

“You’re getting more and more assertive! It’s getting harder to recognize the shy little lute player in the darkest corner of the tavern.”

Alona pulled her friend into an alley between two buildings and pushed Flavia against the wall. She slammed her hands into the bricks behind them, looming over her friend.

“My oh my, Miss Distale, should I be afraid?” the orange-haired girl winked.

“Are you just… playing games? Is this all a joke to you?”

“Why are you mad?”

“Tell me the truth!”

“But why are you mad at me?!”

“Because I—” Alona let out a long exhale. “Look, I’m just… confused. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not playing games, I’m just…” Flavia shrugged, “having fun.”

“Oh, I get it now. So I’m like a toy to you?”

“What the—No! Why would you say that?! You’re, like, the first human friend I ever had—”

“Human, huh?”

“You know what I meant!”

With a slap, Alona covered her face with her palms and turned her back to the elf.

“I need to come clean with you,” Flavia let out a sigh of defeat, resting her forehead on the other girl’s back. “From the very bottom of my heart: I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong. Humankind’s customs are entirely new to me. But you know I’m a fast learner. Please, give me a chance. You’re the last person in the world who I want to offend in any way.”

“It’s not you…” the human girl mumbled.

“What?.. Sorry, I didn’t catch that…”

“It’s not you, Flavia,” she turned around and looked her in the eyes. “It’s me. Lately I—”

“It’s that bitch!!” a man shouted from the far side of the alley.

The girls looked at where the voice came from. It was the Riggs brothers.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Thought I recognized your rusty hair! You’ll pay for what you did to my baby brother’s arm!” Gevaar was furious. Tenace was behind him with a stick in his hands.

The elf covered her friend with her body.

“What are you—” Alona muttered.

“Run away, I’ll hold them back.”

“No! Don’t be an idiot!”

“I got this, now go!”

“No, you don’t, we—” the human girl froze.

“What is it?”

Flavia turned around and saw that their escape route was blocked by three other men. One of them had an eyepatch and no hair.

“Well, well, well,” he rumbled in a low throaty voice, “what do we have here?”

“Five against two, huh?!” the orange-haired girl yelled out.

“Yeah, that sounds about right, ha-ha-ha!” the same man cracked up. His laughter seemed oddly familiar. “Hey, elf lassy. Why are you protecting this human girl?”

“Because that’s what friends do,” she replied, “not that I expect someone like you to ever understand—”

“Shut up and get ready to get pummeled into the ground!” Gevaar accelerated his pace, heading toward the girls.

“If you come closer, I will curse you with my elven voodoo! My ancestors will—” Flavia lifted her fists up.

A rock flew extremely fast past her head, hitting the older brother in the solar plexus. He collapsed where he stood, loudly and convulsively trying to breathe.

“Brother, no!” Tenace fell to his knees beside him. “Which one of you threw that rock?!”

“Uncle Bocher,” Alona was staring at the bald man, “we can handle this ourselves.”

“Oh, I am sure you can, my dear niece. It’s just that you, unlike me, have an actual reputation to lose, ha-ha!”

“That laugh…” Flavia squinted. “You’re Adin’s brother?”

“Ha-ha! You’re a clever lassy!” he took a step towards the girls and the elf immediately raised her fist towards him. “Woah, woah!” he put his hands in the air, “I just want to have a little chat with those chaps!”

His two followers stepped to the side, allowing the girls to exit the alley, which they quickly did.

“What’s ‘elven voodoo’?” Alona whispered.

“Look… Desperate situations call for scary-sounding things that are entirely made up.”

“But that didn’t sound even remotely scary…”

“Well, excuse me for not being witty, while trying to save our asses!”

“Hey, lassy!” Bocher called from the alley, making Flavia look back at him. “I like your attitude. Let’s talk tomorrow morning at the Orchard.”

“Don’t! Don’t do it! I forbid you!” the human girl tried coaxing her friend.

The elf grudgingly looked her dead in the eyes and said loud and clear:

“Sure thing, mister! Looking forward to that!”

3

The rooster’s crow heralded the dawn of a new late summer day. Flavia was already awake, lying in bed and gazing at the wooden ceiling above. It seemed surreal that more than a year elapsed since her arrival to the Mankind Monarchy. She got up, tucked her twin daggers into a leather belt pouch and descended the stairs.

“Good morning,” chimed Alona with a broom in hand, making sure the tavern is ready for the first visitors.

“Morning, Alona,” replied the elf, casually rummaging for something nutritious behind the bar.

“My dear long-eared friend,” the human girl leaned on the countertop. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but the brand new lute you left at my doorstep is way too expensive for me to keep.”

“Huh?” Flavia looked up, a strip of beef jerky dangling from her lips. “No idea what you’re talking about!”

“Such fibs may work on my dad, but they won’t fool me,” Alona retorted with a playful grin. “And this corny note? ‘From your secret admirer’—seriously?”

“I am utterly aghast!” Flavia feigned shock, fluttering her eyelashes with mock innocence. “To suggest that I would fib? Outrageous! This mysterious admirer would be crestfallen!”

Laughter filled the morning air. The elf finished packing and made her way to the exit.

“Flavia,” Alona’s tone grew serious, “are you going to Uncle Bocher’s place?”

“Uhm, yes, that’s what I’ve been doing daily this past year. He’s an old man and needs all the help he can get at the watermill.”

“Watermill, sure,” she whispered.

“You want me to pass something on to him or—”

The human suddenly reached out for an embrace. Flavia gently placed her hand on top of the other girl’s head, keeping her at bay, and asked:

“What is this about?”

“I know I sound stupid, but… please don’t go.”

“Really?” the elf crossed her arms. “Why?”

“No real reason, I just… have a bad feeling about today.”

“Uh-huh. Right. No offense, but I feel like you’re trying to manipulate me. And I hate it.”

“Flavia—”

The orange-haired girl left, slamming the door behind her.

***

The sun marked the midpoint between dawn and zenith, as Flavia arrived at the watermill—the standard rendezvous point with her comrades. It was located just beyond the town’s edge. In the yard, a towering figure wielded an ax, methodically splitting logs.

“Morning, Klaus,” Flavia raised her hand in greeting. “Count chickens only after they hatch and chop firewood in early summer—are those your two mottos?”

The man shrugged.

“Mottos? Dunno about that, but you can’t deny it’s good exercise.”

“Can’t and won’t. Is Bocher around?”

“Yeah, he’s inside and he’s got a new job for us. Go in, I’ll finish chopping and meet y’all there.”

Ascending the creaky steps, Flavia pushed open the groaning wooden door. As her vision adjusted to the dim interior, she sensed a presence. Someone grabbed her by the shoulder.

“Where do you think you’re going, elf girl?” hissed a high-pitched male voice.

With a smirk, Flavia ducked and twisted, sending her assailant tumbling. She swiftly got him in an armlock, prompting a painful squeal.

“Drake, dear Drake,” she chided, “could you please stop trying to touch me on every possible occasion?”

“Please, I beg you, release me! Ahh! It’s excruciating!”

Flavia rose, assisting Drake to his feet before dusting him off.

“Why did I ever teach you that maneuver?”

“I’m genuinely thankful, even if you’re its sole recipient.”

“So, uhm, how have you been? Did you spend any money from our last job? That nobleman’s purse was heavier than anticipated…”

“I’m fine, thanks. But I don’t see how my spending habits are any of your business,” she retorted, venturing further into the mill.

“So, Flavia,” Drake was massaging his hurt arm, “have you considered my plan? That summer house I showed you? With just the two of us?”

“Look, Drake,” the elf exhaled wearily. “You might not be the brightest of our bunch, but you clearly understand what your ‘plan’ implies. Just stop making me repeat this: I don’t see you that way.”

His expression fell. The inner door swung open, revealing a bald man with an eyepatch.

“Flavia!” he boomed. “Looking a touch pale, ha-ha! Did my favorite tracker get a good night’s rest?”

“Glad to see you too, Bocher. I’m good, merely a tad… tense. Wait, why am I explaining this? Did I ever give you reasons to doubt my performance? And being the only tracker in our group automatically makes me the favorite, doesn’t it?”

“Ha-ha-ha!” the man laughed out loud, “no, you never did, lassy! But what am I supposed to call you if you are my favorite tracker? Anyway, tell the lumberjack to join us and let’s talk biz—Ah, there he is!”

Klaus just stepped inside.

“So-o-o, what’s the plan, boss?” Drake asked.

The one-eyed man looked at his group with a ghoulish grin and uttered a single word:

“Assassination.”

***

Dusk descended, enveloping the forest in a melancholic gloom. Anxiety gripped the group, except for Bocher, who remained nonchalant. Their year-long history of theft, sabotage, and the occasional abduction, had yet to venture into the realm of murder.

“What did this guy do, anyway?” Drake murmured.

“Snooping too much,” replied their cyclopean leader. “A thorn in our client’s side.”

“The regular client?” Flavia was leading the group.

“Smart question, lassy. Nope, a fresh face,” he responded.

Flavia halted abruptly, causing a near-collision behind her. She shot an angry glare at Bocher.

“What?” he whispered back. “Look at us, no matter what we do, we come out without a scratch! I’m certain that if any one of you saw all that coin, you would have agreed even faster than I did. After this little endeavor, we’re set till next summer! Or more! Well, after we find a way to exchange so much coin from the Empire—”

“Elven coin?” Flavia was in disbelief. “Did you at least check if it’s not counterfeit?”

“Relax, the client came from a trusted source! Besides, why would he—”

“I smell something…” Klaus cut in, “a bonfire from… that way.”

They reached the forest’s edge and discovered a clearing with a cave that housed a lone, hooded figure beside a fire. Everyone laid low.

“Hah, look at that nincompoop,” Drake snickered. “He thinks he’s so-o-o clever with his book. This is too easy.”

“Yes, Drake, it is too easy.” Flavia turned to Bocher. “Is that our target?”

“Sure as hell that’s the one,” their leader confirmed. They lay in wait, observing. Minutes passed, but the hooded figure remained engrossed in turning the pages.

“Hey, elf girl,” Drake boasted, “watch what I can do.” He quickly rose to his feet, stealthily headed towards the cave in a wide arc.

“Idiot!” Flavia hissed in vain.

Drake was a few steps away from the entrance when all of a sudden he looked down beneath his feet. In a blink of an eye, everything below his left knee turned into a bloody mist. He fell, screaming, bone protruding from his left thigh.

“Well, well, well,” the hooded figure emerged, revealing a young human male with dark hair. “You’ve finally arrived.”

He knelt by Drake, examining the wound with interest.

“Crap,” Bocher whispered, “stay put, we must—”

Klaus began to tremble. He bared his teeth and, unable to control himself,charged. Bocher and Flavia had no choice but to join him.

“Ah, I see you brought company,” the robed figure stood, lightning dancing at his fingertips.

“Ma-a-age!” Bocher’s voice cracked; his yell was full of primorial terror. “Fall back! Fall ba-a-ack!!”

Flavia and Klaus hesitated, torn between retreat and aiding Drake.

“Leaving your friend for dead?” the magic-user taunted. “Then you leave me no choice. Honestly, I never thought I’d get to practice this spell so quickly.”

He concentrated all the electric energy that was engulfing his body in his foot and stomped it on the ground. A current flowed towards Drake, setting his flesh ablaze. He immediately perished in agony.

“NO!” Klaus bellowed in despair. The snake-like bolt made its way to the large man, flowing through him and making his hair point upward. His lifeless body fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

“Ru-u-un!” Bocher powerlessly urged Flavia, his voice desperate, and his only eye almost popping out of its socket.

By now electricity reached him too, covering his body from toe to head. He fell on his knees, trying to crawl to the woods. His dying screams pierced the dark forest, startling the birds.

Flavia neared the forest’s edge when an electric jolt shot from the ground to her torso. Paralyzed, she crashed into a tree, unable to move or speak, her body wracked with agonizing pain. Still, her eyes were open. She saw three humans in guardsman armor slowly emerging from the cave, appearing seemingly out of nowhere.

“Argh, the stench!” one of them complained.

"We deeply regret doubting your story, sir," one of the guardsmen addressed the robed man. "I have never seen a Wizard’s… work so close. It was… blood-chilling.”

“Technically, I’m still an Apprentice, but thanks,” the magic-user nodded. “I have to concede that the title matches my experience—there’s no one for questioning…”

“This one’s alive!” the remaining guardsman pointed at Flavia.

“That’s… unexpected, but encouraging!” the hooded man exclaimed.

Darkness claimed Flavia’s consciousness shortly after.

4

Flavia jolted awake by a cacophony of coughs reverberating off the stone walls. Pain lanced through her side. The cold iron of shackles weighed heavily on her limbs. She was in a prison cell. Two guards stood just beyond the bars. The source of the coughing drew nearer.

“Oh sweet heavens!” The voice was young, male, and tinged with both fatigue and irritation. “General, you’re the fourth to hear this. I understand your military’s love for subordination, but can’t your Custodian repeat what I already told her?” The coughing voice responded with a muffled murmur. “Argh, fine! Your guardsmen’s inaction will have no repercussions—I’m well aware my story was hard to believe. The Mankind Monarchy’s relations with the Sorcerer State remain intact. And no, your nephew or whoever you mentioned will retain his place at the Collegium. Can I please speak to the prisoner now?!”

It dawned on Flavia—the voice belonged to the very man she and her companions failed to assassinate. The gravity of her situation gradually overwhelmed her. The future was clear—as clear as a polished blade of a guillotine.

“At least the Everwind name will be stained—I can already foresee Bemere’s loathing,” she mused with comforting bitterness.

Outside, the guards snapped to attention.

“Open the door,” commanded the squeaky voice. It belonged to a stout, gray-haired human clad in a high-ranking officer’s regalia. The jingle of keys progressed into the creak of hinges.

“Hello there,” announced the former target as he entered and settled onto the opposite bed. “Are you awake?”

Flavia groaned as she sat up. Her head hung low.

“Leave us,” the magic-user commanded.

“B-but—” the General stammered.

“I have seen and heard enough of your lot for today. If my safety is what you’re concerned about,” he conjured a flame in his palm, snuffing it out as quickly as it appeared, “don’t be.”

The guards exchanged glances, as the General was already shuffling down the corridor, and promptly departed. Once the echo of their exodus faded, the man spoke:

“My name is Egon, Apprentice to Wizard Felix,” his voice steady and composed. “As you’ve likely surmised, I hail from the Sorcerer State. Why are you… awkwardly avoiding eye contact?”

“It’s difficult,” Flavia began, measuring her words, “to meet the eyes of a man I… was almost ready to kill.”

“And now?”

“What ‘now’?”

“You said ‘almost.’ Have you gained enough confidence by this point? After I fried all your friends to a crisp?” Egon’s tone was chillingly tranquil.

“No,” she shook her head, a mix of regret and acceptance in her voice. “We got too arrogant and this was going to happen sooner rather than later. Look, we never… killed anyone before.”

“It figures, honestly. First time for me too though. I never envisioned an elven noble lady with fiery locks would be the one to take my assassination-attempt-virginity.”

“Is this a time and place for jokes?!” Flavia raised both her head and voice. “With my life hanging by a thread—No, this is pointless. I’ll be a mere memory by tomorrow’s dusk.”

“Perhaps risque, but it has drawn your gaze to mine,” Egon said with a smile of someone who just won a prize at a festival.

She gave him a displeased look and scrutinized him more closely. Black hair, gray eyes, and an attire that bespoke his status as a Wizard, or one soon to be. He was about her age, in his mid-twenties.

“Hi,” Egon greeted, waving casually as Flavia rolled her eyes. “Who’s to say you’ll face execution tomorrow?”

“I’m… not?”

“It’s certainly not for them,” he pointed outside the door, “to decide. Me and my fellow Mages still need to interrogate you. And also figure how in the world you managed to survive my Chain Lightning.”

“So you’re…?”

“Taking you into custody. And escorting you to Magiopolis—the capital, though I suspect you learned

you’re aware.” Rising from the bed, he loomed over her. “Do you mind if I see where the spell entered your body? I saw it strike your torso.”

Flavia painfully rolled up the right side of her attire, unchanged since their clash near the cave. A grotesque scar in the shape of a sunburst was left where the lightning had pierced and spread. Egon extended his hands towards the wound, prompting her to recoil against the wall. Yet, as their eyes met, she detected not even a drop of ill intentions. She relaxed as a gentle glow emanated from his palms, bathing the scar in healing light, easing her pain.

“Time to get you out of these shackles.”

***

The third day of their journey was ruined by a sudden and powerful rain. The Apprentice and his captive took shelter in a cave, where they would have to spend the night. Their clothes were drying near the fire. Egon was reading one of his books about magic. Flavia was wrapped in a large towel, which she fashioned into a cloak, and was making stew.

“It’s a good thing we don’t have to do the thing,” Flavia gestured as if she was using a stick to draw fire.

“Uh-huh,” Egon nodded, not looking up from the book.

Flavia handed a full bowl to Egon.

“This stew has no business being this astonishingly good,” he ate the food with relish, despite the fact that it was still hot.

“It’s nothing special,” Flavia was eating her share, gently blowing on the spoon. “Adin taught me the recipe.”

“Who’s that?”

“The innkeeper where I stayed for the past year. He’s the younger brother of our… former group’s leader—Bocher.”

“Ah, yes, the cyclops,” Egon recalled.

“He lost his eye during guard duty,” the elf was not amused by the nickname. “He was protecting his country and family.”

“Well, let’s hope that’s what he’ll be remembered for.”

They ate in silence for a while. The magic-user finished first and returned to his book. The elf put away her bowl and finally gathered the courage to ask:

“Can you please tell me why you are doing this?”

“Hm? Ah, it’s just that this is the most efficient way to learn new spells—”

“No. Why are you treating me like this? Why buy me a new jacket and boots,” she pointed at the drying clothes. “Why buy this cooking pot? Why do you talk to me and treat me like I… didn’t try to kill you a couple of days ago? After your colleagues are done with me I’m still going to be executed! You can’t attack a Mage and get away with it!”

Egon slowly put the bookmark in and set the book aside.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he paused and thought for a few seconds, wondering where to start. “First of all, you should really consider asking questions instead of making assumptions. Second, I… know who you are. Flavia of the Noble House Everwind. I know what happened to your father. It was truly unacceptable and I am—”

“Aha!” she jumped to her feet. “I knew it! It’s nothing more than banal pity!”

“Assumptions. Again. Based on the situation with your family, your time spent in the Monarchy, and some other factors—I honestly don’t think you’re involved in the case I was sent to investigate. So when we reach Magiopolis we’ll have Felix do some Mind Reading on you and that’ll help us—”

“Mind Reading? Is that what you did to the man who sold us the cooking pot? Did you do it to me too?!” she was standing in front of him with a face both angry and confused.

“Similar. What I did was Mind Manipulation. Won’t you admit that the seller was way too unreasonable with his pricing? I couldn’t help the fact that my inner-child decided to teach him a lesson. Mind Reading is exactly what it sounds like and Felix is the best one at it, I assure you. And I never used a single spell on you. Well, except for the Chain—”

“How do I know you’re not lying?!” Flavia grabbed him by the shoulders and screamed into his face.

“Want me to demonstrate?” he was unfazed.

Flavia shuddered at the thought. After a short hesitation, she looked him dead in the eyes and firmly nodded.

“Sit. Down.” Egon enunciated every letter.

The elf’s facial expression changed as if she was lifting a heavy object. First she knelt with her left leg, then she almost fell when her right leg moved quickly towards the ground. The man stretched his arms forward, trying to catch her, but she managed to balance herself. She proceeded to sit on the ground in front of him. She held her head as if she had a headache. They sat in silence for a while.

***

“You fought it well. I may be the best in my class, but I still have a lot to learn. The pain should ease soon. How bad is it?”

“It’s manageable. Look, Egon, I really hate it when people interrupt me when I speak, yet I keep doing it to you. I’m trying very hard to find a reason not to trust you, but… I can’t. Please continue.”

“Sure. But the cave floor is cold, so find something to sit on first.”

Flavia grabbed the book that he was reading and put it under her butt. Egon’s eyebrows rose, as a faint smirk appeared on her pain-contorted face.

“Alright then. Mind Reading is similar to what I just did in the sense that if you don’t resist—it’s painless, just a bit tiring. We don’t use this often, because it consumes a lot of mana. But I’m confident Felix will make an exception for me. He’s your best chance of coming out the other side with the same number of brain cells. With that, we confirm what you know and, more importantly, what you don’t know about the case I’m investigating. That’ll determine your guilt and one of the two possible outcomes.”

He lifted his hands, pointing his palms to the ceiling, as if he was holding a scale.

“Outcome number one: you are found guilty. You’ll be sent to trial and then—the Reformatory, where you’ll do menial work for the next few decades. Who do you think put ink on the pages of the book you’re sitting on? In this case, my attitude to you keeps my conscience clear. Despite what you might think, I care about it.”

“Your cold-heartedness legitimately impresses me. Go on.”

“Outcome number two: you are innocent. Everything is deemed a mere accident, and you—just a tragic victim of circumstances. The assaination target—yours truly—is indeed unscathed. Your name is cleared and you are free to return to your homeland. But I still have quite a bit of dirt on you, and having elven nobility I can blackmail is a resource that’s worth the effort. You see, in both outcomes, I come out on top.”

Flavia was hugging her knees, sitting arms-length away across from Egon. She chucked.

“You’re quite a schemer, aren’t you?” she said playfully. “But thank you for being honest, it calmed my nerves. I see how you want to cheer me up by giving me the all-too-good option two. But that’s unrealistic. My return home would require a personal decree from the Empress and there’s no way I’m getting that. And I doubt you’ll need another spy for the Sorcerer State; Aurianores is already crawling with them.”

“Aha! There’s the nuance—the State has many, while I have none. Yet. But I’ll give you that you won’t get any decree from Thereya… But who says she’s the one who’ll sign it?” he looked at her conspiratorially.

“Apprentice Egon,” she looked at him with curiosity. “Why are you doing all of this?”

“Umh, hello, weren’t you paying attention?”

“No-no,” her face was friendly, but serious. “What’s your objective? You think everything through too deeply for you not to have some kind of end goal in mind.”

After thinking for a second, he replied:

“I want to… make the world a better place. Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t,” her face didn’t change at all.

“When I learned what happened to your father,” he continued, “I immediately understood what you were going through. I’ll never claim that I know any of your struggles, but I know what it’s like to lose loved ones and be powerless. A year ago—” he stuttered.

Flavia gently placed her palm on top of his hand. Egon sighed.

“Last winter I got news that my hometown was hit by some new form of illness. The weather was harsh, so even with teleportation beacons it took me three days to get there. They were gone by then.”

The elf squeezed the human’s hand.

“They spent all of their life savings putting me through the Collegium. They were so proud. And I was wholly useless when they needed me the most,” his eyes started to get a little bit teary.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said with sympathy. “Please forgive my ignorance, but couldn’t some Healers use magic to prevent this?”

“No, it doesn’t work like that. Unless we know exactly what’s causing a certain disease, we can’t treat it. There were already some of the best Healers in the town when I arrived, but they finished the cure only a couple of days after my parent’s funeral,” he looked at the young woman’s hand stroking his own.

“You’re a man of a thousand facets, human-almost-wizard Egon,” she whispered, peering into his eyes.

“And so are you… noble-elf Flavia,” he whispered, as their eyes met.

***

“How much further to the border?” Flavia’s voice sounded well-rested, for the first time in a while.

“About a week; then it’s less than a day to Magiopolis, thanks to the teleportation tower network. If you’ve never been to the State, it’s truly a sight to see. How’s your headache doing?”

“Gone completely. I never thought magic could be so… painful.”

“True, but it’s only a tool—nothing more, nothing less.”

They were finishing packing their belongings. They helped each other put on their backpacks. The rain had stopped in the middle of the night and the ground was not too wet. The late summer morning weather was cold, but comforting. Egon suddenly said:

“And let’s not tell anyone outside of Magiopolis that you’re in my custody. From now on you’re my… hmm… maid!”

“That’s… an odd choice. Why the secrecy?”

“Simple: lustful lovers of long-eared ladies and their cohorts raise far fewer questions than future Mages and their would-be assassins.

Flavia looked at him with doubt.

“Do you happen to be one of those… long-ear-loving—”

“No. No-no. Absolutely not. But you are a very cute elf though.”

“Wow,” she clapped her hands with a smile that was too wide to be genuine, “this compliment in the context of what you suggested is exceptionally questionable. You really have a knack for this!”

“…milord.”

“Huh?”

“‘You really have a knack for this… milord’,” Egon corrected her.

“…Please take me back to the executioner,” she pleaded jokingly.

***

Egon was sitting on a wide bench in front of the closed auditorium door that said “Felix Limelight. Mind Magic.” He was impatient, rubbing his hands and shaking his leg nervously. It was taking much longer than expected.

The Collegium was bustling with students, returning to their studies after the summer break. Many people greeted him as they passed by and he greeted them back. This place housed people of all lineages and races, and only one thing was common—they were all magic-users. A tall wolfman turned the corner, walked up to the waiting human, and quietly sat down next to him.

“Your prey?” he pointed at the closed door.

“Tsk,” Egon looked at him with disapproval. “Phrasing, Luftar. You work on your vocabulary all the time, yet you still choose the worst word for the occasion.”

“Heh,” the wolfman snickered and patted his pal on the back. “How was your summer assignment? Worthy results, I hope?”

“Not bad. Remind me to tell you how I was almost assassinated. And how was your training at the garrison?”

“Better than expected, though it was mostly me teaching them—”

Luftar stopped mid-sentence, as the door opened slightly and a hand appeared from it, gesturing to come inside.

“I have to go, don’t wait for me,” Egon said absently, quickly entering the auditorium.

The room was empty, except for an orange-haired elf woman and a tall thin human man. He had long gray hair and wore a sparkly violet mage robe. The elf was sitting on a stool in the middle of the stage with her eyes closed and face showing fatigue.

The two magic-users looked at each other. The older one smiled broadly and nodded his head confidently. Egon silently exhaled and then asked:

“Uh, ‘Doctor’ Limelight,” the young man shifted from foot to foot with exaggerated concern, “is it a boy or a girl?”

“Spare me your antics, please,” Flavia’s voice was fatigued.

“He-he,” Felix chuckled, “I’ll have you know, my young elf friend, I took him under my wing specifically because of his humor. Best Apprentice I ever had, in every sense you can imagine.”

Egon made his way to Flavia and stood behind her. He asked:

“What’s the verdict?”

“She’s as innocent as they get, just like you predicted.”

“Called it!” Egon looked triumphant. “We should’ve made a bet!”

“You people are weird, toying with fates like this,” the elf was massaging her temples.

“And have you learned why the Chain Lightning thankfully spared Miss Everwind’s life?” Felix asked.

“Yeah, I asked around. The consensus is that I miscast it. My theory is that I discovered a new variation that gets much weaker the farther it is from the source. See, Flavia, you’re already helping us discover new things!”

“Yay…” she weakly cheered, raising her fist in the air ever so slightly.

“Oh! Almost forgot, he-he! Wait here,” the gray-haired Wizard grinned at the pair and withdrew into the back room.

“How are you feeling?” the Apprentice knelt in front of the woman.

“You were right about the painless part, but you severely underplayed the tiring one—it was thoroughly draining. It’s like I took all the exams from all twelve years at the Academy in one hour.”

“But with this settled you’ve truly earned your freedom,” Egon said in a gentle voice. “You can return to your homeland when you’re ready. With our… and mine support.”

“Uh-huh, about that,” she tried to get up, but started falling to the side. The young man caught her and gently sat her back down. “Nope, too tired. Pass me my backpack, please.”

He moved the elf’s backpack next to her, when the Wizard approached them with a piece of paper in his hands.

“Is that a…” Egon looked surprised.

“Yes! A Companion Contract!” Felix Limelight cheered, waving the paper.

“For whom?..”

“For us, whom else?” Flavia finished looking through her backpack and took out one of her daggers, placing it on her lap.

“But only full-fledged Wizards—Felix, is this another one of your pranks?!”

“No, no! The Collegium was ready to announce your promotion at the beginning of the summer. But you were so eager to start your assignment, I didn’t want to hold you back for another day!”

“…You do realize how much easier it would’ve been for me if I had a Wizard’s authority?!”

“Yes,” Felix Limelight nodded, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “but you aced it anyway. Another proof that we chose you well!”

The elf carefully tried to prick one of her fingers with the knife.

“Flavia! Are you really in a state to make such a decision right now?”

“I made up my mind a long time ago. Back at the cave, in fact.”

“Oh my. Which one of the two though?”

“Egon,” she said sternly, “I’m the one with the dagger.”

He looked at her with a serious expression. The elf continued:

“I thought a lot about this. Looking back, there hasn’t been a dull moment since I met you. Seeing your talents and your determination up close made me consider… Maybe you’re the one who can make the world a better place. And that’s an adventure I’d forever regret not taking part in.”

“That’s very… moving, thank you, but do you even know the Companion’s obligations—”

“Protect you with my life and all that? Yep, Felix told me everything. After what I almost did, it’s somewhat poetic even. Look, it’s very simple: I trust you, Egon; all I ask of you is to trust me too.”

“I…”, the newly appointed Wizard sighed. “Flavia Everwind. Will you be my Companion?”

The elf put her finger on the blade, cutting a tiny bit of her skin. She put the bloody fingerprint on the contract, sealing their bond. Felix took the paper, examined it, and joyfully nodded.

“Also,” she put the young man’s hand on her stomach. She looked at him with a smile full of hope and a gaze full of tenderness, “it’s… both. A boy and a girl. We’re having twins.”

“W-we?!” his jaw dropped to the floor, “b-but we never—”

“The look on your face is worth the vast majority of the things I went through,” she said with a lively and satisfied grin.