One Merchant's Daughter
Once, in a far away land, perhaps shaped suspiciously like the letter ‘X’, there may or may not have been a very special, very small island on the Western edge of the continent. However, the size of the island didn’t matter so much, because the inhabitants of it could also be considered very, very small. In fact, they may have been, perhaps, at the largest, an entire inch tall!
Being so small, some would say it was a wonder they existed at all. However, if they did, at some point, exist, then it could be argued that these tiny people called themselves elves, lived with interestingly shaped ears, and, perhaps, used a bit of magic.
And, one was, perhaps at this very moment, trying very hard to sneak back into her home without being noticed.
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The elveen’s long, pointed ears twitched as she struggled to decide whether or not her room was safe. She had just snuck out to the market for a bit, but time had gotten away from her and she’d been gone longer than expected.
If possible, she wanted to change out of her nondescript market clothes before any of her maids caught her and confiscated them.
Luckily, her rooms were at the exterior side of the treehome rather than the main area, so only her personal maid frequented them. The elveen shifted on the wooden bark she crouched on. She’d been waiting on the branch for so long her ankles were beginning to stiffen up from her posture.
Again, she crept along the edge of the branch and peered around the corner of the clay wall. Glossy, slightly discolored glass gave her a murky, distorted view into her bedroom. Still, nothing had moved or changed within her room in the last ten minutes...
Moving achingly slowly, the Elveen crept fully round the corner and eased the centermost window pane in her circular window open. Hopping up and over the lower panes, she landed softly on a cushion she’d placed there before she’d left earlier. The elveen rapidly searched her room for another presence, but lowered her shoulders in relief when she found nothing out of the ordinary.
Her room, like all rooms in a treehome, was composed primarily of cream clay walls and the branches of their home tree, a silver barked mangrove. The room curved around the root and trunk system of the massive tree and rested within it as if the tree had been grown with the room already in existence. Even the windows were less windows and more glass fitted into the space left behind by the tree’s branches.
Meanwhile, the furniture held a similarly natural look due to being carved from the exact same kind of wood. Even her canopy bed wore the warm, orange and red hues of the mangrove tree’s inner wood. It matched well with the ash colored bark of the hometree, but clashed horribly with almost all other colors. Yet, because mangrove trees were both the most common tree in the Mirkwater kingdom and almost always had red or orange innards, the majority of wooden products were crafted from red or orange hued lumber.
Rich nobles imported wood from distant lands to deal with the color issue. Poor folk stained their wood black or brown with local dyes to hide it. Struggling merchants like her father bought white linen or cotton cloth to match it and tried not to get dirt on anything.
In fact, the only pillow the elveen owned that wasn’t white, was the one she used regularly to land on when sneaking back through her window. The dark brown cotton exterior never failed to hide any leftover mud or dirt from her market-day boots.
Stepping forward quietly, she reached for the ties on her earth-toned cloak and was just drawing it away from herself when she was interrupted. White hair glimmered in the late afternoon light from the window for but a moment before a harsh cry arose behind her.
“I knew it!” The elveen whirled around to see a tiny form launch itself from under the window seat.
“You snuck out again!” A smaller, younger elveen accused. This elveen looked to be a good few years younger than her lady and wore her dark brown hair in two simple braids. Like all Mirkwater elves, she dressed in an outfit made of draped fabric tied over her dark colored bio-skin.
Due to their home in the swamp, Mirkwater elves preferred loose, easy to remove clothing over their bio-skins. This enabled them to slip off the top layers and reduce drag in the water. Clothes could then be stored in magic pouches to prevent them from getting wet while the elf in question swam to his destination.
This particular elveen wore the standard uniform for the maids of the Trishka household, a one shouldered, knee-length overobe in dark green. Over the top of it, a wide, mint-colored sash wrapped around her waist and bore an eel-shaped insignia at the center. Under her uniform, her navy bio-skin clung to her like a slightly thicker second layer from her neck to her wrists and ankles. Like most Mirkwater elves, she wore sandals that were tied to her feet to enable easy swimming.
“Syna!” The older elveen gasped. “Where did you come from? There was nobody in here!”
“That’s what I wanted you to think, Lady Morgana!” Syna crowed triumphantly. “I’ve been hiding under the window seat for three hours in wait!”
“Wow, I guess only someone as short as you would be able to fit under there.” Morgana peered over at the short distance between the floor and the bottom of the window seat. Made for optimal seating height, the wooden panel rested at only a shin’s length from the floor. Truly, Morgana doubted she'd ever be able to squeeze herself under there, even if she stopped eating so many sweets.
“I’m not short!” Syna drew herself up to her full height of just below Morgana’s chest.
“Really?” Morgana made a show of looking Syna up and down. “You don’t seem very tall to me,” She said dubiously. Heat rushed to Syna’s cheeks.
“Really! I just haven’t hit my growth spurt yet! And-” Syna looked to continue before Morgana’s travel clothes caught her eyes once more. “And that’s not the point! Stop trying to distract me, it won’t work this time! You’re just stupidly tall!”
“Am I? Or are you just short?”
“YES! You are tall! Tall enough to be an elf!” The exasperated maid waved her arms around in frustration. Morgana began to stealthily fold her traveling cloak.
“Oh my, that’s not a very nice thing to say about your lady.”
“Lady? What lady? All I see is a pretty faced elf! You certainly have the manners of one!”
“I beg your pardon, I’m the perfect example of elveen grace!” Morgana stowed the cloak behind a few scrolls on her book case and began drifting towards her privacy screen. The cloak wouldn’t be discovered there and little Syna would never remember it in her current emotional state.
“Elveen grace my foot! You’re late for everything on your timetable! And you insult guests intentionally! Guests! That breaks the rules of hospitality!”
“Yes, and I’ll continue doing so until Father realizes I don’t want to get married right now.” Morgana retorted as she finally slipped behind the woven grass privacy screen. “He’ll figure it out eventually when people call him dishonorable due to his inhospitality towards guests.” Morgana glanced at the small mirror hung in the wall.
Her eerie, blood bathed eyes gleamed back at her under her moonlight stained hair. Silver and red painted an inelven picture for her before she turned away. Her features never ceased to be a source of both admiration and scorn from her potential suitors. In Mirkwater, most elves came in earthy tones of creamy skin with dark hair.The lightest color to be seen in any Mirkwater market was medium brown hair. Typical Mirkwater hair was straight too, another trait Morgana didn’t share with her fellow Mirkwater citizens. Her curly locks always defied traditional styling methods.
“Lady Morgana! That’s not graceful or like a proper young elveen at all!” Syna lamented, throwing her skinny arms into the air in outrage.
“All the better to dissuade the poor fools who think they want a quiet little doll for a wife,” Morgana stated as she began pulling off the wrap-around beige sash she had used as her top. Though the color of sand, the scarf contrasted nicely against her crimson bio suit. Its beaded tassels chimed against one another as she carefully folded it and hid it under the empty wash basin. This left her in only her crimson bio-skin. For this particular outing, Morgan had morphed it into a sleeveless turtleneck.
“No, not for the better, Morgana. You’re running off all of your good-looking prospects. What’s going to happen when only ugly old elves are left?”
“I’ll run those off too and be left happily unattached.” Morgana answered Syna absently as she began untying her matching beige sarong from around her hips. The fabric draped asymmetrically down to one side, exposing the bright red of one of her biosuit covered thighs.
Once she’d pulled it off, all that remained on her was her bio-skin and sandals. For today’s trip to the market, she’d pulled the legs of her bio-skin up to just above her knees. Had she been treating with other high ranking merchants or nobles, such a thing would have been seen as highly scandalous. Yet, in the markets she’d been just another girl enjoying the sunny day.
“If you think that’s going to happen, you’re more delusional than Ruda said.” Syna grumbled.
“I’m only delusional if it doesn’t work.” Morgana crossed her arms across her chest and closed her eyes to focus. Within her chest, her own pool of magic bubbled happily. At her urging, it reached out to connect to her bio-skin. Opening her eyes, Morgan was greeted with the sight of dark blue creeping over her bio-skin from her fingertips. Within moments, not a bit of red could be seen. Turning her attention down, Morgana watched the magical second-skin grow and stretch down to her feet. She stretched out her arms to watch the suit swallow her biceps and then forearms in a skin tight, navy layer.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
“No, you’re just delusional.”
“I’m really not. Can you come help me put on my robes now?” Morgana could put on her own robes, but the formal robes she needed to wear to dinner were always heavy on her skinny arms.
“Put on your-Hey! Where’d you hide your disguise?” Syna peered around Morgana’s privacy screen in search of the other elveen’s market clothes. Luckily, Morgana had already draped the last part of her disguise, her sarong, across the top of her beauty cabinet in its usual place. While she couldn’t disguise that her cloak was a cloak or that her wrap-around scarf was a scarf, her sarong fit right in as a bit of decor. It even had white bead tassels made from imported sea shell enamel hung along its length. By the point Morgana had started using it as a disguise, all of the household maids had long gotten used to the drape that rested along the top of her beauty cabinet. Clearly, that’s all the fabric was, a drape. Nothing else to see here.
“Disguise? What disguise? Are you feeling okay, Syna?”
“L-L-L-Lady Morgana!” Syna sputtered as she rounded the privacy screen fully.
“S-S-Syna!” Morgana mocked with a raised eyebrow. Red tinted cheeks belied Syna’s anger as the diminutive maid strode forward.
“Don’t mock me, Lady Morgana!” Syna raised a hand to point rudely into Morgana’s face. “I know you hid the disguise you used to get to the market!” And with that, the elveen immediately began checking high and low for it. She peered into Morgana’s woven waste basket, her dirty clothes basket, and even began going through Morgana’s jewelry cabinet.
Huffing with barely constrained laughter, Morgana turned to pull on an inner robe or two. She could go ahead and dress herself in some soft inner robes before requesting help for the heavier outer robes. Those tended to have more intricate ties and, if not draped just right, would always end up a mess.
First, she started with her innermost robe, her prima. Normally only worn by middle or upper class, prima robes consisted of a light colored linen dress and tended to be form fitting to the wearer. Morgana’s inner robe stretched down to just above her knees and clung to her thin form. Because Morgana wasn’t especially gifted in the upper chest region yet, she could use strapless or thin strapped primas to clothe herself.
Next came her second layer, her dosa. Dosa consisted of an actual robe that needed to be tied. Like the prima, this robe tended to be form fitting. However, unlike the prima, dosa came in a variety of colors and styles. When dressing for a formal occasion, a girl needed to be very careful to pair a complementary dosa with her outer layers. Nodding to herself, Morgana chose a light blue dosa with golden trimming and embroidery. Morgana loved this specific dosa due to its lack of sleeves. Instead, this dosa carried itself with thick bands across both shoulders and a v-neck to emphasize what little feminine figure Morgana possessed.
Like her prima, this outfit came down to her knees. However, the fabric here opened to a flowy skirt instead of hugging her legs. Now at least, Morgana would appear decent to anyone entering her rooms. For extra measure, Morgana tied a beaded shawl around her shoulders and matching wrap around her waist in a lopsided fashion. The last item she slipped on was a set of cream colored slippers, thin and comfortable against her feet.
Turning to Syna, Morgana let out another huff of quiet laughter. The shorter girl had opened the laundry chute and somehow fit her entire upper body inside to check for some kind of hidden alcove or hidey hole. Even now, the brunette wiggled her feet in the air as she checked the interior of the laundry chute. Morgana pushed up onto the balls of her feet and crept right behind the girl. The tall elveen reached out with claw-like hands.
“Rawrr!” Morgana growled as she grabbed hold of Syna’s ankles and shook them back and forth.
“Aiieee!” Syna shrieked loudly and kicked furiously at Morgana’s stomach. Laughing, the blonde backed away and held her gut. With Syna being so small, Morgana barely felt any of the elveen’s kicks. After a moment, Syna shoved herself out of the shute to land on her butt. Blinking up furiously, she turned to Morgana wide, glimmering eyes. Gasping, it didn’t take long for Syna’s fear to turn into anger.
“Lady Morgana, you witch!” Syna shrieked. Once more, the young elveen pointed a finger at her lady. Several strands of her once carefully braided hair fluttered about her face and stuck up at odd angles, completing the comedic picture.
“Pfft. Haha- Syna! The look on your face!” Morgana snickered into her hands. Morgana likely would have continued teasing the young maid but was interrupted by someone clearing her throat. Morgana hurried to peer around the privacy screen and into the rest of her room.
Gray, unimpressed eyes met her own from an aged, wrinkled face.
“Morgana.” Just the name had Morgana straightening her posture and perfectly arranging her hands in a clasp at the waist. She took two steps around the edge of the screen and carefully dropped into a perfect curtsy.
“Lady Grandmother, I didn’t realize you would be visiting me today.” Morgana took care to enunciate each word as precisely as the etiquette teacher had drilled into her. Of everyone in this house, this woman was the one she most needed to impress each day.
Gratitude surged in her chest that at least she’d been able to finish getting dressed before the woman had arrived. She lacked formal attire, but being in the comfort of her own room meant she wasn’t expected to wear such unless she’d been given proper forewarning of an impending visit.
“Well, this certainly isn’t a social visit.” The elderly woman bit out. Behind her, each of her maids peered at Morgana with serene but haughty expressions. As the only child of the deceased first wife, Morgana had the least backing in the family while simultaneously having the highest expectations laid upon her. “Where does your maid dawdle?”
“H-Here, Grandy Lady Kamora,” Syna stammered as she stepped out from behind the privacy screen. In her hands, she had piled a few bath items on a tray to make it look like she’d been getting ready to help Morgana into the bath or something.
Cunning child, even if a tad impulsive.
At the very least, neither of them would be getting punished for Morgana’s escapades today. Syna knew as well as Morgana that the woman before them held one of the hottest tempers in their hometree when roused. If that temper roused, no one in the room would be safe from her fury, regardless of culpability.
At the sight of Syna, Kamora wrinkled her nose in derision. Behind her, her maids snickered quietly and darted their eyes from Syna to Morgana mockingly.
“Strip her and dress her in formal attire. My drei maids will assist you. My son is hosting a business dinner tonight and every member of the household shall be presenting a united front.” Two younger maids stepped forward from behind Kamora. Being drei, they subsisted on the lowest level of hierarchy among handmaidens, just a step above being an apprentice or shadowing an elder. Like Syna, the two wore the household’s uniform of dark green robes with a mint sash. One bore a head of black while the other a head of shadowed brown, each twisted into braided buns atop their heads. Each held a bundle of fine and colorful silk in their hands.
Morgana wanted to bristle at the way Kamora addressed the drei maids before addressing Morgana herself, but held in any irritation. To be perceived as hostile towards Kamora would be to be perceived as uncouth. And uncouth elveens were elveens that didn’t receive backing or protection. Both of which, Morgana desperately needed if she wanted to continue living in her current lifestyle. Kamora may not like Morgana, but it was by the woman’s grace that Morgana still held good standing in the household.
Instead, Morgana breathed deeply as the maids led her back behind the privacy screen to fulfill their mistress’s orders. Meanwhile, Syna bowed, but trembled a bit. Morgana grimaced.
Being overlooked in favor of drei maids was a very showy, intended slight against Syna. If Kamora hadn’t wanted to insult the young girl, she would have placed the drei maids under Syna’s direction, no matter how much more experienced the drei maids were in comparison.
Morgana may have found Syna irritating and at times a bit clueless, but she didn’t want the girl slighted or to damage her career prospects.
Oops. I’ll have to make it up to her later. Make sure she can send some food home along with her pay.
“Excuse me, Milady,” The taller of the maids, the black haired one, took Morgana’s lack of resistance to begin pulling off her layers one by one. Stifling a sigh, Morgana cast her gaze towards the second maid. The brown haired maid had begun unfolding the clothing set they’d brought. Unlike Morgana’s preferred clothing, all of these layers trailed the floor in showy swaths of fabric, going from opaque pine green to nearly translucent mint.
Once divested of all but her bio-skin, the maids went to work like elveens possessed. The first layer to go on was comprised of a plain, cream colored shift, made not to conserve modesty but instead to protect the upper, more expensive layers from bodily oils and filth. Then came the layers meant to suprise, wow, and amaze. One thin mint robe with long, flared sleeves covered by a dark green, high collared dress. The sleeves loosened around the wrists, allowing the previous layer’s gauzy, puffy fabric to ripple in a dazzling effect. Both layers allowed for bare shoulders while hugging her waist, emphasizing her petite figure while avoiding calling attention to her lack of curves.
Next came a thin, gauzy golden over robe, made to tie at the waist, but hang open attractively. Sleeveless, but long, the fabric fluttered in shimmering waves around her skirt. And finally, for her crowning glory, a corset vest tightened around the waist to thin her down again. Looking in the mirror, Morgana stared into the red eyes of a girl completely different from the girl she’d seen moments before. Even as she watched, the maids corralled her thick, curly main into an attractive high pony tail. They wove braids and bronze beads into her hair to attract the eye and brought out scented oils to hydrate her straw-like ends.
The brown-haired maid lifted a red paper to her face, and Morgana obediently pressed her lips firmly against it. When she opened her mouth, her normally pink lips appeared a vibrant red. Brushes shook their way into her vision, dabbing at her face with a precision she herself did not possess. Morgana shut her eyes and tried not to sneeze as a smaller brush wiggled across her eyelid before dabbing her nose. Wet, thin brushes pressed faintly across the space just above her eyelashes before a puff of air dried the wet residue. For a few moments, nothing else happened. The closing of a box signaled to Morgana to open her eyes. In front of her, the maids efficiently grabbed brushes and even sewing supplies to put them back into the boxes. Apparently, they hadn’t been sure if the clothes would be a good enough fit and had brought the supplies to do a last minute fitting.
Looking into the mirror, Morgana frowned at the extra contour and coy beauty the maids’ handiwork had painted across her face. If she could do that herself, would she be able to do more? The powders were expensive, but surely if she learned their techniques, she could present herself more formally and gain more favor in the household even on less expensive cosmetics. Sighing, Morgana stepped into the matching flats the maids present her with.
“Well, I suppose this will do.” Lady Kamora commented once Morgana stepped around the privacy screen. This will do, she says. I look like I’m about to attend to a noble, not the dinner of a lower-tiered merchant.
“Thank you for your consideration and generosity, Lady Kamora.” Morgana smiled bitterly as she replied. She dipped down into a low curtsy and stayed there for a moment before coming back up. Lady Kamora sniffed, looking down her nose at the girl as she considered her next words.
“My son is having very important guests over tonight. Guests that will decide the future of our family’s finances. You will present yourself with grace and decorum befitting the eldest daughter of the Trishka family. No more intentional slights or underhanded comments, girl. These guests mean far more than what you’ll ever be able to bring us otherwise.”
Morgana gulped and widened her eyes at the threat. If she chased these people off today, she’d be committing an unforgivable slight in Kamora’s eyes, one that would push the older woman to remove the support she’d been giving Morgana, possibly even remove Morgana as a whole from the family.
“I’ll be sure to carry the Trishka Family’s honor across my ears tonight.” Dipping low, Morgana hid the distaste on her face with decorum and perfect manners.
If she wasn’t able to chase away marriage prospects, then how on earth would she be able to avoid her father selling her off to some random stranger?
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Hi! Nice to meet everyone! Not too sure what all the rules are here about author notes (if it's against the rules just let me know in the comments and I'll remove it!)
But basically I'm the writer at Isekai Dragon. We've published some isekai books before, but I really wanted to drum up the excitement for this one.
Thus, we're releasing the unedited chapters online. I hope you enjoy them. Feel free to take a look at our other stories at our website or on Amazon by googling Reborn: As a Defective Drake.