∼ Confrontation ∼

Chapter - 022

Watching the retreating forms of the impecunious merchant and his lowlife goons, Eric rubbed a gash that had opened at the back of his head and the cut along his neck where he had been kissed by the rogue's blade. It really hadn't been clever to headbutt the man with the back of his head, but Eric had never been one to shy away from a little pain, and satisfying was the delivered blow.

"So, they won't be coming back," said Eric with a sigh.

Aria didn't respond, looking at Eric but not quite seeing him.

He paused, letting his hand falter slightly. "What's wrong?"

"You saw," She said simply, averting her eyes. "So, why did you help me?"

Eric took out a small piece of cloth to wipe off the blood. "Your ears?" His tone was quite nonchalant as he looked at her, making those red eyes gleaming from underneath her large hood meet his.

Her hands shook ever so slightly. She clenched them into fists to make them stop, a little heat going into her voice. "-Yes... then why did you?"

"You're an elf, no?" Eric asked impassively as if to clarify.

"I am a half-" She bit her lip bitterly. "Yes, I am an elf."

Putting the cloth back into a pocket in his vest, Eric dusted his dirtied clothes the best he could. "So what?"

She looked disbelievingly at him, a touch of anger on her usually kind face as she suddenly tore her hood back, letting her impressive mane of red hair spill out, revealing not only her considerable beauty - but also elven heritage. "And, you are not afraid of me?"

Eric snorted. "I don't mean to offend, but I'm pretty sure you've proven to me that you are not to be feared."

Aria turned pink, from seemingly both embarrassment and anger. "I do not mean of my physical strength, you buffoon! Fear of my magic; that I will taint you with it and turn you into a mindless slave!"

"You have magic?" Eric asked curiously, not showing even a hint of fear if he truly did feel any.

Her anger skittered at that. "I-I do, but..."

"Listen," Eric said, cutting her off. "You're positively harmless. Aria, I'm not blind. Either you're the greatest liar and actor to have ever lived, playing the part to fool some poor country bumpkin bastard like myself, or you're a scared but unbelievably compassionate girl who has nowhere to call home. I've seen a lot of fakes in my life, and you're not one."

For a few moments, Aria was mute, simply looking up at the much taller Eric as his sudden proclamation seeped in.

Laying a hand on her shoulder, Eric spoke gently. "Even I know of the stories from the war, but I've never met an elf personally. But even if some of your race is wicked, I refuse to believe that you all are. Humans are the same, some incredibly cruel and depraved, and some as friendly and kind-hearted as you yourself are."

"I-I... thank you... Eric." She said quietly, pulling her hood back up again, letting it hide her face as she looked down at the ground.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

They began walking, Aria having let the impling scoot up on its usual perch atop her shoulder, yammering incessantly at anything interesting it spotted as they traveled down the road. It was a little while before Aria spoke up again. "After what my people have done, I understand the hatred - but it is rare for me to ever encounter any who do not wish me ill. I have known hate all my life. Only in Arcanum was I safe, but nonetheless detested."

Eric sighed with a pitch of his own sorrow. "I can't say that I know what it has felt like being hated at such, but I do know how it feels to be despised by someone all your life - it's not something I'd wish on anyone."

"I was just surprised you saved my secret back there, not even hesitating."

"Well... you're not a still sleeper - and your hood has a tendency to slip," Eric said.

Aria stopped momentarily in stunned silence before catching back up to him. "You already knew?!"

"Maybe I did," Eric grinned cheekily. Before Aria could retort, however, Eric threw her a question. "So you said you had magic, right? Like real magic?"

She looked as if she was about to say something else, but was completely derailed at that.

"I do not have any offensive magic if that is what you are getting at - I am a healer." She explained, lifting her hand to show as they glowed with a faint green light.

Brows raised, Eric could only watch as her hand briefly passed over the small cut on his neck. It felt like a small itch as it briefly hovered over it, turning into a slight sting right before it stopped. Raising his own hand to touch, he couldn't feel the cut, only a flaky layer of dried blood. "Huh... would you look at that..." He chuckled, marveling as he stared at his hand, pressing the flakes of blood between his fingers, making them crumble to the wind.

"Is that how you saw them long before me, and that class holder - because you're one yourself? I mean, he must've had [Stealth] or similar skill. I didn't even notice him before he had a knife to my throat, and I'm not easy to sneak up on." He looked a little confused, if not skeptical, and Aria easily picked up on it.

"I really do have a class." She assured him.

"Then what level are you? In Aemsburg, there are only two class holders, or well… only one now - my father."

"I am level eighteen," she said simply.

Now it was Eric's time to be stunned. "Eighteen?!"

"Yes, is something wrong with it? I haven't trained my skills in many years so I have to admit I have fallen quite behind."

Eric just stared at her, dumbstruck. "You're just..." Eric hesitated. "fairly young."

"I am sixteen summers, so yes. But it is not surprising that you think so. I do realize we are in the fringes of the Kingdom of Moravia. Places like Arcanum, within the magical fulcrum of Argon and the center hub of some of the most powerful within the realms of men, produce much more frightening individuals reaching heights higher than what I can ever hope to accomplish."

"So your level is normal there?" Eric asked, greatly intrigued.

This girl truly was a bottomless well of information, a font of knowledge about the outside world of which he was starved.

"It is low actually - but that is in comparison to those parts of Arcanum, not the normal folk among the city." Explained Aria.

"And you said you worked there, at the institute, right?"

"As an apprentice archivist, but delineating Arcanum as just an institute does not paint the right picture. It is much more than that. I did not work in the institute itself, but Arcanum's Grand Hall of Knowledge, a completely separate body."

Head spinning at everything thrown at the uneducated Eric, he listened as best as he could as he kept querying the knowledgeable Aria, the ache of the world beyond the lands of his origin calling stronger than ever before.

The crackle of gravel underfoot set the tone of monotony along their journey down the seemingly endless Iron Road, yet Eric and Aria barely registered the pass of time as they talked. Though they still made sure to keep their guards up, or at least Eric did as Aria kept falling into near states of trance as she told him stories and facts of the world.

She did it so often that Eric was quite sure that Aria was an apprentice archivist not as a trade, but a vocational virtuosity. But ever since their run-in with the merchant and his escort of crooks, Eric needed only remind her occasionally to keep their heads low. Though no other caravan or sorry excuse for one came across their path again.

It was dusk when they finally walked down the offshoot of the Iron Road. Flanking them on all sides, were verdant fields at the peak of maturity and golden, the harvest before the come of winter. High walls, higher than those of Aemsburg rose to greet them. It was their destination, and they had arrived whole and alive. Tarren's Field.