Chapter 2

Meeting the Wagon One Elfesses

Shard 1's POV

*Shard 1: that was sweet, other me. Well played! She will never expect a thing! I even gave out some of those blessings overtime so people would not get sick. Step one completed; now for step two of, well, a lot. Have fun at the academy, my little forlorn hope. Do try to make up for the cataclysm your race caused if you would, before the shield fails and my race of space pirates kills us all. And, oh my, that is a lot of deaths for me. You wouldn’t be so cruel to me, would you, sweetie?

I made a joke! My sweet little elf girl is afraid of being eaten. Cackle, cackle, cackle... I kill me, another funny, I just make more of me! I’m on a roll: Hope is on a sweet roll-a, oh oh a ooo oh a. I think I love that song. That is a song, isn’t it? Well, back to sector 42 with me.

The Mad God's POV:

Etherstaria screamed and collapsed from the mental anguish. Unfortunately for Star, her boosted will kept her conscious, mostly. The oracle sprang, well, rose at breakneck speed for such an old, crippled elf, which isn’t really sprang, I guess. But I digress, back to third person.

Star's POV

Star saw the oracle cast spell on her. A warmth spread through her, but it basically had no effect. The oracle looked at her with a pained expression, and cast another spell. Star felt her body seize up, she was not unable to even scream as the paralyze spell broke though her defenses. The oracle sighed in relief, like she was just some sort of wounded rabbit or something that had been put out of her misery. The Oracle looked at the screen. "She is a Commoner; take her to the cart," said the oracle. Several attendants silently vied for status with looks for a bit to determine who would get to carry the new, beautiful elfess to the traveling wagon train. The sword maiden won, of course, winning by the fact that she was the best armed and with the crazy reputation they had.

Tira's POV:

The red clad sword maiden scooped up Star and headed to the wagons, basically dancing down the stairs to talk to Star's old man for a bit beforehand. "That old man sure hates crying," whispered the sword maiden to Star. "Don’t worry, I am headed for the academy as well; it is better than staying around here where everything is so dull."

Jumping the last six stairs, she landed next to Samand. "Take care of my daughter, Tira," said Samand.

"Of course I will take care of my lover's child," said Tira. "It will be fun to pal around with a neophyte advanced elven noble and beat the men off with an frost enchanted blade."

"So scary, because I know you mean it. Try not to cause any international issues, Tira," said Samand.

"The great oracle has visions, and his sword maidens obey without question," said Tira. "Getting to gut stupid human boys sounds like good practice and a fun time. I am sure the humans will teach me much about human anatomy with their bodies as I explore them with my blades. Maybe I will even earn a skill point or a level from the system."

Samand scolded me, "Even humans can cause you to fall, Tira if you don't temper your bloodlust."

"Also, we didn’t work out between us because I was ordered to guard you, so you would appoint me her guardian. I am afraid I was coached," said Tira. "Apparently, all the oracles say your daughter is important for some obscure reason. That is exactly how they put it, so I don't know any more details."

"I just thought you should know, technically being my lord for a few more seconds and all. It was fun, and there were no hard feelings, I hope." Tira left the speechless prince, epic sword master, and first-tier land god, Lord Samand Lark, a lesser god of war, without looking back, holding the girl named the Fading (or Dawn) Star still in her arms. Tira headed to the waiting wagons to pick out the one least likely one to break down during their long journey. She really hated fixing things; she much preferred to rage and break them.

Star's POV:

Even paralyzed, Star could still see the wagon train that had been formed. There were two special wagon that would gather energy by the wagon's moving and shoot lightning bolts! There was also four passenger wagons, and a strange looking wagon with lots of clucking noises. Tira went up to the wagon just behind the lead guard wagon. She opened the door, there was nobody inside, and she hauled me through the entrance being careful not to hit my head on the ceiling. There were three foldable benches and a storage area in the back that had three bug out bags on it. Tira took off my backpack and added to the others.

"How are you feeling, princess?" said Tira as I moaned in pain once again. "I got the best wagon, but as you might have heard, there will be four other elfesses with us. I know they kept you away from most elves other than your mother and father, but it was for the best. We are going to have a lot of fun, traveling thousands of miles through thick forests on a narrow paths with a prophesied virgin Elven princess; I am going to level so much!"

The spell faded, and I now was no longer in such terrible pain, but my headache was still severe. "I guess it is pretty easy to level," said Star.

Star continued, "I am already halfway through third, and I have never killed anything."

"Oh? This is going to be amazing," said Tira, rocking back and forth in excitement.

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"Excuse me, I have been assigned to this wagon. Is that right?" Along with the statement came a shy knock on the wagon's exterior.

"Go ahead and come inside, elfess," said Tira.

"Thank you, Sword Maiden, my name is Twixia. I am a Scholar now, I suppose."

The girl who entered the wagon was wearing a threadbare ceremonial outfit. She didn‘t have any luggage and obviously didn‘t expect to be traveling to the human lands today. She had bright orange eyes and soft-looking gray-purple hair. She reminded me of a bedraggled rabbit.

"Oh, a brand new scholar, you are going to be in blinding pain most of the trip. That will be fun to watch," said Tira.

"Here is your travel bag, and there is paper and ink inside so you can write a goodbye letter, plus scroll paper and spell ink, so don't mix them up." Tira handed her an expensive-looking backpack, and the girl nearly fainted, having never owned anything like a fully kitted scholar bag before.

Twixia looked at the heroine with love in her eyes as she discovered that there were eight books in the bag as well.

"My mother is a scholar, Twixia; that may ease my heartache from being parted from her," said Star to Twixia, still not having caught up with the reality of the conversations from before.

Twixia nodded nervously and got to writing on the paper, which she handled like her precious newborn child.

"It is a wagon of six for a reason, Princess Star; please send us an invitation to join your party when everyone gets here," said Tira.

"Please don’t call me princess; I am being shipped off to a human academy after all," said Star while pouting.

"There is no way I can do that!" yelled Tira. "There will be way less combat that way. The other ladies will need to level as well."

A sniffling, plain-looking, brown-haired elf girl chose that moment to enter the wagon.

"I’m sorry, I’ll stay on the roof or something, so you all don’t get dirty," sniffed the elfess.

She was tall and large in every aspect for an elfess teen; she wore a farming outfit with a grass hat, obviously the lowest of commoners. She also didn’t have any gear with her. She had a swollen and red-patched face, like she had lost a fight to some bees, with dark brown hair peaking out of her improvised hat and her arms folded defensively.

"Don’t be silly, what is your name? Mine is Star; this is Tira; and this is Twixia."

"Alliasaz, your greatness," said the girl.

Tira rummaged through another bag and brought out a high-quality, human-sized peasant dress, with some impressively sized underthings for an elf. "Ok, come here, and we will get you cleaned up and into this." said Tira, shaking the undergarments at her. She casting an hour-long cleaning spell but I wondered if it would be enough.

About a half hour later, and some blushing and crying by Alliasaz, the next elfess made her way into the wagon. She had her own bag, showing right away that she was an upper-class commoner. It was bulging with items. She sported a staff with inlaid quartz and jade along its length. She had the classic build and colors of a wood elf: green eyes and red hair. They favored strength over intelligence. They were also known to be fractious and quiet. Indeed, she didn’t say anything and sat down on a bench. The girl also had a presence about her, and she was the second-cutest elfess in the wagon by a large margin.

After using appraisal, Tira spoke to the silent girl. "You don’t see many Imagists, Ray. In fact, you are the first I have ever seen," said Tiara.

When the strange girl spoke, certain words seemed to have a sort of strange echo to them.

"I beg your pardon, Sword Maiden; I, Raythiel am having a bit of a mental breakdown, and my head is splitting in two, I think. Can we talk later after I die?"

Star, being the only one in the know on how she was feeling, laughed for the first time since becoming a noble. Everyone started off acting like they were actually seeing her for the first time. Also apparently the girl was not fond of nicknames.

"Oh my, aren’t you the prettiest thing in the GEN?" said the redhead. Do you have a girlfriend? as her head suddenly seemed manageable.

"I guess someone is trying out their new diplomacy skill," said Tira, staring at Star. "Be careful with that or we might attack you."

Star blushed and bowed her head. "Sorry, I was just nervous being around a wood elf for the first time. There is no need to attack me for that though."

The redhead spoke again, "We don’t bite unless you ask; I should have introduced myself as the charismatic magical creature Raythiel, also known as monster girl or Imagist, at your service. It seems I have recently left the Elven race behind and have kin in the monster population now. I, Raythiel, am also pretty sure that is not what the Sword Maiden meant by attack."

"That is not how it works," said Kira. "Maybe you share the same power and spells as 10 percent of monsters, but elves can... wood elves, right, well, try not to get too friendly with our foes. Nobody needs to see that."

"So unfair, the system hates me, I mean, it really hates me," said Raythiel, holding her head again.

The other girls looked at each other in confusion and decided not to inquire.

The last member of the teenaged elf wagon was a tiny little thing. She wasn’t a pure elf. Everyone stopped talking and stared at the Woodling. The Woodling blushed, and spoke, "Sorry about this; I am to be the nobles’ maid for as long as I live. I am a Face, also so I am second level, and I am tougher than I look. My name is Zip. I am very happy to be getting out of the GEN, and I will serve you well, my Lady. The four foot Woodling gave a court courtesy to Star.

Raythiel stared at the miniature elf, crossbred by magic over multiple generations with Halflings. They cost a fortune! "Commoner Woodling, I see, still quite the sight," said Raythiel."They are so tiny and delicate, I can see why the high muckity mucks adore them. Too bad she isn’t a Heroine; she would be worth her weight in gold, annually! Face huh, obviously too hot to handle for most High Elf Lords."

"Yes, well, I have to revelry sometimes, so another fighter is welcome in wagon one," said Tira, handing her the last bag with several small weapons, and the bag made a delicate tinkling noise indicating chain mail or the like, when it was placed on the bench.

"Thank you for the compliment, Sword Maiden," said Zip, obviously enraptured that a member of the famous High Elven bloodline only class.

"Why is her face so portant?" said Alliasaz, oblivious enough to ask what the others were thinking.

Zip spoke up to explain; "A Face is a rare commoner warrior type. If a commoner has enough desire to fight and train in weapons and armor and has enough blood lust, reluctantly, the system takes away their innocence and they evolve into warriors. This can only be done at first level. We have the same martial powers as the heroic pure martial classes, except we don’t gain most of the fancy abilities. A face has their highest physical statistic in appearance, which is only really useful as the battle tank nobody expects. Most martial artists are not cute girls who eagerly cut and stab things, after all,” said Zip, while cutely smiling and giving off battle lust.

"Well, and I thought there would be nobody like me on this civilian buffet train of wagons. I stand corrected," said Tira.

The other four looked at each other with trepidation.