Chapter 23 - Prefect Miyu, Fae Warden of the Deep Halls

“Prefect! The legendary hero has entered the far grotto!”

My apprentices arrive at my dressing room in a rush, one of them speaking before she has finished closing the door behind her. Luckily, there’s an outer curtain, or some fan might have caught a glimpse of me without my makeup!

I’ve just finished a dance practice session, so I’m covered in sweat. Hopefully, we can finish this quickly. Right now, I’d really prefer to take a shower.

“It has entered into the tunnels?”

“It has!”

While I consider my options, I eye the unblemished skin of my face in the mirror. Elves are rumored to be universally beautiful, but that’s an outright lie. It takes so much effort! After all, where do you think goblins come from?

“How many enemy troops march with it? Will we need a large venue?”

“There is a single rider.”

I feel my eyes widen in surprise. “That means a private show! You are certain that this is the one called ‘Truck-chan?’ Assemble the centurions!”

“By your command!” She flees away down the hall to the other dressing rooms. Probably she’s thinking that I’ll forget her face. But I’m no fool! Good servants need to be rewarded! Unfortunately, I can’t remember whether I’ve already given her a copy of my signature. Maybe I should choose some other gift? Perhaps a portrait?

I wave a hand to the misshapen lumps that surround my fluffy-skull throne. Each of their names is special to me. These are my most loyal fans. Now, with their personalities excised, they serve me without thought. “Bring out my armor. It’s time for a performance!”

Elven armor is legendary for a reason. Since it is forged from concentrated arrogance and starlight, it is light as air and just as deadly as our blown kisses. A single touch from my gauntlet packs enough poison to kill a troll. But not an elf! No! Our own blood is even more toxic than that, so how could it harm us?

All of my centurions are waiting when I sweep into the briefing room. Their costumes are perfect in their resemblance to mine. They have the same poofy skirts, high heels, long leggings, and accentuated chests. Bows, ribbons, and sparkling jewelry are attached at strategic points. The hair and neck are obvious, but ankles, wrists, and even fingers can draw the eye. Each piece is there trying to catch the hopes and dreams of just one more fan.

I am the only one allowed to wear a primary color. While I am pastel red, each of my centurions is forced into the lesser secondary colors. There are equal numbers of green, purple, and ugly orange.

Our apprentices stand waiting beside the mirrors on the walls. They wear the same outfits, but in grays in browns and without ornamentation. That way, nobody will ever notice them, as is only proper.

My centurions are also the candidates for my throne. When my time comes, each one of them hopes to replace me. In turn, their assistants hope to replace them. It’s a never ending cycle. You rise as far as you can toward the top, you give the best performances you can, then you burn out and disappear.

But you can’t rise to the top without the heart and soul of a little girl. That’s true twice over. First, it's the literal truth. You can’t even join this team without first bringing the freshly extracted heart and last breath of a young female human. Sadly, the proverb is true again at the end. Once you start to show your age, you wither and fall. Such is the life and death of an elf.

I fear my own time may be soon coming. Even so, I have a few more performances in me. Besides, my fans keep me going. Each one that gives me their spirit extends my life just a little bit longer. Just a few more shows! That’s all I ask!

In fact, I suppose I should be grateful that I’ve made it this far. Tonight’s performance will be my greatest ever! If all goes well, I will go down in history. I will be the one who stopped Truck-chan. I’ll dance my heart out if I have to! Literally, of course.

“Is everyone ready? This is the final call!”

Each of my centurions scrambles into place. The slowest one, a fresh addition, earns my glare. I’ll remember her. I quite like her wide-eyed terror. She’s small and thin, but she has a cute face with a good expression. Even more so than most elves. If she has a matching personality, she’ll go far. It’s comforting to see there’s new talent following after me.

I move to dais standing at the head of the strategy table, standing just above the level of their heads. That way, they each have to look up at me, as they should.

No! I won’t be replaced until I’m dead! Yet, an elf is not easily killed, except by disregard. Until then, I’ll prune off the most unruly branches, keep the rest motivated, and instill a sense of such inferiority that my successor will never hope to supersede me.

“The outermost sentries report that this new hero, Truck-chan, has entered into the deep halls. Doubtless, she seeks to pass under the mountain to assault the Legate in person. Perhaps, she thinks to put a quick end to this conflict. She fell right into our trap.”

I see their smiles. We all love our traps! There’s nothing better than playing with the wishes of a helpless fan. You give them a sense of hope, then you dash it, only to lure them back again later.

“It is critical that we do not underestimate her! She’s already taken down whole legions and several champions all by herself. There’s even a rumor that she single-handedly beat a dragon without even moving!”

There is surprise and disbelief on their faces, but it’s important that I rub it in. “There is an additional unknown factor. There are reports from the front lines that she’s started exhibiting new strange powers, such as the ability to knock down walls or crush obstacles in her path.”

There are a few murmurs, but nothing to be concerned about. This is our territory. We’ve got her right where we want her!

“Now, which of you will earn the right to be in the spotlight tonight? I’ll let one of you take the opening act. In other words, who is ready to rile up the crowd?”

While all of them raise their hands, the same small one I noted earlier has an interesting look on her face. I had thought she was cowed by my presence, but she seems awfully eager to show off. Let’s see whether she deserves to be here!

“You! Centurion. What is your name?”

“Mitsuki.”

“Then, explain to me Truck-chan’s fatal flaw.”

“Truck-chan is too large and clumsy. She’s a lumbering disaster. Though her height is average, her breadth is greater than an ogre. Her weight is greater than a troll. She couldn’t dance if her life depended on it. Her singing voice has but a single tone.”

“Hmm…” I feel my fingers twitch behind my back. Mitsuki is much too smart for her own good. Is she aiming to take my position before I even fall?

“A good analysis. How would you use this fact?”

“Now that she’s below the empty surface world, Truck-chan is in our domain. The dungeons under the mountain are deep and deadly. The tunnels are narrow and treacherous. We merely lead her into a dead-end, then collapse the vault behind her. At that point, she’s our captive audience! We’ll be singing her a dirge!”

I keep any signs of my surprise away from my face. It’s as if she snuck into my bedroom to read my own notes! Not even my apprentices have that level of access! “You have repeated my plan for this show almost verbatim! I’m impressed!”

The other centurions give her sweet smiles and words of congratulation. The sharpened steel of their hatred lies concealed beneath the velvet exterior. She’ll have a hard time later, but now she’s got their attention. Good for her! She won’t be underestimated or ignored ever again. As an elf, that’s the real danger!

“Mitsuki, you’ll be the opening act. Assemble your soldiers and choose the best venue. My own troops will be waiting behind the stage.”

This statement has two meanings. Yes, with me there, I could move forward to support her if the battle goes poorly. Another interpretation, much more likely, I will be there to prevent her retreat. In other words, she will succeed or she will die. Or both! I mustn’t forget that the two aren’t necessarily exclusive!

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The voyage to reach Truck-chan’s position goes quickly. Our feet are swift. Our gear is light. We know these tunnels better than anything else. The mountain is our mother and our home. Darkness is as meaningless to me as to the bats that we keep as pets. With our trained musical senses, echoes of our silent footsteps are all we need to know our surroundings. In an emergency, our long ears serve as whiskers, allowing us to navigate without sight or even hearing.

In contrast, Truck-chan operates at a distinct disadvantage. She navigates only by sight. Her brightly beaming eyes shine from the tunnels ahead, marking the point where my group will wait in ambush. Mitsuki’s group rushes on ahead to take the stage.

There are several dead-end passages in this area. All Mitsuki needs to do is lure Truck-chan into following her group down one of them. In fact, if it becomes sufficiently narrow at the far end, our supposed bait can escape through a spot where Truck-chan won’t even fit.

Watching the stage, I choose a good vantage point to observe Mitsuki’s performance. When Truck-chan leaps ahead across the cavern chamber, Mitsuki’s group assumes their starting positions on the stage. A moment later, the light show begins. The rainbows of color and sweet elven voices rise up to fill the heights of the hall.

That alone is enough to confuse most mortals, but the accompanying strum of strings is not the timbre of the lute. It is the keening tone of the elven bow and arrow.

Elven bows are small, light, and nearly transparent. Each one is crafted from the songs the archer sacrifices to imbue air with our souls’ desires. In fact, many a human has made the mistake of thinking we travel unarmed.

Similar to our bows, our arrows are short and concealed within the ribs of our skirts. That’s part of what makes the skirt stand up so stiffly. Otherwise, they might interfere with our show. What kind of performer would fail to show off their legs?

Through the dazzling lights, I can make out Truck-chan’s rider only dimly because of the glaring reflections on her adamant shell. It appears to be a young human male in heavy armor. A warrior of some sort? How amusing! If he survives, I’ll make him my pet! Humans at that age are so easily manipulated!

When Truck-chan’s charge leaps up onto the stage, Mitsuki’s forces dance away to either side, providing no targets. She could begin luring Truck-chan immediately, but she knows the best trap is to magnify your fans’ frustration first.

Her dancers weave between the stalagmites, peppering the golem’s body with their bodkin arrows. Each point is thin and sharp, designed to pierce armor. Some lodge into the metal. A few fly right through the adamant shell, forcing me to lower my estimation of its strength. One arrow even strikes out one of the Truck-chan’s awful glowing eyes.

Despite her wounds, Truck-chan fights a clever battle. She uses her unwieldy size and stumpy legs as an advantage. Furthermore, her speed and agility are amazing. Ignoring the timing and rhythm of the song, she rudely flies across the gaps in the floor, leaps from elevated stones, and drifts screeching around corners.

Her movements are erratic. None of our standard maneuvers can account for her relentless assault. In fact, when a group takes cover behind a stalagmite, Truck-chan just drives right through it! Worse, her knives arc away at the outer edge of her pivot afterwards, putting an end to those of Mitsuki’s team who strayed too close.

“BEEEEP! BEEEEP!”

Mitsuki delays until it is clear the show cannot go on. Her singing voice calls out the retreat. Even so, her decision comes at the perfect moment. The remaining elven soldiers flit away down into the dead end that best fits our plans.

I smile as Truck-chan sees her targets dissolve away into the exits behind the stage. There’s nothing more frustrating than a fleeing target, is there? As expected, Truck-chan follows along as if pulled by a magnet.

That’s when our special-effects crew steps forward. Their target is the ceiling of the tunnel opening. After a few discordant notes, the supports come crashing down. Once those fall, the tons of rock above cave in, sealing Truck-chan in for her private concert.

A moment later Mitsuki appears at my side.

I give her a smile and heart sign with my fingers. “Centurion! That was quick! Was there a back door?”

“Yes, prefect! That’s exactly what happened!”

“Good job! How should I reward your success?”

“No reward is necessary, prefect. I was overjoyed for my chance to perform!”

“That won’t do at all! You must want something!”

“Can I… could I… possibly … have your signature?”

Ah ha! Now I understand. She must be a fan! That happens sometimes. Elves that become centurions not for themselves, but the ones that they admire. How useful! I’ll have to treat her very well!

“I’ll think of something even better later! For now, follow me!”

“By your command!” She jumps to her feet and races along in my footsteps. I’m still not quite sure what to make of her. It could all be a ruse - another vain attempt to win my favor.

I can worry about that later. I want to see my prize!

Squeezing through the narrow rear passages, I find a perfect observation balcony above Truck-chan’s position. We’re well above the height of her head, overlooking her confined in her cage of stone. It’s the perfect placement for a virtuoso like myself. She can see me, but she can’t possibly reach me.

In fact, she can’t move at all. She’s stuck between the walls of the chasm below. The rocky cliff sides have hemmed her in, narrowing to the point where she’s lodged like the cork in a bottle. The tips of her knives are bent backwards from the pressure. Yet, behind her lies a mound of jumbled boulders.

My own troops gather around me as I giggle at our catch.

“Shall we peel back her skin to get at the human inside?” says Mitsuki.

“No, he’s caught just as well as she is. Let’s start with my usual setlist!” I pull out my bow and give it a light strum. “We’ll see how long she lasts!”

But then, Truck-chan beeps out at us. Her tones are flat and boring. Without words, there is no meaning or poetry. It ruins the moment.

Mitsuki is clearly angry. “What a rude fan! Where are the bouncers?”

“We’re the bouncers, sweety.”

“Well let’s bounce her then! Bouncers bounce, right?”

“Mmm… put a few more arrows in her first. I want to see her squirm!”

“By your command!” She raises her bow with my apprentices behind her. The sound of their combined strings begin the tones of a new song. This is one of my favorites, so I provide the dance and the lyrics.

The first arrows ping musically into her metal roof. The next ones stick into her blue cape. Even more scrape down across the adamant shell at the front and along her sides. Although I mustn’t interrupt the song, I can't help but grin when I see the human inside panicking.

He seems to be flipping through a book of some sort and responding when Truck-chan’s lights flash in various coded signals. I can’t understand either side of the conversation, but it doesn’t matter. What can he or she do? This stage is MINE!

My dance falters when Truck-chan starts glowing. It’s not as bright as her shining eyes, but it’s unexpected. The sparkling aura she’s putting out is like one of OUR light shows!

Is she going to sing at MY concert? Never!

“BEEEP! BEEEEEEP!”

“More arrows! Silence her!”

The arrows fall upon her from all sides, but this time, they explode upon contact. It’s as if everything she touches is instantly destroyed. The effect is similar to when she drove through that stalagmite earlier. This must be her new power? What is she doing? Some sort of special career feature?

“More arrows! Her ability must have some limit!”

I hear Truck-chan’s loud breathing getting even louder, and rise in pitch as it becomes faster. It sounds like a saw more than a voice! What sort of ugly performance is this?

Then, there is a squealing as her hideous round legs tear at the rock beneath her feet. A cloud of dust and stone fragments fly away behind her.

“What is she doing? She can’t move!” complains Mitsuki.

Mitsuki is wrong. The walls around Truck-chan crumble at her touch as if they were made of nothing but dust. A moment later, I hear the mountain itself crack at her continued pressure. Truck-chan is an unstoppable force! Is the mountain an immovable object?

Suddenly, Truck-chan leaps forward, pushing the cliff walls apart to shape her own chasm. The stones around her let out a groan. Although the granite of our mountain is hard, it is not known for tensile strength. Truck-chan’s course creates a new path of her own design.

The whole mountain trembles. There’s nowhere for all that pressure to go, so it pushes outward into the surrounding rock. But there’s nowhere for that rock to go!

I am old, but the mountain is still older.

The mountain is our mother and our home.

Whose dance does she love more?

Obviously, it should be mine!

My question is answered when the ceiling falls.

The small space where I stand is already a claustrophobic nightmare. But when the walls push inward, I am pressed together with the nearest of my companions. Since she was following so closely, this happens to be young Mitsuki.

The sound of Truck-chan tunneling her way through rock rumbles away. I can only imagine her blasting through the far side of the mountain.

Once the tremors subside, it is quiet. It is like the calm after the storm. Since we were nearest to the opening, it appears that only Mitsuki and I survived.

“Ugh! Can you squeeze out?”

“By your command! I will try!”

She struggles a bit, but we’re both stuck fast.

Looking into Mitsuki’s eyes, it’s clear that she’s not trying as hard as she could. She’s too busy looking back at me. In fact, her breathing has kicked up a notch and her face is blushing a deep red.

“Prefect Miyu… it’s fate! We’re stuck like this for all eternity!”

Oh no!

“But, that’s all right! I’m your biggest fan! I know all your songs!”

Noooo!

“I’ll keep you company. I can sing them for you as long as you want!”

It’s an idol’s job to always cater to their fans. I have to! I have no choice!

My lips are beyond my control. I smile even when I’d rather scream.

“This one is my favorites! It’s from your ‘Tour of the Deep’. Oh, and it fits our situation!”

Please, not that song! I’m so sick of that one! I’d rather die!

I keep on smiling, of course. She’s my biggest fan, right? I could never betray her! Even so, I can’t keep my eye from twitching. Worse, I feel the bile rising in my gut.

Her voice is clear, her pitch is perfect. She must have been practicing for this moment for her whole life. “So close! Together! Forever! Me and You! Lala! Lala! Lala!”