Chapter 31

♪ Be Our Guest, Be Our Guest ♪

Black and red college regalia draped my shoulders, which an enormous greatswordstaff with a blade of bone was hoisted on. With my still freshly cleaned [Robe of the Scholar] in perfect condition, I stepped into the Elbereth estate.

The mansion was divided largely into three main buildings. The one we made our way into was the smallest, and where the guests of the Elbereth family resided whenever lodging became necessary for special events. Different from where we’d been waiting moments ago, the miniature great hall was designed to let in as much light as possible, making it almost blindingly bright.

Masada and I walked down a wide hallway that was scrubbed so clean that not even a trace of dust could be found, let alone any litter. My steps did not make any noise, the reason being that my [Nimble Tabi]’s skill, [Assassin’s Path] was activated. The open hallways echoed sound so perfectly that I wanted to test the shoe’s ability to remain silent in case we needed to make an escape. Much to my dismay, the ruffling of my flourishing robes sang their chorus in the proverbial amphitheater for all to hear. When I swapped the robes for my now otherworldly torn black suit, silence was easier to embody. Hmm, these torn-up clothes are probably not suitable to meet elven nobles. First impressions are pretty dang important. I’ll just… and poof, my [Robes of the Scholar] reappeared over the torn suit.

The guest’s personal attendants— in most cases knights, wearing full plate armor - were standing at attention in the wide and clean hallway, manning each room that apparently held guests, or at least their luggage. Sir Faelyn led the way to Lyra’s chambers which, I was told, consisted of a kitchen, dining area, living room, and bedroom.

Sir Faelyn continued to lead the way and spoke while facing forward the whole time, “While Valleyport’s ‘knights’ referred to the common folk who are part of the Marquis’s standing army, the knights of Shalanor are those who’d come from title or nobility. There are nigh countless occasions where the third son of a noble would become a knight since they were unable to inherit the family’s household. However, since we pay the knights handsomely, Shalanor only accepts those who were already skilled with the sword. It’s impossible with only connections, even if one were of Elder lineage. It gives others, such as myself, the chance to earn merit and climb the social tower, so to speak, by creating our own branch families.”

Me: “So, it’s fitting to say that Shalanor’s knights are an elite class when compared to the Valleyport knights, no? As equals to elite guards, that is to say.” I figured that it couldn’t hurt to encourage the elf with some flattery.

Sir Faelyn displayed humility accompanied by a slight smile in response, “I wouldn’t go so far as to say we are elite by any stretch of the word, although some individuals could be considered so. Coincidently, the [Knight General] is a newly fashioned title for one such individual. At first, there was much opposition to granting him a knighthood, given his common lineage. Whence he singlehandedly fended off [Beowulf], however, lord Elbereth granted him the highest military position in Shalanor.” Huh, I wonder what could have possibly made it necessary for him to singlehandedly fight that monster? Meh, I probably don’t have time to dig any further about it.

I nodded lightly to greet some knights as we spoke in passing. Only a few greeted me in response, but some did respond with sincerity which made me feel like less of an intruder. Not all were nobles, and though those people swore their service to the visiting masters, each carried a warrior’s heart. Their loyalty unforgotten, they seemed to carry great respect for Masada’s oppressing aura.

On the other hand, among the people we passed in the hallway, there were those whose hatred was obvious at a glance.

They were the maids. Most of them showed a bitter face whenever they saw Sir Faelyn.

The maids who worked in the highest-ranking Elder’s estate were different from normal maids in that they were the daughters of other elder houses, aka the nobility of the Shalanor elves, who came to gain experience. In a way, the maids potentially held a higher position than Syunir. Especially the ones who worked close to the leading Elder family, most of them were daughters of other high-ranking Elder families. Their displeasure at the fact that they had to lower their head to a man who was the 10th son, and of a common woman no less, showed itself as anger.

In terms of rank, it was true that Sir Faelyn was beneath them I guess. They probably wished to show their distaste while the Elbereths were not around. Having thought as much, I wouldn’t doubt that Sir Faelyn would come to the same thought. Even so, he didn't show any anger over their behavior.

But what he is failing to realize is that his thinking spawned a vicious cycle where the maids would misunderstand his expressionless face as him ignoring them, infuriating them further. The scowls only intensified as we went past them, like on those holographic cards that changed the image as you rotate it. On the other hand, if he was the type who could notice such a thing then perhaps everything else would have been handled more smoothly.

Although it went without saying, guests were not the only people allowed in this palace.

Ugh?!

Speak of the devil, I followed Sir Faelyn’s movements when he moved to the side of the hallway, straightened his back, and stood at attention with his hand over his chest.

Two people were approaching. The one following from behind was a tall, thin elf with blond hair brushed behind his head. I never felt the need to in the town, but with these important-looking figures before me now, I used [Analyze].

‘bling’

[name: Elder Elf. The firstborn of the elven species. Although they are the longest-lived elves on [Driscoll], their stat increases are considered low even amongst other non-elven races.]

Huh, so is that a class or subspecies of elf? It don’t really say.

Sir Faelyn: “Hail, Elder Elbereth!” Ah, one of the top dogs in Shalanor.

The problem was the short, fat man walking in front of him. His name was Kirik Arruns Pomponius Banquerius Kaeso Maelius Constans, the second prince and second in line for the throne of the Holy Namor Empire, to which Valleyport belongs. Thankfully, Sir Faelyn had briefed me at the entrance to the estate about the dignitaries we may pass today. Honestly, though, there’s no way I’ll be remembering that name correctly.

Uh, Kirik, I guess I’ll go with, stopped his stubby feet, and turned his jiggling, chubby face into a frown.

Kirik Arruns Pomponius Banquerius Kaeso Maelius Constans: “Why, sir. You wouldn’t be on your way to show your face to the purple she-devil by happenstance?”

Purple she-devil? Does the empire really hate the night elves that much? “Quite right, your highness. Although, I don’t believe we share the same opinion of her.” I said with a slight bow that I considered to be pretty dignified if I don’t say so myself. I really don’t want to cause trouble among the royalty of any country if I can help it, but what else can I say when we’re speaking about Lyra? From Sir Faelyn’s brief, before we left the [Knight’s Station], the reason I saw no slaves in Kulkne was thanks to her pressure to outlaw the slave trade even from a young age. Regardless, I can’t just let out my anger at this prince’s disrespect, as much as I’d like to get me a piece o’ this racist.

Kirik: “Eh? But I wasn’t referring specifically to Lyriath though, was I? That must be what you really think of her then… well, let’s stop stating the obvious. Do you, as a self-respecting human, really think she has the acumen to lead? I think not.” He shook his head with closed eyes before finishing the conversation, “My humble regards to the she-devil. Let’s go,” and took for the door with his nose stuck so high, it could’ve bonked the chandelier. The man following him stayed silent and gave the vibe that he was ready to attack us at any moment, while the Elder Elf emotionlessly escorted the cookie monster and his lackey out.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Me: “Word must travel fast. How could he have known I was going to see Lyra… Lyriath?” Woops.

Syunir Faelyn responded to the prince after they’d left earshot, “… Jokes should be kept in moderation. I did not expect for him to say such hostile words in another land. I will pretend that I never heard them as my lord did. Do as you will with such information, Sir Coon.”

Shortly thereafter, we arrived in front of the room in the mansion where our conversation would soon take place. Sir Faelyn knocked in a peculiar pattern before announcing, “Sir Truck Coon of America has arrived, milady.”

We heard a soft-spoken, feminine voice coming from behind the door, “Yes, yes. Please come in.”

Syunir opened the door and motioned for me to enter first. Without hesitation, I strode in like one with authority. The room was luxurious but not gaudy; a certain stunning Night Elf dressed in maid’s attire with blonde hair, and a blonde lady exuding elegance sat around a table by the windowsill. One of them was obviously the master of the room, Lyra… erm, Lyriath I mean. Can’t come off as too familiar.

First things in order, I greeted the Night Elves, “I was surprised to hear that you agreed to meet with me, lady Lyriath Avacyn. Thank you. I do hope you are well. The same to you, maid of her ladyship. Please, call me Sir Coon.” I guess I shouldn’t insist on being called Tru from the get-go. Way too suspicious.

And the girl opposite her, with green eyes and lilac lips that showed a healthy gleam. Her beauty, in my opinion, transcended that of her master, Lyra… dang it, Tru! Get it right. It’s Lyriath… *Mental Sigh* Even so, they both overflowed with a different charm. If Malady was the radiance of a jewel, then Lyriath was the radiance of life.

Lyra, aka Lyriath Avacyn: “I’ve not yet grown into the title of lady, rather I am a lady in waiting. Still so, thank you for urging that we meet for my sake, Sir Coon. I was likely surprised even more than thyself, due to the ominous news. I understand it is a matter of importance.” She motioned with her hand towards the seat across from her, next to Malady, “Do sit, please.”

Me: “Dually noted. And yes it is potentially fatal information. Shall we get right to the meat of our conversation then?

Lyra: “Oh, perish the thought. Malady, please prepare the tea and cakes. I’m sure it can wait for the moment, no?”

The unforgettable maid excused herself from the table, bowed her head, and responded promptly, “Right away, milady,” before taking to the kitchen in the other room attached to their guest apartment. Faelyn remained posted at the door, likely to ensure no harm came to Lyra while Malady was off in the kitchen, and to relay any pertinent information to his masters.

Me: “True enough, it can wait for the moment.”

Lyra continued, “It pleases me to hear that. I’m greatly intrigued about the land whereabouts you hail from, Sir Coon.”

Me: “Ha, where to begin? I suppose the biggest difference is the lack of any class system. By class, I’m referring to the job class, such as summoner or warrior and the like, not social class.”

Lyra: “I take it there is no class specialized guilds in America then like the merchant or hunter guilds?”

Me: “Correct. My land is very far away. As a matter of fact, I was recently teleported here where I am unaware of the proximity to America. Tis’ a long story.”

Lyra: “I see… Is there a shortened version? Not long hereafter, my peer is gathering a small party to celebrate her coming of age as a lady.”

Me: “Ah, well, the long and short of it is that I was caught up in teleportation magic after colliding with what we call a ‘truck’ in America, that sent me to a land I know nothing about and had to learn to survive atop these Abascan trees. Ironically enough, I was named after such a truck… Thus, I am Truck Coon, and I was sent here by truck-kun.” I couldn’t help but physically facepalm myself as I was saying all this with such a serious face, despite being on the edge of erupting in laughter.

Lyra: “I… see… I know not what this ‘truck’ is which you were named after, however, it must be held in the highest regard for a person of such charm… I mean character to be named after. It also must have tremendous magical potential to teleport you such a breadth of distance.”

Ch-charm?! I was on the precipice, the tip of the mountain, about to be blown over into a bottomless canyon of hysterical laughter before Masada saved my face with his comment, “Kuru. Ku ku kurururu kuru ku.”

Lyra’s eyes went wide open and shot straight to Masada, whom I’m honestly surprised was even allowed in here. “*Ahem* This is my living greatswordstaff, Masada. He implored me to add that, upon arrival, I summoned him. He claims responsibility for my continued survival in this new land, which I can’t refute with a clean conscience.”

Malady started to walk into the dining area, the room we’d been sitting in since I arrived, with a tray holding a teapot and several teacups, “Your tea milady.” She poured tea for her master first, then leaned over my shoulder to pour mine, “Sir.”

The act made me flustered, being so close I could feel her breath, but it only lasted a moment before she left for the kitchen again. Phew… that was… hot? Ahhh, get your mind out of the gutter, Tru. Uh, they must have started preparing the tea just before we got here.

After Lyra accepted her tea wordlessly and took a sip, I projected my appreciation towards the lovely maid, “My thanks to you, Malady. Very kind of you to have prepared this before my arrival.”

Lyr…iath looked at me with a surprised expression and explained, “I thank you for the compliments, Sir Coon. The tea from Malady’s magic item [Warm Bottle] gives off steam like it was just freshly brewed, but this… she brewed it back in Kulkne before the journey here. It is one of Malady’s prized possessions that had the effect of maintaining the temperature and quality of the beverage inside for one week. She uses it quite liberally when I am to receive a particularly important guest but rarely brings it out otherwise.”

I took a sip of the tea with a fresh-brew appearance, “Stupendous!” My thought was blurted out subconsciously, making Lyra begin to giggle while unsuccessfully attempting to hold back her amusement. I continued from where I embarrassingly started, “Not a single cloud of tea leaves can be felt, the hint of sour that begets such dauntless flavor is swiftly contrasted by the suavity of the tea as it goes down. The aptest description; refreshingly stupendous.” Yeah, yeah. I laid it on thick. But that really was the best tea I’d ever had at the time.

Before I’d even noticed, Malady placed a plate filled to the brim with delicious-looking cakes. Her face looked a bit flushed, likely due to my obnoxious praise of her tea brewing capabilities. But that might be conceited of me to think… It could have been from being in a hot kitchen too, no? Maybe she’s mad at me for embarrassing her…? God only knows. I certainly can’t read her mind.

Malady elegantly took a seat, completely ignoring her embarrassment like her face wasn’t even read, though she may as well have been a tomato.

Lyra caught me gazing at Malady just a bit too long and said, “Oooh. I think I see what’s going on,” and with a mischievous face full of conniving anticipation, threw herself into the moment, “There wouldn’t happen to be… anything going on between the two of you?”

I took it upon myself to refute and change the topic to the intention of my visit, “No, no, no. Certainly not yet as I've only just met you. *Ahem* Anyway, the reason for my visitation; on my travels afore being teleported from America, I happened upon a disturbing plot where a small group in the forest planned to capture a Night Elf named Lyriath Avacyn to sell as a high-class slave. They mentioned receiving inside information from a person named Judicé about setting up an ambush on your way back to Kulkne from the Elbereth estate, and I could not stand idly by.”

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From the perspective of Luke:

The day after we first set up camp en route to the Orc settlement, the tents were all stored back into the storage item by [Oath of Fortune]. Traces of wood and ash from the campfires remained, but nothing else. I guess such a big group doesn’t need to worry about being followed.

Breakfast was biscuits and gravy with sausage prepared by the guild prior to departure. Something about the storage item keeping the exact state of whatever was stored. *Sigh* I really gotta get me one of those. Maybe dungeon diving or exploring some old ruins? Each adventurer picked their plate clean fast as a [Quickstep Hare Tr 15], and our subjugation group prepared to set out. All the wagons were left out of the storage item when we made camp yesterday and remained in the same place till now. On the right side of the caravan, the group was positioned at the bottom of a hill while Guy was atop it.

Guy: “If we keep going the same pace as yesterday, we will reach the vicinity of the Orc settlement at about the 4th sun’s setting. At that time, we will take a break and set up only the command tent, but everyone should get comfortable and rest up to restore their strength. The attack will take place after the 4th sun has set. As you know, Orcs act in groups and will likely have guards stationed. Taking them out silently will be the main task of our highest Tr level rogues that specialize in stealth. After that, it will be the job of the established parties to encircle the settlement, and attack on Kraft’s signal. After the Orcs have been annihilated, we will collect the proofs of subjugation along with any plunder and stay until morning. Are there any questions?”

One adventurer asked, “Do you get exclusive rights to the materials if you defeat a rare species?”

Guy: “Ah, of course.”

Another adventurer shouted a question, “What happens if you discover weapons or treasure that the Orcs have?”

Guy: “The policy for equipment and treasure will be first to grab it gets it. The moment any squandering happens over anything, the loot will belong to the guild. So don’t fight amongst yourselves.”

While I was listening, I had the thought, Maybe I can wipe out the whole settlement on my own. I just need to choose the [Jurassic Stance]… But I heard [Orc Witch Doctor]s can wrest control of beasts and since there will likely be rare or even high species, I shouldn’t attack them carelessly… It’d make it hard to find decent equipment if I crushed the whole settlement, not to mention potential prisoners…

I couldn’t help but think about my sister and prayed to a god that I don’t know for her safety under my breath, “If there is a god out there, please protect my sister. Please protect Aval.”

After I opened my eyes, I tightened my brows to think, If I go with the main force, I could break deeper into the settlement. On the other hand, if I could act as a subterfuge unit, I could sneak past the Orcs to find the women being held in captivity. Keeping the violence away from them would make it easier to escort the captives to the guild command tent… I think I’ll need to convince Guy of my ability to blend in, but that’ll be the plan I go with… I think.

Guy: “Right, so are there any other questions?” After silence resounded for a few moments, he continued, “Then split up and board the wagons like yesterday!”

At Guy’s words and exaggerated wave of the hand, everyone climbed into the same wagons we rode in from Valleyport.