My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

Chapter 373: Skyclad Observer, Part

It happened.

I wasn’t sure when, or how exactly it happened... and it happened so seamlessly, like a soft gentle breeze subtly blowing, I never even knew it was happening, until inch by inch, I saw myself move away from the mud and dirt, and I followed.

In a single constant direction I was kept funneled through – and that direction was forward. If I tried to deviate, try to steer myself off course... well, that problem solved itself, because I just simply couldn’t if I tried.

In here, I had no will, I had no say. In here, once more, I just watched.

That small little girl shambling, stumbling over yonder, huffing and puffing, dragging heavy feet across the glutinous mud that threatened to trip her once more and sink her deep.

Hovering closely to the side, I was her invisible, intangible traveling companion.

Unable to do anymore but watch as the heavy fall of rain masked the tears falling from her cheeks, hear as the constant clap of thunder drowned out her choked cries through wavering breaths. all the while, she still kept hold of the letter close to her chest between bony trembling fingers.

.....

The shrill buzz of rain droplets sizzling upon landing on her bright smoldering locks was a constant ambiance accompanying us all the way throughout the journey forward, only intensifying as the sky dimmed darker, as if threatening to bury the very land itself in sea – at the very least, it didn’t feel like a normal rainfall.

Eventually. the small spire of stone from afar cladded in a murky foreboding swirl of mist and fog had become something giant, something approachable, the more ground she covered.

Here, closer than ever, what few trees still discernible had become a dead, barren sight, what with damp shriveled roots facing upwards to the pouring sky, here it was as if the very soil itself was deeply embedded with the aura of death, with only the sole indicator of life being the warm glow of her hair swaying in the wind.

It was when we were mere feet away from the tower’s entrance, barred off only by a small rickety wooden door, that Ria seemed to show signs of a meager relief in her expression.

She didn’t waste a single moment scrambling up its brittle cobble steps, gripping the door handle, and knocking hard against its timbered surface, resounding out a tumultuous hollow clamor from within its stony interior.

A sliver of panic began to fill in her eyes when nobody heeded her call after a while. She knocked again, harder, louder, frustration vented in a grunt through gritted teeth, and stray embers expelling into the air with her every move.

The effort alone brought her to aching whimpers once more, the large gashes in her skin dripping blood as well as rain across her arm, staining a deep red on a small portion of the letter already so thickly sullied with rain and mud.

Ria held out before her, and I took a peek at it. I thought I could read it, but of course, I couldn’t. A strange language inscribed in scribbles and letters that were even more of a stranger sight.

And it seems, I wasn’t the only one staring with a gaze foreign and unfamiliar. Ria had her eyes straining and staying on the first letter of the first word, hastily wiping away the mixture of tears and rain on her to clear her view.

Then slowly, uncertainly, she read out softly, “M-my dear... Si... Silas...?”

The wooden door gave a loud click, a rattle, in an instant, swinging wide open and from the doorway bled out a blaze of bright light from a crackling fire from somewhere within, radiating a warmth and comfort from the harsh merciless blizzard of the outside.

A young man stood there between the doorway. I took a look at him.

He was handsome, with facial features that blended in a perfect harmony of beauty, with deep brown eyes that instantly reminded me of Irene. His hair was a wavy stream of long brown locks that acted like a shawl draped over his broad shoulders.

But it was the look in his eyes, the demeanor he exuded, that offset anything amicable about him. The way he stared down at Ria, that sharp piercing gaze in a glare that had the little girl cowering a single step back was a clear sign already that this place was not a refuge from any harshness.

The man’s glare grew more prominent, and he spoke, his tone somehow even sharper than his stare, “What do you want? How did you come about finding this place?”

For some strange reason, he did not question the flames in her hair, nor even a batted an eye of concern to any of the grievous lacerations in her arms and legs.

That single question was his only demand, as he spoke again, “Speak, child!”

Ria tried to comply with his orders, but what words she intended to speak, only manage to seep past her trembling lips in a feeble whimper. Instead, through even timider gestures, she slowly reached her hand out, presenting the letter before his furrowed brow.

He swiped for it, nearly tearing it, unfurling the creases, and brushing clean the grime and dirt with visible disgust in his face. He kept her standing there, bleeding there, at his doorstep in the pouring rain, deliberately blind to her deep breaths of fatigue, to the way her body swayed unsteadily – that a single gust of wind could so easily topple her over.

I kept my eyes so keenly focused on Ria’s condition, that I very nearly missed the flood of emotions rippling across the man’s eyes. Confusion at first, morphing into utter shock, before as his grip on the parchment tightened, anger consumed the brown in his eyes.

The more he rifled through the contents of the letter, the more his mood took a turn for the worse, stopping once every few words to glance back at Ria – that anger lingering, worsening...

So palpable was the look in his eyes that Ria wouldn’t dare even meet it for any longer. She kept her gaze to the floor, watching as her bare feet were cleansed of all the mud and blood clinging to her skin by the ever pouring rain.

Finally, the man spoke again in a frightening quiet. “How old are you?”

Ria flinched, snapping her eyes back upwards to the man, before forcing her voice to surface up her throat in a clumsy squeaky whisper, “S-Seven...”

The man shook his head, swaying it in a way that implied great dissatisfaction. “So, he’s dead now, is he? Torem?”

At the sound of those words, a newfound strength suddenly forced her voice an even louder reply, “N-No! I don’t... don’t know. Scary people, uh, Elves, Elves? People with Elves came to the house, t-they talked to father, they said they wanted to take me... father stopped them, so they hurt him... father told me to run. I didn’t want... I wanted to stay... I was only doing what father told me... I was only doing... oh, father...”

“Father?” The man spat the word like poison. “You don’t call him that. You don’t get to call him that. Torem is no more your father than you are his daughter, you perish that notion now. Do you understand me?”

Ria stared bewilderedly at the man, at a loss to his hostile nature towards her... but she couldn’t find it in herself to oppose his demands, and simply kept herself quiet.

That was until he spoke again, asked again, “He told you of this place did he?”

I watched Ria nod her head vigorously, frightened to a silence, afraid of incurring anymore of his anger.

“He told you to come here in the event something of this nature arises?”

She nodded again.

“And this letter,” He held the piece of parchment. “Written months, maybe years before, believing I may be of help in any way possible?”

Once more, she bowed her head once.

That’s when it happened. Lightning flashed from up high, illuminating bright the dangerous glint in his eyes. Thunder rumbled, as he tore the letter effortlessly piece by piece, violently swatting the torn remains at Ria’s face.

“He believes me indebted to him? He believes me obligated to care for you?” The man’s voice shook as it rose in volume. “His little failure of a lab experiment? Had he really forgotten that it was he that forsaken me first for his grander delusional ambitions?” He stared down at her in unbridled contempt, his teeth baring, gnashing, as he spat out at her. “Ambitions of you?!”

Ria cowered back even more, raising her arms to her face, bracing. Frightened whimpers sounding louder, desperate, confused. Tears again began shimmering in her crimson eyes, her emotions in disarray.

But even still, she pleaded to him. “Please, my father... save him... my father, please! Save my father, I – !”

Ria fell. Sideways, her head bashing hard into the edge of the staircase. The side of her head split open, and blood began to pour, but the yelp of pain she screamed was not from the impact of stone, but from the searing pain flaring from across her cheek.

The man heaved, the man stared, the dagger he held out in his hand spilling red from its serrated edge.

“I told you not to call him that,” He growled, his every word brimming with hate. “Didn’t you hear me, you foolish girl?”

Ria could only whimper, could only cry, curling her body close to herself, as if simply wanting the earth to swallow her whole.

“Torem didn’t give you a name, did he? Good, you don’t need one,” The man dropped the dagger, turning back, walking into the doorway. “Now, get in here. Unless you would rather die out there.”

And, I, hovering closely by... could only watch it all unfold, just as indifferent, just as uncaring.