My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

Chapter 580: Tarnished Grounds

We shuffled into the dingy, grimy hotel room... and much like all those days before, I felt the creepy-crawly heebie-jeebies trickling at the back of my neck, and I had to fight the pressing impulse to bolt out into the nearest decontamination chamber where I would huddle up for at least a week.

Amanda unhesitatingly delved deeper, making sure she captured every grimy nook and cranny, taking high and low angles, scouring for any potential good shots.

This, she did for some time... while I just stood in the middle of the room, taking it all in.

Everything stayed the same according to memory. The wallpaper peeling and discolored, the window nearby offering a murky view of dead critters in a coffin of webs... even the stained bedsheets were looking like an entire prosperous civilization there.

Looking back, I actually can’t believe Irene could bunker herself up in such a place and in such a state. Makes me wonder, if she could bear with this... then she must have also bore with worse.

How worse?

“I see the soiled, wrinkled bedding has caught your eye...”

.....

The glimmer of a camera lens slowly slipped into my sights, and behind it, a nosy interviewer batted her brown questioning eyes.

“Is there a story to this bed that I should know about?”

“Look around, I’m sure there are plenty of stories that happened in this room,” I answered, spreading my arms out. “Some splattered on the walls there, some on the ground, maybe the ceiling even, many stories... but trust me, you definitely won’t find any stories about me here.”

Amanda’s piercing stare slowly shifted to aversion. “Dude, you’re disgusting...”

“This room is disgusting,” I said, slapping my hands together in proclamation. “Which means it’s perfect! Exactly what you needed, right? We done scouting now?”

She whirled around briefly, doing a double-take at the lush decor and furniture, her voice faintly slipping out in a pondering hum.

“It fits the scene, has that atmosphere, the aesthetic...” Her gaze turned back towards me. “You’re right, it is perfect.”

I clapped again, delighted.

“But we’re not shooting here,” She said, pointing the camera lens forward where it had the perfect wide shot of my look of disbelief.

I sputtered. “But? What?”

“I don’t like the smell here, the air...” her wrinkling nose demonstrated. “It’s... there’s something about it... it might end up affecting our performance.”

Following that, I took in a great big whiff, and ignoring the pungent aroma of the musty and damp... I could smell what she meant.

Something striking, alerting... faintly, vaguely... amidst the foul and the rancid... a sweet, pleasing refuge to the senses.

Irene...

“You smell that, don’t you?” Amanda asked. “Distracting, right?”

“It’s Irene,” I answered. “From before, guess the rooms irradiated with her pheromones or something.”

“Thought as much,” She said, wrinkling her nose again. “It feels weird. I don’t like it.”

I stopped sniffing, feeling nothing from it. “Doesn’t bother me, honestly...”

“Well, it does me,” She said in a rather impatient huff, marching straight for the exit without even a second glance back. “Come on, let’s go check the other locations before we settle on anything.”

Gladly, I trailed along after her... and while it was slightly peculiar how fast a promising location turned into such a turn-off for her, I didn’t dare probe further. Anything to get us out of this hotel quicker.

So we drove off, a pseudo road trip across the state, hopping from one dilapidated premise to another, and I was surprised by just how many buildings were in much desperate need of a twenty-first-century makeover.

Nothing really captured the vibe of the scene as much as crummy Room 502 did... at least, according to an unsatisfied Amanda, her lips tightening with every unsatisfactory visit.

Then we reached premise number six – an old rundown church closed down indefinitely for renovation.

The building itself wasn’t anything too special, it’s what was lurking inside that had me stopping dead in my tracks.

Rickety old pews scattered haphazard all across the vast empty aisle, snapped, flipped, shattered glass shards occupying the empty spaces between, and if that wasn’t sacrilegious enough – large red streaks were painted over the whites of the walls, each almost resembling a symbol of some kind... all encircling a giant pentagram formed in a center made in the same crimson hue fitted into a ring of burnt wicks and melted candle wax.

It’s like we just stumbled onto the aftermath of a satanic ritual performed by some fanatic cultists, or as Amanda quite eloquently put it, “Stupid idiots.”

She stepped over the tiny chunks of glass, entering the pentagram, looking much like a devil herself with the glare she got shining in her eyes.

“Seriously, the things people would do for some clout,” Her hand pinched out a small tattered bible. “It’s disgusting, I tell you.”

At once, a lightbulb of recollection lit up in my head, turning the once sinister scene before me into a stupid one indeed.

“Oh, this is the internet fad thing?” I asked, crunching hard bits beneath the soles of my shoes. “Vandalize private property, blame the cult, film reactions?”

“Yep...” She sighed and gently perched the book atop one of the pews. “Just plain ol’ dummies trying to get a rise out of the superstitious elderly. It’s actually really sad.”

The injustice must have really struck a nerve in her – setting aside her camcorder for some elbow grease, doing as much as she could to help unsully this once holy ground.

I followed her example, lifting one of the flipped pews and rearranging some of them back to their proper order. Whoever the culprits were, they did a thorough job being great contributions to society.

Breaking and entering, destruction of public property, vandalism... I took a moment to further admire their ‘artwork’, shifting my gaze from one giant symbol to the next, drawn so... intricately detailed. Not half-assed. Must have been quite the artist and visionary able to pull out such unique sketches for a prank, whoever’s responsible...

For some reason, I didn’t like how they looked. A little unsettlingly, foreboding, which I’m sure is the exact reaction these pranksters were hoping to elicit. So maybe I’m just being the naive fool here falling for their stupid schemes, which is highly likely, really...

Maybe...

“These symbols mean anything?” I asked, hearing my question resound from one empty chamber to the next.

And Amanda echoed back, her voice still ringing with the tone of disapproval.

“Don’t go giving them props. It’s a copy-paste. Monkey see monkey do. I’ve seen so many variations, one guy even just drew a banana. They don’t mean anything. Look, see that one there?” She directed my eyes to the symbol to the far left. “That’s just the symbol of the Old Guards from Asteria. That’s how uncreative these people are. The rest are probably taken from somewhere else too.”

“The Old Guards...” I muttered, keeping my stare tethered to the peculiar symbol, as once sealed thoughts began seeping out cracks gradually forming. “Ash was part of the Old Guards, wasn’t she?”

“For some time, she was, yes...” Amanda replied, too busy scraping off melted wax to halt her wandering train of thought. “Then she abandoned her position, broke the Guards oath, went rogue, and established herself as one of the sworn seekers of the Lazarus Stone, or as the story goes...”

That was a speedy influx of info I wasn’t prepared to process... as well as info I swore I wouldn’t ask about, at the very least not here and not yet... but... if she was providing anyway, well...

“What are the Old Guards?”

“Um, I believe they’re a group of Elf-Knights that have been under the servitude of a Master or Masters for at least a full century, hence the name. There are only a very rare few... since most Elf-Knights tend to die early on in their life of enslavement.”

I urged her on. “And what are they all about?”

“They’re basically the best of the best, the elite among even the most proficient warriors, the most talented of magic users,” Amanda continued on, her hands busy cleaning, her mind busy wandering. “They usually are given the most difficult assignments and serve the most important people in the lands – you know, kings, queens, church bishops, and whatnot. In Ash’s case, her last Master before you was, um... King Ardvair, I think? I’m not too sure. He’s not really a very good guy, all things considered. Good king, terrible human being.”

Unbeknownst to her, I was clinging to her every word like their scriptures of the gospel. There was so much to unravel here. It was like the more answers I received, the more questions I needed to ask. For the next, I thought to backtrack a little.

“What about this Lazarus Stone thing? So there are seekers for it?” I inquired once more. “Why? What does it do?”

For once, Amanda didn’t right away, instead, she paused, throwing me a sideways glance.

“Why the sudden interest?” She asked, instead of answered. “I thought you’re the kind of guy not interested in knowing irrelevant bits of trivia unless it pressingly concerns you.” Then her gaze realigned itself, squinting suspiciously at me from a distance. “Unless it does pressingly concern you, after all.”

It seems that unbeknownst to me, Amanda had been paying attention to the type of question I’ve been asking all along.

“So what’s the concern?” Her legs spun my way, her arms crossing in the stance of an interrogation. “Was I right? You were thinking of another girl, weren’t you? And if my hunch is correct, no doubt it’s got to be a certain narrow-eared damsel that’s got your mind drifting off. So? What is it, then?”

Playfully and mischievously her tune went and played, but I heard it again – that impatience sour note she left at the hotel before. Heard it loud, and heard it echoing. And just like before... I only heard it once the discussion shifted to something else... someone else.

I held back my answer, and muttered something else instead. “It’s just a question.”

Not really the most credible statement to believe, but believe it she did nonetheless, although dubiously... smirking still that stiff sly smile as she let out a little sight.

“The Lazarus Stone,” She answered. “It allows the dead to truly come back to life whole and complete.”