My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

Chapter 608: An Elf’s Tale, Part 1

{The House of Hendrick spanned a long, prosperous ancestry of noble and powerful individuals. The root of which stemmed from the revered Dilactus Hendrick, a pioneer, and visionary of no equal skill.

It was he that led the very first successful breed of Elf-Knights to the charge that single-handedly brought the downfall of the Bright Elven Lord, Malvish, thus effectively bringing an end to a thousand-year reign and liberating the land of Molothir and ushering in an age of prosperity of human rule that continued to flourish still.

The venerated name of Hendrick endured and persisted over the long passage of centuries, with the act of harnessing the wicked nature of Elves, converting their unparalleled strength into a reliable tool for humanity’s benefit, spreading into other lands across Asteria.}

Eshwlyn flipped over to the next page and read. From an open window close by poured the gray shadow of rainfall, smearing the contents of the page with ghostly droplets that pelted hard against the glass surface.

More to give her eyes a chance of reprieve than anything, Eshwlyn tore her gaze away from the book, instead laying it upon the familiar surroundings of her bedroom.

On a nearby desk sat a mountain of equally hefty books, some already partway scoured, while most others remained still sealed close; yet to be rifled through. One of the posters of her bedframe remained bent with loose splinters protruding out at an odd angle – a byproduct of last night’s punishment. The many paintings radiating life to the utter drabness of her bedroom walls continued to painfully remind her of a freedom that will never come, as well as the harrowing certainty of her permanent captivity.

Directly across from her, continued to loom the painting of the man, his stark crimson eyes, his subtle yet malignant smile almost as if taunting her of the fact. And just right below the insidious illustration, gleamed the bright gold of a small plaque engraved within the silver borders of the portrait, and there inscribe shining white letters spelled out a name, a title – words, that with much time and practice, Eshwlyn could finally decipher.

.....

>

Slowly, she drifted her gaze over out the window once more, her reflection vaguely mirroring back at her in a blurred, watery shimmer that highlighted the green of her eyes.

Briefly, painfully, Lenora filled the empty void of her thoughts – how she would lay still much like she was now, pouring over her pile of books, a sense of admiration and discovery stirring in the eager glow of her gaze.

Her insides began to heavily ache. Eshwlyn blew away the image in her head with a quiet sigh and flipped to another page, where she continued her perusing, attempting to read with a concentration that refused to let the words properly sink in.

A boom of thunder then loudly streaked across the murky sky, slightly rattling the frames of her window, and slipping under her acute hearing, the faint creak of parting hinges swinging her door wide open.

“That is quite enough reading for the day,” The Elf entered the bedroom with her usual imposing stride. “You are being summoned. Move at once.”

“Summoned?” Eshwlyn left her book fall onto the sheets, rising to her feet. The hems of her garment immediately fell over, obscuring the welts and bruises all over her legs. “Have I... finally worn his patience thin enough? Has he finally grown tired of me?”

Indeed, although steadily Eshwlyn has been showing signs of improvement when it came to literacy, ultimately, she was still proving to be entirely uncooperative when it came to most other things.

It was a stubbornness, a petty maliciousness, she simply refused to do away with. It was her only means of defiance, of free will, in a place that simply did not allow her any in the slightest.

“No questions,” The Elf’s eyes gleamed gold and sharp. “Follow me.”

In a silent march forward filled to the brim with speculative thoughts, Eshwlyn was led down directions totally unfamiliar to her. Far from the high shelves of the library walls, two floors lower from the scorching heat of the kitchen furnaces. Her eyes scrutinized everything, preemptively bracing for the final turn, the sudden halt where her destination awaited her.

“Here,” The scowling Elf’s march finally came to a stop. “Outside.”

Eshwlyn quickly turned in her direction and blinked once.

Outside?

Before she was even aware of it, Eshwlyn found herself automatically stepping through a pair of large wooden doors beset on either side by armed guards. She ignored their dirty sneers, the subtle twitch of their hand holding tightly onto their spears, feeling only a peculiar fervor in her bones she thought had died a long time ago.

The cool wind carried her silver locks in a soothing draft, the heavy rain splattered and soaked dark the trimmed edges of her dress, and the rustle and sway of greenery had her pointed ears quivering with a yearning that had never felt more poignant.

She blinked again, feeling a sudden urge, a long-forgotten emotion that tugged firmly at the corner of her lips. She almost complied.

“Do not stall,” loudly sounded the Elf’s orders over the rain, drawing and shuffling past her in an instant. “Master is waiting for you.”

As she resumed walking, Eshwlyn’s eyes followed the distinct streak of flowing red amidst the pouring gray. That’s when she finally took notice of an elegant carriage pulled along to the front of the estate by a pair of large, white magnificent steeds.

Once they both neared the side of the carriage, the Elf arched over in an elegant bow just as the carriage door swung open.

“I have brought her, Master,” declared firm the reverence in her voice. “Just as you’ve requested.”

Then briefly, through a silky cascade of red, the Elf threw Eshwlyn a menacing look, silently demanding to bow along. But taking every opportunity to express her free will, she once again refused to comply.

“Thank you, Tilina,” sounded a voice from deep within the carriage’s ornamental red and gold walling. “You’re dismissed. Allow me to take the helm from here.”

At once, a familiar constricting feeling flooded her body once more, seizing her body, her muscles – now no longer her own. Like a marionette on strings, Eshwlyn felt herself pulled toward the direction of the carriage, closer and closer, then fleetingly, she locked eyes with Tilina as she shambled passed her, dragged deep within, still as unbothered, uncaring, as she hurriedly strode away without a single glance back.

“Good afternoon, Eshwlyn,” suddenly sounded a cold, calm voice. Wilvur met her scowl from across seats, wearing a warm smile that did not at all match the tone of his voice. “I noticed you did not bow when I arrived. I’m sure you are made known that it is a customary practice. I know you’ve been taught this – which is why it slightly disappointed me to see you not putting this knowledge to practice.”

Eshwlyn did not answer him, instead, she attempted to widen the gap between them as far as possible, subtly shrinking further back in her seat.

“Ah, shall we just assume you’ve merely just forgotten, then?” Wilvur suggested, not noticing her actions. “I can understand. It is indeed a lot to remember. Surely, it takes time to grow accustomed to new traditions. Only I did hope, certainly... it wouldn’t take this long.”

He reached out to close the carriage door, instantly muffling the sound of thunder and rain, before falling back into his seat. “That was also one of your duties,” He said, still smiling, pulling a handkerchief from his sleeves, and drying clean a damp fist. “No matter, no matter... people forget... even I too fail victim to the slippery slope of ineptitude at times. Just – well – try not to forget too much, hm?”

Whether Wilvur found her continued silence an annoyance, he did not show, instead, as the carriage stirred and buckled to life, he retained his lax demeanor, the deep red in his harboring not a sliver of malice.

“Has it truly been another full month since we’ve last seen one another?” He marveled in awe to himself. “No doubt you’ve been keeping busy, perhaps even more than I, you might be inclined to say. Well, I admit, it has frankly been quite a bore for me these past few weeks away. But, you know... from what I’ve heard, and what I dread to accept as truth – it seems you have been, shall we say, slacking on your obligations a bit... as Tilina had begrudgingly confided with me.”

There was a moment of silence, as the carriage buckled, as the crackle of thunder sounded distant, where Wilvur’s gleaming red eyes peered at her closer.

“I have... some ideas... vague assumptions, easily dismissable, please correct me if I should undoubtedly presume wrong but... it is to my belief, that you might not be at all keen to be a loyal Knight to the House of Hendrick – my loyal Knight, in particular. Okay, go! Tell me I am most certainly dead wrong! I’m keen.”

He sat and waited, hunched with a rather charming toothy smile, strands of flowing silver obscuring his gaze as the carriage trembled once more. Shortly, his smile began to fade, and the soft lines on his face gradually grew rigid.

“Oh,” Wilvur softly spoke, an audible breath flaring from his nostrils. “Then I suppose it is quite fortunate that despite my insistence to the contrary, I did indeed decide to have you accompany me for today. Yes, quite fortunate indeed.”

At that, Eshwlyn finally broke her firm silence, speaking low, hushed, restraining a rage hovering just slightly below the surface. “Accompany you where?”

“Master,” He said, flashing a stiff smile. “You forgot ‘Master’. Ah, aren’t you a forgetful one? If I didn’t know better – I’d assume you have no respect for our customs. But I know you do. You do.”

She did not say anything to that.

“Where are we going, you ask?” Wilvur raised his brows at her. “Well, I thought, perhaps... if you truly are as reluctant as I believe. Then maybe... a day outside the manor might perhaps convince you otherwise.”

He chuckled.

“Nothing like a breath of fresh air for an Elf, right?”