My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

Chapter 98: Solutions

Standing upright was an undertaking I never thought I’d find so daunting to overcome. The difficulty I had trying to straighten my spine had me empathizing greatly with my 60-year old self in the future.

My bones felt all so stiff and weary, I’m surprised they didn’t get fossilized in the night. Sore neck and buckling knees, I seriously wondered whether if I did actually age a couple of decades overnight.

Nevertheless, I defied the odds, and began to walk, stumbling at first, but with a few grips at furniture and handlings here and there, I managed to make it to the foot of the stairs – where I would proceed to undergo the even more formidable task of scaling all of it.

Apparently, Ria was the type to look on at old people struggling to cross the perilous streets, see them quivering, eyes squinting from near-sightedness, and just simply shrug her shoulders, muttering indifferently to herself, “If they die, they die.”

She had to be, because why else would she still be slacking away on the sofa just watching me? Taking care of Ash couldn’t be the reason, girl’s sleeping there like a bear in the hibernating season. Couldn’t help but feel how strange it was when she didn’t even stir once when I had Ria gently settle her properly on the couch.

Must be really exhausted, she.

One step up the steps at a time. I needed time alone, time to think. What has happened, and what will happen – these thoughts swirled inside of my head like a hurricane of the highest category, and the confines of my room was the eye of that storm.

.....

Received many answers to many questions on behalf of Ria’s generosity.

Speakers, first and foremost. Some reason I’m a Speaker, and unlike Listeners – they’re born, not made. Not even a genetic thing, it’s just a thing that happens when a mommy and daddy love each other very much.

Just my luck, I guess. That, or I’m actually cursed. Hmm, maybe I should consider getting a priest to swing around sometime soon.

Anyway, Speakers. You won’t know you are one till some Blightfall actually falls. The rain of the dead, and the dead are a rowdy vocal bunch. A Speaker in range of Blight would have his body used as a vessel for the dearly departed souls, not just regular souls either... These are the souls of the damned, souls forever condemned to eternal suffering for their sins in life.

It seems Kronocia has an afterlife, too. Apparently, it wasn’t a very nice place either.

The pain I felt, the tears that fell – it was all theirs... and unfortunately for the Speakers, they have to feel it all alongside them. Now, a Speaker is capable of controlling which voice they let into themselves, but that’s only after years and years of grueling practice and experience.

Sadly, I didn’t have years to slowly learn the ropes. The most I got was a little less than 4 weeks and also no teacher.

“Listeners on the other hand,” Ria’s voice echoed in my mind. “Listens to the Living. We may be able to hear the dead through the Speakers, but that doesn’t mean the dead can hear us. That’s where the Listener comes in. They become the dead’s ears. Together, with the both of them, the Living and the Dead are able to communicate with one another.”

Yet this was all in theory. Everything she said? A hypothetical scenario – given the perfect tools, the perfect variables. If we actually translated all that into practice, let in a small dose of reality to the whole thing... well, what do we get?

Listeners were already a dying art form even before Kronocia’s fall. Finding one was as rare as a Neplim sighting, so given our current circumstances, you can kinda get a vague clue on just how up we were in shit’s creek without a paddle.

Granted, anybody could be a Listener, as Ria stated. But not everybody can be one. Given the requirements needed to actually become a full-fledged Listener... I may as well just take a mop and clean up the Blight myself.

An affinity for the dead, was one. So Necromancers, Demons, some race called Painters – these three are usually prime candidates for the Listener spot.

Another was a vow of silence. Once you’re a Listener, you can’t speak. Your voice is reserved solely and only for the dead.

Last, but certainly not least, you also need to have taken a life before – voluntarily.

Yeah, can kinda see why Listeners aren’t exactly being churned out like rabbits.

So to put it bluntly, you got a Speaker here with no formal training, no actual Listener as far as the eye can see, and a town brimming with civilians primed for complete and total decimation in less than a month.

Clearly, we had a problem here. A big, big problem. And our one and only solution to rectify that problem was lightyears away from even being considered to be in the same range as viable.

Can someone please say Deus Ex Machina? ????????????????????аd. ????????????

“Can I just... call my Dad again real quick?” I suggested after a moment of contemplation. “Leonardo’s your hero, think he’ll be able... to do something, right?”

Ria scoffed at that, pummeling that suggestion into the ground. “As much as I’m holding out for a hero ’till the end of the night, Leonardo’s no Speaker. You can call him sure, we’ll play meet and greet too, always wanted to talk to a hero, but don’t expect too much to happen. He’s a Hero, not God – think a little higher.”

God, eh? Well then...

“My mom’s – ”

“Look, man. Have you actually heard from your mother recently?” Ria was raising a brow, and a very concerned brow at that. “Come to think of it, after everything – why aren’t they here? Your life is suddenly an emotional rollercoaster filled with many twists and turns so why do they keep ghosting you in spite of it? Do they not think you’ll be having a bit of fit right now with how badly we turned your life upside down? Do they just not care or something?”

I remembered staring at her, silent and slightly affronted. Wouldn’t say insulted, more flabbergasted than anything, because I’ve been asking myself the same questions too.

Many, many times.

All I could do then was shake my head. “I don’t know.”

Ria shook hers in return. “So until you do, just assume we’re on our own, ‘kay? You can call ’em, I’m crossing my fingers that they pick up – cause Terestra’s the easy way out this mess – but I’m not holding my breath, unless of course... you wanna pay them a courtesy visit after all this time?”

Go back to the countryside. Confront them, if they won’t confront me. It’s an idea... it’s a long trip of an idea, still...

“Don’t see any Listeners,” I responded. “Don’t see much of a choice here either so... pack your bags, Ria.”

“We’re leaving?”

“We’re leaving. Soon...”

This then leads us back to the present time, where I now stand atop the floorboards of the second floor, having recently conquered the trial of the staircases and beaming proudly over my accomplishment.

Okay, not really. Still very much aching badly to be just standing there gloating over nothing.

It seems Blightfall was the straw that broke the camel’s back. The thought of just upping and leaving for the countryside has slithered to mind from time to time, but I never have seriously considered the prospect up till now.

Wasn’t just your regular ol’ family intervention no more, lives were at stake here – can’t afford to be ghosted here for any longer.

It really was time to go back.

Time to pack my bags, too.

But not yet, not now, and certainly not today. There were still so many things here that needed sorting out it wasn’t even funny.

For one, Adalia has yet to return from wherever she ran off to. Can’t really just disappear on her too without finding out where she went, otherwise it’ll be my ass getting scratched by a very irate vampire’s claws.

Amelia’s no joke here. That’s gonna have to be priority number one.

Then there was that too. Those words that weren’t my own, anger and despair I’ve never felt before. Every time I looked at Ash in the car, I could never keep them from pouring out.

There weren’t mine, but I felt them as mine. Their anger, my anger. Their words, my words.

All directed towards Ash.

Lenora... who’s Lenora, Ash? What did you do to her?

Why do I feel such grief at the sound of her name? And why do I feel so much hate saying yours?

Eshwlyn the Elf-Knight.

All this time, I firmly stood alone on that one side of the argument – that Ash had done nothing wrong. As innocent as one could possibly be. A tragic victim of circumstance. Every accusation, all the animosity, the grudges harbored – everything was unfounded.

I believed them all to be unfounded.

But briefly, amidst the anarchy and pain, through flowing tears and gritted teeth – I didn’t.

And right now, as I lumber my way towards the doorway slightly ajar, I’m not so sure if I still do.

Maybe it was just the Blight talking. Or maybe it wasn’t.

I hated to think that it wasn’t.

There’ll be plenty of chances to think about things in the future, and you can guarantee I’ll be thinking of many things for many days to come.

But for now, the bed in my room beckons my name, caressing my delicate senses with its soft whispers.

“Get some rest.”