IV

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Arc IV Chapter 1

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4^th Ignis Solar 753 AAC

 

Lambert groaned in pain. More walking. More marching. An unpleasant experience. His poor legs were already cursing him and his descendants, making their discontent known. Their complaints didn't go unheard. Every step hurt, and even the smallest hill turned into an insurmountable mountain.

 

The party was returning home, ... without horses, ... without mules, ... without adequate transport capabilities of any kind, only carrying their gear and equipment on the shoulders, ... marching for hours through the endless forests of Schwarzwalt. What an immense joy. His heart veritably exploded in profound delight. Not. Marching always sucked. It had sucked in the past. It sucked now. It would suck in the future.

 

After concluding their mission and some farewells, they had parted ways with their elven companions. Not much of a loss, in his humble opinion. Arwing and Nelaeryn left for the far north, returning home to Alfreik. A long journey across Arcadia, but at least they had their cart and didn't need to travel by foot ... It must feel good to be rich and able to afford transportation, unlike poor beggars like them. Nobility was born mounted, while the humble commoners, surprise, surprise, were relegated to the role of infantry.

 

The demon cut their expedition a few days short. Not that it mattered. Not that anyone for that matter was willing to spend another hour, not to mention another day, in the damned citadel. The demon ruined everyone's mood quite substantially, with the majority of them having a rendezvous with death himself. That was fun, for sure. Nearly biting the dust. Good for your mental health and general mood. Following their little pleasant, peaceful, and overall constructive encounter, morale reached a low point.

 

Meeting a demon, a greater demon no less, proved an unexpected encounter. Nobody would believe them, neither the guild, nor the other adventurers. Valentia? Demons? They would write them off as wild tales and product of fantasy.

 

And to make matter worse ... Their loot ... All their loot was gone. They had lost everything ... No mythril ... no gold ... no silver ... No gems ... No weapons ... Nothing ... They were returning empty handed after the chance of their life. Because some stupid hallway decided to collapse over their heads due to some neglible structural damage ...

 

Lambert sighed, spiralling deeper and deeper into depression. All the money ... All the riches ... Vanished into thin air. Fate was indeed a cruel mistress. The first time they got lucky with some shitty ruins, they got royally screwed by some fucking dick sucking demon crashing the party. The arsehole ruined everything!

 

This was it. He was officially done with Valentia. He had seen enough of those lifeless ruins for the rest of his life. Lots of bad memories together with some friendly scars and bruises convinced him never to return. Never ever again he would even contemplate to remotely set a single foot again in that cursed place unless substantial and exceptionally lucrative monetary reasons persuaded from the contrary.

 

At least, they survived the entire ordeal mostly unscathed. No money, ... but they lived. That was something. He guessed. Only sustaining a few minor and superficial injuries and a series of gently cracked bones. Nothing serious. Nothing you couldn't shrug off in the full bloom of your youth and without proper medical assistance ...

 

“Aaaarghhh. Ah, fuck it!!!” Lambert gritted his teeth while gripping his back in pain. His poor old rusty bones disagreed with his assessment. Taking an avalanche of rubble to the face was definitely an experience to be avoided, to say the least.

 

A healer would be useful right, but neither had his party a proper healer, nor was he willing to afford the luxury of healing magic. Their prices were the definition of astronomical and outrageous, highway robbery in broad daylight. His father and grandfather called their friends of humanity fraudsters and of the worst kind, fucking you over with exorbitant bills for generations to come. They were right. Rely on traditional medicine instead. Cheaper and better for your pockets. Healing was for the rich and medicine for the poor ...

 

Another spike of pain shot through Lambert's tormented back. “...”

 

Perhaps he could use a healer, nevertheless ... Perhaps it wasn't that of a bad idea ... The churched offered more humane prices, only expecting a voluntary donation in return.

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After parting with her loyal fluffball companions and wishing them goodbye, Lambert and his party finally left the accursed ruins of Valentia to return to Freyburg. Not having much of a choice, Aurora and her doll decided to trail along, following Lambert, Iris, and friends. Lambert was clearly not in his best mood, judging by his expression and the dark clouds floating above his head. Even by his standards, he was grumbling, moaning, cursing, ranting, and venting an awful lot. Better not to approach him in current state.

 

Nevertheless, she ignored her own advice, and tugged him at his arm.

 

A cheerful, icy glare greeted her full enthusiasm. “Yes?”

 

Little Aurora returned her brightest smile. “Uncle Lambert, I have a question.”

 

“Sure ... What's the matter?” He only sounded mildly annoyed, considering the circumstances.

 

“Uncle Lambert, where are we going?”

 

“We are heading home, back to the guild. Two or three days, more or less. We leave the forest behind soon. From there, it shouldn't be long until we reach Freyburg. Not before we take a slight detour, tough. We will make a stop at Waldheim. It's a village ahead.

 

Because, as it turns out, we have to resupply. Our supplies are running low because of a certain voracious individual, who shall not be named, UNEXPECTEDLY joining us.” Lambert glared daggers at her.

 

Aurora tilted her cute little head and blinking her big round purple eyes. “... ... ... Are you talking about me?”

 

“...” Lambert was lost for words. “You are playing dumb, aren't you?”

 

She decided to ignore his thinly veiled accusations and ungrounded allegations for the sake of their relationship. “Hmmm, resupplying ... Does that mean my rations will be increased again?”

 

“...

...

...

No.”

 

“But ... But ... I am hungry. My tummy needs food. I am starving.” Aurora protested. This was a matter of life and death.

 

“No.”

 

“But ...”

 

“No, I told you so, halved rations for you for the rest of the journey. Not a single plate, more or less. That is your punishment. I hope you will learn your lesson this time.”

 

“... Uncle Lambert, that's unfair. This is abuse of power.” Aurora pouted, puffing up her cheeks.

 

Lambert narrowed his eyes. “Yet it was you to run away. It was you to disobey my direct orders. It was you who got us into trouble. Your actions have consequences, little miss. I think your punishment is on the reasonable considering what you got us into.”

 

“You can't blame me, Uncle Lambert. It was impossible to know that there was some the evil demon thingy down there. I am not responsible.”

 

“Not directly, but you still acted against my orders. I warned you about the ruins being dangerous. You didn't listen. It was only because of you that we triggered his awakening.”

 

“...”

 

“And about food. A stricter diet is only good for you. You little glutton eat way too much anyway. Seriously, what do you need all the energy for? You are doing nothing but decimating our supplies.”

 

Aurora continued pouting to no avail. “I am still young. I need the energy to growy strongy and tally.”

 

“Sure. Strong and tall. And I am the emperor of Novrhelia.” Lambert enjoyed his revenge, much to the amusement of the rest of his party. Iris giggled in the background, while Michael grinned.

 

...

...

...

 

Traitors.

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Past hills and forests, fertile plains and vibrant rivers, a lone cart and two familiar faces were journeying north, heading home to the lands of Alfreik. Aided by a well established and functioning network of paved roads and sturdy stone bridges, the cart travelled fast and crossed the provincial countryside of Arcadia. It would be a long and arduous journey.

 

A long sigh escaped Arwing. Her sigh was directed at her monosyllabic companion. Nelaeryn was never a man of many words. He was never a gregarious person, yet his persistent silence was even uncharacteristic for him. He barely spoke a word for days. Something important occupied his mind. “Nelaeryn, what's the matter?”

 

Her companion showed no reaction beyond a furrowed eyebrow. “What do you mean, Arwing?”

 

“Nothing.” Arwing deployed a smile. “You are awfully quiet for the last few days. In fact, since the day we fought the demon you have barely spoken a word. You might think I wouldn't notice, but I do. We have known each since our academy days, Nelaeryn. Long enough to tell that something is wrong with you. It is fairly obvious. You can't deceive me. So what's the matter, Nelaeryn? You can tell me.”

 

“...” Nelaeryan averted his eyes, unwilling to respond.

 

“Something is weighing heavily on your heart, inst it? Don't worry, Nelaeryn, you can trust me. I won't tell anyone.”

 

“...” Nelaeryn fell silent, sunken in thoughts. “... I don't ... want to talk about it.”

 

“Hmmm”, Arwing mused, unsure how to respond. “Is it about the demon, Nelaeryn?”

 

“...” No answer.

 

Arwing didn't give up, though. “Listen, I don't know what happened or why you are being so stubborn, but if it's about the demon, then there is no reason for you to be depressed like this. We all survived and you fought well. In fact, you can be proud of yourself, Nelaeryn. Your name will be famous when we return to Alfreik. You can boast to everyone at academy that you have single handedly defeated an arch demon. Granted, the centuries weakened him, but who cares. A kill is a kill. You are now officially Nelaeryn Liatháin the demon slayer. Even among the strongest elven knights and mages, there are few who can claim to have slayed an arch demon by their own.” Her words showed no effect. In fact, they achieved the opposite. His mood only worsened.

 

Nelaeyn lowered his gaze. A heavy sigh escaped him. “You don't understand, Arwing ... I didn't kill him.”

 

Arwing blinked in confusion. “What? What did you say?”

 

Nelaeryn finally chose to break his silence. A heavy weight fell from his heart. “Arwing, ... I didn't kill him. It wasn't me who defeated the demon.”

 

“But the girl said that she saw you fighting and killing him.”

 

An uneasy laugh crossed his lips, as if he could barely believe it himself. “Don't you realise, Arwing, the girl was lying. It wasn't me. It was her who killed the demon.”

 

“... ... ... You must be joking?” Disbelief was written all over Arwing's face.

 

Nelaeryn shook his head. “I am not. The human girl killed the demon.”

 

“... how? How is that possible? Isn't she just a little girl?”

 

“Curious, isn't it? I was told and taught all my life that we elves are superior to the feeble human race. That we exceed them in mental, physical, and magic strength, and yet I was proven wrong by a little girl. Absurd, isn't it?” Nelaeryn mustered a weak chuckle. “Arwing, I saw her with my own eyes. This strength ... This power ... This might ... This magic ... This mastery of the elements ... The girl was toying with the arch demon like with a mere toddler. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. It was the pinnacle of unparalleled might.”

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