My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

Chapter 634: An Elf’s Tale, Part 4

It was another few days of the sluggish sway of the sea before even the slightest landmass could finally be seen over the horizon. Meanwhile, Eshwlyn remained confined to the cramped space of her room, waiting for the agony to cease, for the throbbing to dwindle, and for the scars on her body to fully heal and hide the memories of that night.

Ever since their last encounter, Eshwlyn was seeing less and less of Tilina about the ship, and the rare times they do happen to cross paths, the sullen Knight only treated her presence as if invisible, non-existent, with the sound of her chamber door creaking close becoming a regular ambiance to hear resound.

A Wol had found its way to Tilina one stagnant night carrying a letter fastened securely within its beak. Wol’s were ethereal messengers in the form of birds, born from the magic of a sorcerer with only the single purpose of seeking their target and delivering the message before dissipating in a swirl of colored mist, the residuals of the creator’s magic.

Eshwlyn only glimpsed this scene for but a single moment, before the familiar slam of a door ultimately had her eyes veering elsewhere, and whatever was inscribed in the letter, had only served to sour Tilina’s already dwindling mood.

Two days after the first sighting of landmass and even bilbirds could now be spotted circling the blue skies, a clear indication of fertile land close, their sharp talons ready at a moment’s notice to break through the gentle rippling tides in search of prey.

Even the Hermelians’ overtime took a more light and springy note to the melodies they sing, the close end of almost a month-long voyage ending with a fanfare and song, a time-honored tradition among their kind meant to shed away the grudges and animosity between the crew that had arisen over the course of the journey so that they may start another soon without any grievances anchoring their spirits to the bitter throes of the past.

And true to the purpose of the tradition, Eshwlyn found herself a welcome and even honored guest among them, bearing as a silent witness, watching their webbed feet spin and dance across newly restored floorboards to the energetic verses of their peers, and even finding herself merrily and absentmindedly bobbing her head to the jolly melodies... and yet despite the lively surge in the atmosphere... she couldn’t help but notice the absence of the only other Elf among them.

.....

Finally, one day, they finally reached land just as the evening sun fell between distant hills. A large port town of a lively nightly atmosphere, brimming the harbor docks with a strange mixture of sailors, traders, and travelers departing and embarking alike.

Despite the chatter and bustling activity, Eshwlyn’s first few steps into the eminent, renowned land of Astra comprised only of the deafening silence of strangers, a seemingly million pairs of eyes trailing her every step, some glowering, others repulsed, while most simply took a cold, wary eye to her... the welcome company and presence of the Hermilians now long gone.

“Pay no heed to them,” spoke a low, quiet voice behind her, and in a blur of red and gold, Eshwlyn found herself following the march of metal greaves. “They will not accost you so long as you are in my presence.”

And true enough, nobody dared tread, nobody chose to approach, allowing her a relatively safe passage through the paved roads of the town behind the silver gleam of a Knight.

“It is far too late in the evening for any chance to seek passage out of the harbor,” Tilina muttered, guiding her through the many twists and turns of salt-scented streets. “We will take rest her until morning... come dawn, we will make for the capital in haste. Master is longing to see you as it is...”

It seemed the name of Hendrick held a certain type of high reverence to the residents of Astra. Even an Elf, a Knight to the Hendrick name, was allowed access to particular kinds of privileges like free lodgings, to the point of being provided personally by the innkeeper himself, escorted to their rooms through audibly strained courtesy.

They were put in separate rooms across from one another at Tilina’s behest, a far cry from their usual arrangement of nestling in a single room and a detail Eshwlyn couldn’t help but notice she stressed twice forming the arrangement with the innkeeper. A request the innkeeper was only too begrudgingly happy to oblige with a wide smile.

Then, as the night began to blacken the skies, an all too familiar reverberating slam of a wooden door kept one another from seeing any more of each other... Still invisible, still non-existence at all times possible.

Eshwlyn was not particularly bothered by this strange new development in their relationship... but as she peered at the empty streets from the murky window of the room... she could not still shake the growing uneasy feeling within her as they drew closer to their final destination.

Conversion scared her... like nothing ever had before. Though unhesitating as she was to undergo the entire process... it did little to calm her nerves. The more she thought about it, the more her disquiet grew.

Would she be just like Tilina? Fiercely loyal and devoted against all rationality to the point of infatuation? If she were to be a Knight, would she even retain any semblance of herself as she was now? Would it sway her thinking? Her judgment? And what of her feelings for Lenora?

Lenora...

Just then, a flutter in the darkness caught her attention. Eshwlyn blinked, and tiny pinpricks of light suddenly stared at her from afar, growing closer... gliding across the air in flight, flapping wings translucent.

A Wol.

The bundle of ghostly feathers phased through the spotted panes of the window, piercing misty eyes staring back at her, and hovering closer, flapped open its beak plunging a thin piece of parchment into her receiving hands.

Then in a cry of what sounded like goodbye, the Wol vanished under the pale gleam of moonlight, leaving behind an air of confusion, and only one question resounding in her mind.

Who would write to her personally?

A question that was answered in almost alarming realization.

“Terra...”

At once, Eshwlyn unfurled the piece of parchment, and taking it to the light of the moon, saw short, brief sentences written crudely in haste, splotched and blemish but what looked like fallen tears, and her heart beating faster than it ever did, she quietly read the words that she had feared to see all along.

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