My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

"By the way, Tilina…" the sound of all three of their trudging footsteps across the hallway came to a halt. Wilvur spun around, a mild draft blowing from the gap in the closed doors behind him. "Should I truly address what's still left unsaid, or would you rather be the one to do so instead?"

The crimson-haired knight almost seemed to shrink in size, movements and expressions made all the more obvious by her contrasting colors against the blue-rimmed walls.

"I… Master, I fear I…"

"Very well, allow me to address it then," Wilvur spoke over her, his lips forming an empty smile. "Indulge me, what were you doing trying to murder my Servant days before she would be my Knight? How did you happen to believe that would benefit me in any way?"

"It was an accident. A misjudgment, Master!" Tilina explained, a rising panic in her voice failing to be stifled. "I've only intended to assess her skills… truly, I did. But it escalated… and I… I lost myself…"

"Lost yourself…" in a low whisper, he repeated, and yet sounding louder than if he had shouted instead. "Oh, surely you don't mean to imply, Tilina… that this entire ordeal stems from your own lack of discretion… the very same discretion, that for years now, I've grown to revere, respect, and even trust with my very life?"

"The blame is not entirely hers alone," Eshwlyn said, not knowing why she even spoke at all. Their opinions for one another, their vastly different views of each other, for some reason, seeing the brazen struggle in Tilina's eyes… that didn't matter to her now. "Master, I too am partly to blame. I provoked her, and she merely reacted. Her outrage was justified for I had—"

"Do not speak for my defense, Eshwlyn!" Tilina sharply and quickly cut across from her. "The blame is mine. As your better, I should have known better. Master is right to reprimand solely me. And Master…" She turned back to Wilvur, golden eyes gleaming with shame and remorse. "I understand your disappointment, Master, your disapproval… truly I—"

"Do you, though?" Wilvur cocked his head, his calmness intimidating rather than assuring. "The true extent of my disappointment, can you truly comprehend it? Or are you merely speaking in hopes I would see your better intentions in what you've done? If so, I do not see any justifiable reason for you to suddenly forget your place, your disposition— understand this, Tilina, I sincerely regret your actions."

Tilina hung her head, her ears buried beneath locks of red falling limp. "Yes, Master."

"The damage you've done to the Hermelians' vessel, the inconvenience you've deliberately put them under, put me under…"  Wilvur heaved in a breath, the smile already long faded from his face. "Valenia wood is not so easy to attain, as I'm sure you are aware. And while the Captain insisted there was no need for any form of compensation, I saw it fit to reimburse them for the damages regardless. As my Knight, you represent my beliefs, my image… and so truly, Tilina, please try and imagine the true extent of my disappointment after having heard of what you've done."

If Tilina had anything to say, then she had chosen not to say it, the silence, the meekness, so unlike her usual demeanor.

"And worse still, I have already foreseen this all happening, did I not?" Wilvur continued to breathe, every breath sounding more dismayed than the last. "The letter I sent, have you read it? Oh, if only it had reached you in time before you've done what you did. I sensed your envy, the resentment you try so hard to hide, and I wished to placate it. But even without my affirmations and reassurance inscribed into a letter, you should have already known just how much I hold you in high regard."

"Not high enough…" a rapid whisper, and in trembles and shakes, Tilina raised her gaze forward at him once more. "Master, clearly not high enough…"

Even Wilvur had to take a pause, taken aback. A fleeting second where an air of surprise permeated seeing, hearing her no longer submissive. But a moment later, Tilina blinked, and the firmness in her eyes had gone.

"I deserve punishment, there can be no doubt of it," She said, bowing. "And I will accept whatever penance you find befitting of me."

'I'm afraid this goes beyond just mere punishment, Tilina," Wilvur simply said. "But I insist this must come after. When this is all over, when we return home… only then would we address this proper. Right now, however… I only wish to present my future Knight to my peers."

He spun around, returning forward, pushing and striding through the double doors into a grand courtyard overlooked and encircled by a great number of balconies from high above, and even higher, the blue sky shone, encompassing all.

As soon as Eshwlyn entered the courtyard, she could feel the pressing weight of a dozen stares closely assessing her, scrutinizing her, the many pairs of eyes lurking up high was a daunting sight to behold.

Vague outlines and figures littered the high platforms, exuding a heavy air of great distinction and prestige, but none more so palpable than the person sitting atop the balcony that was directly faced before her.

Draped in the most elegant of robes, massive arms unable to settle properly on the armrest, with bulky fingers gleaming with many illustrious rings. Eshwlyn felt an overwhelming power of authority wash over her, and at the sight of a crown glinting and gleaming almost blinding, she finally understood why.

King Ardvair was a monster of a man, larger than the average. Like a feral beast in a rare moment of calm, he had a harsh look about him that commanded respect without question. A face lined with harsh scars and a scowling gaze to match told a tale of a great many adversities—of a King forged by the brutality of battle, and not just of birthright alone.

Beset by such grand eminence at every glance, Eshwlyn nearly forgot her surroundings, her circumstance, until Wilvur whirled back around, his red eyes gleaming curious.

"I never did inquire, did I?" He said, squinting, a sudden thought taking hold of him. "From what I've heard your battle was one fiercely fought. And I know Tilina is merciless with her blows… and yet somehow… you are still alive…"

his eyes flicked between the two Elves, a grin growing wider with a rising wonder. "I assume that is not just by mere chance, is it? Tilina… do you admit to being bested? You? The Knight that has never once seen lost?"

A flicker, hesitation, before Tilina looked away, answering only with the cold air of silence.

"Ah, no matter," Wilvur shook his head, lingering still a tone of admiration. "We will find out soon enough, won't we? Tilina, you will abstain from fighting, you would come with me instead, I am to be seated beside His Highness. Eshwlyn if you would proceed to the middle of the court, we may then start with your assessment."

As Knight and Master both disappeared into a hall only to then emerge atop the balcony, greeting the King, the Elf in a bow, and Wilvur shaking hands both warm and cordial, Eshwlyn warily marched forward, eyes darting and glazing as she took an idle position at the dead center of the grounds.

Terra was nowhere to be sighted, and neither did she see a glimpse the snowy white of her sister. Right then, she desired nothing more than to see them both again. Being here, amidst the company of complete strangers, only served to batter the reality of her reality even deeper in her mind.

That soon, at the glow of another vivid blue sky, her life would no longer be in her hands.

If she could speak with her one last time, hold in her arms for just a single moment more, a final 'I love you' before she would no longer be allowed to speak it.

Right now, that was her only last desire.

Suddenly, from a distance, reverberated the slam of numerous doors, and then quietly, a shuffling growing louder, the clangor and march of metal began to resound. From all possible directions, approached a great number of Knights standing in opposition, the silvery glint of their armor shining at her, reflecting at her… as if another final reminder of her fate.

One by one, they drew their weapons, a rustling of scabbards and the clank of hardened steel all funneling and facing towards her, fading instantly, in a readied, bracing silence.

Eshwlyn let out a quiet breath.

And then unsheathed her blade.