My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

"Did your manager just finish reprimanding you for something? You don't look particularly thrilled."

Taking her place on a swiveling seat, and littering the counter with spreads of paper sheets, a familiar patron entered, outfitted in every array of modesty that did absolutely nothing to deemphasize her natural, overwhelming charm.

Even with the world's most dullest-looking coat, and the drabbiest boots this side of ghastly, or the many crooked hazel strands poking out of her bunned-up hair, Irene remained ever the head-turner and heart-stealer she always was.

"Should I talk to him?" She offered, batting sunken, sleep-deprived eyes that somehow only added more to her appeal. "I could mention your impeccable customer service, if it'll help."

"Just Nick being Nick," I waved it off, already feeling lighter inside from the sight of her. "Don't worry, my employment isn't in any serious jeopardy."

"Better not be," She yawned, producing a pen from her pocket before hunching over the cluttered mess in the size of A4. "Would really hate to boycott the only place in this city that serves such good coffee."

In silence, and with a smile, I began brewing her usual, clinking cups and clattering utensils, all the while Irene's faint scribbling completed the ambiance of the afternoon lethargy.

I took a glance at her again - one arm propped atop the counter to keep her head from slumping, long, heavy blinks trying to keep her focus on the contents of the page, and just in general, she looked to have had a rather hectic time last night.

"Fun Christmas?" I asked, sliding over her finished drink into her line of sight.

Just earlier this morning, when I tried to look for it again - I found that the messages and picture Blue had sent me had inexplicably vanished from our chat history. And now, upon seeing Irene glare at me over the steaming rims of her cup… safe to say, I can put that mystery to rest as to how that happened.

"Not as fun as yours," She snapped back, cocking her head in a way that just permeated with an intimidating aura. "From what Jill and the others have told me, it seems you and Adalia have been having the time of your lives vying to be the best couple this world has ever seen."

"Is that jealousy I'm hearing?"

"Mmm," She just shrugged her shoulders, taking another sip. "Well, this drink is rather bitter…"

"I'm always up for a fun time with you, Irene," I said, tossing a small packet of white sugar her way. "Just say the word, alright? I'll hop over the counter and we'll go have the time of our lives - how's that sound?"

Apparently not appealing enough, going off by her less-than-enthused reaction. With the sound of rustling paper, and resumed scribblings, Irene had promptly made her choice in the matter.

Damn, perhaps I should switch approach, commit a felony - maybe once she has me in cuffs and at her mercy, she'll finally change her tune.

Okay, what the hell am I even thinking?

"Oh right, speaking of fun times…" Her pen came to a sudden stop, and when she spoke again, her voice sounded considerably lighter. "Yesterday, on your date, I assume you both had…? Considering the many variables, the occasion itself, there's little uncertainty that you two probably, well…"

I knew what she was trying to say. She knew what she was trying to say. And I knew that she knew that I knew what she was trying to say, and clicked her tongue loudly, exasperated with herself.

"Why am I even getting flustered?" She wondered to herself aloud, before confronting me head-on with a straight face. "Did you have sex with her?"

"I think you and both know the answer to that question," I quickly said, closing cupboards, and shuffling condiments trying to diminish the sudden awkward tension in the air. "You really want me to say it?"

Then before I even knew what was happening, I felt a zap of electricity run through my skin, finding Irene leaning half her body over the counter - her soft, supple fingers angling my head in all sorts of directions.

"What are you doing?" I asked, feeling as she leaned me to the right, mushing my cheek as she did.

"Matriarchs do not make very gentle lovers," She murmured, her fingers scouring around my neck now. "Don't see any scratches on you however - interesting. Frankly, I'm surprised you're even here on shift today."

"And why's that?"

"Because I know you wouldn't have last. Don't know if you're aware, but vampires are not able to mate as often as other species. So to compensate for the scarcity, their endurance is also unmatched to ensure that impregnation is practically guaranteed. And I imagine, despite Adalia's condition, she's no exception to the natural traits of her kind… as you probably found out the hard way, yes? In more ways than one too."

Leave it to the resident succubus to know of the more sensual aspects of vampire physiology. And yet so rarely do I find her ever indulging in the more… enticing aspects of her own. It's almost a shame, really…

"Since you're not confined to bed, I'm guessing Adalia managed to restrain herself for your sake," She said, then seemingly finished with her assessment, sat back down in place, a puzzled frown prominent on her lips. "No marks - don't tell me she managed to even hold back on touching you."

"Cloak," I clarified, fluttering the thick bundle of black shrouding my body. "Can you imagine if I did have marks? I'll never hear the end of it from any of you, would I?"

Her brows sprung upwards. "You healed yourself?"

"Adalia guided me through the process," I said, affirming. "Though she did also advise that I shouldn't do it again unless I really need to."

"And she's right for it," Irene said, her voice ringing firmer, and her eyes flashing severely. "Healing wounds with magic isn't the lofty process as it sounds. It's dangerous."

And here we were, the question I've been meaning to ask since Adalia first brought it to mind.

"What makes healing magic so dangerous in the first place?"

"Because of what it demands of the user," She explained, falling back to that all too familiar tone whenever something needed teaching of me. "Healing magic is an exponential, ineffective exchange. The greater the injury, even greater the magic, and the endurance one requires to reverse the affliction. Odds are you wind up in an even worse state than you would have not attempting at all. Most wind up just dying midway through the attempt alone. Even the most veteran Magus would think twice than to even try. Now do you understand why?"

Did I ever. Like - was that seriously the risk that came with it? Something that's supposed to heal would just outright kill you? And I did that? So flippantly, so carelessly, and… and how the hell did I even do that?

"That cloak of yours did much of the heavy lifting," Irene said, answering my thoughts as if I had a speaker blaring them all out at the back of my head. "It is woven of your mother's magic, after all. But even then, I would still advise against pushing your luck any further. Not until you're properly learned."

"Properly learned…" I repeated after her, her eyes and mine briefly sharing a look entwined. "Well, it's damn lucky I got myself the perfect teacher for it, don't I?"

"After New Year's," She reminded me. "And don't hold your breath. Healing magic is beyond the scope of what I've agreed to teach you."

"But you could, couldn't you?" I leaned forward, elbows over the counter, and met her sternness with a smile. "If I asked nicely, if I pleaded to you just sweetly enough, then maybe… just maybe… hmm?"

Her glare further intensified, but it was also her that suddenly veered away, grumbling under her breath as she lifted her cup closer to her lips, "How are you so good at that?"

"Learned from the best. Amanda's a master," I fluttered my eyes, leaned over even closer. "Go ahead and reject me. I'll show you how disappointed I can myself look. Then you'll really be needing that drink."

"Look, it's…I don't want to, okay?" Irene heaved, her prim-proper scowl fracturing with a flustered breath. "It's risky. I don't want to risk you. Leave it."

"Risk me?" I said, seeing the genuine concern softening her eyes. "Why? Are you afraid I won't be able to do it?"

"No, I'm worried that you will be able to," She clarified, speaking more hastily than normally. "And then you with your savior-complex, one day you won't think twice on using it, pushing yourself, for someone or for something, and then what if… what if you…"

She didn't finish. She didn't need to. With another shared look, we both know exactly what I would do. And honestly, I couldn't blame her for thinking that of me. After all, she just knows me too well.

"Besides," Irene went on, speaking a little softer. "There are only two beings in existence that are known to be able to effectively wield healing magic without exposing themselves to any greater risk."

"Mom, yeah," I said, recalling all the times she mysteriously tended to my injuries when I was younger without any explanation. "Who's the other?"

"I'm surprised you even have to ask," She scoffed. "Then again, it's been so long… have you really forgotten about her, already?"

A second, maybe even two, it took me to figure out who exactly she was referring to, and as soon as I realized it, I immediately felt ashamed it took me that long to finally remember.

"Oh…" I felt my shoulders sag. "Ria…"

Irene nodded.

"And speaking of Ria," She said, glancing up at me, her tone once more heavy and stiff. "I have a favor to ask…"