"Lady Enne, you must rest!" Iscah said.
The maid trailed behind the rejuvenated woman. Enne's loosely tied hair drafted against her hurried pace pressed her red kimono against her as she approached her brother's desk. It was well into the night, but it didn't stop the Elven belle from interrupting him. Mathias looked lax in his blue night robe with a cup of wine and an open book.
Eyes of discontent met one of apathy.
"Rita wants to talk with you," He grinned.
Her expression faltered.
"Dammit," she responded. "It's about the fields, isn't it?"
"Oh, she was mad. Oh, very mad."
"I'll just avoid her for the time being. I know she means well, but she's overbearing."
"Avoid her long enough and she'll probably bust down your door. And we'd foot the bill. Give a human an ounce of power, they become ravenous."
Enne didn't want to deviate from the conversation any further. She expected her brother would convince the wanderer to stay, but he didn't care enough. Mathias was indifferent so as long as he maintained his place. The wanderer was of no use to him as he was to her.
"So, you just let him go?" she asked.
"I couldn't force the man," He replied.
"Do you have any idea where he's stay-"
"Yes, some old, dirty shack by the edge of town? May I remind you he's a wanderer and wanderers don't mind living in shit? Oh, how unceremonious is what I remember hearing you say!"
"You gave me your word."
"I did, and he made his decision. You can't force a man to bend to your whim."
"It was an order, brother. A simple request. Why do I get the impression that you barely pushed back?"
"An order? I don't think it would change his decision much."
Enne sighed as she sat against his wooden desk, disgruntling her brother. Her eyes sought the words she wanted to say while examining the city's faint, glowing lights. The knife, the alcohol, and his overall demeanor rung of someone calling for help. Her concern was between her health and his well-being. The half-elf kept everything guarded as a matter of pride. She wondered if he was sound asleep in the run-down home, but the sadness in his eyes tainted that thought.
She was in no condition to go out after feeling along her chest. She felt along the silk material, finding the source of the tight pressure, reminding her of her delicate state. She kept the expanding, crystalized flesh hidden.
Mathias noted her concern.
"You should rest, Enne," He insisted, meeting the side of her eye.
"I should, but how could I?" she questioned.
"Well, that's simple. Go to bed, cozy up-"
"Come now, when there are so many other things to worry about?"
"Are you really worried about one man? A wanderer, at that?"
Enne turned her body toward him, returning her melancholic gaze. The Elven lord set down his pen, giving her his attention. He dismissed their loyal maid with a subtle wave that sent her out of the room. Enne never liked the treatment her brother gave to Iscah, a full-blooded elf. He saw his sister's discomfort while Iscah's footsteps faded.
"You should treat her better," Enne suggested
"She swore allegiance to us," He reminded. "She was loyal to our father and the Kingdom."
"Bwah, Kingdom! We aren't part of the damned Kingdom. And why should we? We've prospered without them for centuries."
"We've prospered because of father's position. If this were any other dwelling, they'd be blown back to the stone-age. Why do I feel like I'm the only one that understands the delicate balance we're in?"
"You're not. We get refugees from all over. I've heard their horror stories. The Kingdom you admire so much are nothing more than imperialists. Our privilege stems from the fact, Father wanted to make a difference. Other places don't have that foundation."
"And it's not our problem. Enne, why do you always ramble on?"
"Because your fielty over an authority that's done nothing for us. Gardenia and the people that live in it are our people, but you seem to dismiss them as though they're nothing but subjects."
"Enough of this. Iscah was free to leave when our father passed. She chose not to. Again, the choice was hers."
"She served him for centuries," she continued. "Imagine dedicating your life to someone else with little input? We grow accustomed to old habits. You probably didn't even consider for a moment how she felt. Not everyone knows what to do with freedom. Sometimes you have to show them."
Her brother expressed a smug smile.
"She gladly went along. Where was she going to go?"
"Iscah could've pursued her own interests, living a comfortable life."
"The woman is content to serve us, Enne. Not everything needs to be about freedom. Some people just don't know what to do with it. That's why many need to be led."
Enne looked away, rolling her eyes. The half-elf walked along the window, seeing the crescent moon in the far corner of the large window. Mathias walked next to her, wondering what was on her mind. Her eyes were lost in the whims of emotion. The Elven woman hoped to recover soon to see if she could persuade the wanderer to join her. Her rationale was elusive to the pragmatic brother of hers.
"What was it you saw in him that makes you so concerned?" he asked.
His question was met with a lingering silence. She turned to him, reflecting on her thoughts.
"I saw pain," she said. "More pain than anyone should endure."
"Enne, really? A wanderer goes through much, more than the average but their tolerance for pain-"
Mathias stopped mid-sentence, realizing the sincerity in her plea.
"It's not fair to say who's pain is more valid than the other. His pain is pain."
"What do you suggest? You give him a happy home and comfort?"
"Our town prides itself on acceptance, regardless of creed or species. This is what Mother would've advocated."
Mathias smiled as he walked to his desk to pour a cup of wine. Her brother scoffed at the idea of rehabilitating the wanderer after a sip. The siblings were well aware of the reputation of wanderers. They would never be accepted into any society so as long as the stigma of their origins remained. He set down his cup with a wide smirk.
"What's so funny?" she asked.
"It amazes me how soft you are," he answered.
The moonlight outlined her silhouette, reflecting her steely gray eyes. He shivered to her imposing posture as she leaned against the windowsill. Her eyes turned toward the sleeping city. Enne was powerful but undisciplined, he couldn't fathom fighting her. They stood on shaky grounds as they disputed the fate of Gardenia over the many centuries of their tenure. She turned to her brother, her expression unchanged throughout the conversation.
"I'll set out for him in the morning," She said.
He poured another drink as she walked toward the double doors.
"Not that I could stop you," He responded. "But, I still don't understand. He's just another haggard old man with nowhere to go."
Enne clenched her fists before reaching for the door handle.
Ever the sentimentalist, Mathias noted her reaction.
"I can tell he's drowning in himself," Her voice trembled.
"The wanderer had a choice in what he becomes. You start believing you can save anyone, you just disappoint yourself."
"It amazes me how dismissive you are from another's plight."
"The world would eat you alive otherwise."
Enne looked over her shoulder, seeing his smug expression.
"Am I wrong?"
"No. No, you're not."
*****
Sometime that night, Alejandro drank away, seated on the couch with the remaining liquor he had from last night. He glanced over at the knife in the far corner from time to time. The wanderer thought about the day's events while downing another gulp. He remembered carrying Enne through the muddy path, concerned for her health. Thought of her peaceful slumber eased him brought upon comfort as he set his bottle down.
Enne's charisma reminded him so much of her, he couldn't help but compare. The idea of fate playing a hand in their meeting seemed like a whimsical thought. Part of him wanted to reconsider her offer of staying in her residence, but the awkwardness of the situation kept him from committing. He knew she saw through him that night.
"Better to be alone than to disappoint," He muttered.
His amber eyes glowed, reflecting the fireplace's dimming flames. He needed to chug more firewood in it. His memories sank him further as he laid on the withered couch. He looked to the ceiling, finding the decaying wood. It reminded him so much of the other places he'd been. He closed his eyes, conjuring up memories of the one he loved long ago.
"Over 200 years," he uttered.
He would stop himself every time as he'd relive those sad memories. He dreamed of death, knowing there wasn't be a place for him. Many of the wanderers he encountered were far younger than he, and much less experienced. Alejandro believed he was the oldest living wanderer.
He looked like someone in their late 30s, despite his advanced age. Pain would run along his arm and his body would ache. That youthfulness betrayed since his body was past its prime. Every other day was a guess to how long he'd live, but he had long grown complicit with the possibility of an uneventful death.
It was a wonder why the half-elf would reach out to someone close to their grave.
It was as though it were an act of redemption from the universe itself. He felt he was far beyond saving. With every drunken night, he longed for death, but he'd wake up to fight another day. This wasn't what he imagined or what he wanted. Years turned into decades, yet he saw he could change nothing as human nature set in stone.
"Why the hell am I still alive," he uttered with his forearm covering his eyes.
Maybe someday I'll see her again, he thought before drifting off to sleep.
By the time he awoke, a ray of sunlight hit his eyes. He blocked off the light to adjust his sight on the dark setting. His bottle of whiskey was knocked over, pooling toward the long-extinguished fireplace. He felt heavy as he sat up. The cold air sent shivers throughout his body as he wrapped himself in his tattered cloak.
"Damn, that as some good whiskey," He said. "Mid-morning already?."
His stomach growled.
"Shit, I should eat."
The wanderer wasted little time as traveled further west of the city toward the open plains. A flowing stream cut through the plains with a beaten bridge arching toward the wide expanse. The stream was a few feet below the field's flat visual. Rocky formations and hills painted the distance, disrupting an impression of the endless plains.
He was surprised by how desolate the area was after walking a mile. He had yet to encounter subhumans as they dwelled around potential shelter. The rock formation presented a suitable place for them. Subhumans were incredibly strong but lacked intelligence. They made up for their lack of intelligence with overwhelming force by traveling in packs.
"Who would've thought I'd come across a place like this," the wanderer uttered. "Guess I'll go fishing."
He looked toward the clear skies, seeing a peculiar sight. He strained his eyes, seeing a gigantic bird fly hundreds of feet in the air. Birds that large weren't native to the area. It was neither a condor nor a turkey vulture, after seeing its shape and feathered coating.
"A thunderbird?" He said aloud.
The wanderer watched for a little longer before turning to the stream. He walked through the waist-high field before descending through. He worried that this would serve as an excellent vantage point for anyone observing. He arrived at the river bed, watching the gentle stream fish pushing against. Looking upon the faded reflection of the water, he was his rough appearance, frowning upon seeing himself.
"I look like shit," Alejandro admitted.
He looked at the fish, focused his energy on catching them. He enveloped a fish in a bubble, raising it out of the water. With a satisfied smile, he drew the bubble toward him. The striped- gray fish tried to escape its circular captivity. Alejandro felt a little guilty for snatching it away from its habitat.
It's a cruel world.
"Sorry buddy, but a guy's gotta eat," he spoke.
As if the fish understood.
The brushes ruffled ahead, drawing the wanderer's attention. An enormous subhuman pounced upon him with a massive wooden club. Alejandro fumbled the bubble onto the ground, freeing the fish as it flopped back into the stream. The wanderer stumbled back against the wet hillside. The grotesque creature towered above him with its ghoulish, malnourished figure. It concealed itself with its muddied body as it blended into the monotonous field. It prepared to swing its large club at him. He closed his eyes, expecting his head to be smashed in.
A thud was followed by a lingering, familiar scent.
Citrus? He thought.
He saw Enne, standing atop of the subhuman with an arrow impaled into its head. The half-elf rested her bow along her shoulders. She looked upon the wanderer with a smile as her silver hair settled from her act. She jumped off, knocking the limp body into the stream. Alejandro took a moment to process the events before looking to the half-elf. Her hand reached out to him, waiting for him to accept it.
"You got careless, wanderer," she said.
"Where the hell did you come from?" Alejandro asked as he accepted her hand.
"I guess, I'm your guardian angel."
"That doesn't answer my question."
Enne chuckled.
"I've never seen anyone apologize to a fish before. You're a real softie."
"You could hear from that far?"
She pointed at her Elven ears with a wink.
"I'm all ears," She smiled.
"That's just horrible."
"Oh, please! You should be kissing my feet by now!"
"Oh. I- Thank you?"
The wanderer looked back into the stream, wondering why she was here. The Elven vixen kicked a rock into the rocky riverbed, feeling unwelcomed. They allowed the gentle stream to overcome their silence as they listened to nature. Once he looked toward her, she had her hands behind her back with a mischievous smile. The wanderer felt a little more at ease with her presence.
Again, it was a familiar feeling.
"Why have you come all the way out here?" He asked.
"I wanted to check up on you," Enne responded, pacing along the rocky shore.
"Well, you've done that."
She frowned at his blunt response.
"You were friendlier with the fish than you were to me."
The wanderer closed his eyes as he looked away from her. The half-elf's ever piercing gaze scrutinized his every movement as she peeled away layers of his personality. He was complicated and withdrawn like the outcast he was. His haggard appearance bothered her senses but had to remember his lifestyle differed from hers. She wasn't there to scold him, she was there to persuade him.
"Does it bother you I came out my way to see you?" she asked.
"Yeah," he answered. "You're wasting your time."
"My brother would agree that I like to kill time, but little does he know why I do the things I do."
"Why do you do them?"
"Because I want to, my dear wanderer."
"You're persistent."
Enne returned a smile.
"So, I've been told."
The half-elf looked upon the giant club the subhuman dropped. Where there was one, there were many. Both were aware of the implications, although she awaited his initiative. The Elven belle wouldn't take no for an answer if he decided to run. He knew it would be hard to shake her off. He was afraid of getting close to anyone. She stood with confidence, her expression teasing him.
"How about we go on a date?" she suggested, drawing his tired ire.
"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked.
"Where there is one subhuman, there are more? No?"
The wanderer facepalmed.
"Wh-what? You don't like the idea? We're doing a public good!"
"No. It's fine. Let's get this over with. It appears the subhuman was a straggler. There were noticeable cuts and bruising that marked an attack of some sort."
"Great! We can get to know each other better!"
Enne attempted to give the wanderer a high-five, but he walked past her. She pouted as he insisted on clamming up. He was a tough nut to break, but she was determined on winning him over.
"Let's just do this!"
Playing hard to get, Enne grinned before following behind him toward the rocky formation.