Panting heavily, he staggered up from the ground, his body still trembling from the aftermath of the battle. "That kid... I never imagined he'd have something like that up his sleeve," he muttered, a mix of frustration and amusement in his voice. His skin, riddled with tiny punctures from the magic's assault, was slowly knitting itself back together, but the pain still lingered.
He twisted his neck, eliciting a sharp crack that seemed to echo through the still night air. "How long has it been since I felt real pain?" he mused aloud, almost to himself. "A hundred years? Two hundred?" A strange smile tugged at his lips as he glanced at the damage. Even though the wild magic had been brought under control, his magic source was still in shambles, leaving him powerless for the moment. He couldn't track Oliver, nor defend himself if another attack came.
The throbbing pain radiating from his reddened skin was a harsh reminder of his vulnerability. It might just be a sprained finger... or something far worse. Oliver grimaced, clutching his aching hand as he hurried forward. Among his belongings, he knew there was a vial of special medicine for such injuries, but even that brought him little comfort.
He was no healer. His knowledge of herbs and medicine extended only to a handful of potionsb mostly for minor cuts and burns. As he trudged along, his mind raced with lingering questions. "What was that thing? A monster? An elf, maybe?" He cast a quick glance over his shoulder, half-expecting the creature to appear again. When he saw nothing but the empty path behind him, he let out a long breath, sinking down onto the cool earth to catch his breath.
The battle in the city had left him exhausted, his body aching from the mad sprint that followed. Every muscle screamed in protest, but there was no time to rest, not with that creature lurking somewhere nearby. Sweat dripped from his brow, mingling with the dirt on his skin, which now felt slick and raw from the exertion. "It's all such a mess," he muttered, leaning back and letting his eyes drift toward the starry sky. "What a headache."
For a moment, he allowed himself the luxury of stillness, feeling the night breeze brush against his face. But the respite didn't last. After a few minutes, Oliver shook off his fatigue and pushed himself back onto his feet. There was no time to dwell on what he couldn't control. "Holy water isn't going to be enough," he thought, quickening his pace. "I need something else to deal with that... thing."
---
Meanwhile, back at the manor, Chris approached the guard at the door with a polite nod. "Excuse me, has the intruder been caught?"
The guard gave a noncommittal shrug. "Looks like he got away. Best you head to bed and leave it to us."
Chris frowned but nodded. "Alright, thank you." He turned and walked into the dimly lit room where Lesley was waiting, pacing anxiously.
"Did you hear anything?" Lesley asked the moment he stepped inside.
Chris shook his head. "No, nothing concrete. But it's been quiet for a while, so maybe it's over."
Lesley sighed, visibly relaxing. "Good. Sandra's finally asleep," he said softly, his voice tinged with relief.
Across the room, Enola sat in the corner, her brow furrowed as though weighing something heavy on her mind. She glanced up but quickly lowered her gaze, clearly struggling to find the right words.
Lesley offered a quick goodnight and disappeared into another room, leaving Chris and Enola alone. Sensing the unease in the air, Chris leaned forward, his voice low. "I overheard something interesting tonight. I wonder if you'd care to hear it?"
Enola looked up, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "What is it?"
Chris hesitated for a moment before speaking. "There's a group of elves hiding in our territory. I heard they attacked a human village."
Enola's eyes widened in shock. "What? Were there any casualties?"
Chris shook his head gravely. "No, not a single person was harmed. But in some ways, it's even worse than if there had been."
"What do you mean?" Enola stood up, her concern palpable.
"They burned every crop, destroyed every bit of food the villagers had been growing. They killed all the livestock too. The village is left with nothing."
Enola's fists clenched in anger. "But it's summer! The harvest was just around the corner. What are they going to do now?"
"That's the problem," Chris continued. "The neighboring villages are too scared to offer help. They're worried they'll be the next targets if they get involved."
The weight of the news settled between them, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows as they both stared at the floor, deep in thought.
Enola exhaled slowly, her voice heavy with resignation. "Back then, when I found out my uncle's money came from... questionable sources, I made the decision to cut all ties. I didn't want anything to do with the Black Crow, didn't even want to hear the name again. But now... it seems like no matter what I do, I can't outrun it."
Chris raised an eyebrow. "You didn't know?"
Enola shook her head, her gaze distant. "No. But looking back, it's obvious now. The ridiculously high prices in the city... I'm sure it was the Black Crow manipulating everything behind the scenes."
Chris frowned, his expression softening. "You can't shoulder all the blame for this. It was your uncle's doing, not yours. There's no sense in tearing yourself apart over it."
"I know, I do... but that doesn't change how I feel." Enola's voice faltered. She stared at the ground, lost in thought. "It's just... in a situation like this, I feel like I have to do something. I can't just sit by."
Chris sighed, crossing his arms. "From what I've seen of you, you won't let this go easily. And I've learned I can't stop you once you've made up your mind. So if you need anything, just ask. I'll help however I can."
Enola glanced up, her determination hardening. "Thank you. I mean it. I'm going to start moving on this soon."
Chris gave a small nod. "I figured as much."
---
Oliver finally reached the secluded spot where he had hidden his supplies. He dug through his bag, pulling out a small vial of medicine. He poured it carefully over his injured fingers, wincing as the cool liquid stung the torn skin. After bandaging his hand tightly, he stared at his fingers, now wrapped so thoroughly they resembled little dumplings. He chuckled to himself, though the pain still throbbed.
His thoughts drifted to his apprentice sister, Nisha. If she were here, she could have brewed up something far better than the crude medicine he was using. Her skill with herbs and potions was unparalleled, at least compared to his own pitiful knowledge. He sighed, feeling a pang of longing for her help.
"First things first," he muttered to himself. "I'll have to ask Nisha to whip up something stronger for this sprain when I get back. And then... there's the truth that our teacher hinted at. Most of the elves have shown their true colors. The traitor's plan failed because of his own blunder. But there's still one last task left."
He stretched lazily, feeling his muscles protest from the day's exertions. "I'll rest for now. Night's not exactly safe when you're injured. Better not push my luck." He leaned back, letting out a deep breath, but the throbbing in his bandaged fingers quickly reminded him that rest would not come easily tonight.
---
"You lied to me!" The elf burst through the door, clearly irritated. "Why didn't you tell me he had holy water?"
Aegnor didn't even glance up from the parchment in front of him. "You never asked."
The elf's eyes narrowed. "What are you looking at?"
"Radicals causing trouble again," Aegnor said nonchalantly, still focused on the documents. "Nothing new."
The elf crossed his arms, his agitation growing. "What kind of trouble?"
Without missing a beat, Aegnor replied, "Burning down human granaries."
The elf's expression shifted from annoyance to disbelief. "What?" He blinked, stunned by the casual tone in which Aegnor delivered the news.
He couldn't hide his surprise. A man like Aegnor, who often seemed to side with the radicals, showing concern for human lives? It didn't add up.
"You're serious? This is your idea of 'trouble'? If this continues, people are going to starve to death."
Aegnor remained unbothered, his eyes still scanning the papers in his hands. "And? I thought you, of all people, wouldn't care about a few humans starving."
The elf dropped into the chair beside him, baffled. "I don't care about the people who stand in our way, sure. But those villagers? They're completely self-sufficient, isolated. They have nothing to do with us."
Aegnor finally looked up, studying the elf. "They're not our problem, and yet here you are, concerned."
The elf let out a deep sigh, throwing his hands up in frustration. "If you keep showing this softer side, more people might rally behind you. Even the ones who want peace."
A figure in the corner, who had been silent until now, spoke up with a soft chuckle. "You'd make a decent leader if you actually cared about support."
Aegnor smirked. "Support? No thanks. That's not my game." He leaned back in his chair, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I've got my eyes on something much more interesting than popularity contests."
The elf quirked an eyebrow. "Oh? And what's that?"
Aegnor's smirk deepened. "Two little girls named Gallo."
The elf looked puzzled, but before he could ask any more questions, Aegnor sighed and turned his attention back to the parchment in front of him, clearly done with the conversation.
"Always so cryptic," the elf muttered to himself, though his curiosity was clearly piqued.