Oliver glanced at Nisha, and in that fleeting moment, something in her expression caught his attention, as if he had stumbled upon an extraordinary revelation.
"Chris once told me," Oliver began, his voice soft but reflective, "that when faced with indecision, it's best to leave it to your future self before it's too late. At the time, I thought, 'I have the right to choose, and surely, others should have the same freedom too.'"
Nisha tilted her head thoughtfully. "Really?" she mused, her tone both curious and contemplative. "You two both seem to have such idealistic views. If even a fraction; no, even just one-fifthn of the Black Crows shared this philosophy and actually talked to the Peacemakers, maybe... just maybe... this conflict could finally be resolved."
Interrupting the heavy moment, Nisha quietly approached with a small vial in hand. "Here, brother," she said, offering him the potion she had just prepared.
"Oh, right, thanks," Oliver replied, snapping out of his reverie. He obediently accepted the medicine and began applying it to his injured hands. His mind, however, drifted back to their earlier conversation. He glanced over his shoulder at Enola. "Either way, I think you should seriously consider who should have the final say about Tom."
Enola's eyes darkened as if haunted by memories. Tom; a man who had once saved starving humans, but at such a terrible cost. His methods were questionable at best. No, Oliver thought, they were outright disastrous. There could have been worse ways, sure, but this... this wasn't much better.
Enola raised her head, her voice resolute yet conflicted. "At first, I wanted the royal laws to judge him. But now, I'm not so sure. It doesn't feel right anymore. The law would likely reduce his sentence, maybe because of his past deeds. But in my heart... I believe that if there's still a chance, both humans and elves should have a say in his fate."
Oliver sighed, clearly burdened by the situation. "I understand," he said, his voice softening, "but for now, you need to leave. The elves will be here soon. If they find you, there's nothing I can do. You've heard it yourself; I'm not exactly in good standing with them at the moment. They won't help you either. Please, go back before it's too late."
Enola nodded in agreement, slowly standing up to leave. Yet, as he turned to go, there was a lingering hesitation, as if words were left unsaid. With a quiet farewell, he exited without ever asking the one question on his mind: Was what Tom said that day actually true?
As the door closed behind him, Oliver let out another heavy sigh, his shoulders tense. His frown deepened as he clenched his fists, as though battling some inner turmoil that refused to let go. "I wonder," he muttered under his breath, "what do you think of her, Sister?"
Nisha, still absorbed in her work, didn't notice Oliver's strange expression. She answered absentmindedly, "It's fine."
But Oliver wasn't letting this go. "Are you... in love with her?" His words cut through the air like a sword, direct and unrelenting.
Nisha jolted, startled by the accusation. In her shock, she accidentally dumped an entire vial of ingredients into the potion she was brewing. "What?! What are you even talking about?" she exclaimed, flustered.
"I'm just curious," Oliver replied, his tone far too casual for such a question. "Because I doubt you'd be putting frostbite herbs into an anti-inflammatory potion otherwise."
Nisha blinked, realization dawning on her as she stared at the now-ruined mixture. "Wait; then why did you even apply it?"
Oliver raised an eyebrow, an amused glint in his eyes. "What do you think it would've looked like if I had pointed that out in front of Enola?"
Nisha huffed in exasperation. "Just sit down. I'll fix this," she said, already gathering new ingredients to start over.
But Oliver wasn't done yet. "So... what is it about her you like?" he pressed, as if probing for the truth hidden beneath her irritation.
Nisha shot him a glare. "Why are you acting like some nosy old woman?"
"It's just harmless curiosity," Oliver chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. "Come on, can't you indulge me just this once?"
Nisha hesitated, her frown deepening, but then she sighed. "Fine. She's not scared of the food I make, for one. And she doesn't flinch at my being a pharmacist. She's... she's like the hero in some old fairy tale; brave, with lofty dreams and the generosity to trust her friends."
Oliver scratched his head, a sheepish smile forming on his lips. "If we're being honest here, I wouldn't be afraid of your cooking either... that is, if you weren't constantly experimenting with random herbs," he muttered under his breath.
The room filled with the scent of unfamiliar plants as Nisha continued her work, carefully blending ingredients under the guidance of her teacher, confident that no major disaster would occur. Oliver glanced around at the strange assortment of herbs, shaking his head with a sense of nostalgia and a faint smile. Ah, the strange, bittersweet memories of the past... they never really fade, do they?
"In truth, I only have a slight fear of food because, in the grand scheme of things, it's a small issue." Nisha's hands moved swiftly, her thoughts focused solely on the task of preparing the potion. "This time, it'll work. Here," she said, passing the finished concoction to Oliver.
"Thanks," he replied, accepting it with a nod. He gently applied the medicine to his sore fingers. Unlike the burning heat from the previous batch, this time the cool, soothing sensation spread through his skin. He flexed his fingers, feeling the stiffness ease, and let out a relieved sigh.
As Nisha continued working, she paused, her curiosity finally surfacing. "By the way, why exactly did Wei Qi chase you down and beat you up?" Her tone was light, but there was an edge to her words. She stopped what she was doing and turned to face him, her eyes narrowing. "And don't lie to me."
Oliver shifted uncomfortably but kept his composure. "He... got angry and hurt an elf."
He kept the more troubling details to himself, especially about the corpse situation. That wasn't something anyone needed to hear right now.
Nisha raised an eyebrow and took a slow sip of tea, her mind already making connections. "Is the injured elf the one who died recently?" she asked. Her voice was casual, but her gaze was sharp. "Because this doesn't seem like your usual mess."
Oliver's eyes widened slightly. "You know about that?"
"I'm the first one out picking herbs every morning," Nisha replied with a smirk. "Of course I know."
He let out a small sigh of relief. "Well, it wasn't me. There's a spy among the elves, someone skilled in making potions. He's the one who caused the trouble. I barely made it out of that encounter conscious."
Nisha's expression darkened with realization. "The green powder I noticed earlier… that was his doing too, wasn't it?"
Oliver nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "Seems like it. Anyway, there's not much more to say. I should get going before I cause more problems than I've already handled."
Nisha watched him as he headed toward the door, her thoughts lingering on his words. Even after he left, she stood there in silence, lost in her own thoughts.
---
Time passed quickly, and soon Enola returned to the city. Shadows of uncertainty loomed over the town, but a quiet conversation between an elf and Tom was taking place in the background.
"Do you think he's turned to the elves?" the elf beside Tom asked, his tone full of suspicion as his eyes followed Enola's movements.
Tom gave a dismissive wave. "Let's just see what he does next. Even if he falls in line with the elves, what of it? Everyone else around here has already been consumed by their desires. Apart from his fellow students, he's all alone. What real difference can he make?"
The elf smirked knowingly. "I see now why you made things so difficult for anyone who refused the mission back then."
Tom's gaze sharpened. "Better late than never, isn't it?"
---
Meanwhile, Oliver walked along a quiet road, his mind swirling with thoughts from the day's events. Suddenly, an unusual fragrance drifted through the air, strong enough to grab his attention. It wasn't coming from behind him, not from Nisha's place. No, this was ahead, and it was getting closer with each passing second. Someone was approaching.
Instinctively, he tightened his grip around the bottle of holy water in his hand, ready to take a sip at a moment's notice. But he knew better than to waste it unless absolutely necessary. The bottle was small, its contents precious, and he needed to conserve as much as possible.
With practiced ease, Oliver scaled a nearby tree, pulling himself into the cover of the thick branches. Hidden among the leaves, he crouched low, waiting quietly for whoever or whatever; was coming his way.
It wasn't long before his eyes widened in surprise. The first figure that came into view was massive, a towering giant of a creature. No; he wasn't quite a giant, but far taller than any human or orc Oliver had ever seen. His features were humanoid, but his skin was a dull, ashen gray. His hulking frame rippled with muscles, and even his eyes and hair were shades of gray, as if drained of color. Every lumbering step sent small tremors through the ground, and his hunched back looked as though it was built for carrying.
And indeed, someone sat upon his shoulders; a small, blonde girl, her golden hair standing in stark contrast to the giant's gray form. She clutched a basket in her hands, its contents hidden from view.
Oliver held his breath, watching as they passed by without so much as a glance in his direction. Their strange, quiet procession left him wondering who they were and what they might be doing. He stayed hidden, his eyes following them until they disappeared from sight.
But he knew one thing for sure; the girl and her giant companion were not figures he'd soon forget.