Oliver sat cross-legged in the dim cave, lost in his thoughts, when he sensed someone approaching. His instincts, sharp as ever, made him glance up. The bright light spilling in from the cave's entrance caused him to squint slightly, his vision adjusting. He recognized the familiar silhouette and spoke in a low, measured tone, "What's going on?"
A figure stepped into the light, it was An, her usual confident stride carrying her forward. Without a word, she tossed a bundle toward him. "I brought what you were looking for," she said nonchalantly. The bag landed at Oliver's feet with a soft thud. "I didn't think you'd come here for anything else."
Oliver rose slowly, his curiosity piqued. He untied the bundle to reveal an old book, its worn cover mirroring those he'd seen on the dusty shelves in the cave. The faint scent of age-old parchment filled the air. He frowned slightly, turning the book over in his hands. "You smell like herbs," he noted. "The kind your sister uses in her concoctions. So you're not here to patch me up, and knowing you, you wouldn't waste time over something trivial."
An smirked. "Always so perceptive, Oliver. No, I'm not here for herbs or injuries. And you're right, you're not the type to care for treasures; at least, not the ordinary kind."
Oliver raised an eyebrow. "So, why this?" he asked, gesturing to the book. "Isn't this the sort of thing that's supposed to be stored away for centuries, gathering dust? You could've just left it here."
An shrugged, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Who knows what those idiots were thinking? They hide things like this in places they barely remember. If it weren't for who I am, I doubt they'd have told me anything about it."
Oliver's thoughts drifted for a moment, far beyond the cave and the conversation. Somewhere, in the darkest corners of the kingdom, a dungeon held imprisoned elves; rebels who dared defy the future rulers. Immortal, unscathed by time, they waited, perhaps forever. Forgotten, unless someone in power cared enough to remember.
He refocused on An, a knowing look crossing his face. "And the cost?" he asked bluntly. He knew An wells; he wasn't one to offer favors without strings attached. "If it's too much trouble, I won't take the bait."
An laughed, a sharp, teasing sound that echoed in the cave. "Always so cautious. That's why I think Aegnor is so much more fun."
The mention of Aegnor threw Oliver off. His brow furrowed. "Aegnor? What does this have to do with him?"
An's grin widened. "Nothing really. Just thought I'd remind you; you're still single."
Oliver blinked, caught completely off-guard. "What does that have to do with anything?" he stammered, his usual calm composure slipping for just a moment. "And what's wrong with being single?"
"Nothing for you, maybe," An said with a sly smile. "But I'm not."
An uncomfortable silence settled between them. Oliver felt his irritation rising. "Enough with the games. If this isn't serious, then let's just get to the point. What do you want?"
An leaned back slightly, her expression shifting to one of quiet contemplation. "You really can't guess?" she asked. "Let's just say there's more at play here than just two factions fighting for control. Something's off among the elves."
Oliver's eyes narrowed, a flicker of recognition passing over his face. There had been a nagging feeling, something he couldn't quite place. "I've felt it too, but nothing concrete. Can you be more specific?"
An smirked. "Think back to yesterday."
Yesterday. Oliver's mind raced. He had visited Nishi's estate. Everything seemed normal, at first glance. But then a realization hit him. The guard. The gate had been unusually unguarded.
The elven royal families were always protected, no matter how few their numbers. Even during times of tension, they were surrounded by loyal guards. But yesterday, there had been no one; he and Enola had passed through effortlessly.
A chill ran down his spine as he connected the dots. "The royal guards were missing... Does this mean—"
An interrupted, her tone serious now. "Unless something changes, a new royal family might already be positioning themselves to take over."
Oliver took a deep breath, the weight of the situation settling in. "And your place in all this? Is your position secure?"
An shrugged again, but this time her casual demeanor felt more like a mask. "Let's just say, for now, I'm still in the game. But how long that lasts... well, that depends on how everything unfolds."
Oliver didn't respond immediately. His mind churned, thinking of all the implications. The book in his hands suddenly felt heavier, a symbol of far more than just forgotten history.
"That's about right," An said, her voice steady and calm. "One of them has no interest in the throne, and the other doesn't want to be tied down to it too early. So, slowly but surely, the elves began looking for someone else. Someone who could replace us."
Oliver tilted his head, a name already forming in his mind. "Aegnor?"
An nodded, her face a blank slate, giving away nothing. Her stillness made it impossible for Oliver to predict what she might say next.
"So, what do you want me to do?" he asked, trying to probe deeper.
"Ensure his safety," An replied simply, her eyes not leaving his.
"Alright, I; wait, what?" Oliver's brow furrowed in confusion. His reaction was instinctive, his body tensing as his mind caught up to her words. "I thought you'd want me to eliminate him. I mean, he's a threat to your chances of becoming part of the royal family, isn't he?"
An's lips curved slightly, but there was no warmth in the gesture. "That's the obvious answer, isn't it?" she said softly. "But something about Aegnor feels... off. He's never struck me as someone who wanted to lead. He used to avoid people, terrified of interacting. Even during the busiest festivals, he'd stay locked inside his house. Lonely, insecure, a mess of nerves. He was the kind of person who would cry alone over a dead bird, too timid to ask for help. And now, suddenly, he's stepping into a role that demands strength? It doesn't fit."
Oliver took this in, folding his arms. "Maybe something changed him?" he suggested, though even as he said it, the explanation felt thin. He tucked the book away, sensing there were bigger mysteries at play than the dusty pages could reveal.
An shook her head slightly. "No, he hasn't changed. I've watched him closely. He still does this thing; when he's nervous, he pinches the base of his left hand with his right thumb, sometimes tearing at the skin. He's been doing it for years. I saw him do it just the other day. So, he hasn't really transformed; he's just forcing himself to act differently."
Her attention to detail was impressive, though it didn't surprise Oliver. She wasn't one to miss much, especially when it came to people she cared about. Even if An hadn't openly admitted it, Oliver could tell she had a deeper connection to Aegnor than she let on. Otherwise, she wouldn't have picked up on something so subtle.
Oliver narrowed his eyes, deep in thought. "So, what exactly do you want me to do to ensure his safety? Just keep him alive? Or are you expecting something more?"
An met his gaze, her expression unreadable. "No games this time. Just make sure he's safe, really safe."
"As safe as possible," Oliver muttered, thinking about the dangers lurking around Aegnor. There were forces at play, and even if one of them stood in front of him right now, he couldn't shake the sense of unease. "I can't promise perfection," he said, a touch of hesitation in his voice. "But I'll do my best."
An nodded once, seemingly satisfied with his answer. She turned to a nearby elf who had been lingering at the cave's entrance. "Prepare some food for him," she instructed.
The elf blinked in surprise. "But… won't he be the only one left here?"
"It's fine," An said, already heading out of the cave. "He won't do anything reckless."
The elf, slightly bewildered but compliant, began to prepare a meal. "Yes, of course," they muttered, before bustling off to follow her orders.
Oliver watched them go, then turned his attention back to the book. He settled down, flipping through the pages, scanning the entries, absorbing the information. At first, it was nothing special, just a collection of dry historical facts. But then, a name caught his eye.
Joshua.
His pulse quickened. He knew this name. Joshua had been a figure of significance in elven history; someone linked to old rebellions and power struggles. The further he read, the more intrigued he became. He ignored the countless mundane details and honed in on the sections that contained the elves' opinions and accounts of that time.
Everything seemed to be falling into place, piece by piece, as the past and present began to connect in his mind. But his thoughts were interrupted by a strange smell wafting into the cave.
Oliver looked up and saw the elf from before standing at the entrance, holding a tray of food. The expression on their face was neutral, but Oliver noticed something off in the way they stood.
"What's wrong?" he asked, noting the slight hesitation in their gaze.
"This is your meal," the elf said, lifting the tray.
Oliver's eyes twitched at the sight of the oddly colored food on the tray. It was a mixture of strange hues, none of which he recognized as being remotely appetizing. He raised an eyebrow and then, feeling a mix of curiosity and concern, carefully voiced a question that he knew might offend. "Forgive me, but... is this... edible?"
He fully expected a sharp retort, but he couldn't risk not asking. The food looked suspicious enough that, without confirmation, he might end up the one in danger here, rather than Aegnor. After all, self-preservation was just as important as protecting others.