I stand up abruptly, my chair scraping loudly against the polished floor. But I barely notice as I move towards my prize. My eyes locked on the black female Santa statue in the corner.
Saria is quick to follow, her elven grace allowing her to move without making a sound. She grabs my arm, her slender fingers wrapping around my wrist with surprising strength. "Elwin, what are you doing?" she hisses, her voice tinged with concern and confusion.
I ignore her question, my focus entirely on the statue. As we near the statue, I motion for a server. A young woman with pointed ears and silvery hair approaches, her uniform crisp and immaculate.
"Could I possibly buy this Santa statue from you?" I ask, my voice steady despite the turmoil roiling inside me.
The elf server looks increasingly nervous, her silvery hair trembling slightly as she shifts her weight from foot to foot. "Uhhhh," she stammers, her eyes darting towards the counter.
As if summoned by her distress, an older elf emerges from behind the counter. She carries herself with an air of authority. I can see a flicker of unease in her eyes as she approaches us.
"You wish to purchase the Saint Nicole statue?" she asks, her voice carefully controlled. Her gaze flicks between me and the statue as if trying to decipher my intentions.
I nod firmly. "Yes, I do."
The owner's ears twitch nervously, and she casts a quick glance at Saria before returning her attention to me. "You're royalty, right?" she asks, though her tone suggests she already knows the answer.
"Yeah," I confirm, my hand instinctively moving to smooth down my jacket.
The café owner's demeanor shifts subtly. Her posture becomes more rigid, and her eyes widen slightly as if she's suddenly realized the potential consequences of this interaction. She looks at me with a mixture of deference and trepidation, like she's afraid I might lash out at any moment.
"You can just have it," she says quickly, her words tumbling out in a rush. She makes a gesture towards the statue as if eager to be rid of it.
I frown, taken aback by her reaction. This isn't at all what I expected. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a gleaming gold coin. "I'm happy to pay," I insist, holding out the coin.
Saria gasps softly beside me, her hand flying to her mouth. "Elwin," she whispers urgently, "that gold coin is more than enough to buy this entire café!"
I blink in surprise, looking down at the coin in my hand. It doesn't seem particularly special to me, just one of the many coins I carry around for everyday purchases.
"Oh," I say, suddenly realizing the impact of my gesture. I quickly pocket the coin, feeling a blush creep up my neck. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize..."
I turn back to the owner, my expression softening. "I will make this up to you," I say earnestly, my voice carrying the weight of a royal promise. "If you ever need a favor from the Warbringer family, just let me know."
The owner's face goes pale."Warbringer?" she repeats.
I nod solemnly, feeling the weight of my family name settle on my shoulders. "Yes, that's right," I confirm, my voice steady despite the turmoil roiling inside me.
With reverence, I reach out and lift the Santa statue from its perch. The smooth surface of the statue's brown skin is cool to the touch. It's heavier than I expected.
"I must be going," I announce, cradling the statue carefully in my arms. "But I'll be back. I'm a man of my word!"
Without waiting for a response, I turn on my heel and stride towards the entrance. The patrons of the café watch in stunned silence as I pass, their eyes wide with a mixture of curiosity and alarm. The statue's jolly face seems to mock me as I clutch it tightly, my knuckles turning white with the force of my grip.
As I burst through the doors, the autumn air hits me like a slap to the face. But I barely notice, my mind consumed by a singular thought: my family's betrayal.
I hear the pitter patter of footsteps behind me, and then Saria's voice calls out, breathless and tinged with concern. "Elwin, wait!" she cries.
I don't slow my pace, my legs carrying me forward with determined strides. The statue bounces slightly in my arms with each step, its weight a constant reminder of the lies I've been told.
'How could they!'
Saria falls into step beside me. Her emerald eyes are filled with worry as she glances between my face and the statue I'm clutching.
"Elwin, please," she pleads, her melodic voice strained with emotion. "What's going on? Why are you so upset about Saint Nicole?"
I slow my pace, my chest heaving with exertion and emotion. I turn to face Saria, her emerald eyes wide with concern and confusion.
"It's a family matter," I say, my voice low and tinged with a mixture of anger and hurt.
I take a moment to catch my breath. As I exhale, a thought strikes me. "Hey, do you know where the dueling club meets?"
Saria bites her lower lip, a flicker of uncertainty passing across her face. Her emerald eyes dart around as if searching for an escape route or perhaps weighing the consequences of her next words.
"Yeah…" She says slowly.
Finally, Saria seems to come to a decision. Her shoulders straighten, and she meets my gaze with renewed boldness. "I'll show you," she declares, her voice carrying a hint of resignation.
We make our way across the sprawling Starcrest campus, the black female Santa statue cradled in my arms.
After what feels like an eternity but is really only about five minutes, we finally approach the training grounds. My shirt clings to my back, damp with sweat from the effort of carrying the statue. My arms tremble slightly, muscles burning from the prolonged exertion.
The training area comes into view, a vast expanse of well-trodden earth surrounded by tiered seating. The air here is charged with a different kind of energy, the clash of steel on steel, the grunts of exertion, and the occasional shout of triumph or frustration.
In the center of it all stands Diana, her tall figure commanding attention as she leads the dueling club. Her voice rings out clear and authoritative, guiding the students through complex maneuvers. Her icy blue eyes scan the crowd, sharp and observant, missing nothing.
I spot Lydia and Rowena among the students, each paired with a partner. Lydia's fiery hair whips around her face as she moves with fluid grace, her sword a blur of motion. Rowena's movements are more measured, each strike precise and calculated. Both of them seem fully absorbed in their training, unaware of my approach.
As I draw closer to the training area, my emotions reach a boiling point. The weight of the statue, the betrayal I feel, the anger that's been simmering inside me, it all comes rushing to the surface.
"Sisters!" I scream, my voice raw with emotion.
The effect is instantaneous. The clash of weapons ceases abruptly, replaced by a heavy silence. Every head turns in my direction, a sea of startled faces and wide eyes. Lydia and Rowena freeze mid-motion, their expressions a mixture of surprise and concern.
With a thunderous crash that echoes across the training grounds, I slam the Santa statue onto the hard-packed earth. The impact sends tremors through my arms, but I barely notice, my focus entirely on my sisters.
"What the fuck is this?!" I roar, my voice raw with emotion. The words seem to hang in the air, heavy and accusing.
Behind me, I hear Saria let out a soft gasp. From the corner of my eye, I can see her cringe, her slender form seeming to shrink as she takes a step back as if she no longer wishes to be associated with me. Her emerald eyes are wide with shock and a hint of fear, darting between me and my sisters.
Diana's reaction is as expected. Her face, usually a mask of cool composure, drains of all color. Her icy blue eyes, always so sharp and confident, now hold a level of fear I've never seen before. It's as if she's staring down the barrel of a loaded gun, her body rigid with tension.
Lydia, standing just a few paces away, mirrors Diana's reaction. Her usual cocky grin is nowhere to be seen, replaced by a look of sheer panic. Her fiery hair seems to wilt, hanging limply around her ashen face.
Rowena, always the most sensitive of my sisters, ducks behind her sparring partner. I can see her slender form trembling, her grey eyes peeking out from behind her human shield. The fear in her gaze is palpable as if my anger is a physical force threatening to overwhelm her.
Diana is the first to move. I watch as she visibly struggles to compose herself, her chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. When she speaks, her voice is strained, the words coming out in a rush that betrays her desperation to regain control of the situation.
"Dear brother," she begins, her tone forcedly calm, "where did you get that?"
"Who cares where I got it?!" I howl. The other students flinch at the intensity of my outburst, many taking a few steps back. "You stupid cunts told me Christmas wasn't real! That I made it up! That I should stop talking about it!"
Diana winces visibly. The great swordswoman, feared across the land for her unmatched skill with a blade, now looks like a cornered animal, fear etched into every line of her face.
"Brother, it's not a Warbringer tradition."
I feel my anger surge anew, a white-hot flame that threatens to consume everything in its path. With deliberate steps, I close the distance between us.
Diana doesn't move, rooted to the spot by some mixture of duty and fear. As I draw near, I can see the slight tremor in her hands, the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she struggles to maintain her composure.
The strongest swordswoman in the country, the pride of the Warbringer family, now stands before me with the fear of god in her eyes over the topic of Christmas.
"How many years, Diana?" I ask, my voice low and dangerous. "How many years did I try to bring Christmas to our family?"
Diana swallows hard, her throat bobbing with the motion. A bead of sweat trickles down her temple, catching the afternoon light.
"Elwin," she begins, her voice cracking slightly, "please try to understand…"
As Diana's words trail off, my gaze drifts past her, drawn by a flash of movement in my peripheral vision. There, standing just behind Lydia is a figure that makes my heart skip a beat.
A young woman with hair as black as a raven's wing cascading down her back in silken waves. Her eyes, the color of freshly spilled blood, stare at me and Diana. Despite the fall chill, her midriff is bare, revealing a set of abs so perfectly defined they could have been chiseled from marble.
The moonlit encounter, the passion, the mystery.
'It has to be her, right?'
Without thinking, I brush past Diana, leaving her mid-sentence. The other students part like a sea, creating a clear path between us.
As I draw closer, I can see a slight panic in her eyes, and a faint blush that creeps across her cheeks.
"Are you Princess Rolo Horseheart?" I ask. The name feels right on my tongue as if I've been waiting my whole life to say it.
'Yeah, I can feel it in my gut. This is her.'
Her blush deepens, spreading down her neck and disappearing beneath the collar of her training gear. Her crimson eyes shoot around, taking in the curious stares of the other students before settling back on me. "Uhh, yeah."
Gathering my courage, I meet her gaze once more. "Do you want to go get a drink?" The words brimming with a mixture of hope and nervousness.
Rolo's crimson eyes dart to Lydia. The unspoken question in her gaze is clear, a mixture of uncertainty and a plea for guidance.
"What about Saria?" Lydia asks.
I turn to look at Saria, suddenly remembering our interrupted date.
Saria shrugs. "I think Rolo is more his speed," she says, her voice carrying clearly across the silent training ground.
My attention snaps back to Rolo. She gulps nervously, her throat bobbing with the motion. "Sure?" she says, her voice lilting up at the end, turning the word into a question. It's clear from her tone, the slight tremor in her voice, that she's never been asked out before.
Her gaze lands back on Lydia, seeking reassurance. Lydia hesitates, her usual bravado nowhere to be seen. I can almost see the gears turning in her head, weighing the pros and cons, considering all the possible outcomes of this unexpected situation. Lydia gives a slight nod.
From further behind Lydia I catch a quick glimpse of golden eyes boring into me from a distance. I ignore them not wanting to fuck up the moment.
Rolo's crimson eyes flash with a newfound determination. "Sure," she repeats, her voice stronger and more confident this time.
But then her brow furrows slightly. Her crimson gaze flicks to the abandoned Santa statue lying in the dirt, then back to me. "But... what about Christmas?" Her tone tinged with genuine concern.
I shrug, forgetting my earlier resentment. "I'd rather get to know you better than think about that right now."
"Thank the gods." I hear Diana sigh in relief. Clearly grateful of this divine intervention that saved her from my wrath.