Chapter 642: An Elf’s Tale, Part 4

Her ears wouldn’t stop twitching, and the voices wouldn’t stop muttering.

She could hear them, the looming audience behind balcony railings; their conversations encompassing a vast array of topics... yet one way or another, somehow, they all led back to her.

Her rise to prominence.

Her unparalleled strength.

Her immense potential as a Knight.

And the perilous risks she posed should she ever turn out to be a threat.

Over and over in more dubious, uncertain inflections, her ears would twitch to their unending discussions. One aristocrat conversing with another, a red hood whispering to a commander... an ignorant nobleman ignorantly questioning the intricacies with a blue-eyed Magus.

.....

Terra...

Eshwlyn felt an invisible pressure on her chest lighten at the sudden sight of her. From the balcony furthest forward, in fleeting glimpses, they caught each other’s eyes. Even from afar, Terra projected this palpable sense of bleakness that nobody else seemed to catch as if she wanted nothing more but to avert her eyes, blink, and convince herself that everything here was just a mere nightmare.

“Proceed to the middle of the ring, Elf. As if you don’t already know what to do,” The Magus across from her ordered, wearing an illustrious blue hood that spilled out his long white beard. “Do not worry, I wish not to touch you any more than I already have. I will not have you hold your hand out to me like the night before. No, that’s your would-be Master’s job. Provided of course, he ever shows.”

Eshwlyn slowly shuffled forward to the center, treading upon the etched lines and engraved runes, feeling a cascade of sensations pour over her body as she trod across the boundary, a bright white rippling and gleaming in the outer edges of every symbol and arching curve.

She flicked a tentative gaze ahead of her, seeing the Magus in pure focus, his palm ablaze, lips moving in speedy mutters, with the flutter of rifled pages a constant ambiance amidst the soft almost imperceivable hum of active magic. Evidently, he was not in a state where distractions would be very much appreciated, but despite it, Eshwlyn could not stop an impulse from momentarily taking over.

“Does this entire process truly hinge solely on my fidelity alone?”

The Magus stopped, the glow in his palm suddenly stagnant, and he raised a wrinkled, rousing gaze at her. “I don’t recall ever giving you the permission to address me, Elf.”

“I-I didn’t mean to... um, my-my humblest apologies,” Ehslwyn said at once, hastening into a bow. “I only wished to inquiry on-but... nevermind it... it is nothing of-”

“Inquire you did,” His eyes gave a squint. “With unease, with reluctance. What is this, Elf? Wilvur assured me your loyalty is not to be questioned.”

“It isn’t,” She hurriedly said.

“Then what is your worry, Elf?” He asked, veering his focus back onto the open book hovering before him. “I suggest you just simply do as you’re told.”

As if on cue, a set of double doors sprang wide open from somewhere, and at once the mutterings from above fell into a hush, as all eyes turned to the figure approaching the center of the courtyard.

Wilvur looked... tired. Still ever the imposing, impressive presence standing tall, dressed lavishly and with elegance, but much like Tilina herself, there was a peculiar look harboring within his bright scarlet eyes that did not match the sincerity of the wide smile he wore in greeting. Eshwlyn could almost see faint imprints of the raw unbridled fury from last night still lingering in his expression.

But then he spoke, and unlike the night before, his tone was empty of any malice, instead light, spirited... a little amused even, “Terrible sorry for my less-than-stellar arrival,” He said, heaving a weary breath. “I’m afraid I could hardly keep my eyes closed for longer than a blink last night. Usually, I’d have someone else wake me in case such a matter arises, but unfortunately I... ah-it’s no matter! At any rate, I am here now.”

“Excitement begets exhaustion,” The Magus said, barely taking his eyes off his work to glance at him. “Quite too eager for this day to arrive, don’t you think, WIlvur?”

“And why wouldn’t I be?” Wilvur strolled closer, taking in the blue winter sky. “Today marks a new advent to humanity’s progression. Not since my ancestor, Dilactus himself has there been quite the breakthrough. Is it so strange to be eager? Girian, surely you yourself can feel it too? In your bones, in the air. History in the making.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Girian stoically muttered. “Now stand over there, would you?” He pointed a quick finger to an empty spot across from Ehslwyn. “You have an audience converging from all across the realm keen on seeing your claims hold true. I suggest you not keep them waiting for any longer than you already have.”

“Yes, yes...” Wilvur nodded, looking up, beset on all sides by looming stares. “Though what they expect to witness from a dull process as conversion, I do not know,” then he looked at Eshwlyn, a twinkle in his eyes. “For the battlefield is where she truly strives.”

“Enter, Wilvur.”

“Ah,” A chuckle. “It appears it is not only them I have carelessly kept waiting. My apologies.”

He then entered the luminous ring of light, every step, allowing a stream of deep blue to intermix with her glow of white, until, once they were aligned a few feet from each other, the colors settled in a halfway mixture of both colors.

“One moment...” The Magus mumbled, treading close but firmly keeping away from stepping inside. At once, akin to yesterday’s procedure, strings of blue and white tethered themselves onto the sphere in his palm, and like a mirror refracting, the colored threads began to scatter around them, surrounding them both. The hum of magic grew louder. “Please do not move too much if you could. Some slight adjustments are required... your Elf... overpowering... it has to be balanced. Apologies, please wait.”

“Take all the time you need,” Wilvur politely inclined his head at him. “I waited decades, what is a few minutes more, truly?”

Eshwlyn could not help but glimpse up again, the beating of her heart deafening in her eyes, searching for reassurance, for calm... those kind blue eyes. Terra was ignoring the nobleman now, her unblinking gaze affixed to the scene before her, her loose, baggy sleeves draping over the balcony railing. It almost looked as if she was keeping herself from jumping down. Her strained expression... it was no assurance.

“So, Eshwlyn,” She instantly snapped her eyes forward, blinking, meeting the sharp glint in his scarlet eyes. “How are you doing?”

Such a casual question, a simple question, and yet she could not find a single acceptable answer.

“Healthy. Eager. Albeit, a little hungry,” She spoke on a whim, keeping her voice light. “What of you, Master? You mentioned that you had trouble sleeping last night. Is there anything-?”

“Nothing worthy of your concern, I assure you,” He interjected, motioning his hand in a dismissive wave much to the Magus’ dismay. “And what of your sister? Lenora, if I’m remembering right. Well, did you enjoy your time with her?”

A sincere question, or...?

“A delightful surprise,” Eshwlyn bowed in appreciation. “Once more, I thank you for allowing me the privilege of seeing her again.”

“I imagine she’s not too happy with me with what’s about to happen to you.”

“Well, uh, no... not particularly, Master,” She answered honestly, then quickly added. “But I’ve firmly reassured her that this is for the best. That for your kindness and your mercy, in turn, I must offer something of equivalence. My loyalty, my devotion, and much more. It is only right, only just.”

‘An admirable way to put it. Consider me flattered,” He said. “But as His Highness had eloquently phrased it before: in the end, words are just words. And though I believe every word for your claims, right now, Eshwlyn, it is finally time for your actions to speak for you.”

A silence followed. Wilvur gave a trusting smile, bathed in shimmering blue, one that Eshwlyn attempted to match with a confident bow, blinded briefly by the harsh white glow in the earth, hoping no one else could hear the incessant pounding against her chest.

“We may proceed,” The Magus announced, a hand holding the sphere like a beacon up high, while the other he had pressed firmly between the open pages of his black book. “The Master will extend his dominant hand from below, his palm facing upwards. Do so now.”

Wilvur did as instructed, his eyes never once leaving hers as he raised his empty palm forward.

Eshwlyn remembered this, remembered the blinding, debilitating pain, the scorching blaze consuming her arm whole. How, at a certain point, in the midst of her agony, she believed that dying then was more a comfort than it was a fear.

Will it happen again? Just as painful, just as searing? Would she buckle, would she bend, break? In front of him... no, she mustn’t, she couldn’t... she had to be loyal, she needed to be devoted, every ounce dedicated, pushing through the pain.

“The Servant will extend her opposite hand from above, her palm facing downwards. Do so now.”

She complied, stretching her right arm across, her palm hovering slightly over his, doing her utmost to keep her fingers from quivering, stifling the urge, the apprehension pumping in her veins.

“At the brightest shine of blue, the Servant will place her hand over her Master’s,” The Magus’ voice continued to boom. “For the entirety of the Conversion, both must strive to uphold this connection, this forging of a bond, this eternal pledge between a Knight and her Master. The abandoning of wants, of desires, a primal nature discarded. In the presence of the Divines’ grace, the Elf will devote her life forever to humanity’s will. Be forewarned, should you falter at all, should your loyalty in the slightest waver... then may the Divines have mercy on your soul.”

Trailing the Magus’ words, came a tense, almost deafening silence. Around them, the circle continued to ebb and flow a pulsating white and blue. Dimming, brightening, seconds passed, and there was still no sign of a bright blue’s prominence.

“You are tense,” Wilvur chuckled. “So unlike how Tilina was during her time here.”

White was dimming.

Eshwlyn blinked blankly at him. “Well, her loyalty to you... I notice at times... it can be quite terrifying.”

He nodded, smiling at that.

Blue was swelling.

“Yes, I too notice that as well at times,” He said, then slanted his gaze, the red in his eyes swirling, musing. “But I wonder... now that you’ve mentioned it... just how is yours compared to hers?”

Another question.

historical

Blue was glowing.

Blinding.

Eshwlyn blinked. “Better.”

Then In an instant, her hand fell upon his.