"You're an Elf."
"Oh."
The shock at my words reflects on her face. Her eyes deaden and her lips part slightly with an incline of disappointment. It may as well mirror my own reaction to the words that spill out my mouth.
"I'm sorry!" I exclaim the next moment, "It just- I just felt you- not that I felt you up or anything I mean- Uh, that uh I saw you and I felt you and it..." I would go on scrambling for my words and struggling to put them all together if not for her tender graces and mercy.
"Oh!" this time cheerily, "You mean you sense the mass pools of mana that are innate to the Elves the moment you saw me?"
Swiftly I bob my head up and down to save myself any further embarrassment from the misuse of my tongue.
"Well then there's no harm done! Although…" she reaches up to her hair and ties it back, "I did sacrifice my usual look so as not to offend you with…hmm." She stops, saying no further of the wide prejudice and inhospitality the elves are victim to.
"Oh, no, you couldn't offend me with that, I've got elven friends!" I say with cheer.
She keeps on her kind smile as her eye flickers between me and the inside of the house.
"Oh! I'm sorry, did you want to come in? Uh, please do!" I shut myself up before I can trip up on my words anymore and step to the side letting her in.
She steps past me into the house and pulls of her gloves as she surveys the place a bit, her nose twitching at something, "Ah, Mevir is here."
The shock on my face only widens her bright smile and puts up a light in her eye, "Oh don't worry, I'm not here to bust whatever it is he's up to with your companion," she waves me off and steps into the one of the free rooms, the living room I'm assuming as there's a chair, couches and a fire place all provided and arranged around a single flat short table set in the centre.
I follow after her and take a seat on the single seater couch adjacent to the long one she seats on. "I'm not sure what they're talking about in there either, but it's been going on for a while." I say, trying to make conversation as I'm still not sure why she's here.
The elven woman noticeably has aged features on her, from the way she took a seat, as though there's an ache in her knees that simply won't give, to the way her wrinkles become pronounced each time she tosses that grandmotherly smile.
From the little I know about elves and any of the other fantasy races, they either age much slower or faster than humans. Goblins I know for certain age much fast and in the media, I consumed in my past life I know elves age much slower, living long and youthful lives, something that is likely the envy of many human women or just people seeking immortality of some sort.
By that logic, or what summary of facts I've garnered, I think I can safely conclude that this woman is over a hundred years in age. Elderly and most important; knowledgeable.
"They mentioned something about Riveden and Saia before leaving me all by myself." I add, trying to steer the conversation towards the history, the fleshed-out history of this world and perhaps even Anselms origins. But she keeps sniffing around the room, her nose twitch at everything like a rabbit nomming on carrots.
"Hm." Is all she says. Her head still twisting and turning.
Ahhh. What do I do now?
"Do you know anything about these places?" I spit it out at last.
"An old kingdom, a very old kingdom…" she trails off, her sniffing and twitching nose beginning to slow down. Odd. "The Young Masters Lord demands I drill the children in the history of the lands. Saia is the only fallen Kingdom that piques the children's interests…a lot of wars." She sighs.
"Mhm…" is all I say, hoping she'd continue.
"Well!" She straightens up all of a sudden, scaring me a bit, "History is not what I'm here for my dear!" she grins at me.
…
"What are you here for?" I ask after she doesn't elaborate herself.
"I am glad you asked, I'm here to inquire. Why are you fighting the Cult when you can barely even protect yourself from the lingering wisps?"
A bit condescending but true nonetheless.
"I'm a Mage."
"I know that. In fact, I just learned that at the door. Only Mages can perceive the difference, subtle as it is between a supressed elf and a human. You must be very sensitive to mana." She shakes her head and continues, "But you don't know how to combat the wisps and according to Audwin you didn't even know what they were. I can see plainly you've received no formal training in Magic, or have you?"
"No but-" I try to explain that I don't need formal training.
"Then why are you fighting the Cult of Phien? They are much more dangerous than the common wisp lingering on the roadside you know?"
I scoff, "You have no idea."
At this she hums.
"Oh, I mean…" I let out an exasperated sigh as I finally ask myself why I'm actively filtering my words with this woman.
Right, she's the Matron of this place and she reserved the right to kick us out and leave out carriage broken.
I decide to start with the truth then, unfiltered. "I mean, I'm from Carbina village."
"The village trying to become a city? A barony?" she snorts. "You must be truly desperate then; your Mayor is an apostate, isn't she?"
"I suppose… But the sin is hers alone, I barely made it out of there alive," It's not a complete lie, just a lot of omission. "We need help, we need any Mage that will fight- I can pay even."
This time she outright laughs, "Pay? To fight the Cult? Only the Following have achieved such feats as far as I know." She tuts, shaking her head at me, "You really are uneducated. This is not a domestic matter my dear. This is not a task any mere Mage will undertake…" She pauses and thinks for a second.
"Well, perhaps the Hunters will be foolhardy enough to accept your…challenge. But the smartest and hence the strongest of them know better than to throw their lives away on such a quest."
"The Cult isn't so impenetrable. I've fought them, I have lived." I bit my lip as the anger bubbles within me. It can't be that the Magic wielders of this world are so…cowardly could it? "I've protected Carbina for…longer than I can do on my own now. I know they aren't undefeated because I have beaten them and I intend to!"
She blinks at me and calmly says, "But you just need an extra hand." A smirk crawls on her face as she succeeds in getting a rise out of me for a second.
Is this what this old woman came here to do? To discourage me? To push me away from the Cult? Well, I've got other reasons to pike their heads other than Carbina, I won't be dropping this foolhardy quest anytime soon.
"It would take at least a B-rank Mage to defeat a single one of the Cultist Gamma warriors."
"Gamma warriors? You mean the Generals?"
"Generals?" She scoffs, "I suppose you could call them that, although I'd say that rank would belong to the Beta warriors, the actual threats as we know."
"There are more? More powerful than the Generals? The Gammas?"
She puts on that grandmotherly smile again and says, "Of course there are. The Synagogue isn't simply just clearing them out, you know that don't you?"
Here I take a big bite out of humility and admit, "No, I don't know anything about the Cult, all I know is that they hurt people, they take control of their minds and make puppets, mindless, magic wielding puppets out of everyone."
"Well, the mindless are the pawns of Phien and his warriors." She begins to explain, "As far as we know, or as far as the Synagogue wants people at my station to know, there are three levels to the warriors."
"The Gamma, Beta and Omega?"
"Alpha, but yes, you're catching on." The little praise has me bubbling within, "The Following is generally in charge of dispatching the Gammas, the lowest of Phien's servants. We have only ever seen one Beta, or maybe there has been more, information flow on this is restricted. The Beta is…terrifyingly strong I've been told. At least one S-rank or several A-rank Mages will be needed to take it out. I cannot begin to imagine the horror of an Alpha...but according to the words of the Beta Warriors the S-ranks took out...an Alpha certainly exists out there."
I exhale deeply as she stops there and take it all in. These are just Gammas. I have been struggling with the weakest of the chaff…Fuck.