Chapter 637

Chapter 637: An Elf’s Tale, Part 4

From the left a whiff of a spear, then to the right an arcing shimmering slice of a glaive. A swing of an ax cleaved only slight strands of hair, blown back with a swing of a silver sword that overpowered all.

Eshwlyn readjusted the grip on her blade, weaving past a rapid flurry of blades, studying, assessing, green eyes flicking, scouring, dozens of movements, reactions, performed in minuscule fractions of a second.

Her opponents were fierce, highly capable adversaries. A dozen as one, a harmony of strikes leading from one to the other. It was as if she was fighting a single intangible beast, adapting, reacting, just as fast as her.

Knights.

Elf Knights.

Everywhere she turned to, the gleam of armor consumed her sights. She could not escape it, in vain, she tried to fight it. With every clash, every blow she landed, turning from one Knight to the other, it felt as if she was defying fate, resisting it... doing all she could to keep at bay the inevitable.

But she could not.

.....

She could only delay it... for how long more, she did not know... but she would not concede that easily. Blow for blow, Eshwyn equaled the swarm of attacks. The decisions, the actions, the might of twelve, with every fiber of her being, she matched their mettle.

Their stares were heavier now. The people above, their interests rousing. Eshwlyn could feel their eyes latching onto her in the rare times she managed a glimpse.

Then, once, during a brief pause in movement, she spotted a familiar flutter of robes, the gentle hover of a book, amidst the silent, watching audience. She glanced up again, and Terra was staring down at her too. Her bright blue eyes somehow a disparity among the other shades of blue that surrounded the vicinity.

It wasn’t long after noticing her presence, that Eshwlyn fell onto one knee, heaving, her fingers still clutching the hilt of a blade that had long left her grip sprawled over at one end of the courtyard, and there before her, the twelve Knights stood tall, just as breathless, battered... but nonetheless, still standing.

From one of the balconies, a motion was given-an order, and almost mechanically, the twelve Knights withdrew their weapons and left the courtyard, before appearing once more up above standing beside their respective Masters.

“Very good, Eshwlyn, bravo!” Wilvur cried out from his seat, the only one with his hands in vigorous applause. “Now please, if you would just escort yourself back from where you emerged, I will meet with you again soon.”

Eshwlyn retrieved her sword, sheathing it, before arching into a complying bow, briefly glimpsing and catching as she did, Terra still staring down at her unblinking, a most solemn look etched upon her expression.

Doing as commanded, Eshwlyn found herself pacing the large empty space of the foyer, feeling an anxiety growing and stirring her restless. Terra had arrived, therefore Lenora was here too... somewhere close, perhaps nearer than she believed... kept somewhere within the chateau’s overwhelming blue.

She has to be.

Faintly suddenly, mutterings and footsteps began to resound the halls, and in a line of glamor and glitz, the figures from the balconies began to funnel out into the front entrance, their Knights in tow, passing by Eshwlyn as they did.

Not a single gaze amongst the distinguished crowd had failed to regard her. They all briefly looked to her with this strange sense of fascination and mystique that she was not accustomed to seeing, and as the last of them took their exit, Wilvur finally appeared, lagging far behind the others, and with him, strolled along a larger, broader figure.

King Ardvair nearly towered over his stature twice with an even more magnified and daunting presence when standing. His royal robes dragged along behind him across the floor, blanketing his sheer size, and the moment they entered the foyer, Eshwlyn felt herself stricken as the sovereign giant slowly marched on over towards her.

“Ah, Eshwlyn, there you are,” as always, Wilvur wore a wide smile, somehow unaffected by his companion’s overwhelming air. “May I formally introduce you to the grand ruler of this wonderful kingdom? I daresay he has been quite keen to finally see you for himself.”

At once, as their eyes both met one another, she felt a compulsion to arch into a greeting bow, extending a courtesy that was quickly becoming second nature.

“Your Highness,” She said, her voice holding polite and firm. “It is a great honor to be in your presence.”

When she raised her head back up, his piercing eyes were still upon her in close scrutiny. Unlike the rest, there was no fascination, curiosity he held within his gaze... but at the same time as well... there was no hatred, no repulsion. In the slightest, there was no emotion, for his cold calculating glare did not see a living being at all.

“Will you be of any use to humanity, Elf?” He asked, his first words, the harsh sound of his booming voice enough for her ears to give a flinch.

“Without question,” Eshwlyn answered automatically, keeping the reverence in her tone. “If it is what my Master desires of me, then it should become my sole purpose in life.”

“It is easy to just simply speak words, Elf,” Ardvair said, his expression frozen in a scowl. “But admittedly your skills, your strength, it is without question. To hold your own against twelve Knights. This kind of potential, In the wrong hands, in your own-dangerous. Killing you would potentially be of as much benefit as converting you.”

She did not know what to say to that. The bluntness, the deafening apathy that he spoke with. Again, as if she was not even breathing, not even alive. Like a mere tool sent for appraisal.

“If I may interject, Your Highness?” Wilvur stepped in, placing himself right by her side. “As I’ve stated many times before, the act of Conversion removes all risks of danger. To uphold an unbreakable pledge of loyalty, that is what the very process is meant for.”

“And what of the rare exceptions?” The King veered his gaze at him. “The tragedy that befell that crystalline settlement, I have not forgotten.”

“Human error and complacency, as you’ve come to agree with yourself,” Wilvur said, continuing to remain unfazed. “Your Highness, I daresay your ignorance is showing slightly.”

“You know my views on this matter. To believe in blind devotion from your enemies, regardless of their allegiance... to entrust your life in their care...” fleetingly, Ardvair looked back at her again. “Is it not only natural I care very little of the intricacies of the methods used?”

“Like I said, with proper discretion, proper handling... then an Elf-Knight’s obedience is forever.” Wilvur raised his brows. “Perhaps a bit of broadening your scope would benefit you in the long run. I said it over and over... if you were to choose to become a Master of one... I assure you, it’ll do you no harm and many good.”

King Ardvair appeared to be considering the prospect, the many scars lining his face moving ever so slightly as he brooded over in silence. Then, with his expressions becoming still, his disfigured lips parted open once more.

“If I am to fall to one of your persuasions, Wilvur,” He said, his gaze drifting, no longer looking at him, instead his eyes finding another. “Then I’d like for this Elf here to be the one to finally convince me.”

Eshwlyn blinked.

Wilvur’s smile froze. “Pardon me?”

“You preach of her potential, her unparalleled strength, how she is to become a Knight beyond all Knights, and after what I’ve witnessed, I am admittedly inclined to believe it so,” Ardvair said, his gaze no longer straying from Eshwlyn’s. “Is it not only logical for the most powerful Knight of Asteria to be in the servitude of the most powerful Ruler of Asteria?”

“I’m afraid that prospect is just not possible at the present moment,” Wilvur immediately said. “I know the customs of Conversion are unfamiliar to you, but suffice it to say, that certain conditions dictate such a notion to be unfeasible,’ then with a courteous smile returning, he added. “But there are compromises to fall back on, I know without a doubt that my present Knight Tilina, would be more than happy to-”

“Then I wish not to discuss the matter further,” Ardvair quickly spoke over him, turning away from them both. “Well, indeed, this was a very nice display of your findings. But I fear other more pressing matters require my attention now, so I shall take my leave here. Goodbye.”

They both bowed and spoke their farewells as the King strode and disappeared towards the open entrance, entering into an extravagant carriage sitting idly nearby before promptly being escorted away outside the Sanctum.

“Ambitious, but a bit too tethered to old traditions admittedly,” Wilvur muttered once out of earshot. “Yet the best ruler that Astra has ever had.”

Eshwlyn looked out to the horizon outside, a string of peculiar words still ringing in her head.

“Did you really mean what you said, Master?” She asked, turning back to Wilvur. “If His Majesty desired, you would be entirely willing to relinquish Tilina to his care?”

“And why not?” He replied nonchalantly, distracted by his admiration of a portrait hanging on a wall. “I already have you, don’t I?”

Then missing the slight look that had formed on Eshwlyn’s face, Wilvur turned to her, a weary sigh leaving his wide smile.

“Speaking of... there are still many things I have to address before tomorrow’s ritual, Tilina included amongst them,” He said. “Meanwhile, why don’t you rest? I’ll have someone escort you to your new room,” He chuckled. “I daresay you might just find a pleasant surprise waiting for you.”