Reborn From the Cosmos

Miniarc-Villains-20

Miniarc-Villains-20

When Yulianna asked to bring someone to dinner, Samuel expected an acolyte she had befriended during her time as a volunteer. Perhaps a refugee that had pleaded with her to use her influence so that they could speak to someone with authority.

The last thing he expected was an elf.

Despite it having been over a year since Kierra Atainna made her debut in high society, the kingdom wasn’t accustomed to foreigners. One dynamic personality wasn’t enough to overcome five hundred years of isolation. The other races were akin to legends. For everyone besides the traders that sailed the ocean under the flag of the Guiness, other races were things of legends. No one expected to see someone with skin the color of grass walk into their stores and drink with them at their favorite bar.

Kierra’s presence could have caused a great upset, but her appearance was softened by the just as surprising news that she was married to a Harvest noblewoman. The circumstances of their union were unusual, but the tradition was familiar. It also helped that she was beautiful woman. People would always be more inclined to humor a pretty face.

The face that casually strolled through the camp wasn’t pretty. It was full of hard angles and set in a stern frown. Samuel didn’t know if relation worked the same with the elves as it did people, but if it did, the prince would bet a hundred gold that the new elf was related to Kierra; that pallor was unmistakable. There was little else to show their possible relation, unless fitness could be inherited. The new elf was broad-shouldered and bare-chested, with wild, dark hair to the nape of his neck. Calm green eyes never wavered despite the unease he caused as he passed. The elf made for an imposing figure and Samuel unconsciously straightened as he stopped before them.

“Your highness, I would like to introduce you to Orum, Kierra’s father. He’s traveled a long way to visit his daughter and her new clan. Orum, this is Samuel kor Harvest, second son of the king.”

“A pleasure,” Samuel said with false cheer. He didn’t know Kierra’s exact standing, his father didn’t see the need to inform him of the particulars of important matters, but he knew she was a royal. He doubted her father was the king, as no monarch would journey from their territory on a whim. That meant he was likely the equivalent of a duke. Perhaps a royal advisor.

Someone too important for Samuel to treat flippantly. If he were human, the prince would go out of his way to leave a good impression, but he was too concerned that the man would have the same irrational temperament as his daughter.

The silent stare he leveled on Samuel rather than a greeting was a bad sign. Eventually, he sighed.

“You are the offspring of a monarch?”

The prince fixed his smile, not allowing his offense to dim it even a fraction. No matter how different their cultures were, there was no way that question said in that tone was meant as anything other than an insult. “I am. You’ll have to forgive me. It’s hard to maintain a royal presence in these…circumstances.”

Orum ignored him and turned to Yuliana. “Are you ready to leave?”

“One moment. Would you care to join us for a meal?”

“Kii has much better available.”

“You said you wanted to see the situation of the city yourself. This is one more experience to take in. A small bowl?”

“Hm. Fine.”

Yulianna clapped her hands, smiling broadly. “Excellent. Prince Samuel has generously offered us this meal and to share his fire.”

To Samuel’s surprise, Orum balled his hands into fists and pressed his knuckles together. He didn’t bow his head, but his tone carried the same deference. “I thank you for your care.”

“…you’re welcome.”

“Well, let’s not stand here!”

Yulianna led the way to the fire in the center of the camp set up by the soldiers. At Samuel’s request, three short flat rocks had been raised for seats in a half-circle, a precaution to protect himself from possible unpleasant company. He was very glad to have the noblewoman as a buffer between himself and the strange elf.

As they settled, a soldier came to them with carrying bowls of thin soup with a few chucks of dried meat and scant veggies in it. It wasn’t even fragrant. Worse fare than he expected and the last thing he wanted to serve a foreign noble. The only reason he didn’t demand that the soldiers find something better was because the poor fare seemed to be what the elf expected.

There was a heavy martial presence watching over them as they received their meals. Both royal knights stood right behind them, as still and tense as guard dogs awaiting the order to pounce. Five more soldiers surrounded them in a loose circle, failing to look uninterested in them. His escorts had been copacetic about him spending time with the soft-looking Yulianna but weren’t taking any chances with the man built like a warrior. In contrast, the noblewoman’s knights were entirely unconcerned, having left them to ready Yulianna’s carriage.

“There’s no point of us sharing a meal together if we don’t speak,” Yulianna said with a chuckle after they’d spent several long moments eating very little of their food.

Samuel had no idea what one said in his situation, the choice of guest having completely taken him off guard. Thankfully, Orum took the lead.

“This is terrible.”

“It isn’t very tasteful, but they have little to work with.”

“The taste is irrelevant. I speak of the ingredients. They lack…power. Just like fire, the body consumes to grow. The more powerful the fuel, the more powerful the body becomes after consuming it. Weak food feeds weak beasts whose meat weakens the warrior that consumes it.”

“I think you are asking too much for simple foraged greens,” Samuel said wryly.

“Weak food is the sign of a weak land.”

The hairs along the back of the prince’s neck rose. Was that a threat? “There is only so much one can do. Once the seeds are sown in the earth, it’s out of your hands.”

“Foolish. If you speak of cultivation, it doesn’t start nor end with sowing seeds. Feed it, and it will grow. Strengthen the plant, soak the seed in powerful mixtures, mix the soil with the hearts of powerful beasts and the skin of bitter fruits. The reward you receive is proportional to the effort you put in, as with everything.”

“I didn’t know you had knowledge of farming,” Yuliana interrupted.

“I have spent many years creating a body far beyond the limits I was born with. All things have a cost. To do more, I must consume more fuel. Eating my weight in food is both time consuming and taxing. Better instead to eat stronger foods, but they are valuable. In the beginning, I had to grow them myself.” Orum raised his bowl to his lips and downed the contents in two powerful gulps.

“That was a long speech on how subpar the food is to consume it anyway.”

“It would be rude to waste a gift. I would have offered it to another if I thought any would take it.” The elf turned to Yuliana. “Why have you asked me to speak with this boy?”

“I am not a boy,” Samuel hissed, reminding himself that he was speaking to someone that outranked him in every way.

“Your highness, please.” A hand touched the prince’s shoulders and he forced himself to take a breath. Yulianna flashed a smile as her hand retreated to her lap. He wondered if she understood how forward she was being. She had to. The unexpected gesture had been enough to startle him out of his offense, no doubt what she intended.

“I asked you to join us Orum because I want it to be seen that we are making an effort. The city thinks of us as monsters, things removed from people, when the truth is the exact opposite. We are infinitely human, so to speak. The flaws of ego caused the tragedy of Quest. The strengths of the heart will resolve it but there is no room for heart if people won’t even approach us.”

“I see. You want to show the boy’s guardians that I can treat the young carefully. Very well.”

Samuel startled as the elf stood suddenly and he wasn’t the only one. In the blink of an eye, the two royal knights stood before him. Neither had drawn a weapon but their stances made it clear that they would meet violence with more violence.

“In return for your favor, I will demonstrate the grace of true warriors. Ask of me, boy.”

“He’s a lot older than you,” the noblewoman hissed softly when the prince clenched his jaw.

It was a poor excuse, but the prince could do nothing about his offense. “Then it would be good if you could solve the camp’s food problems. A meal for a meal,” he said, ready for the elf’s stoic superiority to crack as he admitted he was no more capable than the rest of them.

Instead, Orum nodded. “A small thing. It will be done.”