This choice: Missing the glory days of your youth • Go Back...Chapter #3Missing the glory days of your youth by: Unknown You marched back to your estate from the port, a large Hessian burlap sack strung from your right shoulder all the way to your left waist and then back again around the back. It was filled with a commodity that was rapidly growing within the kingdom: tea. In your days of youth, tea was almost non-existent, and quite frankly unheard of. But then an explosion occurred -- a boom -- that exploded it into popularity after a young vagrant brought up the delicious liquid to the king himself. Namely, you.
Ever since the king's endorsement, you have been the forerunner in its distribution to Tryzantium's market, dominating the market with a share of just below half of it. And since some of competitors bought their tea in bulk directly from you, your ships brought in over half the tea on the market. Of course, you could have easily pushed out your opposition, given that you had the king's ear and you were selling your tea double over its market value (and it was still the cheapest!), but they were mainly composed of noblemen and you definitely didn't want to bring their wrath on you. So, you just left things as it is.
The tea that you were carrying now was the rumored Arubian tea from the distant island of Aruba, near the country of Hashaan. It was legendary in its status -- and in its price -- and you decided to import a small batch over to see if its taste would lay well on your and the king's tongues. Perhaps you could import it as a tea for noblemen, forcing them to pay a pretty penny to acquire its rich taste. But the price was off-putting.
One thing you were quite famed for was your wit, cunning, and experimentation. Instead of travelling the easy leeway, you would always think and ponder: how could you save costs? How could your products be improved? These attributes had always led to victorious pathways and had served you well over the years. This time was no different as your mind wandered about, thinking of ways you would be able to cultivate this tea in your own gardens instead of having to sail halfway across the world to retrieve it. You were going to leave the experimentation to your young assistant.
Young, that was the word. Though you have achieved the pinnacle of power and riches for a commoner such as yourself, the splendid days of your youth evade you. Gone were the days where you bore your spear through creatures of four legs and two (and sometimes three!) as you galloped through the plains of Morovia to explore the next cave for treasures. You still practiced your arts in the spear, of course, even advising the Praetorian Guard in their training, which was quite ironic considering your position as a consultant on magic. But the days where you employed the techniques you refined over the years were long gone.
And what techniques they were too! You took only five years to fully master the principles of thrusting, slashing, and blocking, such that the polearm seemed like a natural part of your body. Thanks to your teacher, the wanderer Brovay, who would appear in various kingdoms from time to time to save them from peril, you learned the "Minevre" -- a quick thrust to the stomach, followed by a swing with the reverse end to the head, and finished with a slash to the legs of the opponent, all done in one uniform motion. It was practically undodgeable. And if you applied mana to it...
You shook your head. The reminiscing tore you apart from longing. You needed a leave -- a vacation -- perhaps to the warm lands of the south. Something to talk about with the king, you thought. You doubted that he would let you go: the elves were stirring up trouble once more, and he required your funding to deploy an army and deal with it.
Before you knew it, you were standing in front of the gates of your abode. The distance between your estate and the port was only two versts, but your thoughts had occupied your mind to the point that it quickly evaporated, as if you hadn't just walked and had teleported instead. You pushed the gate open, striding into the courtyard. You lived alone, of course, as no woman would want to marry a deserter, even if it had been a pardoned one.
Yet something felt strange. The mana around here felt too dense. An ordinary human wouldn't have been able to sense it, but as a former magus, you were suffocating in it. Something was wrong.
Instead of heading towards the mansion, you took a slight detour past the shed towards your weapon's cache, where many cold steel arms had been collected over the years. It had nearly everything -- mail, axes, daggers, swords -- but most of the weaponry were polearms, such as halberds and especially spears. You spent just half a minute frisking through the stockpile before you found your most prized possession: the "Spatium Exterminatore".
You had found it in the ruins of Transmenyla, a region in Morovia. It was a four meter long spear with a tip that gleamed and reflected sunlight of its body to produce an array of rainbow colors. This legendary spear was supposedly able to "convolute space", according to hearsay. Whatever that meant. But interestingly enough, whenever you applied mana to it, the enemy always seemed to be eaten from the inside -- devoured by someone or something -- before its fragments would fall to the ground, stretched out as if they were a piece of rope.
You stood before the door to your mansion for a few seconds, wondering what adventures awaited you. This was just like in your youth, the fear of danger exhilarating you, though your old bones groaned in protest. You finally built up your courage, huffing once before flinging open the door...
Elves. Two of them. Both of them were sitting in your comfortable chairs (damn them!), discussing something in Elfish. You didn't know what it was. One of them was a woman. She had blonde hair that ended in purple streaks, pointy ears, huge breasts, and was in scantily dressed clothes -- high heels extending all the way up her thighs and some sort of thin purple fabric that extended over her nipples and crotch and back again, along with a cloak.
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The second one was a man. He was also blonde, like almost all elves (those damn treehuggers!), and a crown made of wooden branches was sitting on top of his head. He also wore a majestic green robe and cloak that seemed to reflect the sun itself. You recognized him from your discussions with your king. This was the elven king! His own self! You weren't sure why he was here, but you knew it didn't bode well for you. Rumors of his strength floated around, and you were quite sure that your death was imminent.
"Oh! There he--" The woman began, but you didn't let her finish, already leaping forwards with your spear in hand, and battle cry erupting from your throat. You seemed to have caught them off-guard, as their bewildered faces let you know that they weren't expecting an attack. And you weren't going to give them time to recoup and knock you down.
Applying mana to your spear, you quickly thrust it towards the stomach of the king. Not expecting this brazen move, he only just barely managed to teleport a few feet away before the polearm would have skewered him on the spot. But he wasn't your target. After all, how could you, a mere mortal, hope to bring down the king himself? No, you knew you were going to die, but you definitely weren't going to die alone. You quickly shifted your spear to your intended target, aiming at the stomach of the elven lady sitting in your chair.
Her shocked look was still present when the spear pierced her stomach. The same effect that you have seen many times began to occur, as her stomach seemed to have begun to be sucked into a vortex. An invisible force knocked you back at the same time, probably a telekinesis spell cast by the elven king. You slammed into the wall of your house, and everything went dark.
...
...
"Grandma, are you all right?" You heard a male voice resound.
"Ah... yes, Lysa." The woman replied. "I didn't expect my little Jany to attack all of a sudden. With cavum nigrus too! Thankfully, I whisked it away to the outer cosmos. Any other, and they wouldn't be able to heal themselves after half their stomach is gone."
"Cavum nigrus?"
"Ah... it is a spell that applies a heavy force on surrounding object... I have last seen it two thousand and some years ago. I would have never thought little Jany had mastered. I suppose my blood does run in him."
You cracked your eye open. They didn't seem to be attacking you. And they were speaking in human tongue too! The woman seemed to have also noticed that, as she ran up to you (stomach was completely intact!) and pulled you towards her breasts for a deep embrace!
"Little Jany!" She exclaimed. You briefly thought her aim was to suffocate you, that was how tight the embrace was. "I haven't seen you since you were a little baby!"
"Who... who are you?" You choked out, gasping for air as you wriggled in her bosom.
"Don't you recognize me? It's me, Arlayna, your grandmother! Your father's mother."
Ah, yes, now that you thought about it, you did remember your father mentioning that his mother was an elf. But you hadn't ever seen her: at least, not that you remember. But, thinking about it, she was probably telling the truth.
"And why is the elven king here?" You nodded towards him.
"Oh, meet Lysa! He's your cousin." Your eyes bulged. The elven king was your cousin?!
"Lysanthir." He quietly corrected her. "880 years of age."
"P...pleased to meet you," you slowly drew out. "Uh, Arlayna..."
"Grandma."
"Okay... grandma, why are you here?" You ask her hesitantly. Why would she suddenly turn up all of a sudden?
"This is about your children. Or lack thereof. I have heard that you haven't had any yet. That will not do at all. The Meade line must continue. So I have come here to return your youth, so that...  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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