My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

It was with the remainder of the drive that I came to quickly understand that Dad's storytelling abilities weren't as finely tuned as his skills with stray brittle twigs. 

He'd start a tale one way, and somewhere down the line, he'd loop, he'd backtracked, go so many ways sideways that by the end of it, I wasn't even sure if he was even telling the same freaking story anymore. 

But there was a common theme, a pattern that sprouted buried within the loosely conveyed details. With every noble task that was bestowed upon him, bloodshed would always follow. For every mission that saves lives, there were at least ten others that would have him taking them instead. 

"But you were an Elf-Hunter," I pointed out, after he told another that ended just as grimly. "The things they're having you do…" 

"It's how I began, yes," He affirmed. "But it's not how I stayed. I was loyal, I was efficient, most importantly, I did not ask questions. Most in the Church's hierarchy were happy enough to send me hunting down rogue Elves all day. But there were a sparse few that apparently saw my peculiar talents fit for other uses." 

A tale as old as time… or at least as old as the noir crime drama has been around for, and in his case… probably a good few millennia.

"Like a hitman, then?" 

It's only a rare few instances I've ever seen him crack a smile. Apparently, this was one of them. "Now that you mention it…" 

Gradually over time, the blood that soaked his hands more often than not belonged to the very same people he swore to defend. Renowned figures of nations, strong individuals of great influence, even fellow members of the Church itself, they all fell before him. But yet these tasks delegated to him were still ever as holy, ever as just, they were always good reasons for the lives he took… so long as he believed them so. And for so long he believed. Years and years of unwavering devotion… never once being any the wiser.

"How did you die?"

"Yes, Eshwlyn," He made a sharp turn to the left. "He was  - "

"He?" I interjected. "Not 'She'?"

"Yes, he," Dad affirmed. "It is typically a male name. I've no clue why your Elf is named that, but I digress," He continued on. "I was returning back from a task I was assigned when it happened. It was dark, I made a camp… I think the fire was what caught his attention."

This wasn't a tale I wanted him to poorly tell, I kept him focused, directed the flow, pressing him on. "What happened next?"

"My assignment was to kill a certain individual. I was told that he had committed treason, did something heinous that was deserving of nothing but death…"

He was backtracking, but I didn't care, I'll rearrange the pieces later. 

"The thing was, a year ago, I was assigned to protect the same town he lived in. They were talks of Elves that had nestled nearby in the forest. The rumors were right. When I arrived, they were already in the midst of being raided. I killed as much as I could, the rest fled. When I was done, he was the first person to approach me. He thanked me for what I'd done and then he invited me into his house. I met his son there. During the attack, his son was injured… his leg. He would never walk again, but he said I saved him. That he was grateful. They called me a hero, they both did." 

"And…?" I spoke out, when he suddenly stopped speaking.

"I had to kill him because his son suddenly started walking again," He paused again, and just when I thought he stopped, I heard him, his voice low and quiet. "Humans cannot recover from injuries like the ones he had, and there was no form of magic then that could heal such an injury. Only one race is known to possess those kinds of regenerative abilities."

At once, I understood. "He's an Elf…" 

"Half-Elf," He corrected. "The father hid his son's true nature, hid the atrocity he has committed. He fell in love with an Elf, consummated with their kind, bore a child of cursed lineage, and so the Church decreed him guilty, and had sent me to provide judgment. It was my job, after all." 

He didn't bother to explain what exactly transpired. I could pick up the pieces from there. But there was one thing I didn't know.

"What happened to his son?" 

"The son, Eshwlyn…" He took in a deep breath. "I was told to capture him, to deliver him to the Church after what I had done. After I killed his father, I turned towards him… but he ran away before I could catch him, but he was slow, still slowly recovering. There was nothing he could do." 

"And then?"

"And then…" He let out that breath. "And then I let him go." 

I blinked. "You let him go?" When he didn't answer, I pressed on again. "Why?"

"The slightest mercy… my biggest mistake," He said, coming full circle. " After a few hours, It become dark, I made a camp… and I think the fire caught his attention. He had a knife in his hands. He was limping. He was crying. He called me a monster, a murderer, he shouted it out so loudly he started to cough."

His hold on the steering wheel began to tighten. "I could have sedated him, knocked him unconscious, done as I was told… fulfill my task like I did all the others before." 

Hearing his tone of voice, I knew where this was going. "But you didn't."

He nodded his head, and I knew then his fate had been sealed. "For that one second, in that one moment, I chose to believe him instead. I never left that forest, I never got to see the sun rise after that night… that's the end right there - and they all live happily ever after."

Not really….

"We're here."

The engine died, and he swung open his door, landing onto the pavement with a thud. I didn't even notice the small buildings we whizzed on by, or the people strolling along the sidewalk. Seeing the town on either side caught me slightly taken aback. It really didn't feel that long of a ride over. 

I jumped out after him, and it hit me all at once - the smell, the sight, the feel - exactly as I remembered it. Just the simple commodities, just simple living, and the atmosphere reflected it so. No towering skyscrapers shielding the sun, no endless rivers of metal constantly filling the roads. 

Here, it was all very tight-knit, nobody was a stranger, everybody knew everyone. You could take a stroll, and bump into your teacher, your pastor, that guy that pulled out your chair in class that one time, and you kinda hold a grudge against him all this time but he's a good guy now so now it's really awkward interacting with him so you just kinda nod at each other and walk away as fast you both can, all before you even reach the other end of the street. 

Dad had a few places he needed to visit. The first being just a few paces away - the hardware store. We rarely ever come here, Dad always put off repairs unless it became an absolute necessity, and apparently, a broken toaster was where he drew the line. Fair enough, the man loves his toast. 

We were interrupted a few times wandering through the aisles, familiar smiling faces stopping to chat, most caught eagerly off guard at my surprise return home, I just smiled and nodded along to whatever they said. 

If Mom was around, no doubt we'd be standing here in the same aisle until sundown. Luckily Dad was the smile and nodding type as well, and within seconds, we were moving on ahead already. 

I think I knew what Sammy meant now. He looked so normal, he was exactly as I knew him, the way he talked, the way he carried himself. All I saw was my father. Yet the things he said about himself, the things he had done, I just couldn't picture him being the same man in those tales. Constantly forgetting what parts he needed, doubling back to the car realizing he left his wallet there, then coming up ten dollars short, leaving me to pull out my own wallet to pay for the rest. 

We took a small detour to the bank before we headed to the grocer to get some ingredients Mom requested. Again, just casually weighing salmon packages in his hands… those same hands that gripped countless blades… I just…

"They made you into their killer, right?" I said, fishing out the correct package from the bunch, and tossing it into our basket. "You were used for their own means, their own goals. You stopped being what you thought you were." 

"Correct."

"Then what happened?" I asked. "Last I checked, you were called Leonardo the Hero, not Leonardo the Assassin." 

He walked, continuing on with his task, pulling items off shelves, speaking as he did. "I know you must think I'm an idiot for believing in every single one of their lies, for simply doing as they say without questioning a single one of their commmands. "

I didn't say anything to that. Too busy catching his throws with the basket in my hands.

"But the thing you must understand is, they can be very proficient liars. Even the most obvious lie can become an irrefutable truth if they want it to be. They had all of us fooled," He gave me a brief glance. "Along with you." 

I almost missed his next toss. "How so?"

"Leonardo the Hero does not exist. He never did," Dad stopped, squinting at the shopping list in his hand, before doubling back to another aisle. "I was never a Hero. How could I ever be one? I didn't defeat any evil lord, I had no great feats that went renowned across the entire realm. I killed Elves, I killed people, I destroyed countless lives, that was the only thing I was ever good at. And then I died, quietly, painfully, alone. That's all I ever was, nothing more."

This time, I really did miss. Splat went a perfectly good cereal box. Dad hardly noticed, and already was on his way to the checkout by the time I got another one. He didn't even pick out the right brand… 

"What do you know, what have you heard?" He spoke quietly, falling in line. "That I was a summon, a hero of forgotten legend? Strange to think that if I were such a legend that I'd be so easily forgotten, don't you think?" 

Now that I thought about it, actually thought about… what he was saying made sense. During one of my deep dives through Ria's memories, not even she was familiar with his legend, and she had certainly lived for far longer than that. 

"The truth was, everything I've done for the Church, all of my deeds, all of those lives I took, upon my death - it just stopped existing, it never happened. I became just another one of the Church's many secrets, to be buried, to be forgotten. To the rest of the world, I never even existed. Then I was brought back again, and suddenly the whole realm knew of a fabled hero called Leonardo that was a complete stranger to me. A carefully fabricated lie to inspire hope and faith in me." 

The line grew smaller, and he took a step forward. "Though I was forgotten by the world, the Church hadn't. It was my actions, my deeds, that paved the way for their influence to rise across the realm, after all. They did not forget me. So when came a dire time where heroes were so desperately scarce… it was only natural I was chosen as one of their only options in a time of great need." 

"And they still choose to keep lying to the world just as it was ending?"

He scoffed at that. "What would they say? What do you want them to say? That they summoned a killer they've used in the past for their own agenda… a man of no great prestige, of no great feats… that out of every great hero from ages past, that this was the man that would save them from the threat of Terestra? I don't think so."

"But you knew," I retorted. "They brought you back, they summoned you, you had your memories, you knew the truth. You didn't say anything?" 

"I was brought back, my memories, my personality, they were all mine, yes," He nodded along, then he spoke, and what I heard… it sounded very much familiar, too familiar for my own liking. "But I am a summon. I didn't have freedom. My body wasn't my own, my will wasn't my own. I am just a construct of their magic, bound to them, to their wants, to their needs. I wasn't free. So, what could I say, what could I do? Except do what I've always done, and give myself for a holy and just cause. The greatest of causes."

Sera came to mind, and Sera wouldn't leave. I didn't know what to say, what to think. Was what I did right, after all? Or did I... did I make a mistake?

I...

"Wow, that's a cool story," A guy muttered behind me. We both turned to look at him, and he glanced back at both Dad and I, clearly impressed. "Is that from a movie, a game? Sounds interesting? What's the name?" 

"It's mine," Dad said stoically, quickly paying for the groceries, "I write fanfics." before whisking off towards the exit. I promptly followed after him, leaving that poor guy wondering for all eternally, probably.

Whatever. Google should have him covered.

Probably.

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