My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

I knew eventually I couldn't keep focusing on searching on and on for someone that didn't want to be found. If Adalia really wanted some alone time away from prying eyes, then I guess I oughta drift mine away. 

While I'm ain't so sure yet why exactly she was hiding for, I'm almost positive given time, she'll turn up on her own time, and only then I'm sure she'd be more than willing to clarify why… in fact, I'm even counting on it.

In the meantime, as the afternoon light began to dim and tinge the skies with a burning orange, I got to work again. Outside, knees pressing against the hard dirt, both arms outstretched into the air, and a mind devoid of all concept and thoughts - only focused, only determined, and brimming with intent. 

Give it a few more hours, and I'd be nearing a full twenty-four since I've returned home and plunged into this arbitrary test of resolve that I've sunk myself into, give it a few more hours after the first few, and I'd also be officially thirty hours in without any actual sleep. 

While I've eaten, taken breaks, and even gone for a swim at one point… those things weren't sleep. With every blink, it felt like I was lifting bricks in place of eyelids, and while I'm sure if I took a more reasonable stance to this, I'd argue I was acting to my own detriment now by continuing to stay up even at the brink of exhaustion. 

Even Ash, coming down by the porch side, gave a look at me that expressed the sentiment wholeheartedly, but as she walked forward, no words left her lips, and instead only took up a spot close by where she could keep watch over me as she's always done.

Yet as exhausted as I may undoubtedly be, I didn't feel it. I think I just refused to acknowledge it. After talking to Harry, hearing his story, it's like something ignited me. I was already dead set on tearing this barrier done before, but now that feeling was taken to newer heights. 

Occasionally, in-between attempts, I'd notice Ash wouldn't be the only one keeping a close on me. Beneath the porch, a mug in her hands, my mother stared. I didn't know what that look was on her face, that empty smile, that distant stare, but none of that struck me as anything peculiar as much as her silence did. For everything, Mom always had something to say. 

For this, she didn't then. 

Dad, surprisingly, had returned from working in the fields earlier than usual. Caked in dirt and grime, sweat glistening on his brow, I smelled him before I even saw him approaching, and just like before… no words spoken, just that same stare, that same look before disappearing into the house, with Mom following close after a quick welcoming kiss on the cheek.

As I heard the door click close, I felt a jerk -  my arm pulling away on impulse. I messed up, I lost focus, and the pain surging in my fingertips reflected that. 

Why? Frustration? Desperation? Probably so. Helplessness? From what? Knowing a life hinges on my success? Knowing two powerful beings wouldn't lift a finger to help unless I succeeded? Knowing the dire consequences and implications if I didn't? 

Maybe…

"You haven't done it yet," sounded a defeated, despondent voice from behind. "I was seriously hoping by the time I got back, I wouldn't have to see you out here still." 

I kept my gaze forward, keeping my focus on the task at hand. I didn't have to turn to know who it was. She could have just taken a breath in general proximity, or planted her heels in the dirt, and I would have known just by feeling alone - and that's exactly what she proceeded to do right after with a long, tired sigh.

"Mom hasn't even bothered to say a thing about all this, has she? Not even a single word acknowledging it?" Sammy's vibrant blue eyes suddenly emerged in the corner of my vision, sharing that same look between family, her arms crossed, and her face creased with concern. "Still her fun, whimsical, smiling self, is she? Not like you're struggling hard here or anything, not like there's a person's life on the line here." 

She lowered herself beside me, crouching, slender hands flattening her blue skirt, her usual braided brown hair now flowing freely in the breeze. 

"Hey, Big Bro," She said quietly. "What's it going to take before you finally admit that you are angry at her?" 

Another jolt, another loss of concentration. I breathed in, raising my arms up again.

"Been there, done that, over it now…" I muttered. "I told you before I've been angry, I was angry." 

"But you should still be angry now," she replied. "You have every right to be."

"And what's that gonna do, Sammy?" I asked. "If I shout, if I scream, if I yell at her like you did… it'll be dramatic, sure, but me shouting my lungs out is not going to save that man's life, y'know?"

"No, maybe not," Sammy sighed again, slowly rising to her feet. "But you'll probably feel much better if you do."

I looked up at her. "Do you?" 

She gave me a hard stare for the longest time, and the narrowing of her lips alone told me all I needed to know. Frankly, it almost seemed like she'd be rooted to the spot for all time… until I saw her gaze abruptly flicker, shifting over to the silent, distant figure hovering beneath a nearby tree. 

"Ash, his hand is bleeding," Sammy said coolly. "Won't ask what happened, but healing magic is a bitch to pull off even for me, so if you could just kindly…?"

"Y-Yes, of course, my apologies, I…" Ash looked as if just having only snapped out of a stupor, but quickly regained back her focus, and proceeded to move accordingly. "I shall replace the bandages, I'll soon return, Master. For now, please refrain from moving much," and so saying as such, Ash promptly disappeared into the house. 

I didn't even notice it until Sammy pointed it out, but she was indeed right. My bandaged hand, the pure white layers tinging to a deep, damp red. So now you're telling me opening up barriers also causes wounds to open up again, just my luck.

"Small accident," I said offhandedly, hiding the bleeding behind my closed fist. "Vampires, kinda like cats… y'know?"

Her expression didn't flicker, not much for humor, now, I suppose.

"She'd have healed you," Sammy said quietly, eyes peering into the kitchen blinds at the slender outline of a figure by the sink. "If she wanted to, so easily… she did it for my hands when I first found out about all this, when I… when I got upset when she fell sick again…" 

Suddenly, that dim figure gave a cough, one loud and violent enough to be heard even from afar. Sammy certainly heard it, the way she suddenly froze rigid and stiff, eventually the coughing dwindled down, and she unfroze. 

"You can do the healing thing that she does?" I asked, changing the subject.

It took a while for her to turn wrench her eyes away from the kitchen window, but eventually, she did, saying slowly. "No, not really... I tried once... it's not as easy as she makes it look. Look, why not just have her show you? Like I said, if she wanted to - "

"It's risky, apparently," I said.

"Why?" Sammy asked, sounding miffed again. "Because she said it? Wasn't a risk when my knuckles were bruised and bleeding. What risk even is there in helping?"

"If she hasn't told you about why she's so reluctant to help, I'm not saying anything either," I told her. "You want to know that risk - It's best you hear it from her yourself." 

She furrowed her brow. "Stop trying to get me to talk to her." 

"Then stop trying to get me to be pissed at her," I simply said. "But still, in my opinion, you really should talk to her anyway. How long do you want to stay mad at her for?" 

"As long as I feel like it." 

"I see," I thought of Harry. "Just make sure that isn't the last thing that you'd feel for her, alright?" 

At that, she turned away in a huff, marching up towards the steps of the front door.

"That's up to me to decide, not you," She said, closing the door on me.. "And up to her too." 

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