My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

A surprise, indeed.

Death isn't something one typically has to keep in mind on one's birthday. Unless you're old, or terminal maybe… fortunately I'm decades and decades away from facing my pending mortality, and I like to think I keep myself as healthy as can be. So, that being said, what exactly were we doing here?

Wedged in the middle of a bustling festival dedicated to commemorating Death itself.

I mean, I wouldn't mind it so much if not for the fact that Death and I haven't been seeing eye-to-eye with each other as of late. The memory's still fresh in my head, meeting her, being chided by her, the way she looked, sounded… it's fresh enough that it was still rattling to think about.

And I'm sure Ruria knows that too, which makes it all the more mystifying why she'd choose an event like this to bring me to.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Ruria noted, seeing the look on my face.

"I might, maybe, you tell me," I stammered in disbelief. "Will I?"

She gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "Relax. Keep in mind, death is just one-half of the theme here. Love's just as equally important. Death and Love. Love and Death. They're entwined for us—that's what this festival is all about."

"Okay, sure. What's the catch?"

She looked at me funny. "What catch?"

"This is a festival celebrating Love and Death," I muttered, watching the merrymaking in a whole different light. "Not too far of a stretch to expect the main attraction to make an appearance at her own event, is it?"

"We're in a memory, hello?" Ruria reminded me again, sounding both amused and exasperated. "Also you met her, haven't you? Does Lady Enstar strike you as the kind to actually show up for something as insignificant as the traditions of us mere mortals?"

"No. I don't know, maybe," I shrugged cluelessly. "Look, better you just pretend I'm an alien…"

"A handsome alien?" She inquired.

I shrugged again. "Whatever helps. Point is—I don't know this culture. You want me to enjoy it to the fullest, I think it's best you start giving me the full picture, don't you think?"

"Class is already long over, you know? Teacher's off-duty," she said. "But fine, just a little—if it'll get you to relax and just enjoy yourself."

And so over the rowdy cacophony of the crowd that just steadily continues to grow larger and louder, Ruria filled me in more on the broader significance of the occasion.

Apparently, it is a common belief of the populace that the cycle of Reenma heightens the presence and influence of the Sweet Lady of Death herself. It is also a common concern that perhaps one day they will lose the unconditional love that Death bears for them and their souls. And to be rejected by Death, is to be denied a natural demise; to become a lost soul forever entombed in one's mortal, decaying husk with no end in sight.

As she explained that notion to me, my mind instantly drifted to the thought of Ash's sister. Lenora… a fractured soul no longer desired by Death and left only as a hollow shell of herself.

Yeah, I can see why people wouldn't want to end up like that.

So, as a precautionary measure to not fall out of Death's good graces, a tradition was conceptualized. A week-long event dedicated in tribute and celebration, a week where camaraderie and love are to be paraded and lauded in a show of appreciation.

"It's not all one-sided either," Ruria remarked, stopping us just by the entrance of a residence. Over the doorway, festive tapestry of a murky slender figure draped the white stone walls. "Lady Enstar is especially fond of souls nourished with love and affection, and so should she sense that within a person… they might just get a visit from a special individual."

"What kind of individual?" I asked.

"The recently departed kind."

Ruria, without regard for property boundaries apparently, started peeking inwards from the side, and I, lacking an equivalent amount of tact apparently, followed after her example; taking the left and letting my eyes adjust to the dim lightning.

I could hear sniffling, the distinct bittersweet laugh of someone overwhelmed with emotions, but most startlingly, I heard a voice. Haunting, echoey, as if sounding from somewhere so far away. That was when I saw them.

Two silhouettes wrapped in the same murky fabric as the figure in the tapestry. They were in the middle of a room, kneeling before a group whom I assume to be the family of the household. One of the pair was about the typical size for an adult, but it was the other one that drew my full attention—small, couldn't have been any older than twelve, and it was from that same child that that eerie voice originated.

"The tiny one is a Speaker, like you," Ruria whispered, glancing over at my reaction. "The big one's the Listener. They go around door to door, seeking those filial and filled with love. And should they have anyone that has long passed over to Lady Enstar's embrace, they are there to help reconnect the family for a time. Temporarily whisking the soul away from Death's grasp."

Whisking a soul away from Death's grasp, huh?

"Y'know what? That sounds kinda like what we did with Ria back then," I remarked.

"And just where did you think I got the idea from in the first place?" Ruria scampered off, leaving the wailing, happy family to their private affairs and I trailed closely behind her. "Granted, our method was a bit more unorthodox. Dirty, sneaky, and clearly Lady Enstar didn't approve from what you've told me."

She sounded surprisingly nonchalant about the topic, enough so that I wanted to press on—ask the burning questions I've been trying to fizzle out my wonders to no avail whether this was really it for her and Ria, that if there was truly nothing else we could do about it… and even more than that, if she even wanted to in the first place.

"Have you noticed the weird design of some of the buildings around here?" She spoke up again, and I knew the chance was lost as quickly as it had come. "If you look closely, some of the foundations look much older than the rest—whiter too. You see it?"

Whether the change of topic was deliberate on her part or otherwise, I decided better than to dwell on it.

I spun my eyes around and she was right. Many of the houses here were shaped and assembled with this white marble-like material that seemed to have weathered strongly for the past millennia or so, yet despite their obvious age, they seemed so… new, pristine? I don't know the word I was looking for.

"Reztria, they're called," Ruria said, sliding her hand across a wall made of them as we strolled on by. "The rarest material to exist in our Realm. The strongest too. It can't be broken, sliced, or mined in any way. All that you see of it now? That's roughly one-fourth of all that is known to exist."

I let my eyes wander about even more, the immaculate white slabs a recurring sight now that she's brought it to my attention. One-fourth? I don't even know if Earth has a material to match that kind of scarcity.

"They're that rare," I said. "And you guys decide to make an entire village out of the stuff?"

"Some of us are complete idiots, so I wouldn't put it past some idiot pioneer to do just that, but no… this is just how Reztria naturally formed."

"What?" I blinked at her, pausing a moment to make sure I was getting that right. "You're saying they just… form into houses?"

"It doesn't break, and not even with the help of magic could you hope to even place a scratch on its surface," she reiterated. "Tell me how exactly are we supposed to make anything out of something beyond our capabilities?"

I didn't bother answering, and Ruria didn't bother to wait for one. With that same keen look she wore for everything we've come across, she began to elaborate once more.

"Once upon a time, when Kronocia was first formed, the Divines were known to live among us mere mortals. And wherever they choose to make their abode, Reztria, the hallowed stone of the heavens, would sprout from the earth to shelter them and their devout followers… or at least that's how the theory goes."

"Theory? So, you're not sure?"

"That's what happens when the entirety of your history gets wiped away in some divine cleansing, you're left with nothing but assumptions and conjectures," Ruria said. "Still, I think it's a nice story. These buildings standing stall throughout the ages, a lasting memento of their virtue and love as they continue to shelter and protect their people."

It was a nice story, one that painted my view of the town in a whole new light, and it was also far from the only story Ruria had to tell. Class is over, she dares to claim and yet here she was continuing to take me on a field trip of education throughout the square.

She brought me to the tower where the resident Magus resided above, and finally clarified the reason why every single one of them needed to be so high up. Apparently, it is a common belief that staying at a high elevation helps to cultivate one's magic.

"Then why not train on a mountain or hill or something?" I pointed out.

"What makes you think we don't?" she asked me back. "Where do we think all our academies are situated?

In another instance, she went off on a tangent about places she liked to frequent. The taverns she'd lurked amidst their dark corners for prominent figures she'd siphon and lull information and opportunities out of.

Y'know, This might have been her gift to me, but I feel she was enjoying the whole experience much more than I was. But that's just fine. I could spend all day watching her reminisce.

The way she'd softly smile whenever a new piece of trivia would cross her mind that she wanted to share. The wonder and joy in her eyes finally far detached from the toil and monotony of piles upon piles of paperwork was always a sight to behold… and even more so now with how she was.

After winding our way around the many zigs and zags of the streets, we ended up right back in the center of town. A merry band played atop a large wooden stage, and we returned just in time to hear the final note of their song in a bombastic symphony of drums, strings, and percussion.

Applause rang out; Ruria was one of them, and I followed suit. That's when I began to notice how large of a crowd had drawn out, even more so, the way they were all dressed… in frills and laces that suited more an air of luxury.

Then it happened. One by one, the crowd shuffled all about, rallying in a hasty swarm of bodies and high fervor. After a moment, everyone had reorganized themselves. All of them with a chosen partner, hand-in-hand. The music started again, gentler now, serene and slowly, and naturally, everyone began to dance along.

"The final event of the evening…" Ruria said beside me. "No better display of love and endearment for Death than sharing a dance with a loved one."

Ruria turned to face me, and I saw the twinkle in her eye, her tail swishing so eager. She blinked, a crafty feel to the smirk she gave… and that's when I realized she hadn't just been teaching me history out of some intrinsic urge to share.

All of this time… she's just been waiting for this moment in time.

"Well, what do you say…?" She inched closer, holding her hand out towards my own. "When in Rome…"

I smiled back, taking her hand and wrapping another around her waist.

"Do you even have to ask?" I said.

"Just making sure," She whispered. "I've seen you dance before… if you can even call that dancing."

"With Amanda? If I remember right, I was pretty drunk that time."

"And now you're sober," she cut me off. "A clear enough mind to choose if you want to embarrass yourself like that again."

"I dance better sober."

"Do you now?" She smirked. Her stare, her breath, her touch, every inch of her was an electrifying torrent of passion and lust hitting every receptor of my body.

But stronger than that, like a sturdy dam withholding these nefarious impulses, I felt my love for her move my feet, slowly swaying her along and joining the many other couples surrounding us twirling and whirling to the soft lull of a gentle melody resounding below the glow of purple in the sky.

"I guess we'll both find out."