My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

Good times simply pave the way for even greater times.

Or at least that was the attitude I was going with here. If you take nothing as a bad sign, then every second's a good time. Tonight, especially tonight, as the evening rays, those brilliant shafts of dwindling light, finally fade away to give way to more nightly escapades… it was the perfect opportunity to put it to the test.

While mindless chattering around was good, it was high time now to let the great times roll.

"Your mom just texted," Amanda said, responding to the sudden buzzing chime on her phone, doing her best to mitigate the swelling panic in her voice. "They're coming up the elevator now."

As for me, obviously, I wasn't worried much. The creed I adopted basically forbids me from indulging in all forms of stress. From tonight onward, it was just good vibes all around.

It was steady, subtly incremental. The way you'd only hear the hiss and swish of a rattlesnake when it's far too late, it was exactly that kind of subtle. Since Mom was bringing the ingredients, the hefty crinkle and rustle of a plastic bag had announced her presence way before she even made it to the front door.

Then came the knock. Gentle. Polite. But you'd swear a burglar was trying to barge in with the way Amanda was staring down her door, completely rooted to the spot.

"I'll go get it," I said, sparing her the bother of mustering up her resolve.

I opened the door, and almost immediately I had to step out of the way of a bulky white bag, swaying about with all the ingredients needed for tonight. Then she walked in, those deep dark eyes mirroring mine, twinkling with glee as she smiled warmly at me.

"Hey," I greeted her. "Not up to anything tonight, are you?"

"Never you mind if I were," Mom simply said, shuffling past me with her haul. "But look at you though. Looking right at home here, aren't you?" she remarked, glancing back. "Doesn't he, dear?"

Then following behind her emerged the hulking, brooding figure of Dad. He took a step out of the hall, into the apartment, briefly glanced at me once, and simply shrugged.

"He looks the same to me."

My thoughts exactly.

"G-Good evening," Amanda courageously stepped forward, doing her best to fit into the mantle of host for tonight. "I'm glad, umm… make yourself at home. I hope you didn't have trouble finding the place."

"Nervous?" Mom asked, seeing right through her. "Of course you are. I am too. Sharing a big dinner with my son's girlfriend is something I've never done before. But don't worry, together, I'm sure we'll get through it just fine."

"Thanks for indulging us," Dad said, nodding his head appreciatively. "You probably have other plans, and—"

No, no—it's fine! It's nothing! It's really my pleasure," Amanda affirmed. "I've been looking forward to meeting you both too. Uh, not just as, like, you know… my boyfriend's parents. The two of you to me are, um, well, how do I even say it?"

"Not your heroes, I hope?" Mom interjected. "That wouldn't seem right."

"No, 'course not, I wouldn't admire someone so evil and vile and—" Amanda let out a shrill gasp, eyes wide in alarm. "—n-no offense, of course! I just meant—!"

"None taken," she chuckled sweetly. "More than anything, I'm embarrassed that you had to see me in such a crude, unpleasant light. And I imagine there's going to be some underlying bias of me we'll have to gradually work on to clear up."

"Well…"

"Sooner rather than later, too," Mom said, holding up the plastic bag brimming with all sorts of fresh produce in front of her. "Shall we get started?"

All in all, things were off to an okay start. Amanda together with Mom donned a pair of clean aprons and started drawing out all sorts of cooking utensils from the drawers.

There were many ways to prepare a meatloaf, all kinds of preferences for all kinds of flavors, but seeing the items Mom had brought spread out across the countertop, it seemed we were breaking out the ol' family recipe.

Amanda was delegated to cutting board duty, chopping bell peppers, slicing onions, and mincing thick hedges of parsley. As for the meat, Mom was handling a large pound of ground beef in a glass bowl, mixing and mushing while humming merrily to herself.

It really was quite a sight to behold—mom on one side of the kitchen, and Amanda on the other.

On their own, it was pretty much a typical affair. But combined together then suddenly it turns into a captivating tale about a normal girl's uphill struggle to appease a fanatical God's whims, dicing her vegetables with finesse and extra care lest she incur the wrath and displeasure of a—

"Can you not stare?" Amanda said, turning a scowl toward me. She held her knife tightly, its pointed edge hoving inches away from the chopping board and oozing a deep green. "You're freaking me out more than your mother—you trying to get me to chop a finger?"

"I—" I gave a weak smile, stepping back from her station. "—I thought you might need the moral support. No?"

"What support? What are you doing?"

"Um, well—can… can I help?"

"Can you cook?"

"Cook? Not as well as you, but—"

"Then stay back," she said, breathing in deeply, and staring at her board like it was a ferocious beast that could not be tamed. "Compromising the integrity of the meal is a big no-no now. Can't risk any mistakes. If it's a failure, then I'm a failure. And a failure does not deserve any form of love."

"Will you stab me with that knife if I say that I think you're being just a little overdramatic?"

"No, actually I'd agree, but go ahead and try to tell me you've never thought of the worst possible scenario when you're feeling under pressure or that—"

"Amanda, looks like you're chopping a little too hard there, dear," Mom's voice rang out across the kitchen, a kindly gaze meeting Amanda's utterly deranged expression. "You're letting all the juice out all over your board. Careful now."

She gulped. Actually gulped; nodding her head like a dazed pigeon, before mustering a smile that definitely did not like she was being coerced at gunpoint. "Careful, right. Careful it is. Yes."

"Amanda?"

"Yes!"

Dad formed a frown. And I couldn't blame him for it. I'd be mildly confused too if I called for someone and then they suddenly yelled back at me, especially if said someone was also holding a knife. On the other hand, I couldn't fault Amanda for squealing at attention either. The man's just got one of those voices, y'know?

In any case, Dad decided to move on from that brief momentary awkwardness, pointing a burly finger at one of her many figurines on her living room shelf, his usual stoic expression rousing with interest.

"This person," He said, leaning closer toward a tiny replica of a dashing man wielding a thick book and garbed in gauded robes of blue. "Is this who I think it is?"

To my own surprise, looking at it, he looked quite familiar to me too.

"O-Oh, uh, yeah, I think so," Amanda said. "Sestus The Blue. One of the people that was with you when you were fighting, well… you-know-who."

No wonder I recognized him. He was one of the earliest members of your party after getting through the prologue. A confident, cocky, know-it-all that could not just talk the talk but also walk the walk.

"This is a model of him when we first met, then," Dad muttered, gently lifting the figurine from its place and causing Amanda to let out a faint, vain whisper in protest. "He was so young then. I barely even remember. The most talented Magus of his generation."

"Y-Yeah, that's him alright," Amanda said blankly.

"So then, these are…" He turned back to the crowded shelf, eyes slowly scouring through the lineup in the forefront. A fierce-looking woman wearing a dazzling crown. A pale, reclusive figure with bright, golden eyes, and a beastman wielding a giant ax. "Princess Riona. Cador Alys of the Fey. Chieftain Hrungar."

The way he said those names. With weight. Echoing, resounding with a heavy… something. All I could gather from where I was, was that obviously they were more than just names to him at one point.

"Missing some friends?" Mom remarked, peering at him with a sort of melancholy. "I hope you're not upset."

"Not upset, no," He said, putting Sestus back in his spot alongside the other three. "But they sure do bring back memories."

Amanda and I shared a look. Honestly, she'd probably know more than me in terms of context. But before any of us could say anything, Dad spoke up again.

"Do you have a favorite, Amanda?" He asked. "I'm a little curious what your thoughts are about any of them."

"My thoughts? You mean your party members?" Amanda asked, processing the question first before quickly belting out an answer. "Um, well… in that case… I'm quite fond of Eshwlyn, actually."

"Eshwlyn…"

Dad narrowed his gaze at the figure sitting right in the middle. A figure cladded in silver, with locks of pure white flowing, emerald eyes shaped in a dignified, resolute stare.

"Except she didn't exist for me," He grunted. "Do you have another?"

"H-Huh? I, uh… "

Needless to say, Amanda was stunned beyond belief. Who wouldn't be? Here she was trying to perfect a meal with my mother on one hand, then on the other, she was being hauled through a trip down memory lane with my father.

"Just indulge him for a bit, won't you?" Mom advised her. "It'll make him happy."

And after such a plea from her whimsical God, how on earth could she possibly refuse?

Do your best, Amanda.