My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

Amanda was a natural-born trooper.

Able to keep up with Mom in the kitchen, while simultaneously having her mind poked and prodded by Dad who seemed to be in the middle of a huge nostalgia trip.

A bonafide wonder of a woman. Truly.

"What do you think of Sestus?" Dad asked her. "A bit pompous at first, but I didn't particularly dislike that of him. Awfully loud, but he was quite engaging to talk to."

"Sestus, Sestus…" Amanda repeated back like a mantra, eyes, and hands both hyper-fixated on seasoning the meatloaf just right. A being of pure focus. "Ah, yeah. No, Sestus was alright at first, I guess. Talks a lot, a little annoying, but after his sister's death, his character became a whole lot better in my opinion."

"Mmm," Dad grunted. "I suppose it did become a lot quieter after that happened. It's fortunate Riona was there for him for aid and comfort. "

"Except that also came at the cost of relegating Riona to becoming his emotional support for the rest of the main story," she said, sounding detached and aloof as she firmly squeezed the meatloaf into mush. "Pretty disappointing end for her character arc if you ask me."

"I see," he paused for a moment. "Who aren't you disappointed with?"

Amanda took an even longer moment to reply. Still thinking most likely. Or maybe even not at all; hunched over the counter with her tongue sticking out, holding a tiny brush dipped in sauce, slowly, meticulously, like an artisan of meat giving the loaf a coat of sheen.

"I like Cador," she suddenly said, as if only just remembering she was in the middle of a conversation. "He's always got something clever to say. I enjoy it when a character constantly butt heads with every decision you make. Just makes them feel more alive, I guess."

Dad blinked away. "I didn't like Cador."

What the hell is with this dichotomy? Dad's over here reminiscing over fond memories, meanwhile, Amanda was taking these precious memories and diluting them out into nothing more than opinion pieces like she was in a thread debating other users.

Yeah, I don't think Amanda was the perfect companion to be taking along on a trip down memory lane. I'm really not sure why Dad continues to go along with it either.

What even brought this on anyway?

Even back at home, Dad wasn't this avid of a talker. He was a man of few grunts and even fewer words through and through. I could count on one hand the amount of times he's held a conversation that has lasted longer than five minutes. He's really upping the ante now for a world first at six minutes and counting this time.

"I must say though, Amanda. You know an awful lot more about Kronocia than I would expect," Mom remarked, hovering close behind her and looking sincerely impressed. "Even more so than some of our fledgling Chroniclers."

"Asteria, actually," Amanda corrected, sliding past her and sliding the tray of meatloaf into the oven nearby. "But, um, thanks for the compliment. Seriously never thought I'd be using my knowledge of the game in this way."

"You may as well be a fellow Kronocian if I didn't know any better," Mom said, before quietly letting slip a breathy chuckle. "Ah, but I suppose you'd already be long dead if that was the case."

"Y-Yeah," Amanda chortled back, trying to sound as amused by the notion as she was. "I suppose I would be."

After slamming the oven door shut, and setting the temperature and time on the dial, the entire ordeal was about done. No more ingredients to carefully slice, no more lumps of meat to perfectly season and base, all that was left to do was to clear up and simply wait for dinner to slowly simmer.

I didn't hesitate to take charge of sink duty. It was the least I could do. Yet even then, Amanda still insisted on carrying the weight of the entire world on her back and tried shooing me off.

"Either you let me have this," I told her. "Or I drop dead now from uselessness; your choice."

"It's just washing stuff," she said.

"Yeah, it is just washing stuff," I affirmed to her. "Unless there's some super secret Collins family technique to getting rid of grease I don't know about, I'm pretty sure I'll be able to handle this, don't you think?"

She made a face, but ultimately saw to reason. Begrudgingly though. Very reluctantly. You'd think I was dismantling a bomb the way she slowly walked away from me.

"It should be ready in about an hour or so," Mom announced, peeking at the dim glow of orange behind the oven window. She then glanced over at Amanda, all feeble and frazzled—the poor girl, and gave her a small comforting smile. "Something to drink, perhaps?"

"Uh…" Amanda turned to her. "Actually, I'm not really confident yet in making—"

"I meant for you, dear," Mom interjected, gently placing a hand on her shoulder as she strolled past on her way to the pantry. "What will it be? Tea? Something sweet? Chocolate, maybe?"

"Tea…. tea sounds nice."

"Just what I was thinking," Mom said, whipping out some tea bags and leaves. "Take a seat, I'll brew us something nice in the meantime."

"Oh. O…Okay. Sure."

It was like she was on autopilot. I've never seen someone plop themself on a couch so mechanically before. Then again, it's my Dad she was scooched up next to, so I can understand some rusty knee joints.

I got so distracted watching over her that I nearly flooded the sink and as I quickly unclogged the drain before everything spilled over, I faintly heard the clink of a teacup hit the countertop right behind me.

"So," I heard my mom's voice whisper from inches away.

"So what?" I muttered back, drying my hands with a cloth. I could practically feel her leer, sense her smirk. Something was amusing her. Something always was.

"Amanda," she replied. "A bit nervous, isn't she?"

"Really? Couldn't tell honestly."

Mom let out a snort. "And I think your Dad likes her."

"You can tell?"

"Of course I can."

"And how about you?" I asked. "You like her too?"

"She's very eager to prove herself. It's like she's a puppy or something," Mom began pouring the tea she brewed into a pair of cups, peering over at the tuft of blonde hair poking out of the couch. "I think it's cute. I think she's cute."

"I'll take that as a yes, I guess."

"But just how much I like her—you don't care to ask?" She said, trailing her tone in a tease. "More than Eshwlyn? More than Adalia? You don't want to know?"

"That doesn't matter."

"To you, maybe not," Mom said. "But to her, I'm sure the answer matters quite a lot, doesn't it?"

There she goes again. Reading into things so frighteningly accurate it's like she had a front-row seat to everyone's mind.

"Well?" She goaded. "Still not going to ask?"

Fine. I'll bite.

"How much do you like her?"

With slight clatters here and there, Mom placed four cups of tea onto a silver tray, lifting it up with her hands without so much as a wobble. I spun around just as she did and was met only with a mischievous expression on her face.

"Guess we'll both find out soon enough for ourselves, won't we?" she said, shuffling away with the tray of tea into the living room.

Should have expected as much. Between Amanda's mom and my own, I don't know what it is about mothers and this weird inherent nature to make a game and riddle out of their children's relationship. Was it really that fun? From this end of the playing field, I genuinely can't tell at all.

Once the kitchen was as spotless as can be, I went ahead and made a beeline towards Amanda's position. Having both my parents bordering close to her for lengthy periods without some type of supervision surely couldn't be good for her health.

There I was, making it just in time to hear a question suddenly sprout out from nowhere.

"Where do you play the game, Amanda?"

Me and Amanda both turned our heads at the same time to the figure on her left; sitting so sullenly, quietly, pinching the handle of a teacup between his bulky fingers.

"On your TV?" Dad continued to ask. "Your phone?"

"Umm," Amanda placed her cup back on the table before answering. "I have two copies of it, actually. One on computer, one on console."

"Console?"

"Er—TV, basically," she clarified. "But I rarely play it on there. The PC version has more features, better performance; plus, there's also mod support in case you wanna—"

"Could you play it?"

Amanda blinked. So did I. While Mom resting on a sofa nearby stifled a giggle.

"Play…?" Amanda's jaw fell loose, confused. "I… I'm not sure I…"

"The game. This Asteria game," Dad said, stating it as clearly as possible. "Could you play it for me?"