Elanthe stood up straight and wiped the sweat from her brow. It felt like it had been an age since she had last tilled the land, though in reality it had only been a few weeks. She shuddered to realize that it was what she'd been doing when the demons came for her. She'd been doing what she loved best.

  The sun was setting as she surveyed her work—well, her and Calista's work. The tramp had discovered her tilling and joined in with an almost childlike enthusiasm, actually whispering to each seed as she planted it, encouraging it to grow tall and strong. Elanthe had wanted to despise her for slowing her work down, but found herself enthralled by the beauty of the moment.

  Neat rows were tilled in the garden behind the cottage where cabbage, carrots, peas, and melons would grow. A few of the locals had stopped to chat them up as she worked, and she secretly thanked them for giving her an excuse to take a break. There was so much to do, but swapping tips with the locals would bear fruit. She had to do anything she could to further Chuck's plans, and making friends with the locals fit the bill.

  While she didn't doubt that they stopped because the two women were a curiosity, and probably just to watch Calista sweat, they quickly realized that Elanthe was more than a pretty face when she asked them detailed questions about what she could cultivate here in Thornwell. Universally, they specified the same crops, though they cautioned that it might be too late in the growing season for a good yield. She'd nodded and thanked them, knowing full and well they'd be right if she wasn't an elf. She wasn't planning to harvest in a few months; she was planning to harvest in a few days to a few weeks. Chuck's infernal paychest had yet to materialize, and he was starting to run low on funds with which to buy food for the troops, so she'd worked extra hard. Calista had too.

  She frowned even as the thought filled her with pride. She knew that she could easily outproduce any single farmer in the village, given enough time and land, but she also knew that it would put Chuck in an awkward position. They couldn't become a competitor to the locals. In fact, they needed to be customers. That would help ingratiate newcomers like them with the villagers and integrate them.

  She looked back at her carefully tilled and seeded rows with a sigh. She closed her eyes and made some mental calculations. They'd be a bit hungrier until Chuck's hell grant came through, but it would be worth it in the long run. She returned to her carefully tilled and planted rows and began turning over a portion of each.

  It made her sad to destroy their work, but it was the right thing to do to support Chuck's cause, and she could live with that. It was a weight she was willing to bear for him.

  * * *

  Elanthe rode Buttercup into Thornwell proper. She waved to Arthur's house as she rode by. If the old man happened to see her, he'd appreciate it, and that was all the reason she needed. She rode on with a smile.

  "You gave me wonderful dreams last night, Buttercup. You're such a sweet thing." She rubbed the palomino demon horse's neck, and the horse pranced briefly in response, eliciting a laugh. Elanthe would never have thought she'd ever be proud to ride a nightmare, but it had been a few weeks of firsts, most of which had been distinctly unpleasant. Buttercup was helping her, though, always present in her dreams when they turned to her imprisonment and abuse in hell. Always there to carry her out of her prison cell before the demons strapped her down to—

  Her smile faded as she approached Ignaz's house, as much from her train of thought as her lack of hope for the coming conversation.

  He lived in a well-maintained house near the commercial center of town, what there was of it. The house clearly belonged to a man of some status and wealth, by village standards. It was larger than the cottage, both in footprint and height, and Elanthe counted three chimneys piercing its roof. The man did not get cold in winter. He had a dedicated post with a ring for tying their horses, along with a small trough for watering them.

  She whispered the mantra of courage taught to all elf children and strode through the gate towards Ignatz's front door. When the gate failed to close behind her, she scrambled back, shut it, then trotted up to the door. She was about to use the sizeable door knocker to announce her presence when the door swung open.

  "Yes?" The woman filled the doorframe, wiping her hands on her apron. She stood taller than Elanthe by half a foot and broader by half again, built like a farmer who'd never missed a day's work. Her graying hair was pulled back in a practical bun, and the flour on her apron indicated that she'd been in the process of baking bread.

  "I'm sorry to disturb you, ma'am. I'm looking for Councilor Ignatz," Elanthe said.

  "He's not here." She inspected Elanthe with the same regard that she inspected new livestock for purchase. "You're the elf girl staying with the knight at the bridge."

  "Yes, ma'am. I'm Elanthe. I'm in service to Sir Chuck, Paladin of the Light."

  "Irina." She crossed her arms. "My husband isn't receiving visitors about the vote. He's made his position clear to everyone who's asked, and half the village has been hounding him ever since."

  "I understand. I just hoped—"

  "Who is it, my love?" The man's voice came from within the house and earned a grimace from Irina. Elanthe had the good grace to pretend she hadn't heard anything.

  "It's the knight's elf servant," she called over her shoulder, missing Elanthe's frown at being called a servant. It didn't matter that it was true; it hurt her pride to be identified as a servant.

  After a short pause, "Well, you'd better show her in then."

  With a frown, Irina stood aside so that Elanthe could enter and closed the door behind her. She led the elf down the central hallway of the house to a back room that was obviously Ignatz's personal study. It was plainly decorated, though a shelf held a dozen or more books. Ignatz finished his entry in his ledger and waved Elanthe into a chair. "Irina, love, would you be so kind as to bring a cup of tea for my visitor?" Then to Elanthe, "Do you take it with cream and sugar, dear?"

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  "Thank you! I didn't realize that there was tea in this region. I would love it plain." She turned slightly and blushed, "I do like sugar, but it makes me a bit excitable."

  Irina left without a word and returned moments later, a fresh cup of tea in a plain yet lovely teacup. "Thank you, Irina. This is my first cup of tea since—" she stopped just before she said ‘I was kidnapped by demons’. "Since I left home." She took a sip of the warm and slightly bitter brew. "Oh, this is wonderful. Thank you." Irina turned to go, but not before Elanthe noticed her expression soften.

  Ignatz spoke as Elanthe was taking another sip of her tea. "I know why you're here. You're here to try to convince me to change my vote and help install your master over the village. That's not going to happen. We have survived our entire history without a parasitic lord here draining the village's vitality. I don't care how little your master is asking for; once we let a noble in, we'll never be able to get rid of him. I don't trust any of them."

  "Oh, but Sir Chuck is no noble, sir. He's a paladin of the Light, and lowborn at that. He has no interest in doing anything except protecting the village from—"

  "From demon invasion? Please. We get the occasional orc or bandit raid, a mad wizard, or even a wandering spirit pass through, but we're simply not important enough for actual demons to come here. Our church is small and unremarkable; our village has no real wealth. There are no gold mines in the area. We're simply an outpost on the edge of civilization that most of the world doesn't know about or has forgotten.

  "Now I know the legend of old," he raised his hand to forestall Elanthe's rebuttal. "I know that supposedly, a couple of hundred years ago, the man who owed the cottage you lot now occupy cut a deal with the devil to get the bridge built and pledged the whole village in return. Were it true, I expect that we'd have seen something before now. I'm forced to conclude that it's not.

  "So, while based on Father Yaqub's say so, I do believe that he's a paladin of the faith, I don't see any reason to recognize him as anything else formally. If he wants to defend Thornwell, he can do so of his own volition."

  "Sir Chuck will do everything he can to protect the innocent, but he can only do so if you recognize him. He's got a few of us who work for him, but he is the only true warrior among us. When the enemy comes, he'll stand before them, and they'll cut him down, and then they'll come for the village. Please, he can only hope to stop them if he's supported by the divine right of being the village's protector. Absent that…"

  Ignatz held up his hand. "I can see that you're very passionate about this, and probably believe it yourself, but my answer is no and will remain no. I simply don't believe that installing a lord above us is in the village's best interests, and nothing will change that, ever. I will die with no lord above me as I have lived every day of my life. Mark my words."

  * * *

  Buttercup offered her neck to Elanthe when she emerged from Ignatz's house, and the elf buried her face in it for a minute while she collected herself from her failure. Ignatz wasn't unreasonable, just not of the opinion that the protection Chuck offered mattered, and she didn't know how to overcome that. How does one argue with a man of principle whose only fault is not recognizing something entirely outside of his experience? She pulled herself onto Buttercup's bare back and made her way to her next stop.

  Vladimir's house was easy to find. Easily the largest house in town, what made it really stand out was the wall that surrounded it. Most of the village cottages didn't even have fences. The better-to-do had them, but those were more suggestions to keep out than barriers to entry. Vladimir's house was surrounded by a wall a dozen feet tall. A stout wooden gate stood on the street with a pull rope to a bell.

  Elanthe rang the bell and waited, but nobody came to the gate. After five minutes, she rang it again and waited a while longer. She was about to ring it a third time when her keen hearing picked up the sound of feet shuffling across gravel, accompanied by muttering.

  A heavy bolt was thrown. To her surprise, Elanthe was suddenly face-to-face with Vladimir, who had not bothered to open the gate but rather a peep hatch protected by iron bars. "What do you want, elf?"

  "Good morning, sir. My name is Elanthe, and I serve Sir Chuck."

  "And? What's it to me?"

  "I wanted to stop by and discuss yesterday's council meeting."

  "Forget it. I'm not going to support your master. I don't trust strangers. Especially ones who conveniently appear out of nowhere with convenient timing." He slammed the hatch shut.

  "But sir! Mr. Vladimir! There are real threats coming. Just yesterday, we encountered a scouting band of demons who tried to force the bridge. Their leader, Vorghammul the Destroyer, pledged to return with more demons and take the village by force. Sir Chuck can't defend it without a mandate."

  The little door flipped back open. "What do you know of Vorghammul the Destroyer?"

  "Only that he's a giant brute with a giant axe and the intention of using it on anyone who gets in his way."

  "Ha! So you don't know anything important." The spy hatch slammed shut for a second time, this time followed by the sliding of the bolt.

  * * *

  Elanthe walked Buttercup back towards the cottage, frustrated at her lack of effectiveness. She wasn't sure what she had hoped for, but she knew that it was more than the nothing that she'd gotten. Neither counselor had budged an inch from his position, and she hadn't bothered to speak with Father Yaqub. Being a priest of the Light, she felt that only Chuck could shift him off his position.

  Buttercup took an interest in some thistles, so Elanthe took the opportunity to brood. She sat on the side of the road, elbows on her knees, chin in her hand. She watched the water in a small creek that ran alongside the road bubble towards the river as she mulled over what to do next.

  Father Yaqub was the real key. If he could be convinced to act, then everything would be settled. Sir Chuck seemed to be reluctant to push the priest, despite their both serving the Light, or perhaps because of it. Whatever the reason, there was no lever she could think of to use to push him into Sir Chuck's camp.

  Ignatz was a block of granite. Principled and stubborn, he wouldn't change his opinion unless there were new facts that pushed him in a particular direction. Nothing she said would shift him, and nothing she could do would move him either. She might as well try to cut a tunnel through a mountain with a spoon.

  That left Vladimir. There was something off about him. He didn't fit in with the rest of the village, having the only fortified house around. Why would he need that? What was he afraid of? His neighbors? Why? It didn't make sense for him to live in fear and be a counselor. Maybe if she could figure out what he was hiding, she'd be able to use it as leverage to change his vote. Perhaps he could have an accident. Then maybe his replacement would be more compliant.

  Elanthe's eyes shot open as the idea finished forming. What was she thinking? It would be horrible if he were to have an accident. He might not be a pleasant man, but he was still due some respect. She shook her head to free herself of the dark images that had briefly formed there and stood up.

  Buttercup had finished with her thistles and was ready to continue their walk home. Elanthe smoothed her neck as they walked, but failed to notice the dark ripples radiating around her hand as she stroked.

  ?? The Fall Of The Sea ??

  by JollyUmbrella

  On a small boat in the middle of unknown waters, a boy awakens with no memory of who he is or why he is at sea.

  What To Expect:

  - Complex character dynamics

  - Emotional backstories and arcs

  - Thoughtfully crafted world with rich culture and history

  - Powerful characters

  - Slight hints and possible romances

  - Awesome fight scenes

  - Long, plot-driven story with narrative twists

  Upload Schedule:

  Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, Sunday. UTC-5

  [SPECIAL] November 2025: Daily

  Accolades:

  [Participant in the Royal Road Writathon challenge]