The elves—and dreadfully oversized wolf and winged menace—seemed to have become peaceful. Ranthia still wasn’t sure what was going on, but she wasn’t going to complain. In fact, she wasn’t quite ready to say anything—instead she subtly shuffled back until she reached the spot where her image that carried her lost equipment had been destroyed.

  The bow was still intact where she dropped it, but that was where the good news ended. The damned woman with the orange-red hair had sliced straight through both bandoliers and her quiver. Which meant that she had no way to signal Ocean… not that they had even established a signal for a ‘no crisis after all’ situation.

  That suddenly felt like an oversight.

  Then again, what were the odds? Avyna had mentioned that elves had avoided the dead zone for thousands of years, hence why—as impossible as it sounded—no one knew humanity even still existed until Remus stepped beyond its borders to stop the shimagu’s expansion.

  Someone had to, after all.

  “Problem?” A smooth voice that was absolutely trying too hard to exude something (presumably something an [Alchemist] would sell a cream to cure) offered.

  The flirt had followed her, apparently. Not that she was surprised. [Mage – Lava] level 673, [Mage – Sand] level 641, and [Artisan – Sound] level 505.

  “I was supposed to signal my colleague, but my signal arrows were all destroyed.” Ranthia admitted; there was no reason to hide that at this stage.

  “So, you do speak! You should come back to our campsite, I’m sure we can figure out something to help you out with your little predicament. Also, as great as you look with it, what’s with the mistweave blindfold?” The blond man tried to scoot closer, even as Ranthia carefully stepped away to maintain their current distance.

  Seriously, how oblivious could he be? She was being about as clear as she could get about her disinterest without getting blunt. And Avyna had made it very clear that blunt was uncharacteristic for her, which was Ranthia’s best insight into elven cultural norms. All things considered, she’d prefer to avoid blunt until at least after Ocean had taken over, but if the man got too insistent, well, she was fine with changing that plan.

  And/or stabbing him. Some men required violence to learn their lesson, she proved that more than once as an Adventurer.

  As far as the offer went though, it wasn’t like she had any better plans. And, more seriously, escorting the elven invaders was probably the Sentinel thing to do, up until she could finally dump the problem on Ocean.

  “Sure.” Ranthia agreed, blithely ignoring his question about her eye covering while she gathered what she could of her damaged supplies. Some of the throwing knives were still usable and the bandoliers themselves might be repairable. Also, she was of the mindset that it was best to bring back everything that she could to minimize the quartermaster’s ire.

  While she occupied herself with that, the elf woman picked up the wolf that probably weighed twice as much as she did and cuddled it like a baby, promising to treat the wolf’s injury shortly. And the elf with the winged serpent was holding a common weed, sniffing at it.

  “Do you know what this is?” The weed-sniffer asked once the group began to walk—surprisingly slowly—back to the campsite.

  [Ranger – Gale] level 768, [Ranger – Lightning] level 765, [Artisan – Spore] level 556. He was just a bit behind Avyna’s levels.

  Also, why in Xaoc’s name were they camping so early in the day? She was pretty certain that she would regret asking.

  “We just call it itch vine. The sap that covers it makes low level people super itchy, and it can cause nasty rashes on children.” Ranthia answered the safe-sounding question instead.

  The man looked thoughtful, then took a bite out of it. He chewed the sappy vine with a serious expression, then discarded the remainder with a shake of his head and a muttered “No, that’ll never work with this batch. Not enough flavor.”

  Right. That seemed like a completely normal thing to do based on the information that she provided.

  And then the couatl leaned over from his shoulder, directly into her personal space, and hissed a… well, it clearly wasn’t threatening, but she wasn’t sure if a hiss could rightly be called inquisitive. Actually, she was pretty damned certain that hissing should never have complex social connotations.

  “He wants to know if you have any human food with you.” The elf explained.

  “I haven’t even got a waterskin, we packed light for this mission. Speed over everything.” Ranthia answered.

  The serpent visibly sulked for a moment, before it launched into the sky and flew ahead with a swiftness that was more appropriate to an arrow launched from a bow. High level beings got weird.

  Xaoc, please tell me you had nothing to do with giving serpents wings. That was such a terrible idea!

  Her god took a pittance of mana before He answered her prayer with an amused chuckle and the distinct impression that He declined to confirm or deny having any involvement. Ranthia couldn’t help but to grin; the levity entwined in her god’s non-verbal response really helped to bolster her mood again.

  Thanks to Him, she was ready to take a deep breath and try to be better at her job. And the proper place to start was by actually communicating with people.

  “Sentinel Grace, by the way. I suppose I forgot to give my name.” Ranthia spoke into the brief bit of silence that had fallen over the group.

  “Well, we already introduced most of our party, but the winged stomach that just flew off was Cordamo. He’s—No! Stay out of those, that batch isn’t ready yet!” And with that the man took off running at a speed that might just have outclassed even what she saw from the woman.

  How in Xaoc’s glory had he seen what the flying anklebiter was doing when she couldn’t, even with [Vision of the Void] active?!

  “Does he do that a lot?” Ranthia asked the other two elves.

  “Oh, you should see him when his barrels explode.” The flirt answered with a wink that was probably meant to come off as charmingly roguish.

  The woman, still carrying her wolf like Pallos’ most oversized baby, laughed. She was, of course, still [Warrior – Mirage] level 755, [Warrior – Ooze] level 727, and [Warrior – Mantle] level 700. She was attractive, yes—at least when she wasn’t trying to slice Ranthia in half—but, well, Ranthia was a touch biased with elves.

  Avyna was prettier.

  Ranthia brandished the insistent thought like a shield in an effort to spare her from having her mind turn to mush around every other elven woman that she met (seriously, how were they all so attractive?!). Besides, this elf—no, her name had not stuck—had tried to murder Ranthia and Ranthia had hurt her freakishly large wolf. It would never work out.

  The elven campsite was…

  Gods and goddesses, it was ridiculous! There was a table that could have sat eight people, complete with three chairs. Then there was an array of barrels and wooden boxes, where the weed-sniffer was trying to wrest one of the boxes out of his winged serpent’s coils. A large fire had been left untended. Then there were supplies scattered around half the clearing, ranging from blankets to a full standing mirror of a quality that Ranthia had never seen outside of conjured material.

  Sure, the elves were strong, but how were they travelling with so much stuff?! It would overload any wagon Ranthia had ever seen and there was no sign of one.

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  “Come on girl, let’s get you fixed up.” The copper-haired elf cooed at her wolf before she set the wolf down on a pile of blankets and opened a crate. She reached in and pulled out a crystal that was filled with some sort of red liquid. A few moments later she had a small pool of the red liquid in her hands and was letting the wolf lap it up.

  The wolf was surprisingly neat about it. Like, yes, it got everywhere, but it didn’t get everywhere, like Ranthia would have expected. Once the wolf was done drinking it, the elf sprinkled a small amount of the liquid on the wolf’s wounded leg.

  No way. Ranthia couldn’t believe her eyes as she watched the wound slowly heal. The effect was glacial—any [Healer] past their apprenticeship would put it to shame. But it was a true healing potion.

  Many [Alchemists] in Remus decried such a brew as outright impossible! It was the pinnacle of potion that Adventurers yearned for. A way to survive.

  And the elf was casually using it to treat a minor wound on a wolf!

  The copper-haired elf was busy using an invaluable life-saving potion on her wolf and the weed-sniffer was busy arguing with his snake (and Ranthia was having regrets, yes), which left her with the shameless flirt that was still hanging around her.

  Ranthia looked at him.

  “Since you have the same badge, does that mean you know Elaine?” He asked immediately.

  “Doesn’t sound familiar, sorry. You said that you could help me signal my colleague?” She was almost desperate to have Ocean present.

  “If you want arrows, that would be Aegion’s department. Tell him to open the good stuff while you’re there!” The flirt gestured vaguely in the direction of the barrels and the ongoing man-on-snake shouting match as he settled down in one of the chairs next to the table. He then grabbed what Ranthia could only assume was an unfamiliar fruit before taking a single bite and discarding it haphazardly.

  Ranthia just swallowed her mild frustration and approached the man that was losing an argument to his own companion bond.

  “Hi?” When in doubt, interrupt!

  “Hm? Oh!” The man immediately released the wooden box he was tugging on, which had the side-effect of sending the winged serpent careening off past the tree line with its prize once the force that was holding the greedy beast in place was suddenly absent. “How may I help you, Sentinel Grace?”

  “I was told you could help me find a new way to signal my colleague, since my signal arrows were destroyed?” Ranthia prompted.

  “Certainly!” The man whistled and the winged anklebiter appeared high in the sky, preceded by a brief rustling.

  The mysterious wooden box was absent, likely stashed somewhere.

  “Do you know where this person might be?” The elf prompted after closing his eyes.

  “Probably on his wooden ship following the coastline east from Port Salona.” Ranthia answered.

  “Yes, one moment… Aha, there I see it. Cordamo!” The elf called out with a grin as he reopened his eyes.

  The snake dropped from the sky directly into his waiting hands, where it curled and…

  The snake was a bow. As stupidly improbable as it sounded, there was a glowing light that connected the snake’s head to its tail and the man was already drawing it as crackling energy formed an arrow.

  The first shot tore the sky apart with what felt like forty-eight thunderclaps fused into one. A brilliant pillar of lightning crackled in the sky from his position where it lingered for several long moments before it began to slowly dissipate.

  But the elf wasn’t done! Once it faded he began to pluck the string like he was a [Bard] playing an energetic song, firing bolt after bolt of lightning into the sky in rapid succession. Ranthia’s hair was outright floating by the time he was done.

  She squinted suspiciously at the lightning that seemed to linger in the sky that time. It couldn’t be, but she had to confirm. Ranthia dashed into the woods, back to the clearing she had used as fast as her stats could carry her.

  “…He seriously wrote ‘We are here’ in the sky, complete with an arrow.” Ranthia whispered to herself as she eyed the fading letters.

  These elves were absurd in every possible meaning of the word.

  “Also, just to double-check since you seriously thought I was one: you haven’t fought any other ‘bandits’ in Remus, have you?”

  Ranthia had settled in to wait for Ocean. She and the elven trio were gathered around their table (where they had found two extra chairs was a question best left unanswered, in her mind) where they snacked on dinosaur jerky and traded answers to questions. The wolf was still lounging in its pile of blankets and Ranthia swore it was glaring at her every time she looked that way when none of the elves were.

  Also, it had taken a stupid amount of arguing to get them to agree to trade one answering one question from the elves, collectively, for one from her. She would have been there for an eternity if they had each gotten to ask one!

  “Nah, everyone else we’ve met has been a decent sort. Awarthril even helped some nice men we met on one of the roads that was moving rocks that somehow ended up blocking the road.” The flirt answered for the group that time.

  Gods and goddesses, could the elves answer a single question without giving her follow-up questions that she had to set aside?! Also, was he even aware that he had just implied that she wasn’t a decent person?

  Ranthia took a deep breath and braced for the next question while she wondered what was taking Ocean so long.

  “Are—” The flirt started to ask, before the copper haired elf grabbed his arm with a thin smile.

  “If you ask her if she’s available, single, or interested in anything you have to offer, I’m twisting this until something breaks.” She informed him.

  “Yeah, get a clue. If you bug her much more, Sentinel Grace is probably going to try to cut off that little twig you’re so proud of.” The archer piled on, obviously enjoying himself.

  “Oh please, like yours is really any bigg—Agh! Shattering crystals, fine!” The flirt’s retort was cut off when the woman tightened her grip.

  The flirt pulled his badly bruised arm out of the woman’s grasp and rubbed it before he tried to speak again.

  “Fine, let’s focus on what’s important. Elaine had the same badge you do. Is she still in your Ariminum?”

  The other elves looked more engaged and leaned forward ever so slightly.

  “Like I said, I don’t know the name. Are you sure the badge was the same? Ranger badges are similar, they’re just missing the sunburst.” Ranthia offered.

  “It’s the exact same design.” The female elf cut in.

  Ranthia was pretty certain that they weren’t asking about Sentinel Aurora—the only other current female Sentinel—which meant…

  “Unfortunately, Sentinel Dawn is missing and presumed dead.” Another voice cut in.

  Oh, thank Xaoc. Ocean had finally arrived!

  “What do you mean?!” The flirt and the woman demanded in uncanny unison.

  The intensity of their angry demands took Ranthia by surprise. She found herself tensing up for a confrontation before she even realized it.

  And, quite suddenly, Tertia’s warning about her own temper was confirmed in its entirety. She hadn’t doubted her friend’s words, per se, but experiencing what Tertia meant firsthand was still an eye-opening experience.

  High level classers were absurd. Even an emotionally charged question had true weight behind it.

  “Sentinel Dawn—Elaine, as you knew her—went into the fae realm in pursuit of an abducted close friend of hers. We armed her with as much knowledge and as many resources as we could, but she never returned.” The man offered in a tone that felt guilty, as he approached.

  The flirt seemed to reel back at the news, but he wasn’t the problem. Ranthia only had eyes for the lovely elf with the copper-colored hair. The elf was going for Ocean with open hostility.

  Fortunately, she had to vault the table, which was the only reason that Ranthia was able to even slightly keep up with the elf’s greater speed.

  Blocking the [Warrior]’s fist with her own chin probably wasn’t the smartest of moves, but Ranthia hadn’t exactly had much time to find a better choice! She was certain that she couldn’t possibly restrain a much stronger opponent in time, and she was equally certain that the damage she took mattered ‘less’ than whatever damage Ocean might have taken.

  Ranthia’s jaw dislocated and broke, even as she pressed a throwing knife into the elf’s beautiful throat. The elf’s skin didn’t break, unsurprisingly, but the woman was a single [Void Edge] away from a mortal wound.

  And she had to know it.

  The elves were yelling after her and Ocean’s eyes were wide as he stepped back. But thank Xaoc, the woman chose to hurl words at Ocean instead of pressing her attack.

  “And you just let her go?! To the fae?! You killed her! She was my best hope!” The elf screamed out before she suddenly pulled away from Ranthia (without a single token effort of apology, no less) and blurred next to her oversized wolf and hugged it tightly.

  With the immediate crisis averted, Ranthia’s priority was on shifting into a fresh image. Other people could figure out the rest.

  Ranthia couldn’t say things had gone smoothly, but for reasons that were beyond her (seriously, why was no one bothering to explain anything anymore?) they were bringing the three elves to Ariminum, even though the entire purpose for their visit was gone. Ocean apparently knew the three based on either Dawn’s old report or initial war efforts, which was also bugging Ranthia—the trio seemed to be children by her reckoning, yet they were war veterans.

  Not that she had much room to talk.

  Though to be fair, children aside (presumably), it was pretty much impossible to gauge elves’ physical age thanks to their immortality. The only thing Ranthia could be absolutely certain of was that all three of them acted less than a third as mature as Avyna had. Which, admittedly, might just mean that they were sheltered and self-important rather than tragically young.

  Which still meant they shouldn’t have been involved in a war.

  Either way, after everything, Ranthia’s—forcedly downplayed—interest in the elf with the copper-colored hair was absolutely dead. Attractive or not, she had seen the woman throw an absolute tantrum and suffered the consequences of it.

  Also, the wolf was giving her murderous looks every time it thought it could get away with it, which added more than a little incentive to stay out of the elf’s way.

  At the very least, the flirt seemed to have finally taken a hint and was leaving her alone.

  “Ah, Sentinel Grace! I was wondering if you would be willing to try my latest creation?” The third elf stepped into view with a smile on his face and a crystal mug in his hand.

  And even from where she was sitting the smell threatened to chase her overboard. Oh, holy Xaoc, how could anything that had been brewed smell so foul?

  And why can’t all elves be more like Avyna?!

  The sooner they got to Ariminum the better. She wasn’t sure just how many viable excuses she had in her before she had to resort to violence.

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  Nozomi Matsuoka.

  Sarah "Neila" Elkins.