Olburg, the Forgetful

As we walk, a stone path begins to emerge from the moss. Here, the forest is no longer as dense. As the space opens between the trees, the faint light of the setting sun, like molten gold, seeps through the silver foliage. Soon, the trees part entirely, opening our eyes up to the plains that glow with the same silver color. The walls of Olburg emerge not so far away.

The sun is casting its very last rays upon us by the time we reach the gate of the city. In the semidarkness, we catch a glimpse of children running inside like faint shapes, looking for safety behind the city walls after a long day outside. I stare in amazement at the sight before us. This is the real deal. I'm entering a real fantasy-style city. At the gate stand two guards in their armored uniforms.

"Stop right there," they say in sync as they swing their spears, blocking us from entering.

"You must identify yourselves before entering," one of them explains.

Sylvienne steps forward with a calm gaze. She gathers her breath to speak, but one of the guards leans down to take a closer look at her.

"What, kid?" he mutters as he lowers his spear, feeling threatened.

The elf's eyebrow twitches slightly from the unconscious insult as she takes another step forward.

"Huh?" she leans forward indignantly, "How dare you mistake me for a kid?! I am not that small! I'm an elf. An elf, do you get it?" she says, aiming his fingers at her pointy ears.

"Elf? That's not how an elf looks," the guard says with disregard.

"And why would an elf come here?" the other looks at her suspiciously.

"Jeez," Sylvienne sighs. "I don't pull up here for a hundred years, and this is how I'm greeted..."

She suddenly pulls out the Mace of Zyron, smashing its hilt into the ground.

"Warrior-elf Sylvienne," she introduces herself with a smirk.

The two of them glance at her, surprised.

"A-are you..." the left guard starts speaking.

Sylvienne pushes her chest out proudly as she nods in advance, expecting recognition.

"Are you kidding?" the guard says with doubt in his voice.

"Warrior-elves do not exist," the other states.

Sylvienne pouts at them, growling angrily. 

I witness the whole thing awkwardly. This didn't play out well so far... Looks like I have to step in to take care of this situation. I clear my throat as I step forward, putting on a diplomatic look, just the kind I use when I'm aiming for a better grade from my professor.

"She's telling the truth. Just look at the weapon she's holding. It's the Mace of Zyron, the legendary warrior." I put a hand on her shoulder, pointing at the heavy weapon with the other.

Suddenly, their expression changes as things start to make some sense to them.

"Now that I take a good look, it indeed looks like the weapon that the legendary warrior holds in that depiction of him," says one of them as he examines the weapon.

The pouting expression disappears from the elf's face right away.

"Th-that's right, I'm on my journey entrusted by Zyron to look for someone worthy of his mace!" she says with newfound confidence.

"But it could be a fake," the guard states.

"You've got a point," the other agrees.

"Oh, if it were a fake, you could surely hold it," Sylvienne says provocatively. "Or perhaps one of you is the legendary warrior?"

Curiosity ignites in the eyes of the two guards as they look at each other.

"Here, hold it," she says as she forcefully puts the heavy mace in the hands of the guard on the left.

The guard gulps as he firmly grasps the hilt and takes it from the elf.

"It's too hea..." he mutters under the weight of the mace as he collapses onto his knees.

The other guard bends down to lift the weapon from the ground, with no success.

"It aches..." he says, touching his back as he stands up.

She totally humiliated them...

"Guess it was worth a try," Sylvienne lifts the weapon single-handedly while dusting off the guards' armor.

The two brutes stand aside, bowing before the elf.

"We sincerely apologize for having you mistaken and holding you up, Lady Sylvienne... Please forgive us!"

"It's fine, though..." she says, her cheeks turning red. "I'm just an adventurer, no need to be so formal."

How modest!

"You may enter the city of Olburg!" they say, holding their heads as they guide us to the entrance.

"Ehehehe..." Sylvienne turns to me with an awkward smile as we enter through the city gate.

"Well, that was something..." I say, awkwardly scratching my head.

As the gates close behind us with a bang, cutting off the final beams of the setting sun, I hear their doubtful whisper from behind.

"Are you sure she's just an adventurer?"

"How is she able to carry a weapon this heavy?"

As we walk inside, the main road awaits us with bright, colorful lanterns. Shops line the road, most with shutters half-drawn, with empty stalls in front of them. Not many people pass by us, but those who do would not even take a glance. The street is silent, with the clicking sound of steel, breaking it from time to time.

"This is strange. It wasn't like this before. This city sure has changed a lot since my last visit..." Sylvienne says quietly as she looks around.

A sudden, cold breeze hits our backs.

"We should find some shelter for the night. I know a comfortable inn nearby," she says as she turns left at a road crossing.

I follow her lead, glancing back at the bright main road. We enter a narrow street. It's much quieter, and so much dimmer. But a certain source of light catches our eyes—an inn. A wooden sign creaks above the door. I squint my eyes to read it, but it's written in a foreign script of a combination of twisted lines and dots.

"The Rusty Silver," Sylvienne reads, "It still stands."

She slides her hand along the worn stone wall as she walks towards the doorway.

"This brings back some old memories," she says with a reminiscent smile, as she presses the doorknob. 

"How many times have you been here before?" I ask curiously.

"Every eighty years or so, when I go through the silver forest," she pauses to think, "Their services are excellent!"

Such a long time!

As she pushes the door, we are met with a warm atmosphere with the scent of old wood mixing with that of boiling water and spices. The diner seems modest, with four rows of small towers lining up in front of the counter. It's a lively environment, packed with people chatting and laughing while feasting and sipping their drinks. As we walk towards the counter, a bunch of people start staring at us, whispering.

"Is that an elf?"

"An elf? I haven't seen one for ages..."

"What's an elf doing here?"

"Why is she wearing a warrior's armor?"

A stout man awaits us at the counter. He looks up, narrowing his eyes with mild suspicion. Then, as if something clicked, his expression is filled with respect.

"Are you Sylvienne, the elf-warrior?" he asks in a welcoming voice.

"Mr. Volk," Sylvienne nods as a greeting.

Wait, how do they know each other? She said she only comes to town every eighty years or so.

"The usual?" the man asks like he knows exactly what's on her mind.

Sylvienne nods, her expression suggesting: Yes, the usual. The barman then turns to me.

"Anything for you?"

"Well, I'm not too hungry..." I answer confidently

My stomach betrays me with a loud rumble.

"Eheheheh..."

***

We proceeded to sit down at a table near the counter. I ended up ordering a bowl of lamb stew, and Sylvienne, well...

"Rib-eye boar steak!" she shouts in joy, holding the knife and the fork excitedly, when the barman brings the stacked plate. 

Huh? That wasn't even on the menu! 

She looks at me with a smirk as she sticks her fork into the meal. She slowly raises the fork with the food on it and gently blows on the piece of meat.

"Melishoush," she rejoices as she munches on the food. "Sho shoft... Huh?" She puts her hand on her mouth. "It's better than last time. Did they change the recipe?"

She then proceeds to cut another piece eagerly.

"Hey, Sylvienne..." I say as I take a bite from my own dish as well. "How did you know the name of the owner? You said you haven't visited this place for over eighty years."

"Mwell," she gulps down the piece of meat. "This inn has always been run by the Volk family. The owner always works as the barman, so I just call them Mr. Volk every time I stop by," she sips into a glass of red wine. "I told them I just want their rib-eye boar steak, so they have it ready for me every time. I've never gotten disappointed in them. Although this time it tastes a little different..."

They had one ready just for her?! Guess, Zyron, and his party really are important figures...

***

Sylvienne proceeded to ask for seconds...

This greedy elf...

Then thirds.

"Your room is that way," the barman says, handing me the keys and pointing at the door on the left side of the counter. 

He slightly tilts his head to the side, looking at Sylvienne.

"Did you enjoy the meal, Lady Sylvienne?" he asks, his eyes smiling.

Sylvienne finally lets out a satisfied sigh, patting her stomach with her hand.

"Uhuuum," she mutters, dizzy from the amount of food she ate.

"I'm glad," the barman chuckles in a deep voice.

I open the door with the key I was given and lead the dizzy elf into the room. She can barely keep her eyes open. Her mouth reeks of alcohol.

"Wasn't that a bit too much for such a small creature like you?" I try to word my question as politely as possible.

"If's ohay..." she mutters as I push her inside.

Sylvienne falls right onto the bed, tossing her armor to the side.

Will I be able to put up with this elf until I get home?

I’m just about to close the door when the barman calls out to me.

"You," he says in a soft but manly voice, with a bit of seriousness sprinkled into it.

I turn back, my hand still on the door handle. He scans through my body with his eyes— his look not threatening, but curious. 

"You don't look like you're from around here," he states. 

Now that I think about it, my clothes are a bit out of place for a world like this... Not like it was my plan to end up here anyway!

I just put on my poker face smile. His one is similar, but somehow it feels genuine.

"Honestly, I was surprised that I saw you in the elf's company," he continues. "I was told she'd be alone when she came and that she wasn't the cheerful type. But she looked like she felt content with you around."

My eyes slightly widen at his sudden statement.

"I don't know her. But my family is indebted to her noble deeds. And we'll never forget her, even through the generations. I'm glad that I could meet her in my lifetime... Please, don't leave her alone," he wraps up.

I look at Sylvienne for a moment, who has already thrown herself onto the bed, then back. I nod in acknowledgement.

"Well, good night, Traveler."

The door shuts behind me. The clicking sound of the lock resonates through the room. Monlight enters through the window. It shines onto my face.

And I smile.