Rescuing the Elf Girls

After safely delivering Aurora to the neighboring kingdom, Moris lifted his plane into the sky and continued his journey. After a long flight, the hum of the engines and the stillness among the clouds made him decide to take a short rest. He landed on a small hill at the edge of a forest. The land was eerily quiet. Gray clouds covered the sky, and sunlight filtered faintly through. Moris settled on the hilltop, scanning the distance with his binoculars. Suddenly, he noticed movement — it was a small caravan. As he drew closer, he realized the situation was grim: inside an iron cage wagon sat five young elf girls. Their faces were dirty, their clothes torn, but the fire in their eyes had not gone out. One of the girls suddenly shouted and cursed at the caravan leader. Enraged, the leader — a young man in a fine cloak, his face marked with arrogance — stopped his horse and turned toward the cage. As he moved to intimidate the girl and enter the cage, the sound of footsteps echoed from afar. Someone was coming down the slope. It was Moris. He held his twin revolvers not at his belt, but in his hands. His eyes were cold, his voice heavy. “Release the girls,” he said, taking a step closer. The caravan’s two mages, four knights, and a couple of mercenaries exchanged amused glances. “This is my father’s property!” the leader said with a mocking tone. “Laying a hand on an aristocrat’s property is the same as defying the kingdom! I’ll have your head this instant.” Moris didn’t answer. He simply cocked both revolvers and fired two shots into the air. The forest echoed with the sound. The knights and mercenaries charged at him. But Moris was not only a military engineer — he was a battle-hardened marksman. Bang! Bang! Bang! Every shot hit its mark: a knee, a shoulder, a hip. No one was killed, but all were rendered unable to fight in seconds. A few magical projectiles flew toward him, but Moris dodged with lightning speed and returned fire. It was all over in just moments. The caravan leader froze in shock, but then, driven by pride, he drew his sword and rushed at Moris. Moris did not move. When the attack was just half a step away, he slipped to the side and shot both of the leader’s knees. The man collapsed to the ground with a heavy groan. Moris approached the iron cage. The elf girls trembled between fear and hope. He tried to unlock it, but a magical seal blocked the way. Lying on the ground, the caravan leader let out a mocking laugh. “Don’t bother… only aristocrats can open this lock.” Moris said nothing. He simply brought his hand closer to the cage. His device activated, generating a magnetic field that distorted the lock. The metal squealed, the lock bent and fell away. The girls’ shackles clattered to the ground one after another. The leader’s eyes widened in shock. “Who are you?..” whispered one of the wounded mages. “You don’t play with science,” Moris replied, his tone as cold as stone. Freed, the girls’ eyes filled with tears as they thanked him. “Who… who are you?” one of them asked. “Just a traveler,” he answered briefly. Then another girl spoke: “Can you take us to the Elf Forest?” Moris thought for a moment, then nodded. “Come. My vehicle is ready.” When they saw the plane, the elf girls froze in astonishment. Its massive wings, the cold gleam of metal — it all seemed like something out of a legend. “Is this a magic carriage?!” one of them asked in wonder. Moris smiled. “No. This isn’t magic. This is science.” “You can fly without magic?” “Yes. Welcome to the world of science.”