Waking Up From a Dream, Pt. 2

“Assaulting a guardsman so blatantly is grounds for flogging!” the guard barked.

The knight in our party didn’t flinch. His hand stayed on his hilt. “We both know she was defending herself.”

The whole situation had been frozen for a while, and I was beginning to see why.

If the adventurers struck first, they wouldn’t just be fighting the local garrison—they’d be blacklisted across the region.

The guards, for their part, had strength in numbers. But they were also the ones standing closest to drawing first blood. And they knew it.

So I tried something different.

~SALARYMAN TECHNIQUE ACTIVATED: COLD PRAGMATISM~

It only worked if the other party took you seriously. Which just meant my tongue just had to be that good.

“I don’t think your superiors would take kindly to escalation,” I said, carefully. “There are too many of us that other people knowing we were missing is a guarantee. If the wrong person finds out about this…”

“It’s my word against a Crystal’s,” the guard spat. Still hung up on me being a Crystal Elf, it seemed. 

Damn it, Malmagos…

“Correction,” our knight in shining armor cut in. “It’s your word against a verified party’s.”

The guard’s hand inched toward his sword.

“You think the Adventurer’s Guild here’s got the spine to take us on?” he sneered. “The only authority that matters in East Gate is—”

“My, my, what do we have here?”

He couldn’t finish. It seemed someone watching on decided they'd had enough of their tirade.

A nun stepped into the fray.

Disheveled, eyebags deep as valleys, robes stained and threadbare… but the fire in her eyes was so intense, I could feel its heat from where I stood.

And she just pushed a guard.

“Touch them again!” she said, “I dare you~!”

“You little—!”

He threw a punch right back.

Instead of getting knocked out cold... she ducked.

...And socked him in the gut, hard.

“ARGH!!”

The man crumpled like a sack of potatoes, clutching his stomach.

I appreciated her standing up for us—truly—but something told me this wasn’t going to calm anything down.

Sure enough, the other two guards were already charging over. When I caught a bit of the lamplight near the gate glinting off his hilt, I was about ready to throw myself in between them.

He was pulling swords on children?!

“CEASE THIS!”

The voice sounded like it came from another plane with how it resonated. Even the guards froze.

Another elf. Taller, paler, skin like moonlight… but definitely not my kind. Everything about her, from her gait to her robes, moved with a grace that felt… higher.

“Her Holiness Mother Martha is right to defend that child,” she said. Her gaze soon swept over the guards. “You’re lucky I don’t strip your title here and now. You let those kidnappers through our gates both ways, made a joke of the definition of city walls, and now you pull steel on one of our own?!”

She sighed after a tense silence. “But our borders are fragile. Our people are suffering, attacked again and again by this land’s savages; we don’t need infighting on top of it.”

Then, the noble turned to the nun.

“Martha, today’s your lucky day. I’ll recall the cavalry we dispatched to find the children. I trust you’ve got things under control now that they’re back?”

“Of course, Chancellor,” the nun replied calmly.

So, that noble’s not really that high up the pecking order then, I mused.

As the noble turned on her heel and walked away, the guards begrudgingly stepped aside, muttering to themselves.

But my elf ears caught a little of what she muttered to herself just before she left completely.

“How degrading it is to deal with the issues of the Commons…”

In the meantime, the nun made her way over to the adventurers. She bowed with an unmatched grace, even beneath tired eyes and weathered robes.

“I’m afraid we cannot offer you coin, kind adventurers,” she said, “but I cannot rightly let you leave unrewarded after doing something with no guarantee of return.”

She handed the knight a box. It was a little ornate, though the material didn’t look expensive.

“What are these things…?” the ranger asked with a suspicious glare.

“Moonboxes,” the nun replied. “A cultural symbol of East Gate. They’re meant to store your hopes and dreams. Our God Most High Posteria will keep them safe.”

The knight took the box solemnly. “Thank you. I’ll keep it close.”

He winked before he turned to the group. “Alright, team! We depart soon!”

Wait, what?! ALREADY?!

I stumbled after him, nearly tripping over my own feet. My head barely reached his chest.

So, in a fit of panic, I gave him a light punch to the gut. I couldn’t help it. There was no catharsis being felt, nothing dramatic that’d make this situation more meaningful.

I was tearing up. Being young again made everything feel so raw.

“You all are leaving… just like that?”

“Sorry, kid,” the knight said gently. “We’ve got a deadline that we need to meet, things to deliver.”

“But—but you said there’s an Adventurers’ Guild right here!”

“We can’t turn the client’s goods in through East Gate. If they find out, we risk getting blacklisted here and in other towns. Place is too isolated. Roads are so dangerous, the courier network cut you guys off entirely.”

“And besides,” Xaminen added, ever helpful, “East Gate’s a dump.”

“One of these days, Xa, I’m going to wrap tape around that snout of yours,” the knight muttered. “But… he’s not wrong. This Adventurer’s branch probably doesn’t even have the inventory stocked up to compensate us.”

My tears hit the ground. “B-but… you promised.”

Xaminen stepped in. “Sooner or later, you’re going to realize half of these ‘knights’ are not as chivalrous as they seem. I’d know…”

There’s a whole world out there. A life to chase. People to aspire to be…

And I’m stuck in a town where the guards and nobility that hate me and the orphanage I belonged to for something we had no control over.

“I’m sorry, kid,” the knight finished.

I stood stock-still as the kids were unloaded from the cart.

I stood stock-still as the party got their bearings, readying to leave.

I stood stock-still as the guards opened the gate to let them out.

Everyone was too busy to notice me in the hurry.

Everyone… except the gryphon.

He padded over and sat on his haunches beside me.

“What’s wrong?”

I sniffled. “I guess it’s s-sinking in…”

“That we survived the night? Yeah. Everyone’s first brush with death hits hard—”

“N-no, it’s not just that… It’s seeing you guys. You get to go wherever you want, do whatever you want, together with friends that love you. And I’m just…”

“Here?”

Xaminen was not one for sugarcoating.

I closed my eyes. “It sucks.”

For a moment, both of us said nothing; just taking in the sights of the township at night.

“Would you like my opinion, boy?” he gruffed. “It might not be what you want to hear.”

I nodded my head anyway.

“You’re not ready. Both you and I know that. You only made it out of that kobold mess because you got lucky that they were friendly. Most aren’t.” Xalximen rolled his broad shoulders. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… Right now, it might seem like you’ll be stuck here forever. But one day, you’ll get your shot. No ifs or buts. You’re gonna outlive this town. Outlive me. Outlive a world that hates you for things done before you were even born.”

Xaminen looked at me straight on now, not a hint of mockery in his tone.

“Yeah, the road to get there’s gonna be rough. And since you’re Crystal… even more so. But this feeling? It won’t last forever.”

He paused, reached into one of his side pouches, and pulled something out.

“Here,” he said.

It was a mask. Cold to the touch. One long crack ran down the cheek like a scar.

“Crystal scouts used to wear these during the war,” he said. “It’s hard to distinguish between you knife-ears from just your ear shapes. Made it immensely useful for them to stage an ambush when we least expected it.”

I stared at it, then at him.

“Why give this to me…?”

“It’s categorically more useful to you than it is to me,” he said, his voice softer now. “Might help you save face. Or survive long enough before you find your own.”

He turned back toward the gate, but not before giving my grey-white hair a quick ruffle.

“Do me a favor, kid,” Xaminen said. “Live.”

“I… I’ll find you again one day!” I blurted. “And we’ll have a drink together!”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll hold you to that, kid.”

As I watched him go, the weight finally sank in completely.

He was right—I did have something going. I would get my chance.

But first… I had a responsibility: Daisy.

Like it or not, she was technically under my care now. I was the one that got her into this contract mess. I needed to protect her from her old self.

I needed to earn my freedom.

Just as that thought landed, I felt a gentle tug on my shoulder.

It was the nun: Mother Martha. I had a quick glance around. Everyone was gone. Even Daisy.

Figures. They’d probably pulled faces when I started crying. This was probably just another Tuesday for them.

Did Martha wait for me all this while for my sake? And even still, Martha still managed to flash me a grin despite everything.

She was trying to cheer me up. I could tell.

“I thought you’d be more excited, Cotter~! Thought you’d never let us live this down. Saved by a Crystal Elf—and so many of us too!” She chuckled. “Figured you’d be bragging all the way back.”

Ugh. Don’t remind me I’d basically possessed a dead kid with a whole separate personality to mine. It didn’t matter if I didn’t ask for it. It still felt wrong.

She leaned closer, hands clasping together with a clap. “In fact, I think this calls for a celebration! What do you say, dear? Tomorrow, we feast! I know how much you love your food.”

Right on cue, my stomach rumbled. Of course.

“Come now," she said. "Let me walk you back, won’t you?”

We walked quietly.

The town wasn’t your usual brick-and-mortar fare like you’d see depicted in so many fantasy light novels. No cobblestone streets, no grand statues.

Instead, it felt grown. The houses were timber-framed, some with moss creeping up the sides, others with flowering vines woven into the walls.

But the closer we crept toward the orphanage, the more things started to… shift. The planks were older and rougher. The houses turned from lovingly carved to barely standing. People stopped looking at you in the eyes.

By the time we reached the orphanage, it was too dark to make out much. Most of the torchlights had been left unlit.

And just as we turned the final corner, I caught a glimpse of her cheek.

Tears.

But I couldn’t figure out why.