Ambush

Berus had no time to think. He pushed Mikkah back as their attacker hit him in the head again and again, which made his soul feel like the clapper of a bell, ringing with pain and brassy vibrations.

“Punch him!”

Ki-Rai, as always, was ready for him to throw down. Her eyes sparkled with clear admiration for the brutal attacks he had to endure.

But punching him was easier said than done. Berus could, for the most part, only defend, his focus completely occupied by their attackers, sword, arms and shoulders. If he couldn’t fully block, he could at least deflect the hits, but even then his opponent’s swordmanship was dangerous enough to slice through his metal.

Ah, how I miss sword fighting, he thought. He’s great.

“Please stop, we don’t wish to harm you!” Mikkah called out. “By Lucine, please stop!”

“Now! He’s hesitating! Punch him!” Ki-Rai cackled. “He won’t know what’s coming!”

He didn’t answer her, but he clearly refused to follow her order. After all, if they could get out of this without the fight escalating any further, that would be good.

“You’re no fun,” she huffed.

“Stop, Phorok,” a gentle, feminine voice ordered.

The man fully stopped his attacks, but he didn’t lower his sword. He was a man in his fifties, with a build almost as heavy as Berus’. His stance was strong, and even if one of his legs was made from intricately carved bone, he was still faster than the average human. He had an impressive black beard, peppered with a few silver strands, which moved as his scowl only deepened.

“Who are you? Who sent you?” he growled at them.

His arms were big and muscular, and held the sword with an ease that suggested decades of experience. He was no ordinary farmer, even though his outfit suggested otherwise. He wore a simple linen shirt and brown pants. Around his neck was a leather string with a rough blue gemstone. And not for a moment did he leave them out of his sight.

“Ahem!” Mikkah fixed her posture, and put on her best elven smile. “We are the heroes of prophecy. We came here to get rid of the demons.”

“Yeah, right. And why should you come here, of all places? How did you get rid of the spell?”

“Which spell?”

“Shouldn’t you know what I’m talking about, elf?” He glared at her.

“Um, well, of course. The stones.” She nodded. “A rather complicated magic, yes.”

Berus wasn’t sure if they bought it, but at least for the moment, the man called Phorok lowered his sword.

“We don’t want you here,” he grumbled. “We were abandoned. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

“That’s not true,” the young woman behind him said as she stepped forward, soft yet decisive. “Let us hear them out.”

“As you wish.” He sheathed his sword, but he looked ready to draw it at any sign of danger.

Still, he came out of the closet, and was followed by the woman behind him.

“I’m Iuria,” she said, and smiled at them. “And he is Phorok. Who are you, if I may ask?”

She was beautiful. She wore her blonde hair in a short, practical crop which only made her look cuter. In her right hand was a dagger, almost hidden in the folds of her green dress, but contrary to the man, she didn’t look ready to fight them. Said dress was also simple, old but well loved. It was patched in several places with neat stitches, making the embroidered flowers look intentional instead of necessary. Her skin was well-tanned, with freckles dusting her cheeks, forehead and shoulders. Everything about her radiated warmth and friendliness.

But Phorok didn’t let her past him.

“Stay there, please,” he said. “We don’t know their intentions.”

Mikkah’s smile looked more strained now. “As I said before, we’re the heroes of prophecy, and on our mission to rid this shard of the demons.”

Berus looked at her. It didn’t look like her story instilled hope in Phorok as she originally intended. But Iuria, on the other hand, looked at her with clear admiration in her eyes.

“So it’s true? You’re really an elf.”

“I am,” Mikkah confirmed, but Berus could tell she was suppressing a grin.

He sighed on the inside. If it worked, it worked, but…

“And I am her holy knight,” he said. “My name is Berus.”

Cringe. It wasn’t as bad as getting called the Demon King, but it wasn’t much better if he had to lie right to someone’s face like that.

“Hm.” Phorok wasn’t convinced.

And Berus could still feel how tense he was. A fight, even if both parties seemed willing to put their weapons away, wasn’t off the table. The tension was still thick in the air.

From the kitchen, a hissing sound came as the soup boiled over.

“Ah! Our lunch!”

Iuria ran past them, with Phorok right behind her. But he didn’t let them out of his sight. Mikkah and Berus exchanged a glance. Then, she shrugged.

“Let’s go after them,” she whispered. “I think we’re good.”
“I’m not so sure,” he whispered back.

But what choice did they have? And so, they walked after them. Iuria was already done saving as much of the soup as she could.

“Ah, what a mess,” she huffed. “Well, since this is the first time in… well, forever, why don’t I make more soup and we can all eat together?”

She looked at them all, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“If they could come in here, they should be able to leave,” Phorok grumbled. “I don’t see why we should give them food after they intruded.”

Mikkah twitched at that. “Ah, right. I’m sorry, but I think we smashed… um, unfortunately, we destroyed your wonderful pumpkin crop. And, um, my elven magic doesn’t include time reversal, I’m sorry to say.”

Of course not, Berus almost said out loud. That would be completely lore-breaking.

“Hmph.” Phorok glanced at her. “What kind of elf are you, even?”

“H-huh? Um…”

Guess it’s my turn to step in, Berus thought.

“We originally come from the mountains of Heaphane,” he explained. “Where the high elves look a little different from what you might know. After we were awoken from our slumber to fulfill the prophecy, we traveled all over the world shards until we arrived here at Medrica.”

It was one of the world shards that was mostly used by the playerbase to mine the rare metals used for the automaton upgrades that he was so painfully missing right now. And, of course, it was far away from this shard, but not so far that someone as suspicious as Phorok didn’t know it.

“Heaphane, hm,” Phorok said. “You’ve been traveling a whole lot.”
Mikkah nodded her head eagerly. “That’s right! I love the mountains of Heaphane!” She repeated the word with a pronunciation that told him she probably heard it here for the first time in her life.

“Why don’t you tell us more while I finish the soup?” Iuria said with a bright smile. “I’d love to hear more.”

Berus and Mikkah exchanged a glance.

“Sure,” he said, but in reality, he wasn’t sure they could keep their farce up.