My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

789 Delving Through Regrets, Part He was everywhere now.

That man, that one person she used to never bother to know the name of, now was present in every single memory of hers henceforth.

Every day of every moment, I could always count to hear the light thud of his cane making its way toward her like clockwork. It was always the same familiar scene, always the same familiar tree, with those same familiar silhouettes huddled beneath its winding branches.

They would talk the time away. Or he would, to be more precise. Adalia preferred to just listen to him ramble on and on about… anything, I suppose. There was a quiet moment with him around, and I think she liked that.

The instances where she was, the long days and nights where she would be left confined to her bed agonized by the constant throbbing reminders of her ebbing mortality as company made for quite the harrowing sight.

At least with him, whenever he would be present, it served as a reliable distraction and at times even, only sometimes – she could even briefly forget about it all.

“You’ve made a friend,” Amelia sounded through in another bygone memory after a long period of absence, her murky outline traversing lightly and slowly from the dark of night and through her doorway, almost as if hesitant to even enter. “A human. That cripple…”

“Liamel,” Adalia said, sitting hunched and feeble by the glow of candlelight.

“I didn’t expect that of you,” She crept a little closer. “Of now, especially. W-What use is making a friend now?”

.....

I could feel the tension in their stares.

“D-Did you not wish to die?” Amelia asked, then a little hopefully. “Or have you perhaps…?”

Adalia lifted her head higher, and Amelia chose to let her words trail. She quickly crossed her arms, hiding her discomfort, before beginning to rouse her composure again with a heavy breath.

“He looks forward to you, he waits for you. His heart beats, his blood rises when with you and I know you are aware of it yet you do not seem to mind. Do you love him?”

“What?” Adalia was genuinely surprised. “Amelia, do you even know what you are asking – ”

“Do you?”

“No, I do not,” She said sharply. “Enough now. You shouldn’t be here. I thought I told you to go.”

“I thought you wished to die,” Amelia responded speedily. “That you’ve grown too weary of life. If so, then why do you still cling to it? Why do you fight it? If you’ve already given up, you wouldn’t be alive right now – and yet you are.”

“Amelia…”

“No, tell me!” She demanded, and even as a shade, I could feel her exasperation teeming. “You should have regressed and yet you haven’t – you’re fighting it and I don’t know why. Why? Is it this human? Is he the reason? Do you care for him, love him? I don’t care that you have, please tell me that you have! You can only resist it for so long, so please tell me that he’s somehow convinced you to turn against your resolve. That he has changed your mind… t-that-that you’ve chosen instead to no longer leave me all alone, that you still want to live…”

Fears, frustrations, and hope, all in one desperate gasp of breath, of words. Hope that wavered, buckled, as her sister looked away from her, and as such soaring those fears and frustrations to greater peaks that should never be reached.

“I beg you, sister,” Amelia pleaded again, her arms, her icy demeanor completely falling away. “Just tell me that you do.”

As always the memory dissipated away to an abrupt end leaving any form of resolution swirling unseen and unheard within the darkness and fabrication of another vivid recollection. This time it was daylight again, outside again, with

the same familiar rustle of leaves billowing with the wind.

That same scene. That same tree. Liamel was talking.

Except Adalia wasn’t listening.

“...ignore it.”

Her silhouette then suddenly stirred, snapping out of a deep daze, finding herself meeting Liamel in his eyes, just as soon as he turned away from her own.

“What?” She asked him. “What did you ask me?”

“To ignore what I just said,” Liamel answered, chuckling slightly. “Though it seems, you’ve done me an even greater kindness in having not heard me at all.”

“Return me the favor,” She said impatiently. “Repeat what was just said.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Then why did you say it in the first place?”

“A spur of selfishness, I suppose. I let it briefly overtake me. Fortunately, you were none the wiser. So let us just move past it, shall we? I heard your sister came to visit yesterday… what news did she bring?”

Adalia fell quiet once again. Her frail, gaunt figure was a ghastly image even when compared to days prior and I knew as she did there wasn’t much time for her left. Whatever was to happen, it was going to happen very, very soon.

“Your selfishness,” She whispered feebly. “I want to hear it.”

“Adalia, I assure you, they’re not even worth the breath I expended to…”

“I will be gone from this world soon, so whatever you have to say to me, say it,” She interjected. “Whatever shame, whatever stain to your character it may bring, rest assured, they’ll be temporary.”

It took him a while to relent, a while to convince himself that she was right. But in all honesty, he didn’t actually need to say a single word. All the things he’s done, all the things he’s said, it was as clear as day what he wished to say.

“I love you, Adalia,” He said, his voice fluctuating between a whisper and a yell. “Before you go, I just thought I wanted you to know that. That, yes, I am quite deeply enamored by you.”

I felt something heavy seep inside me as I took in my next breath. Nestling in my lungs, pressing against my chest. It was a bizarre feeling.

“Oh, that,” Adalia’s shadow heaved again, completely indifferent. “Do you not recall me stating that I’m already aware that you are? Your intention, your reasons. Kind as you may be, not even you are above your intrinsic desires.”

“I know,” He nodded. “But I wanted you to hear it from me, I needed you to hear it from me, because… I suppose… I desire to hear what you have to say.”

“And just what is there for me to say?”

“Well, for starters,” He inclined his head, out of embarrassment, politeness, I wouldn’t know. “Do you feel the same way?”

“And this, you ask of a dying woman…”

He snorted, and in his faceless expression, I could almost picture a sheepish grin. “Selfish, wouldn’t you say?”

I wish I knew what she was thinking. In that violent whirling of thoughts stirring inside that mind of hers, I wish I could catch a glimpse of just one. Right here, right now, I wanted to know what she was thinking, what she truly had to say.

“I… I don’t know,” She confessed to him, curling her arms around her knees once more. “You speak of love, of infatuation, but I do not know it. Not really. I look at you, what exactly am I supposed to feel of it?”

“Not hatred, I hope,” He joked. “Though I know for certain, we’ve long passed that hurdle. Love is… broad. Define in so many ways, and different for every single person. You ask me – you want to know what love is for me?”

“Explain it.”

Liamel pressed a hand to his face, clearly distressed, mortified. In his head, I’m sure he had expected this to go in a completely different direction. A feeling that I knew all too well.

I almost wanted to laugh, yet it was like the more air I breathed, the worse the sensation got. It was numbing, throbbing and confusing all at the same time. After another long while, Liamel finally spoke up again, having found his words.

“Love is a strand of grass rippling. Love is sitting down beneath the shade of a tree and simply watching as the day turns to night. Love is nervously pacing about, fretting over whether I should knock on your door. Love is being eager to confront you of your belated dues no matter how much you’d spite me for it. Love is relishing every chance I get to talk to you. Love is being here with you and wishing it never has to end. Simply put, love is… simply just loving you.”

When he had finished, Liamel gasped for breath, quickly retreading his gaze in the complete opposite direction. He grabbed his cane, and as a means to stave off his own unease, began fiddling around with it… throwing the occasional glance back at Adalia, whose reaction remains as much an enigma to him as it was to me.

“If nothing else,” She slowly began. “At least you’re extremely genuine with your assertions.”

“I mean every word,” He muttered. “And so much more.”

“Yes, I do not doubt it,” Adalia let her arms fall, allowing her legs to spread flat onto the earth. “Yet for me, it seems my view of love is vastly different from yours. Or perhaps I still do not know what it actually is yet. ”

Liamel sighed, and yet, he appeared not the slightest dismayed by what she had to say.

“That’s okay. Do not feel compelled to reciprocate. I just wished for you to know how I felt, and to hear your response – whatever it may be. I am content, more than grateful, just for this opportunity to even express myself to you the way I have.”

The Adalia beside me tightened her grip just as her shadow curled hers into squirming fists.

“But have you really?” She suddenly asked. “You claim that you love me, and yet you’ve only words to attest to it. Words that I can barely grasp. Sentiments that I cannot fathom. Am I truly to understand this skewed love of yours?”

“I…” in my eyes, I saw a smile fade from Liamel’s face. “I suppose it is a little difficult to accurately express myself with words alone, but…”

“So, don’t tell me, show me,” They both turned at the same time to look at each other. Liamel frozen stiff, and Adalia heaving another heavy breath. “Show me how you love me, Liamel.”

“A-Are… Adalia…” He choked, a lump in his throat stifling his words. “Are you sure you…”

“Show me how deep your love is and maybe then I’ll finally understand just what love is to me too, ” Adalia repeated, scooting an inch closer when he wouldn’t, hesitating briefly, before doubling down completely. “And maybe then… I’ll finally be able to actually answer you.”

That feeling in my chest began to sear. I saw him slowly, his fingers trembling, as he placed his only hand on her shoulder, and it flared even more. I tried to ignore it, I didn’t even want to acknowledge it. He shuffled closer, close enough that she could probably feel the warmth of his tense breathing.

“Alright,” He whispered to her once, and then no more.

Just shadows, as he leaned closer to her. Just splotches of ink of a distant memory, as she slightly raised her head toward his. I’m just being stupid I repeated to myself over and over… as Liamel slowly, passionately began kissing her deeply.

I watched Adalia raise her hands, restraint trembling her arms, before ultimately giving away to hold him in an embrace. Stupidity, absurdity, I called this pressing feeling inside of me. After a moment, an eternity, I saw Adalia stir again, the sway of their bodies, the shift in their positions, as Liamel fell slightly backward, as she just as feverishly, passionately kissed him back.

Then in a blink of an eye, suddenly, I was staring at a piece of stray rubble, a costume belonging to some nobleman loosely draped over its craggy edges. All around, faint shadows of props and set dressings were cast across the snow-glittered concrete, illuminated by the glow of the cityscape through fractured windows.

The memory had disappeared, the silhouettes had vanished, and the darkness all around had evaporated. Beside me, Adalia stood inches away, her hand apart from mine, hanging almost lifelessly at her side.

Everything had gone now.

Yet that stupid feeling remained with me.

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