Header image: https://i.imgur.com/5I3OPXc.jpg
Built on the outskirts of Sweetroot, the old watchtower had been built back in the days when the lands were still untamed, and constant vigilance was needed against the roaming hordes that threatened what civilization man had managed to build.
Peaceful times had since abandoned it to the elements. Moss had grown over the bricks, and the wood was stained and cracked by the sun and rain, but the tower stood solid and tall, albeit missing a few pieces. On the top balcony sat the woman in white, and the uncertain half-elf, who'd finished his tale. He took a break and settled himself, unused to talking for that long.
"It's an interesting story," Verona said, her expression thoughtful as she gazed out at the forest that surrounded this side of the town. "I've certainly never heard it before."
"I've never really told it to anyone," Lang said, slowly nodding. "Wait. What do you mean?"
"How much of it is true?" Verona casually asked.
Lang frowned. "All of it. Why would I lie?"
"It certainly seems true to you," Verona said, a faint little smile playing across her lips. "I can tell that much. But how much of it actually is?"
Lang folded his arms. "If you have something to say, then just say it. What I know is what my sister said. She saved my life."
"You're grateful, I'm sure." Verona said. "And family is important. But it's painfully clear that you're both hiding things from each other."
"Like what?" Lang demanded.
"I couldn't help but notice that the entire time you were in the shop, you were clutching at that little bag of yours," Verona said. "I thought I'd take a look."
Lang went pale.
"There were a couple of trinkets, and some money-which I've graciously deducted from what you owe me-but most interestingly I found...this." At this, Verona produced a small, metal key with a flourish. It glinted in the moonlight.
"What does it open?" she asked.
Lang turned away. "It isn't important," he mumbled.
"Something of your sisters', I would imagine," Verona said. "Does she know you have it?"
Lang rubbed the back of his head. "It's for her own good," he said, more to himself than to Verona. She raised an eyebrow.
"It's your funeral," she conceded. "But anyone can tell she's got something planned, and I don't think you have what it takes to get in her way."
Lang hunched over, staring at his feet as they dangled over the side of the balcony. "This time I do," he said softly.
The two sat there in silence for some time, before Lang spoke again.
"What's she hiding from me?" he asked. Verona bit her lip.
"I've seen all kinds of magic out there, Lang," she said, hesitating. "There's plenty of ways to change a child from one race to another, but I've never seen anyone do it halfway. There's...only one way to make a half-elf."
Lang gripped his knees tightly, but said nothing.
"You know. The usual way," Verona said uncomfortably.
"I got that," Lang spat. He stared off into the forest, far below.
"I know it's hard to accept," Verona continued. "And knowing it can isolate you even more than you already are. To humans, we look just like elves, but to elves, we're the same thing as a human, only worse. We just don't fit...anywhere."
Lang shut his eyes tightly.
"But that doesn't mean you have to be be alone," Verona said. "Everyone in my group's a little bit of a freak, but-"
"You can't know that," Lang interrupted.
"Know what?" Verona asked.
"Any of that," Lang said, the words stumbling over each other. "You don't know me. What I am. Who I am. If I'm alone, if..."
His voice trailed off, and he stared out into the night sky. "If my sister's leaving again," he finished, the words carried away by the breeze.
"Ah," Verona said, nodding. "There it is."
"I shouldn't have told you that," Lang said, flushing red.
"No, I'm glad you did," Verona said softly. "You know, you could just go with her." She reached out to comfort him, but her hand stopped a foot away from him, her fingers meeting an invisible wall of force that glowed yellow where she touched.
"What is it that you want from me?" Lang asked, his voice muffled from behind his shield.
"I was thinking along the lines of fifty gold?" Verona said, smiling uncertainly.
"That's not it," Lang said. "You might want money, but the way you're dressed, you certainly don't need it. What's the play here?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Verona said, confused.
Lang glared up at her. "You've been trying to set me against my sister all night, but now you want me to go with her?" As he spoke, his words started coming out faster, and more erratically. "I thought it was strange, you and your party being in town, but you weren't just passing by, were you? Of course not. Nothing ever happens here."
"None of that makes any sense, Lang," Verona carefully said.
"It makes perfect sense," Lang hissed, his shoulders shaking with emotion. "A bastard like me would know."
Verona raised her arms, and stood up. "You've obviously had a long day, so I'll see you in the morning. I'll let you know what my people say about the theft."
Lang didn't respond. Verona sighed, and rubbed the bridge of her nose.
"That 'me against the world' bullshit's only going to take you so far," she growled. "Look what it did to your sister."
"We're done here," Lang said, his voice cold and hard.
"You can lie to yourself all you want, but the truth's out there," Verona said. "Sooner or later, it'll find its way back to you. Take it from a bastard like me."
With that said, the woman drew her cloak up around herself, and disappeared.
Lia walked briskly through the forest, lashing out every now and then to push aside the occasional tree branch. Gone now was the limp in her step, disappearing as soon as she'd unstrapped the deceptively small but heavy secret bag from around her leg.
After about half an hour of walking, she passed by the house she'd grown up in, and stopped at the old, jagged tree stump in the middle of what had once been her training grounds, all those years ago. On the ground was a small backpack. She picked it up and opened it, checking to see its contents hadn't been disturbed since the last time she'd been here.
A small wheel of cheese, some nuts, half a loaf of bread. One sharp knife, one packet of matches, coated with wax at the heads to keep them dry. A cloak, and a few gold coins.
All in all, not enough to last a long trip, but enough for the one she had in mind. The deeper woods were two hours away from here, and there, she knew, she would find her game. Some slimes, a couple giant of giant rats, maybe even a few wandering goblins.
Not much, and not even worth hunting for real heroes like the ones in the town tonight, but enough for her. Enough to make her stronger, bit by bit, every night she came out here to hunt. To grind.
She slung the backpack over her shoulder, feeling it bump against the staff in its harness. The dimensional ruby glowed with an assuring red glow. The new axe she'd bought from Havel felt solid and comforting in her hands. She didn't know what the staff would do, but she felt sure it could only make her stronger.
Soon, she'd be strong enough to do what she had to.
Not yet. But soon.
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