To Be Revenged

It is the height of noon, and the sun's rays are burning hot to the touch. We take a rest under the shade of a relatively big tree some distance from Clearwater Lake.

The burying of the dead didn't take much time with the help of three pairs of hands. It surely helps that we are simply burying heads, and has no need to dig for more to compensate for the headless burning load of corpses

I lie on the large tree root, taking my time to rest. Trudviar is not here as he is busy hunting for food.

I feel the gaze of the woman of Clearwater Village.

"Who are you?" I offhandedly ask her. I didn't catch her name and it's the same for her as we are too immersed in the gloomy atmosphere which leaves us with the necessary introductions.

"I am Zeraya..." She softly mutters.

Zeraya in the ancient elven tongue means zealous heart. I don't know about her being zealous, but her parents must be quite the ideal kind.

"I am..." I was about to utter my name 'Art' so causally to her, but I cannot have that. "I am Arthram Fae Zorun, the Elf King of Lorekleim..."

"King?" Zeraya scoffs at my presumptuous introduction. That's only normal. "Just like the human kings?" She adds with hate on her tongue.

I tilt my head to look at her. She has dark hair which is very unusual for an elf. Usually, the elf kind either has brown, red, or blonde hair.

I caress my long hair with an unusual shade of gray. For elves, this hair coloration is also quite uncommon but dark hair is a different story.

I didn't even say anything, but Zeraya seems to detect my judging eyes.

"What? You would call me accursed too? Just say it! That I am a halfling! An evil spawn! Say it!"

Zeraya is in a very high emotional state. I have to be careful about what I say. Despite that, I take this as an opportunity to endear myself to her.

I know I am her savior and have entitlement over her, but I pity her instead. This world is truly primitive to its core for discriminations like this to even exist among elves which I deem is the most open society I lay my eyes upon.

"No. I wouldn't. I would like to ask you if you worked as an adventurer. Halflings have a tendency to go adventuring... for obvious reasons..."

Zeraya calms down at my straightforward question.

"Yes, I did adventuring work. But it is tough to live out there. Most often, people will try to scam you, and sell you as a slave... That's the reason I returned home..."

And the rest is history.

I prop myself up. I sit before her in a level manner making myself neither below her nor above her.

"The elves are a secluded race. We don't know so much about the outside world. That makes us weak..."

When Zeraya thinks that I am already a straightforward person, she will find a surprise in learning I can be more straightforward.

"Tell me, Zeraya, what does it take for you to swear fealty to me?"

Zeraya laughs ridiculing my words as a drunk man's idiotic blathering.

"Heh~ you serious? You really are a King? I might be a halfling, but I am not a retard. Elves don't have kings. We have village chiefs!"

I didn't bat an eye at her but simply continues to stare at her evading eyes. I want to get a look at her eyes, to see her soul, and sincerely tell her of the realness of my intentions.

"I have a rightful claim. Do you see my ashen gray hair? Do you know of the dreamt prophecy?"

I ask these rhetorical questions without any particular meaning to them. From here, I spin the web of lies which gives me a voice.

"In the bleeding flames of the raid. I fall under the well. In its darkness, and freezing water, I was trapped. The surrounding stone walls become the very confinement where I shall meet my end... or so I thought..."

I raise my still scabbing palms and continue on the tall tale.

"I climb the walls with all of my strength, yet time and time again, I fail. Long my palms soak the water and walls with the redness of my blood.

"For tenuous hours, I scream at the top of my lungs, begging for help, begging for the raiders to kill me. Yet they didn't come.

"Desperate to save my kin, I climb the walls with everything I have. I grind my teeth in frustration as my failure only gets more painful than the next.

"Finally at the light of morning dawn, I rise from the well... and what is left are but the cinders of my home... Despair engulfs me.

"I see my warrior tending to his dead daughter... crying just like I did... I walk away blindly hoping that my people are still alive.

"And there I see my elf kin all dead, their heads on pikes..."

I hide the deep sorrow that my mother's death brings me. I exaggerate the pain with my superfluous words, as I appeal to Zeraya's emotions.

"When I was a young boy... I met a human shaman once... he told me of a dream... of a prophecy of an Elf King... I am to fulfill that prophecy..."

Thus, I conclude my lie.

Zeraya's gaze meets mine.

"If you are lying, then you must be a very good liar..."

I contemplate her words. Did she catch on to my deception? Is my act over now? Would Trudviar leave me? Is this the end?

Zeraya drops to one knee. "This is how humans do it, right? How do elves do it?" She snarkily comments.

I smile.

"I am the destined child of a world beyond ours. I am Arthram Fae Zorun. My elf kin, receive me as your King and I shall point you to a path forward!"

I place my hand above her head as if offering her my blessings. I know this might be overkill, but the rituals are a necessity.

I am not a good man. I am trash, and I always repeat it to myself as to how too well aware I am of this truth.

For my revenge, I will raise an army.

Kingdom?

What Kingdom?

All of this is for the sake of revenge!

The earth will bleed washing the rivers red, and the world's fire shall pour down from the skies with hate.

"I am Zeraya, adventurer, and the last elf of Clearwater Village. I offer you my fealty, the elf who claims to be King..."

Zeraya lowers her head further showing her allegiance to me. She draws the dagger from her waist and offers it to me in adherence to the symbolism representing a knight's oath to their master.