On a road near the border between the Tristainian and Gallian kingdoms, a party on horseback emerged. Each person wore the same style of garb resembling that of monks’, with draped cloaks that made them indistinguishable from one another.
The group of travelers arrived at a site: the mountain pass. In nearby regions law and order was in great chaos, for brigands would often come here and cause trouble. It was between the countries’ borders where bandits and gangs could make the most of their talents. They raided travelers crossing the border and seized their wealth. When successful, they simply escaped into the neighboring country, yet even if officers captured the criminals, the officers often found they had no authority to prosecute them .
As a result, merchants and travelers armed themselves to the teeth and hired bodyguards when time came to cross the border.
Although times were tough, monks were not commonly robbed. One reason may be that harming a monk would be asking for divine retribution, evoking the contempt of the Gods, but the main reason was that there was no profit to be made from robbing one.
Today, however, the feral wolves seemed especially hungry.
Just shortly after treading into a place filled with thick vegetation, the group of monks was surrounded by ten gang members. The criminals possessed all sorts of weapons, from swords to pikes, even firearms.
“Stop.”
The monks, their path blocked, had no choice but to hold their horses. A man holding a sword approached, commanding everyone to dismount completely.
“Why do we have to dismount?” the leading monk asked. The bandits burst into noisy laughter.
“Naturally it’s because that thing can net us some cash!”
“In other words, you just want money, correct?” Spoken in an obviously Halkeginian language, Gallian, but with a distinct accent mixed in.
“You bet, ‘cause in order to make money, we brothers bust our asses to do business in this area.”
With a tone unfazed, a nun within the group unexpectedly responded: “Business? I’ll ask, is stealing from others like you are now doing to us your business? Have you received approval of this activity? Do you pay taxes to the government?”
The brigands heard the beautiful voice of a woman, and their eyes brightened.
“Hey, over there, let me see your face.”
The leading monk upon hearing this, held his breath.
“Stop; if you want money I’ll give it to you.”
He subsequently reached within his robes, fished out a small pouch and threw it onto the ground. A bandit pounced on it, and immediately let out a cry.
“Heavens, it’s gold sand, and so much of it.”
“Now, we would like to leave.”
The monks tried to move forward, but the brigands again blocked the way.
“Don’t worry. Us brothers are indeed hard-working, and our style is to grab everything we can get a hold of. Leave us your horses, and the woman too.”
“I refuse.”
“There’s no choice. I guess we’ll just help ourselves."
The bandit walked towards whom he suspected was the nun.
“Let me see; what kind of goods do you really have?”
Just as he attempted to place his hand on the woman, the monk leader gravely warned the bandit.
“If you dare touch her cloak, you will die. You only live once, so I advise you if you still treasure your life.”
The brigands went hysterical.
“Prove you monks will be able to catch us!”
The bandit used a pointed end (of his weapon (!)) to ruffle the nun’s cloak. Underneath the cloth, there appeared a woman’s face with the beauty of a fairy.
“Woah, this girl will sell for a high price!”
Every brigand had a cheerful expression.
“I gotta say, have you killed people before?”
Next to the nun, one monk, who up until now had said nothing, asked suddenly.
“Oh yeah. About once a month or so, hmm?”
As he was speaking, the bandit pulled the cloak off the nun entirely.
“ . . . Huh?”
When he saw what had previously been hidden under the cloak, the man’s thoughts numbed.
Long ears . . . not a human trait. Oh, right, this characteristic belongs to a certain race . . .
What is it?
Supposedly, they’re a people both strong and beautiful . . .
It’s a pity that man couldn't come to a final conclusion because a branch flew noiselessly into his chest.
“They’re elves!” the member with the pike cried out.
The monk leader . . . Ali, repeated the incantation.
“Oh forest branches, become arrows sharp, enemies will cry, through their bodies fly.” .
Responding to the spell, a nearby branch snapped off like a toothpick and became a high speed arrow aimed at the bandit who just shouted. The arrow launched into his mouth and emerged from the base of his skull (cervical vertebrae, back neck area).
The two brigands who held fire guns . . . aimed at the elves and pulled their triggers.
Defending both sides Luctiana, the gracefully postured elf, had long been preparing a spell.
“Oh wind and air, heed my call, a shield around me, form a wall.” .
The air shield received and deflected the bullets, flicking them far away with a loud pop. Upon seeing this, the brigands scattered, fleeing in all directions.
“El---elves are here!”
Ali shook his head somewhat disapprovingly (sadly? disappointed?).
“Oh forest branches long, reach to bind my foes strong.” .
Numerous outstretched branches coiled around the hands and feet of the brigands.
The rest of the sharp arrow branches flew around, homing in on the brigands’ throats or their stomachs in order to stab them.
After a few brief seconds, all was quiet once again. Using the same skill demonstrated in manipulating the branches, Ali moved the corpses into the deepest part of the forest, and soon after he again used earth magic to quickly bury the bodies.
When he was done with everything, Ali began to reprimand Luctiana.
“I tell you Luctiana! What were you thinking back there? How can someone ask those kind of questions?!”
In contrast, Luctiana looked like she could care less.
“Wha? If we have questions, no matter what we go and ask them; that’s our duty as scholars.”
“Really! Even if someone happens to be a savage murder, taking his life doesn’t make me feel warm and fuzzy inside.”
“Ok, next time I’ll be more careful.”
“For goodness’ sake, you have to. If we’re traveling by sea, we really wouldn’t have so much trouble, right? I’m not saying land travel is time-consuming, but it’s still very dangerous!”
“Well, think: if we came by sea, there wouldn’t be anything to sightsee along the way. A trip where we constantly stare at the unchanging water surface; I can only imagine the insufferable horror. A big ocean is even more boring than a desert.”
Luctiana spoke without reservation, and a male elf next to her laughed.
“So at this rate, we’ll never figure out who’ll be the team leader. Ali, Your Highness.”
“What do you mean, Edolis? (!) Without a doubt, Luctiana is the team leader here. We are merely servants accompanying Miss High and Mighty on her journey.”
Ali now finished with his bitter words, Luctiana once again yelled excitedly,
“Awesome! This lady can boss you around! Glorious people of the desert, we are the noble, chosen race responsible for protecting the world. Onwards! Objective: Kingdom of Tristainia, Des, Des, Des . . .”
The name was on the tip of her tongue.
“It’s Des Ornières,”
Ali rushed to inform her.
“Seriously . . . the names these barbarians come up with are real tongue twisters; doesn’t matter if they’re names of a person or a place.”
“Aren’t you a scholar?” Ali couldn’t help but ask.
Listening, Edolis (!) and another elf beside him, Matalf (!), started laughing together.
The desert elves, having covered themselves with their cloaks, followed the open road and traveled onwards.