Announcement
Author's Announcement: 4K Views, First Rating, and a New Release Schedule!
First of all, I'd like to extend my sincere thanks to everyone who has decided to stick around for the ride so far. Whether you've been following the story from the very beginning or only recently stumbled upon it, I'm grateful that you've chosen to give my work a chance.
And with that said, we have a couple of small milestones worth celebrating!
Over 4,000 views in just one week, and the story's very first rating—a full five stars!
Honestly, I wasn't sure what kind of reception this story would receive when I first started publishing it, so seeing these numbers and knowing that some of you are genuinely enjoying the journey is encouraging. Thank you for making this little experiment more exciting than I could have hoped for!
A New Chapter Release Schedule
Now, on to the main announcement.
Starting this week, new chapters will be released once a week, every Friday.
There are several reasons behind this decision, and I'd like to briefly explain them.
First, quality over quantity.
I'd rather take my time writing and refining each chapter than rush through the story simply to maintain a steady stream of updates. I want each chapter to have enough substance to justify its place in the story, and I believe that requires giving the writing the time it deserves.
Second, I don't think it would be fair to you, the readers, to artificially split chapters into smaller pieces just to keep up with the algorithm and maintain visibility.
If a chapter works best as a complete piece, then that's how I'd prefer to publish it. I'd rather give you a satisfying reading experience than stretch the material out into multiple updates for the sake of numbers.
Lastly, there are plenty of other aspiring authors out there who are also working hard and hoping for their own moment in the spotlight.
Visibility on platforms like Scribble Hub can make a real difference, especially for newer writers who are still trying to find their audience. While I certainly hope this story continues to reach more readers, I don't want to chase that goal at the expense of the writing itself or lose sight of the fact that others deserve a chance to be discovered, too.
Ultimately, this is a story I want to develop at a pace that allows me to explore its ideas, characters, and setting properly. A weekly schedule feels like the right balance for that.
One Last Favor
Before I wrap things up, I'd like to ask something of those of you who have been consistently following the story and reading the chapters as they come out.
If you've been enjoying the story, please consider leaving a rating or, if you're willing, a short review.
Don't feel pressured to write an elaborate critique or a lengthy analysis. Even a few sentences would mean a lot!
For instance, you could tell me which character you've liked the most so far, which part of the setting caught your attention, or what aspect of the story you've found most interesting. I'm genuinely curious to hear what has resonated with you as readers.
As this is a side project where I'm experimenting with ideas and seeing how they translate into an actual story, your feedback is particularly valuable. It helps me understand what's working, what captures your interest, and what you would like to see more of as the story develops.
Of course, if you'd rather simply read along quietly, that's perfectly fine, too. I'm happy to have you here either way!
Once again, thank you to everyone who has read, rated, commented, or simply taken a chance on this story.
Here's to the next milestone, and hopefully many more chapters to come!
See you next Friday! October 30th.
I woke to the unpleasant sensation that something was pressing against my cheek.
For a few seconds, I remained still, hoping that whatever it was would disappear if I ignored it long enough. The room was quiet, the morning light had only begun to creep through the narrow window, and the warmth beneath my blanket made getting out of bed seem like an entirely unreasonable demand.
Then I shifted my head and felt the unmistakable edge of a book.
I opened one eye.
The book lay half beneath my pillow, its cover bent slightly upward where I had apparently spent the night pressing my weight against it. I stared at it with the weary resignation of someone who had just discovered that her own habits had conspired against her.
I vaguely remembered reading in bed the previous evening. I had intended to finish the chapter I was on before going to sleep, but at some point, the words must have blurred together, and I had apparently decided that the book could serve as an additional pillow.
It was not the most dignified way to treat something I had been so eager to read.
Fortunately, nobody had witnessed it.
At least, that was what I thought until Mara spoke.
"Well, now. What's this?"
I turned my head.
Mara stood beside her bed, halfway through tying her apron. Her brown hair was neatly gathered back, and she had already dressed for the morning. She was looking at the book beside my pillow with an expression of such obvious amusement that I immediately regretted waking up.
Before I could come up with a suitable explanation, she crossed the room and pulled it free.
I pushed myself upright.
"I was wondering where I'd left that."
"Clearly, you thought it needed a comfortable place to sleep."
She turned the book over in her hands, inspecting the cover as though she had discovered some rare and fascinating object.
"Even in your dreams, you're reading. Quite the scholar, aren't you?"
"I must have left it there last night."
"Of course." Her smile widened. "And perhaps you were planning to finish the chapter in your sleep?"
"I don't believe books are particularly useful for that."
"A shame. You might finally get some rest if you could finish your reading while asleep."
She handed it back to me.
I accepted it and examined the cover. There was no visible damage beyond a slight bend along one corner, which I could probably straighten with a little patience.
"At least it appears to have survived the night," I remarked.
"Your book, perhaps. I can't say the same for your reputation."
"My reputation?"
"Whatever reputation you might have had before I discovered that you sleep with books beneath your pillow."
I looked at her.
Mara looked back.
There was a time when I would have struggled to find an appropriate response to such a ridiculous accusation. Or, more accurately, there had been a time when I would have wondered whether responding at all was worth the effort.
Now, however, I found myself wanting to answer her simply because she was so clearly enjoying herself.
"I'll try to be more considerate of its needs in the future."
Mara pressed a hand to her chest.
"How thoughtful. Perhaps you'll even tuck it in before bed tonight."
"Only if you promise not to interrupt its sleep."
She stared at me for a moment.
Then she laughed.
It was not a particularly loud laugh, nor did it last long, but the sound filled our little room in a way that made it feel warmer than it had a few moments earlier.
"Careful, little one," she said, finally regaining her composure. "Keep talking like that, and I'll start thinking you've developed a sense of humor."
"I wouldn't want to encourage such an unreasonable expectation."
"Too late. I've already begun to hope."
She turned toward the door and gestured for me to get moving.
"Come along, scholar. If we're late for breakfast, you'll have to explain to the kitchen why your book needed more sleep than you did."
I carefully placed the book on my bed, making a mental note to put it somewhere more sensible that evening.
Then I followed her out.
It was becoming increasingly difficult to remember the last time a morning had begun with something so ordinary.
For much of my time since arriving at the estate, I had measured my days by the things I needed to avoid. I watched the people around me, learned the household's rules, and tried to ensure that I never made a mistake that might bring unwanted attention.
I still did those things.
The difference was that they were no longer the only things occupying my mind.
Sometimes, I thought about what I wanted to read next. Sometimes, I caught myself looking forward to a conversation with Mara. And occasionally, as had happened just now, I found myself answering a joke before I had time to consider whether it was safe to do so.
Perhaps these were small changes.
They were still changes.
And for now, I was content to let them happen.
Breakfast was already underway when Mara and I entered the servants' dining room.
The room was filled with the familiar sounds of an ordinary morning. Benches scraped against the floor, dishes passed from hand to hand, and several conversations competed for attention without any of them becoming particularly important.
I took my usual place beside Mara and reached for a piece of bread.
Tomas was seated farther down the table.
For the past several days, he had spent much of his time around the stables, checking on the two sick horses and helping Vale investigate the water supply. The uncertainty had weighed on him more heavily than I had realized at first.
Now, however, he seemed different.
He was speaking with Joren about some matter involving the stable yard, and although his expression remained serious, the tension around his eyes had eased. When Elsbeth asked whether either horse had improved, he answered without the same weary hesitation I had noticed before.
"Not much yet," he said. "But we're keeping them on the alternative supply and watching them closely. At least we have something to follow up on now."
"That's something, I suppose," Elsbeth replied.
"It is."
Tomas took a drink and returned to his conversation with Joren.
I watched him for another moment before turning back to my breakfast.
Perhaps that was all it took.
A problem without an apparent cause could leave a person feeling helpless. There was nothing to do except wait, worry, and wonder whether the next piece of news would be worse than the last.
But once there was a direction to pursue, even an uncertain one, the situation changed. There were questions to ask, possibilities to examine, and actions that might lead somewhere useful.
Tomas still didn't know what had caused the horses to become ill. Neither did Vale. They had no proof that the water was responsible, much less any idea of what might have affected it.
Yet they had a place to begin looking.
For someone who cared so much about the animals under his responsibility, that was probably enough to restore some of his determination.
Mara noticed me looking down the table.
"Something on your mind?"
I shook my head.
"Nothing in particular."
She followed my gaze toward Tomas, then returned her attention to me.
"Well, whatever it is, try to finish breakfast before it gets cold."
"I was eating."
"You were contemplating your bread."
"I can do both."
"Apparently. Though I wouldn't recommend making a habit of it. Bread tends to be rather uncooperative when neglected."
I gave her a sideways glance.
"Is that another lesson from your extensive experience?"
"Naturally. I am full of valuable wisdom."
"I'll be sure to remember that."
"You'd better."
She took another bite of her breakfast, apparently satisfied with the exchange.
I returned to my food.
The conversation might have ended there, but I found myself thinking about the investigation again.
If Vale and Tomas had decided that the water was worth examining, they would need to trace where it came from. Checking the troughs and containers within the estate could only tell them so much. If the problem originated somewhere farther away, they would have to look beyond the grounds.
I wondered how far they would need to go.
Then I reminded myself that the question was not mine to answer.
I had offered a suggestion because I had noticed something that seemed worth considering. Tomas had taken it seriously, and Vale had decided to investigate.
That was where my involvement ended.
I had no training in identifying illnesses in animals. I knew even less about the water systems of a medieval fantasy estate. Whatever reasoning had led me to suggest the water source, it did not make me qualified to solve the problem.
There was no point pretending otherwise.
I finished my breakfast, set aside my dishes, and followed Mara into the working day.
The change became more noticeable as the morning went on.
In the previous days, the stable yard had been unusually busy. Workers had checked the water troughs, inspected containers, and examined anything that might have contributed to the horses' illness. Tomas had spent so much time going between the stables and the surrounding buildings that catching sight of him elsewhere had become something of a rarity.
Now, there seemed to be fewer people moving around the estate in search of an immediate explanation.
The horses were still being watched, and the alternative water supply remained in use. I saw a worker carrying fresh water toward the stables and another checking a container near the storage area.
But the repeated inspections of the same places appeared to have slowed.
At first, I assumed they might simply have run out of things to check.
Then, while carrying a small bundle of folded linens toward one of the household rooms, I passed two servants speaking near a side passage.
"They've gone beyond the grounds again," one of them said.
"Who has?"
"Tomas and one of the workers. I heard they were following the watercourse upstream."
"Looking for what?"
"How should I know? Whatever they're looking for, I imagine they'll find it eventually."
The second servant gave a doubtful grunt.
"Or they'll spend the whole day walking around and come back with nothing."
"Maybe. But at least they're doing something."
Their conversation ended as one of them noticed me approaching. Both stepped aside, allowing me to pass without another word.
I continued down the corridor with the linens in my arms.
Following the watercourse upstream.
The phrase stayed with me.
It made sense. If the water entering the estate came from a larger source beyond the grounds, then examining the estate's own pipes, channels, and containers would only reveal part of the picture. They would need to understand where the water originated and what might be entering it along the way.
A stream could pass through several different places before reaching its destination. Anything introduced farther upstream might travel with it, perhaps changing as it mixed with the surrounding water.
Even if the water looked perfectly ordinary by the time it reached the estate, that wouldn't necessarily mean it was safe.
I stopped myself before the thought could go any further.
That was the sort of thing I could speculate about endlessly without learning anything useful.
Tomas and Vale were already investigating it. They had more knowledge of the estate's water supply than I did, and they could ask questions of people who actually understood how it worked.
My task was to deliver the linens.
So I did.
The rest of the morning passed much as it usually did. I helped sort supplies, carried a few items between rooms, and spent part of my time assisting with the pantry inventory. There were small mistakes, minor corrections, and the usual reminders to put things back where they belonged.
Nobody asked me to explain my earlier suggestion.
Nobody appeared particularly interested in the fact that I had been the one to mention the water.
I was grateful for that.
It was one thing to be useful by noticing something obvious. It was another to become known as the child who had somehow offered a suggestion that the adults were now taking seriously.
I had no desire to encourage questions about how I thought.
My knowledge of this world was limited enough already. Drawing attention to the parts of my reasoning that seemed unusual would only make things more difficult.
Besides, I had other things I wanted to learn.
That thought returned to me while I was putting away a stack of clean cloths.
The elves.
I had thought about them more than once since Mara told me the story of the traveler in the ancient forest. At the time, I had treated it as a piece of folklore, something meant to entertain a child before sleep.
But the story had left me with questions.
Did elves really live in those deep forests? Were they common enough that people occasionally encountered them, or were they so distant from human settlements that most people knew them only through stories?
And if they did exist, what were they actually like?
I had learned about the dwarves through Adrian's travel book in the library. Their settlements, their trade, and their reputation for practical skill had all given me a slightly clearer picture of one of the world's other peoples.
The elves, however, remained little more than a name attached to mysterious forests.
I wanted to know more.
For once, the desire had nothing to do with avoiding danger or improving my chances of survival. I was simply curious.
The realization was strange enough that I found myself dwelling on it for a moment.
Then I finished putting away the cloths and decided that, if my duties allowed it, I would visit the library during my next break.
My opportunity came shortly after midday.
I had finished the task assigned to me and had a little time before I needed to report to the next part of my work. Rather than remain idle, I asked whether I could visit the library.
The answer was an indifferent permission, accompanied by a reminder not to neglect my duties if I found something interesting to read.
I promised I wouldn't.
Then I made my way through the estate.
The library was one of the few places where I could spend time without feeling that every moment needed to be justified by some practical purpose. The room was quiet, the shelves held more books than I could reasonably hope to read, and nobody seemed particularly concerned about what I chose to examine as long as I handled the volumes carefully.
It was, in its own way, a luxury.
When I entered, the room was empty.
Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, falling across the tables and the dark wood of the shelves. The air carried the faint scent of old paper and polished furniture. A few books had been left on a table near the far wall, but otherwise the room appeared undisturbed.
I paused just inside the doorway.
Last time I had visited, I had already known what I wanted to read. Adrian had noticed the travelogue in my hands and started a conversation about the dwarven settlement described in it.
This time, I had no book.
I needed to find one.
I began with the shelves containing books about geography and travel. I searched through titles describing forests, distant kingdoms, and routes between human settlements. Some were clearly written by travelers who had visited the places they described. Others appeared to be collections of older accounts, assembled by people who had never left their homes.
I found several references to elves, but most were brief.
One book described a forest where travelers supposedly lost their way, even when following a familiar road. Another mentioned a settlement that had once traded with nearby human villages, though the account offered no reliable date for when those exchanges had occurred.
A third contained a map of an ancient kingdom whose eastern boundary ended at a vast expanse of forest. The accompanying text suggested that the region beyond it had never been fully explored.
I read the relevant passages, then returned the books to their places.
They offered fragments, but no clear answers.
Perhaps I was looking in the wrong section.
I moved to another set of shelves, this time examining books about the history of the surrounding kingdoms. If elves had once interacted with humans more frequently, there might be references to them in records that weren't specifically about their race.
It was a reasonable approach.
Unfortunately, the books were not arranged in any order that I could immediately understand. Some were grouped by subject, others by author, and a few appeared to have been placed wherever a space had become available.
I pulled out a thick volume and examined its title.
A History of the Eastern Marches.
Possibly useful.
I opened it and skimmed the first few pages. The book discussed border disputes, the founding of several human settlements, and a series of agreements between minor rulers.
There was a mention of elves on one page, but it referred to a treaty that had supposedly been signed centuries earlier. The details were sparse, and the text did not explain whether the treaty had ever been honored.
I closed the book.
At this rate, I could spend the entire afternoon reading about people who had mentioned elves without learning much about the elves themselves.
Still, I preferred this problem to the ones I had grown accustomed to solving.
I could search shelves. I could read. I could discover that a book was useless and try another.
Nobody was going to drug my drink or sell me because I had chosen the wrong volume.
The thought was unpleasant, but it was also a reminder of how much my circumstances had changed.
I reached for another book.
"Looking for something in particular? I might be able to help."
The voice came from directly behind me.
I startled so badly that the book slipped in my hands.
I caught it against my chest before it could fall, then turned around.
Adrian stood a few steps away, carrying several books against one arm.
For a brief moment, I could only stare at him.
Then I remembered where I was and quickly lowered my head.
"Young master."
He glanced at the book I was holding, then at the shelves around me.
"There's no need to look so alarmed. I haven't caught you doing anything forbidden."
"I wasn't alarmed."
His eyebrows rose slightly.
"Of course not."
I realized that I was still holding the book rather tightly.
I loosened my grip.
Adrian's mouth twitched, but he was kind enough not to comment further. He shifted the books in his arms and glanced at the shelf I had been examining.
"So, what are you searching for?"
I hesitated.
There was no reason to hide it. I had been looking through the shelves openly, and my interest was hardly something forbidden.
"Information about elves," I answered. "If there are any books that describe where they live, particularly their settlements in the deep forests."
Adrian's expression changed slightly.
Not dramatically. He didn't look suspicious or alarmed. Rather, he seemed to find my answer unexpected.
"Elves?"
"Yes, young master."
"That's a rather specific subject."
I waited.
He studied me for another moment, perhaps wondering why a child my age would be searching for such information. If he was curious about my reasons, he chose not to ask.
Instead, he glanced toward the shelves.
"I may be able to help. There are a few books that mention them, although I should warn you that you won't find much."
"Not much?"
"Not compared to what we know about dwarves, at any rate. And even the information we have is often unreliable."
He shifted the books in his arms again.
I bowed my head.
"Thank you, young master."
He gave a small, almost dismissive wave.
"Think nothing of it."
Then he walked toward the shelves on the opposite side of the room.
I watched him for a moment before returning the book in my hands to its place.
Adrian moved through the library with the ease of someone who had spent a great deal of time there. He knew where the books belonged without needing to consult any labels, and he seemed to remember which shelves held particular subjects.
It made me wonder how many of the volumes he had read.
He returned two of the books to a shelf near the windows, then carried the remaining one toward a table where several other volumes had been arranged in a neat stack.
I waited patiently.
When he finished, he returned to the shelves where I stood.
"Now, then," he said. "Let's see what we can find."
Adrian began by asking me what I already knew about elves.
I considered the question.
"Very little."
"How little?"
"Enough to know that people tell stories about them living in deep forests. Not enough to know whether those stories are accurate."
He nodded.
"That's a sensible place to begin."
He walked along the shelves, scanning the titles.
"Do you know much about the history of the kingdoms?"
I shook my head.
"Not really."
"Any of it?"
"I've read a few things since coming here, but I haven't studied history properly."
That was the safest way I could explain it.
My knowledge of this world's past was practically nonexistent. I could understand the language and recognize the basic structure of the society around me, but I had no idea how its kingdoms had formed, which wars had shaped its borders, or why certain peoples seemed to occupy particular places in its history.
I had been too busy trying to survive to worry about such things.
Adrian seemed to accept my answer without further questions.
"Then perhaps a little history would help. It's difficult to understand the elves' present circumstances without knowing something about their past."
He stopped before a shelf and pulled out a relatively thin volume. He examined the spine, opened the book briefly, and turned several pages before returning it to the shelf.
"Although, to be fair, history is rarely as clear as people would like it to be."
"Because records are lost?"
"That, and because the people writing them aren't always interested in telling the same story."
He continued along the shelf.
"Victors prefer to record their victories. Rulers prefer to remember the decisions that made them look wise. And people who lose a war often have very different opinions about why they lost it."
"Then how can anyone know what actually happened?"
Adrian glanced at me.
"By comparing accounts, looking for evidence, and accepting that some questions may never have satisfactory answers."
He said it casually, as though it were an obvious fact.
Perhaps to him, it was.
I found myself thinking about the books I had already examined. A treaty mentioned in one account might be described differently in another. A settlement could be considered abandoned by one historian and destroyed by another. Even the disappearance of an entire people might leave behind only fragments of explanation.
It was a sobering thought.
Adrian pulled another book from the shelf and began turning its pages.
"There was a great war long ago," he said. "Before the present kingdoms had become what they are today. The human realms were younger then, and many of them were divided by disputes over territory and power. They didn't always agree on much, even when they shared a border."
"That sounds familiar," I remarked before I could stop myself.
He looked at me.
I quickly added, "From what I've read about the smaller kingdoms."
"Ah."
His expression suggested that he wasn't entirely convinced, but he didn't challenge me.
"Well, whatever their disagreements, the human kingdoms eventually had a greater problem to deal with. The demonic forces began to spread, and the threat became too great for any one kingdom to face alone."
He closed the book and rested it against his arm.
"The humans united with the dwarves and elves. Their combined forces fought against the demons for years. The war devastated entire regions, destroyed settlements, and cost all three peoples a terrible number of lives."
I listened carefully.
It was the first time anyone had spoken to me about a conflict on that scale.
The story Mara had read to me had mentioned dwarves and elves as though they were distant neighbors, people one might encounter in a tale about a traveler who had lost his way. Adrian's account placed them in an entirely different context.
They had once stood beside humanity in a war that threatened the world.
"Who led the demons?" I asked.
Adrian's expression grew thoughtful.
"The historical records usually refer to their leader as the Primordial One."
He paused.
"Or, in some accounts, the Primordial Terror."
The names settled into the quiet library.
Primordial One.
Primordial Terror.
They sounded less like the names of an ordinary ruler and more like titles that had survived from an age people no longer fully understood.
I waited for Adrian to explain further.
He didn't.
Instead, he continued.
"The records disagree about the nature of that being, and many of the oldest accounts are incomplete. Some describe a commander who ruled over the demonic armies. Others use language that makes the figure sound almost beyond the understanding of ordinary people."
"Was it a demon?"
"That seems to be the general assumption, but the surviving accounts aren't consistent enough for me to give you a confident answer."
He shrugged slightly.
"The war itself is hardly disputed. Its leader is another matter."
I considered asking more, but something in his tone suggested that he had already said as much as he knew.
Or as much as he was willing to say.
Either way, there was little point pressing him.
Adrian returned to the subject of the war.
"All three peoples suffered. The human kingdoms lost cities and armies. The dwarves lost strongholds and entire settlements. But the elves were struck especially hard."
"Why them?"
"They were among the most powerful peoples of that age. Their territories were extensive, their settlements were well established, and their influence reached far beyond the forests they inhabited."
He leaned one shoulder lightly against the shelf.
"The demons struck them repeatedly. Their lands became major battlegrounds, and the losses were catastrophic. To say that the elves bore the brunt of the war would be an understatement."
His voice remained calm, but there was something more serious beneath it now.
"By some accounts, they lost more than half their population. Other records suggest the losses were even greater. We can't verify the exact figures, but no historian I've read disputes the scale of the devastation."
I looked down at the book I had been holding.
Half their population.
Perhaps more.
I tried to imagine what that meant.
A village where every family had lost someone. A city where entire streets had become empty. A people whose old homes, traditions, and knowledge had been destroyed faster than they could be preserved.
And after all that, the war had ended.
The demons had been defeated, or at least driven back. The surviving peoples had been left to rebuild what remained of their lives.
Yet the elves, once among the greatest powers of the age, had gradually disappeared from the wider world.
"Is that why they retreated into the forests?" I asked.
Adrian looked at me for a moment.
"That's one explanation."
He folded his arms.
"After suffering losses on that scale, perhaps they decided they could no longer afford to live as they once had. Their settlements had been destroyed, their numbers reduced, and their trust in the outside world may have been badly damaged."
He glanced toward the tall windows.
"Imagine what it would mean to survive a war like that. You would have fought beside the humans and dwarves, perhaps even sacrificed more than either of them. And when the fighting ended, you would still have to face the question of how to protect what remained of your people."
"Then you would leave?"
"Perhaps."
His answer was not immediate.
"If the forests offered safety, distance, and a chance to rebuild without interference, why wouldn't you? You might decide that the wider world had already taken enough from you."
He paused.
"Or perhaps the decision wasn't entirely voluntary. We have no reliable account of what happened to every elven settlement after the war. Some records describe communities withdrawing deeper into the forests. Others suggest that certain settlements simply vanished from the accounts of human travelers."
"Vanished?"
"People stopped visiting them. Trade ceased. Roads fell into disuse. Eventually, the places themselves became little more than names in old documents."
He gave a small shrug.
"It is difficult to say whether those communities moved, were destroyed, or simply chose to stop dealing with outsiders."
I thought about the story Mara had read to me.
The traveler who became lost in the ancient forest. The paths that seemed to change. The mysterious people who might guide a stranger or frighten him away.
Perhaps the stories had grown from something real.
A traveler might once have encountered an elven settlement and returned with an account of it. Others might have followed the same road years later, only to find the settlement abandoned or the route overgrown. As generations passed, the details would change, and uncertainty would become mystery.
Or perhaps the stories had been invented to explain why nobody could find the elves anymore.
Both possibilities seemed plausible.
"Do people still look for them?" I asked.
"Some do."
"Have they found any?"
"Occasionally, there are claims. A merchant insists that he traded with an elven community. A traveler describes seeing figures between the trees. Someone returns from a remote forest with a story about a settlement that doesn't appear on any map."
Adrian's expression suggested that he had heard more than a few such tales.
"Most of those accounts are difficult to verify. Some are clearly exaggerated, and others contradict each other. A few might contain some truth, but that doesn't mean we know where the people involved actually went."
"So there are no reliable maps of their settlements?"
"Not of their present settlements, no."
He shook his head.
"We have old maps showing where elves once lived, though even those are incomplete. Their current locations are another matter. The forests they are said to inhabit are enormous, and some have never been thoroughly explored by humans. A map can tell you where a road once existed. It can't tell you whether anyone still lives at its end."
I looked again at the shelves.
All those books, filled with accounts of places and peoples, and yet the information I wanted remained frustratingly uncertain.
It was a strange feeling.
In my former life, if I wanted to learn about a subject, I could usually find a reliable starting point. There were books, records, and sources I could compare. If one account was incomplete, another might provide the missing information.
Here, even the most basic questions seemed to lead into gaps.
I didn't know whether that was because the world was less documented than the one I remembered or because the passage of time had erased so much of its history.
Perhaps it was both.
Adrian seemed to notice that I had fallen quiet.
"Have I discouraged you?"
I looked up.
"No, young master."
"Good. I'd hate to be responsible for ruining your interest in books."
"I only thought there would be more information."
"There usually is, when you're studying something people have found useful to write about."
"And the elves aren't?"
"Not to the people who write most of the books in this library, apparently."
He gave me a small, amused smile.
"Besides, a lack of information can be interesting in its own way. It leaves room for questions."
I wasn't entirely sure that was comforting.
Still, he had a point.
If the elves had deliberately withdrawn from the world, their absence might tell us something about them. It might mean they valued isolation, distrusted outsiders, or had decided that dealing with the other peoples was no longer worth the risk.
Or the truth could be entirely different.
I couldn't know without learning more.
And that was precisely why I wanted to read.
After a little more searching, Adrian finally found a book he seemed satisfied with.
It was an older volume, its cover worn at the edges and its spine faded from years of use. Unlike the historical records I had examined earlier, this one appeared to focus specifically on the elves, although its title suggested that it also covered several other peoples of the world.
He opened it and scanned a few pages.
"Here we are. It's not particularly comprehensive, but it should give you a starting point."
He handed it to me.
I accepted it carefully.
The book was heavier than I expected, though not so large that I would struggle to carry it. Its pages contained written accounts, old illustrations, and references to settlements that had supposedly existed before the great war.
I glanced at the first page.
"Thank you, young master."
"You're welcome."
He stepped back and looked toward the table where he had left the other books.
"I should warn you, though. Don't expect to find a convenient list of elven settlements and their locations. If such a record exists, it certainly isn't kept here."
"I understand."
"And even if you find a location mentioned in an old account, don't assume the settlement is still there."
"I won't."
"Good. I would hate for you to spend the next week studying a map that leads nowhere."
I looked up from the book.
"Would that be worse than spending the next week studying a book that tells me nothing?"
Adrian blinked.
Then he laughed quietly.
"You're beginning to sound like someone who has spent far too much time in this library."
"I thought that was the purpose of a library."
"To read, certainly. To question every book you find, perhaps not."
"Then perhaps the books should try harder to answer their questions."
He regarded me for a moment, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and surprise.
"An ambitious proposal."
"I'll try not to trouble the books too much."
"Please don't. Some of them are older than the estate's furniture, and I suspect the furniture would be easier to replace."
He picked up the remaining volumes from the table and balanced them against his chest.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."
I glanced at the books.
"I thought you were returning those."
"I was. Unfortunately, it appears that I have acquired additional responsibilities."
His gaze shifted toward me.
"All because of a suggestion from a certain little girl."
I understood immediately.
"The water investigation?"
"The very same."
There was a note of exaggerated resignation in his voice.
"I had a perfectly ordinary day planned. Return some books, find a few more, and perhaps spend an hour reading without interruption. Instead, the estate has decided that the water supply deserves everyone's attention."
"I only suggested checking it."
"And what a modest suggestion it was."
He shook his head as though deeply troubled.
"First, a horse becomes ill. Then another. Next, someone suggests examining the water, and suddenly Tomas is wandering around the countryside following streams."
I felt a faint warmth creep into my face.
"I didn't tell him to wander around the countryside."
"No? Then I shall have to ask him who gave the orders."
"You know very well that it was Vale."
"Of course I do."
He smiled.
"That was the joke, Ellie."
I stopped.
It was the first time he had used my name during the conversation.
I knew that he had heard it from Mara or another servant, since I had already been introduced around the household. Still, hearing it spoken so casually by the young master caught me off guard for a moment.
Adrian didn't appear to notice.
Or perhaps he did and simply chose not to make anything of it.
He adjusted the books in his arms and began walking toward the door.
"Try not to let the history books convince you that the world has already run out of interesting things to discover," he said over his shoulder. "They're not always very good at predicting the future."
Then he left the library.
I remained where I was for a moment, holding the book against my chest.
The conversation had been unexpectedly useful.
Not because Adrian had answered all my questions, but because he had given me a framework for understanding them. The elves had not always been distant figures hidden in the depths of forests. They had once been powerful, influential, and deeply involved in the affairs of the wider world.
Something had changed that.
A terrible war had devastated them, and afterward they had withdrawn from the world, leaving behind scattered records and uncertain stories.
I wanted to know what had happened.
I also wanted to know more about the other peoples of this world, the kingdoms that had fought in the war, and the entity whose name had survived in the historical records.
The Primordial One.
The Primordial Terror.
I still had no idea what either name truly meant.
But for now, I had a book to read.
I found a quiet place at one of the tables, sat down, and opened it.
The afternoon passed more quickly than I expected.
The book was not nearly as detailed as I had hoped, but it was more useful than the scattered references I had found earlier. It described the elves as a people with a long history of settlement in forested regions, though it offered little reliable information about their current communities.
There were old illustrations of buildings constructed among enormous trees, with bridges connecting platforms high above the ground. Another image showed a settlement at the edge of a forest, its structures built from materials that seemed to blend into the surrounding landscape.
I couldn't tell how accurately the illustrations represented actual elven architecture. The artist might have worked from a firsthand account, or they might have been imagining what such a settlement would look like.
The text was similarly uncertain.
Some accounts described the elves as skilled craftsmen, while others emphasized their knowledge of the natural world. Several mentioned their long lifespans, though the descriptions varied enough that I couldn't determine how much was fact and how much was exaggeration.
I made a mental note of the references that seemed most promising.
If I wanted to learn more, I would have to look for other books, perhaps accounts written by travelers who claimed to have encountered elves themselves.
For the moment, however, I was satisfied.
I had come looking for a little information and found enough to give me several new questions.
That was more than I had expected when I entered the library.
Eventually, I checked the time and realized that my break was nearly over. I closed the book carefully, made sure I remembered where I had found it, and returned it to the appropriate shelf.
Then I left the library and went back to my duties.
The rest of the day was ordinary.
I carried supplies, helped organize a small inventory, and assisted with a few tasks that required more patience than skill. Nobody mentioned the investigation in my presence, and I heard no further news about the horses.
I had already decided that I wasn't going to make the mistake of treating every unanswered question as a personal responsibility.
The investigation belonged to Vale and Tomas. They had the authority to question people, inspect the water supply, and decide what needed to be done. If they wanted my opinion, they could ask for it.
Until then, I had no reason to interfere.
Still, I found myself thinking about the water as I worked.
The idea that something might have entered the supply far beyond the estate was unsettling. It meant that the problem could exist in a place nobody here had thought to examine until now.
I wondered how many other things in this world were connected in ways that people failed to notice.
Then I caught myself drifting into speculation again and returned my attention to the task at hand.
One question at a time, I reminded myself.
I had enough of them already.
I saw Tomas near the outer yard late that afternoon.
I had been carrying a small bundle of supplies toward one of the storage rooms when I noticed him returning through the estate grounds with another worker. Both looked tired. Their clothes were dusty from the road, and Tomas carried a small leather satchel that he hadn't had with him that morning.
Yet he didn't look discouraged.
He was speaking quietly with the other man, occasionally gesturing toward the road behind them as though explaining something they had seen.
I couldn't hear their conversation clearly.
They passed through the yard and headed toward the administrative buildings, where Vale's office was located.
I continued on my way.
A little later, while returning an empty container to the storage area, I passed two servants standing beside a cart.
"Was Tomas out there all afternoon?" one asked.
"Most of it, from what I heard."
"Did they find anything?"
"Not that anyone has said. They were following the watercourse upstream, trying to work out where the estate's supply comes from."
The other servant frowned.
"That sounds like a great deal of walking for very little information."
"Maybe. But if the problem started somewhere along the way, they won't find it by standing beside the stable troughs."
"Suppose they find nothing?"
"Then they'll have to look somewhere else."
The servant shrugged.
"Not my concern, thankfully."
Their conversation moved on to another subject.
I carried the container back to its place and continued with my work.
So they hadn't found an answer.
That was hardly surprising. Tracing a water supply through unfamiliar terrain wasn't likely to be a quick task. Even if they could follow the watercourse itself, they would still have to determine which places along it were worth examining.
Perhaps the problem originated in a nearby stream. Perhaps it came from something farther upstream. Or perhaps the water wasn't responsible at all, and the horses' illness had another cause that they had yet to discover.
There were too many possibilities to draw a conclusion.
Still, Tomas had returned with a clearer direction than before. Whatever he and the other worker had seen, it seemed to have given them more to investigate.
For now, that was enough.
I finished my duties and prepared to return to the servants' quarters.
As I walked, I found myself thinking again about the conversation in the library.
The elves had once been powerful enough to stand at the center of a great war. Now, according to the surviving records, they had withdrawn so far from the wider world that people couldn't reliably say where they lived.
The water investigation seemed almost insignificant beside that history.
A few sick horses. A possible problem somewhere upstream. An estate trying to determine whether something had gone wrong beyond its boundaries.
Yet both things reminded me of the same uncomfortable truth.
I knew very little about the world around me.
I had spent my first days here learning how to avoid danger, then learning how to live within the rules of the estate. Those things had been necessary, and they still were.
But there was so much more beyond them.
The estate had its own history, its own routines, and its own problems. Beyond its walls lay roads, villages, towns, and kingdoms. Beyond those were forests that people rarely entered, settlements that had vanished from maps, and histories whose details had been lost to time.
I had barely begun to see any of it.
The thought should have been overwhelming.
Instead, beneath the uncertainty, I felt something I hadn't expected.
Curiosity.
By the time I returned to our room that evening, Mara had already finished most of her work.
She was sitting on her bed with a small piece of sewing in her hands. A lamp on the table provided enough light for her to see what she was doing, while the last traces of daylight faded beyond the window.
She glanced up when I entered.
"There's our little scholar."
I closed the door behind me.
"I see my reputation has spread."
"Not very far. Just as far as this room."
"Then perhaps it can still be contained."
Mara laughed softly and set her sewing aside.
"How was your day?"
"Ordinary."
"That sounds suspiciously like the answer of someone who has been doing something interesting and doesn't want to admit it."
"I spent some time in the library."
"Ah. There it is."
She leaned back against the wall.
"And what fascinating subject captured your attention this time? More dwarven travel accounts?"
"Elves, actually."
Her expression shifted to one of mild curiosity.
"Elves?"
"I wanted to learn more about them."
"Whatever for?"
I considered the question.
There were several possible answers. I could tell her that the story she had read to me had left me curious. I could explain that I had realized how little I knew about the world. Or I could simply say that I wanted to know more.
The last answer was the most honest.
"I suppose I just wanted to understand them a little better."
Mara studied me for a moment, then nodded.
"Fair enough. I've always thought it was strange how many stories people tell about places they've never been."
"Have you heard many stories about elves?"
"A few. Mostly the usual sort. Elves in deep forests, strange paths, travelers who get lost and come back claiming they've seen something no one else can find."
"That sounds familiar."
"It probably is. People tell the same stories in different ways." She picked up her sewing again, examining the thread before continuing. "My mother used to say that if a story survives long enough, people eventually forget which parts happened and which parts someone added to make it more interesting."
I thought about Adrian's explanation.
"That might be true."
"Of course it's true. My mother was rarely wrong."
Mara paused.
"Except when she insisted I could learn to bake."
I looked at her.
"What happened?"
"Nothing particularly dramatic. I simply discovered that I was much better at eating baked goods than making them."
"That seems like a valuable skill in its own right."
"Now you're just flattering me."
"I'm not sure that was a compliment."
"It was close enough."
I smiled faintly.
Mara returned to her sewing for a moment, then looked up again.
"Did you find what you were looking for?"
"Some information. Not as much as I'd hoped."
"That's how books are sometimes. You search through a dozen of them and discover that the one you need isn't there."
"Adrian helped me find one that was more useful than the others."
"Ah, so the young master was involved?"
"He happened to enter the library while I was searching."
"And he offered to help?"
"Yes."
Mara gave me a knowing look.
I immediately became suspicious.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"That expression suggests otherwise."
"What expression?"
"The one you're making now."
She tried to look innocent.
It didn't suit her.
"I was only thinking that you seem to encounter the young master in the library rather often."
"That was only the second time."
"Was it?"
"Yes."
"Well, then. At this rate, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised if I find the two of you discussing books every afternoon."
I sighed.
"We were discussing history."
"Even better. How scandalous."
"There was nothing scandalous about it."
"I know. I'm teasing you."
"I'm aware."
"Good. I wouldn't want you to think I'd suddenly become serious."
I shook my head, though I couldn't entirely suppress my smile.
Mara noticed, naturally.
She always seemed to notice the things I would rather keep to myself.
"So," she continued, "what did you learn about these elves?"
I moved to my bed and sat down, thinking about how best to explain it.
"They were apparently much more involved in the world in the past. Adrian told me that they fought alongside humans and dwarves during a great war against the demons."
Mara's sewing slowed.
"A great war?"
"Long ago. Before the present kingdoms became what they are now."
She nodded thoughtfully.
"I've heard stories about that. Not many details, though."
"Adrian said the war devastated all three peoples, but the elves suffered particularly badly. They were one of the greatest powers of the age, so the demons struck them repeatedly."
"That would explain why they disappeared from so many accounts."
"Perhaps."
I told her what Adrian had said about the elves retreating into the forests, about the uncertainty surrounding their remaining settlements, and about the old maps that no longer showed where they lived.
Mara listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she set her sewing aside.
"That sounds lonely."
I looked at her.
"What does?"
"Imagine surviving something like that. Losing so many people, then having to decide whether you can trust anyone outside your own community again."
I considered her words.
"I suppose they might have decided it was safer to withdraw."
"Perhaps. Or perhaps they simply wanted to be left alone."
She shrugged.
"We don't know enough to say."
That was exactly what Adrian had told me.
I found myself appreciating the fact that Mara didn't try to fill the gaps with guesses simply because an answer would have been more satisfying.
She was content to acknowledge that some things remained unknown.
It was a useful habit.
"What about the demons?" she asked after a moment. "Did Adrian tell you anything about their leader?"
"He mentioned two names from the historical records. The Primordial One and the Primordial Terror."
Mara's expression changed slightly.
"I've heard the second one before."
I looked at her with renewed interest.
"You have?"
"Only in a story. I was younger, and my father was telling us something about the old war. I don't remember the details very well."
She frowned slightly, trying to recall.
"I think he said the Primordial Terror led the demonic forces, but that was all. I don't know whether the name referred to a person, a title, or something else."
"Adrian said the records disagree about the nature of the being."
"Then I suppose the records know as little as we do."
She picked up her sewing again.
"Whatever it was, I'm glad I wasn't alive back then."
I couldn't disagree.
The idea of a war that had devastated entire peoples was disturbing enough. The thought of an entity whose nature had become uncertain even to those who studied the conflict made it worse.
But I reminded myself that the war had happened long ago.
Whatever remained of it now existed in old records, inherited stories, and the consequences of decisions made generations before I had arrived in this world.
There was no reason to let it frighten me.
Not yet, anyway.
Mara glanced at the book resting beside me.
"Are you going to read that tonight, too?"
I followed her gaze.
"Perhaps."
"Then I suggest you keep it away from your pillow."
"I was planning to."
"Good. I'd hate to have to explain to the library that one of its books has been crushed to death in its sleep."
I gave her a flat look.
"I think it would survive."
"Perhaps. But I'm not sure the librarian would appreciate the experiment."
"I'll try to spare everyone the trouble."
"How considerate."
She smiled and returned to her sewing.
I picked up the book and opened it to the first page.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
The room settled into a comfortable quiet, broken only by the faint rustle of pages and the occasional movement of Mara's needle through the cloth. It was the kind of silence I had once found difficult to tolerate, because silence left too much room for memories.
Now, it was becoming easier.
Not because I had forgotten my former life. Not because the pain had disappeared.
But because there were other things in my days now.
Books to read. Questions to ask. Small jokes to exchange with someone who had begun to feel familiar.
The past remained with me, as it always would.
It simply no longer occupied every moment.
Later, after Mara had finished sewing and prepared for bed, I remained awake a little longer.
The book lay open in my hands, its pages illuminated by the lamp on the table. I had reached a section describing several forests where elves were believed to have lived before the great war.
The accounts were inconsistent.
One described a settlement built high among enormous trees. Another referred to a community near a river that no longer appeared on modern maps. A third mentioned an ancient road that had supposedly led to an elven city, though no traveler had confirmed its existence in generations.
There were no precise locations.
No reliable maps.
No simple explanation for what had happened to the people who had once lived in those places.
I turned another page.
The uncertainty should have been frustrating. Part of me wanted a clear answer, a definite explanation that would make the scattered pieces fit together.
But I was beginning to understand that this world did not owe me one.
Some questions would require time. Others might require traveling to places I had never seen. And some might remain unanswered no matter how many books I read.
That was simply the way things were.
I closed the book and rested it on the table beside my bed.
Across the room, Mara was already settled beneath her blanket. Her breathing had grown slow and even, and the faint light from the lamp cast a soft shadow across the wall behind her.
I watched her for a moment, then turned toward the window.
Beyond the estate lay roads I had never traveled, villages I had never visited, and kingdoms whose names I was still learning to recognize. Somewhere beyond them were forests that stretched across maps, perhaps hiding communities that had deliberately withdrawn from the world.
And farther back in history lay a war whose consequences were still visible in the stories people told.
The elves had once been among the greatest powers of their age.
Now, most people seemed content to speak of them as a mystery.
I wondered what they would think if they knew that a little human girl in a distant estate had spent an afternoon searching for information about them.
The thought made me smile faintly.
It was a ridiculous thing to imagine. I was unlikely to encounter an elf anytime soon, and even if I did, I doubted that a few pages of old history would prepare me for the meeting.
Still, I wanted to learn.
For the first time since arriving in this world, my curiosity was beginning to reach beyond the limits of my immediate circumstances.
I had spent so long thinking about how to survive that I had barely considered what I might want to discover once survival was no longer the only thing on my mind.
There was so much I didn't know.
So many places I had never seen, so many stories I had never heard, and so much history that existed beyond the narrow boundaries of my current life.
I didn't know whether I would ever see the deep forests where the elves were said to live. I didn't know whether the old records were accurate or whether the truth had been lost centuries ago.
But I wanted to find out.
Perhaps that was enough for now.
Tomorrow, I would return to my duties. The water investigation would continue, and the horses might improve or grow worse. Vale and Tomas would keep searching for answers, while I would do what I could to help without taking responsibility for things beyond my knowledge.
And when I had time, I would return to the library.
There were more books to read.
More questions to ask.
And a world beyond the estate that I was only beginning to understand.
I settled beneath my blanket and closed my eyes.
For once, I wasn't thinking about the next danger I might face.
I was thinking about what I might discover.
And that, I realized, was a different kind of beginning.