[ARC 1] Chapter 4 – The Master’s Daughter is an Elf

Remy was waiting at the guild for his master’s daughter. All she told him about her was her name, Konoa. It wasn’t much to go on. So, he wrote her name on some cardboard placing it on a menu holder to hold it upright, and sat at a table near the entrance of the guild waiting for her to come in.

After last night, many adventurers gazed at him. The guild was usually boisterous, but with him there, it had become as silent as a funeral. No one dared to talk, not wanting to anger him.

He heard murmurs at some table and turned to give them a glare. That shut them up real quick. He kind of wanted for something to happen.

She was thirty minutes late. He yawned, growing bored of waiting. He wanted to drink some ale, but the guild had banned him from drinking, in fear that he would destroy the guild next. To make sure he wouldn’t bully the staff for some, they had produced a letter from his master, that said she would fucking kill him if he caused them trouble.

“Irony is dead,” he murmured to himself.

There were stories of her destroying the guild in her drunken rage. The guild still had scars to show of it. One wall was newer than the rest.

He changed hands, resting on his other and looked up from the table to see the clock on the wall. He was going to give it five more minutes. If she wasn’t here by then, then he would leave and go to an actual bar to drink.

“Excuse me.”

Remy looked up to see a blue haired elf. She was young looking, had her hair braided and resting on her shoulder. She wore a worn traveling cloak and from her clothes it looked like she had just come into town.

“Yeah?” Remy pushed himself up. “If you want some help, the guild staff can help you at the front desk. Or are you here to make some trouble.”

He was hoping for the latter.

“I already went there and registered as an adventurer,” she said. “My mother was supposed to pick me up here, but you have a cardboard with my name on it. Do you know Morgan?”

Remy blinked a couple of times, processing this information. He put his hands together, creating a bridge for his head to rest on.

The author’s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“You’re an elf, right?”

“Yes.” She tilted her head. “Is there a problem?”

He scratched the back of his head. “The math doesn’t add up. You look twenty, which means you have to be at least forty or fifty. Master is about fifty. So, how can she have a daughter as old as you?”

“Did my mom not tell you?” Her lips pursed. “How troublesome.”

Remy leaned in. “Is…is master an elf too?”

“No.”

“So, she’s your mother? Your biological mother? She gave birth to you?”

“There is no other point to calling her mother.” She started sounding offended.

Remy suddenly stood up, throwing his head back as he screamed.

“This doesn’t make sense!”