Farewell

Somewhere on a low hill outside Stratholme.

A layer of snow covered the ground, withered grass poking through the snow drifts, swaying gently in the night wind.

Clouds obscured most of the moonlight, leaving only a few faint streams of pale blue light to seep through the gaps, casting mottled shadows across the snow.

One after another, the group filed out of a narrow cave mouth half-hidden by bushes on the back of the hill.

The opening was small, barely wide enough for one person at a time. The passage had clearly gone unused for years, its stone walls overgrown with dark moss and the ground slippery underfoot.

Nikus led the way. After stepping out, he paused to scan the surrounding terrain, confirming there was no danger before stepping aside to let the others follow.

Lucius emerged carrying the white-robed cleric on his back. The cleric was still unconscious, his head slumping onto Lucius's shoulder armor. Next came the knights carrying the victims, followed by the servants leaning on each other for support.

Once clear of the cave, the knights gathered beside Lucius, while the servants collapsed onto the ground, gasping heavily for breath.

Unobstructed, a biting wind howled down from the top of the hill, bringing a wave of bone-chilling cold. Clad only in coarse cloth, the servants instinctively curled into themselves at the wind's touch, the faint chatter of their teeth distinctly audible in the quiet night.

Then came Alysia, carrying her fellow elf on her back, with Rosie and Vera emerging last from the cave mouth.

Alysia straightened her posture, shifting the weight on her back slightly, and spoke calmly.

“I'm leaving.”

Her voice was soft, partially scattered by the wind, yet everyone nearby caught her words.

The relationship between elves and humans wasn't hostile, but it was certainly far from warm. Hearing her, the knights merely gave slight nods before turning their eyes away, while the servants kept their heads bowed in silence—a stark quiet lingering in the cold wind.

Vera walked over to Alysia. The cold wind ruffled her bangs. She raised a hand to tuck the loose strands back and looked into Alysia's eyes. “Alysia, be careful. That vampire elder might still be nearby.”

Alysia gave a subtle nod. “I know. But I must see her back safely. I'll come find you later if I have time.”

Vera chuckled. “When an elf says 'if I have time,' that might mean a very long while. But no matter—I have plenty of time.” With that, she stepped aside.

Alysia turned her head, her gaze landing on Rosie a few steps away. “Rosie, could I speak with you privately for a moment?”

Rosie was looking up at the sky. Hearing the call, she brushed off the specks of snow on her shoulder. “Sure.”

Just as she was about to step forward, Lucius's voice called out from the side. He had already handed the cleric over to another knight for support and stood a few paces away. His visor was raised, moonlight illuminating the side of his face and tracing the sharp outline of his chin.

“Miss Rosie,” Lucius said, “once we return to camp, I have something to give you.”

Rosie's eyes instantly lit up. Making no effort to hide her eager anticipation, she nodded repeatedly. “Great, great, great... no problem.”

She chirped three “greats” in succession, each lighter and peppier than the last, before following Alysia toward the other side of the hill.

Trudging through ankle-deep snow, the two rounded a patch of withered shrubs and reached the sheltered side of a massive boulder.

The enormous rock blocked most of the wind pouring down from the hilltop, softening the howling in their ears instantly.

Alysia gently leaned her elven companion against a flatter stone and turned to Rosie. A few snowflakes dusted her pointed ears, which twitched slightly to shake them off.

“Rosie, would you be willing to join the Harpers?”

A gust of cold wind whistled softly over a jagged rock before fading into the night.

Rosie looked at her. “Why do you ask?”

Alysia remained silent for a moment, as if organizing her thoughts. “I think you would fit well in the Harpers. You hold no prejudice against anyone, judging actions rather than people. Furthermore, you are cautious, brave, and possess a sense of justice.”

Rosie felt her face flush slightly with embarrassment at the lavish praise. The elf's flattering perspective left her briefly at a loss for how to respond.

Holding no prejudice was simply because she possessed a modern mindset that viewed everyone equally, including nobles and non-human races alike—which also meant she wouldn't hesitate when making a move.

Bravery was purely because there were money and rewards on the line; she wouldn't lift a finger for something with no profit.

Caution was because she was terrified of dying. After all, she only had one life, and she was still young—er, and very beautiful?

Possessing a sense of justice... well, she did have a bit of that. After all, she was a modern person who had not only received a higher education but also grew up watching Big Big Wolf, so she still had a moral baseline.

However, she genuinely had no desire to become a Harper.

From the bits and pieces Vera had mentioned, she knew that the Harpers didn't have the best reputation. She only wanted to peacefully go on adventures, claim rewards, and experience the local customs of a foreign world. She didn't want to be shackled by idealism, let alone be judged by others.

Wind blew through the crevices of the boulder, sweeping up a few withered leaves that brushed past her boots.

“I'm sorry...” she said. “I still think being an ordinary adventurer suits me better. I don't have any grand ideals or noble ambitions.”

Alysia watched her, her pointed ears twitching slightly in the night breeze. The corners of her mouth curved slightly upward—a tiny gesture, yet clear under the moonlight.

“It doesn't matter. I believe we will meet again. Just as the wind once told me.”

With that, she turned, bent down, and hoisted her elven companion onto her back once more. “Farewell, Rosie. May nature be with you.”

“Farewell, Alysia.”

Alysia set off, walking down the hillside. Her steps left a trail of shallow footprints in the snow, the hem of her black robe fluttering in the wind, briefly revealing the tears in the fabric.

In the distance, moonlight and snow merged as one, gradually swallowing her outline until she vanished completely into the night.

The wind blew across the spot where Rosie stood. Beside her boots, the edges of those footprints were already covered by fresh flakes of snow, growing soft and faint.