Probing the Elf's Veiled Past
Four days before my final day in Pelgaroin. In the count's office, bathed in warm sunlight, the rustling sounds kept coming from around me as I savored a lazy afternoon with a book. The scraping of metal against metal tugged at my nerves, but I didn't let it show. After all, this was something I'd ordered myself.
I ignored it and flipped through a few more pages before absentmindedly turning toward the source of the noise. Scratch, scratch—there, in the corner of the room, knelt the Elf, meticulously embossing a design onto a gleaming breastplate. Scattered around her were several sheets of drawing paper, each adorned with exquisite artwork.
But why was the Elf sitting there so obediently, sketching on paper and armor? The reason was simple. Hildes Proheim, captain of the Blue Flag Knights, had been so thrilled with the artwork engraved on her own breastplate that she'd shown it off everywhere. Word spread to her subordinate knights and the noble ladies, who then timidly approached me with requests.
—Could we perhaps commission artwork through Your Excellency's slave as well?
They'd clearly been enchanted by the Elf's exceptional skill. I pondered it briefly but saw no reason to refuse, so I agreed. Thanks to that, ever since the sexual torment a few days ago, the Elf had spent the past four days doing nothing but drawing. I'd worried she might complain about hating it and try to pester me, but whether she enjoyed my recent "punishments" or simply loved drawing, she hadn't uttered a single complaint.
If only she'd keep behaving like this.
I loved how absorbed she was in her art, paying me no attention. She wasn't begging for abuse or insults, so of course it was a pleasant sight. And the Elf before me was stunningly beautiful—enough to draw occasional gasps of admiration. Her silver hair, kissed by the sunlight, cascaded gracefully over her shoulders in an elegant flow. Beneath her neat lashes, her half-lidded red eyes held a noble grace unbecoming of a slave. Her figure went without saying. It was no exaggeration to call her a creature crafted solely from the essence of beauty. With a touch of hyperbole, when her mouth was closed, she looked as ethereal as a goddess.
What on earth had this woman gone through in her past to volunteer as my sex slave?
The mystery only deepened my curiosity. After watching her for a while, I closed my book and turned my chair. This was a chance to probe her while she seemed in a favorable mood.
"You."
The Elf paused her drawing and looked up at me, her eyes blinking innocently with curiosity.
"Y-yes, Master? D-do you have something to say?"
"Yeah. I've got a question."
"A q-question?"
"I want to confirm something about your past."
"E-eh...."
The Elf flinched, her shoulders trembling, then suddenly flushed red.
"I-it can't be helped, then...."
She stood, fumbling to untie her apron. Stunned by the bizarre behavior, I stared as she mumbled shyly.
"If Master is curious whether I'm a virgin or not, I have no choice but to show you.... I didn't expect we'd do it here, but if it's Master, I'm ready to be fucked like a dog...."
No, wait a minute. How did "curious about your past" turn into "check if you're a virgin"?
The sheer absurdity hit me like cognitive dissonance. As I stood there dumbfounded, she grabbed the edges of her panties and started pulling them down. I frantically waved my hands.
"A-are you insane?! Do you even know where this is? It's the count's office!"
"Hiiing. That's why you want to do it here, right? To feel that thrill of forbidden depravity...."
"When the hell did I say I wanted to do it?! You ungrateful.... Keep your nonsense in check!"
I yelled in panic, and the Elf's face twisted in confusion.
"M-Master? Weren't you approaching me to use my pussy?"
"Do you think I'm some sex-crazed maniac?!"
"Hiiik! S-sorwy, sowwy....!"
The Elf dropped to her knees in prostration. With her ass raised high, the hem of her maid outfit slipped down, fully exposing the cleft of her buttocks. She'd never pulled her panties back up, so they dangled blatantly around her thighs. If anyone walked in now, it'd be a disaster. Frowning in irritation, I sighed heavily.
"Just get up and fix your clothes."
"Y-yes, yees...."
Gauging my mood, the Elf stood, pulled up her panties, and retied her apron. Only then did I relax and return to my original intent.
"You vulgar bitch. Don't twist my words however you like—answer what's asked. What was your life like before becoming a slave?"
It was a potentially risky question depending on the circumstances, but with her current good mood, it should be fine. If I could glean even a small hint about her true identity, it was worth the gamble.
"Before becoming a slave...."
The Elf avoided my gaze, fidgeting with her fingers.
"I-I don't remember. My memories are all gone...."
I'd half-expected that, but the flat refusal still sparked a bit of defiance. I clicked my tongue and leaned back in my chair.
"Fine, then at least tell me your name. You must remember that much."
"S-sorry, Master. I don't remember my name either."
She won't even give a fake one? I could've speculated from that. Blocking my info-gathering attempts like this was frustrating. Pushing further would arouse suspicion, so I waved dismissively, feigning disinterest.
"I already know you're an idiot, so no surprise there. Whatever—just bring the finished drawings. I need to inspect them before handing them to the noble ladies."
"O-okay...."
The Elf nodded and gathered the papers from the floor, handing them to me. I took them with a sour expression and examined her work.
....She's damn good. No doubt about it.
Each line crossing the paper seemed infused with some vital force. The trees brimmed with life, and the flowers on the verge of blooming pulsed with vivid energy. Just looking at them made me feel like I was stepping into a forest. This was no amateur skill honed in a day or two. Suppressing a gasp of admiration, I checked the others. Most depicted forest flora and fauna in a fluid, graceful style.
But....
Whether intentional or subconscious, every single drawing featured a deer. Antlers held high, deer captured mid-leap in dynamic motion appeared throughout. At first, I thought they were simply wandering freely through the woods, but the more I looked, the more uneasy they seemed. Maybe it was just my imagination, but they felt like they were fleeing.
Had she grown sick of the forest? Or was a hunter chasing them from behind?
"Master?"
Her voice snapped me from my reverie. I cleared my throat and looked up.
"For a worm like you, it's surprisingly decent. The noble ladies and knights might even be satis—"
The Elf's eyes narrowed subtly. Was even praise for her skill offensive to her? Swallowing nervously, I tossed the papers aside haphazardly.
"—fied? As if! You retarded bitch!"
The sheets fluttered down like falling petals. Pleased by this, it seemed, the Elf sniffled and bowed her head.
"S-sowwy, sowwy.... I'm sowwy fow being a useless sow with no talents...."
"Tch. If you're sorry, redraw them from scratch."
"F-from the beginning....?"
I knew it was a harsh order. But this was part of the abuse. Sneering, I lifted my chin.
"No whining. Pull an all-nighter if you have to."
"Th-that's too mean, Master...."
Sobbing, the Elf gathered the scattered papers and shuffled back to the corner, plopping down.
"Hiiing...."
She hiccuped while swallowing tears, looking pitiful—but it was all an act. Steel myself, I turned away just as a knock sounded: knock knock.
"Come in."
A neatly dressed servant entered, bowed formally in greeting, then spoke politely.
"Lord Theorad. I apologize for the intrusion, but I come to inform you that the count has returned."
"....The count has?"
I'd heard he was due tomorrow morning. Flustered, I stood quickly and straightened my clothes.
"I'll go to him right away."
*
The servant said the count was waiting in the third reception room, so I headed there. Opening the door, I saw him seated on a sofa in the modestly sized room. With his back to the door, only his silhouette was visible, but his distinctive aura told me it was Leoberg Pelgaroin.
Ahem. Clearing my throat lightly, I approached with the utmost courtesy and stood opposite him.
"I'm relieved you've returned safely, Your Excellency. Had you informed us in advance, I would have come to greet you."
No reply. He was engrossed in the book in his hands. Standing awkwardly, I heard him murmur softly.
"Sit."
I bowed respectfully and took a seat. As I did, I observed him. His golden hair, so like Esilly's, was neatly combed back, exuding tidiness. Not a speck of dust marred his impeccably tailored court attire. His sharp eyes devoured the pages like a scholar pursuing truth. Though past fifty, aside from faint crow's feet, he showed no signs of aging—he could pass for thirty.
Simply beholding him conveyed dignity. His name was Leoberg Pelgaroin, a great lord unknown to none in politics or commerce. One of the empire's five pillars upholding the realm, even His Imperial Majesty refrained from harsh words toward him, or so it was said.
Yet he never abused his power. Ever moderate and upright—strict within, closed without; elegant and unbound—he was incorruptibly just. That was truly admirable. Next to my father, he was the man I respected most, aspiring daily to become like him one day.
But, Your Excellency.
How long are you going to read that book? After waiting ages without him looking up, I hesitated to speak. Resigned to silence, the sun finally set before he closed it.
"Not bad."
With that curt review, he turned to me. His already keen eyes narrowed fiercely.
"But seeing your face fills me with irritation."
It stung, but I kept composed. I could guess why he said such things. As my father's old friend and head of Pelgaroin, ruling the empire's heartlands....
"You're growing handsomer by the day, making me feel utterly plain."
He was simply a bit clumsy when it came to expressing fondness for those he liked.