Chapter 31: The Essence of an Elf is the Bow
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 31: The Essence of an Elf is the Bow
Before we left the shop, I had Alfia put on the recognition-obstructing robe Victor used to wear back in his assassin days.
The elven race stands out far too much, both in their aura and their appearance. Of course, it’s not as if they’re mythical creatures, just that they’re a rare sight. There are elves who have left the forests, and there are those who live in human cities.
After all, Inaxia, the previous owner of the Heavenly Covenant, and his high elf father were prime examples.
But now wasn’t the time. Revealing Alfia’s existence at this moment would be a bad idea.
I had already drilled it into the kids.
Not to say a word, no matter what.
I even promised to buy them whatever they wanted if they listened well.
“What brings you here?”
“We’re here to look at some weapons.”
The place I’d brought Alfia was a weapon shop.
Elf.
Weapon.
Only one thing came to mind.
‘Elves are all about the bow.’
It was the most sacred of unwritten rules.
Alfia’s development path could be split into two routes.
One was a Spirit Master.
The other, an Archer.
Neither deviated much from the commonly known traits of elves.
The Spirit Master path had far greater potential. If raised well, she could adapt her elemental attacks to any situation.
But for sheer coolness, nothing beat an archer. An elf climbing trees, roaming the forest as if it were their home, loosing arrows from their bow.
‘So damn cool.’
More importantly, the act of shooting a bow itself was what mattered. Shooting a bow requires a calm mind and body, so there was nothing better for settling a troubled heart. It was perfect for Alfia.
Of course, there were stories of people who started archery to find their calm, only to become highly skilled but incredibly loud athletes…
I could only pray Alfia wouldn’t turn out that way.
“Have you ever shot a bow before?”
“That’s racist. You think just because I’m an elf, I’d naturally be good with a bow…”
“So you can’t. But that’s fine. I’ll make it so you can.”
Right now, Alfia was my slave, bound by the soul shackles. Mirabelle had learned magic in a flash, so Alfia would probably get a similar boost.
Plus, the soul shackles had been strengthened, so the effect should be even better.
“Take a look around. It’s a gift to commemorate you becoming my slave.”
Alfia glared at me, her eyes sharp. A look that screamed, What the hell is there to commemorate about that?
But she quickly realized it was pointless and let out a sigh. She began to look at the bows, her expression thoroughly unimpressed.
“These are all terrible.”
“Well, I figured.”
In the eyes of an elf, how good could the bows in a common weapon shop possibly be? But it couldn’t be helped. Unlike with the Heavenly Covenant, there was no way to just stumble upon a legendary bow right now.
“You’re just starting out, so make do with a decent one for now. I’ll get you a better one once your skills improve.”
“Hmm…”
Looking displeased, Alfia glanced around at the bows before reaching out her hand.
“Then this easy-to-use crossbow…”
“NO—!!”
“You scared me! Hey, why are you yelling?!”
Alfia jumped, so startled that she clasped her hands to her chest.
But this time, Alfia had crossed the line.
This was worse than Mirabelle’s maid outfit.
“Elves do not use crossbows!”
“Some elves do use crossbows, you know!”
“No, they don’t!”
“I’m an elf, so what do you mean, ‘no, they don’t’? Do you know more about elves than I do?”
“W-well, no, but… In any case, they don’t!”
An elf that uses a crossbow is not an elf!
Don’t you dare ruin my fantasy!
*
I bought her a shortbow.
Thirty arrows were thrown in for free.
Given that elves had to run through rough forests, they typically used easy-to-carry shortbows. It was the standard choice.
With the bow in her hand and the quiver slung diagonally at her waist, Alfia’s entire aura changed.
Karami clapped frivolously beside her, remarking that she looked like a veteran elven archer.
“I’m really bad with a bow, though…”
Meanwhile, Alfia pouted and plucked the bowstring. Twing. Her face showed a clear aversion to using a bow.
Karami ducked his head under Alfia’s hood.
“Why the long pout? You want a kiss? Should I give you one?”
“You really… Ugh, never mind. What’s the point of talking to you.”
Being an elf, Alfia had, of course, tried using a bow before. When she was very young, around eight in human years.
The result, well, you could probably guess from her current state.
She had failed spectacularly.
All because of those damn spirits.
Archery was a martial art that required immense concentration, but Alfia’s spirits were the most mischievous of troublemakers. How could she possibly shoot a bow properly when they wouldn’t stay still for a moment?
Naturally, the arrow flew off in a completely wrong direction and achieved the grand feat of creating a new hole in an elven elder’s backside.
After that, she was forbidden from even touching a bow.
Karami would probably be disappointed, too, if he saw her archery skills.
And he would mock her.
Just like they did.
The two of them left Noctar and found a spot in a nearby forest, in the opposite direction of the Great Forest.
Alfia took a deep breath. The fresh, clear forest air filled her lungs. The familiar scent eased her anxiety, and her trembling subsided.
“Let’s just do some simple shooting practice today. Forget about hitting anything and just focus on firing the arrow. Hmm, but we should still have a target. Let’s use this tree.”
As if it were that easy.
It might look simple, but it takes so much effort.
She had her complaints, but she couldn’t resist. She was already a slave. Alfia swallowed her silent protests and took out an arrow.
She gripped the arrow and nocked it on the bowstring. Her movements were a bit awkward, but the instinct etched into her race gave her at least some semblance of proper form.
She slowly drew the bow. Was it because she lacked the strength, or was it the hesitation from her past surfacing? The arm pulling the bowstring trembled.
Before she could even steady her stance, Alfia released the bowstring hastily, as if chased by something.
Thud.
The arrow didn’t fly at all, simply falling to the ground at her feet.
Alfia’s cheeks flushed crimson. She quickly crouched down, head bowed, and fumbled to pick up the fallen arrow. She muttered in a small voice, as if making an excuse.
“I-I told you I can’t shoot a bow. Why did you keep insisting…”
If I can’t do it, I can’t do it.
Is he some kind of demon who feeds on others’ shame?
What a terrible hobby.
…
There was no reply.
Alfia’s mumble was swallowed by the empty air, and an uncomfortable silence lingered.
Say something already. You can laugh at me, just say anything. Tease me again with that playful voice.
Why… is he so quiet?
Alfia subtly shifted her eyes to gauge Karami’s reaction.
As expected, he was smiling.
But it was different somehow. It wasn’t the kind of scorn her own people had shown her. It was a wistful smile, like someone looking at a portrait drawn by a lover.
And the words he spoke were:
“It suits you.”
“…What?”
“An elf is an elf, I see. The moment you held that bow, the picture was complete.”
It was a completely unexpected answer.
After a moment of bewilderment, Alfia scowled.
“You have a bad habit, you know. Spouting all that nonsense. What do you mean, ‘the picture was complete’? The arrow fell right in front of me. I could have thrown it farther than that.”
The thorny words slipped out unintentionally.
It was like a hedgehog curling up and extending its spines for self-protection.
But Karami paid it no mind. He skillfully avoided the spines and pressed deeper.
“That’s just because you’re still inexperienced, isn’t it? It would be the same if I tried to shoot.”
“It’s different. You’re human, and I’m an elf.”
“So?”
“For elves, the bow is something you learn before you even walk. The perception is on a completely different level from humans.”
If it wasn’t so important, would I have been mocked so much just for being bad with a bow? I’ve never been so despised.
“That’s racist. Thinking that an elf would naturally be good with a bow.”
Karami repeated the words Alfia had said earlier.
His plausible words continued.
“This is the great first step toward a brilliant future. How moving and wonderful is that? And it feels quite good to know that I’m the only one who gets to see the clumsy beginnings of a future Master Archer.”
“…”
He never lost a single exchange.
His skill at dressing up his words was exceptional. Even the wrapping on a ring meant for a lover wouldn’t be this elaborate.
Just what kind of picture is he painting in his head to say such things? Alfia felt she couldn’t bear not to ask.
“What makes you believe in me enough to say that?”
“A master believing in his slave is like a law of nature. Is there any other reason needed?”
The words came out without a moment’s hesitation.
Even her own people said she was useless. A half-wit elf who couldn’t do anything right. She had been treated that way for so long that she herself had unconsciously accepted it, yet this man she’d only known for a few days was showing her infinite trust.
Because his eyes shone with the light of truth. Because he wore an innocent smile, devoid of any wicked intent.
Alfia, who had been staring with wide, surprised eyes, averted her gaze without realizing it.
“You… you have a bad habit…”
Unable to retort, Alfia muttered words that Karami couldn’t hear.
She remained seated, not getting up.
She twirled a blade of grass with her fingers.
Her eyes were distant, as if lost in thought.
“Sigh.”
Then she sighed and got to her feet. She glanced at the target tree before slowly nocking an arrow.
She drew the bowstring and aimed at the target.
Her green eyes were fixed straight ahead.
“Haaa, fuuu…”
She slowly breathed in and out.
Her arm no longer trembled like before.
Her breath flowed as gently as the wind seeping through the leaves.
Twang!
Alfia released the bowstring once more.
Thud.
She missed.
The arrow didn’t fly far before it fell.
Archery wasn’t so easy that a change of heart would bring about a dramatic transformation.
However.
Alfia didn’t blush as she had before, nor did she scramble to retrieve the fallen arrow.
‘Again.’
She just silently nocked another arrow.