My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World



Fresh, piping-hot meals descended upon the living room space, served and plated one after the other in a dainty catwalk strut by none other than the head chef of the house, her trailing, billowing flames adding just that extra extravagance to her entrance.

And that was the night and moment I found out that Ria was much more than simple eggs and bacon. I didn't even know what half of the things I was looking at were. 

All I knew, all I understood from plate after plate of meat, vegetables, and gravy, was that they looked good… and that they smelled even better.

A minute ago I was still swelling and squirming from the burger I had earlier. But now my stomach was acting up like I was on the brink of death - funny how that works.

"If you could cook like this…" I began, feeling my tongue salivate my words.

"Then why didn't I spoil you rotten when I stayed with you?" Ria finished the thought. "And, pray tell, why would I need to? You've got an Elf. You're soon-to-be bride-to-be, eventually, maybe - still wondering who gets first dibs on that - anyway, yeah, Elf-Knight. Gotta make good use of her, you know?" 

Last to arrive was the sous-chef's own signature dish, lamb chops cooked too… let's say… less than perfection to put it politely. 

"Poor thing," Ria tutted, staring with eyes filled with heartache. "Kicked literal Death out of her property, but can't tell what's what from her medium to her rare." 

Irene came slowly shambling to the coffee table, somehow shrinking more in size the closer she got, and amidst the piles and platters of tantalizing delicacies, she introduced her contribution… blackened, shriveled, looking more like charcoal… and plopped them down in the corner that was the furthest from my reach. 

So naturally, they were the first thing I aimed to put on my plate.

"Don't," Irene said, one step ahead of my intent. "I'll say you don't have to, then you'll say you want to, you'll take a bite, you'll say it's nice - let's not play this out, please? It isn't good, plain and simple. I'd be happier if you just passed over it." 

I grabbed a knife, squeezed a fork, and stabbing deep, what do you know? A slab of lamb hovered in the air on the other end.

"It's dry, rubbery," she said, each warning ever the more stressful. "I had a bite, there's barely any flavor. If you're gonna eat it anyway and compliment it, I know you'll be lying." 

Warned, heeded, and noted, I sliced a piece - struggling briefly - and took a bite regardless… chewing, and chewing… and still chewing… wow, I'm still chewing. 

Irene was watching me with disgruntled eyes, looking completely apathetic at one angle and totally anxious at another. Like an optical, emotional illusion or something.

"Welp, you're right," I said, once I was finally able to swallow. "It's everything just as you've described. And more, unfortunately." 

"But you still like it anyway," she said.

"But I still like it anyway," I affirmed, nodding, and taking another bite.

Irene sighed, all-knowing and all-expecting, the scenario far too predictable for her clever mind. "Don't know if I even want to know what inane reason you're gonna use to justify yourself." 

"Well, for starters, it was made by you," I said simply between each savoring chew. "So by default - it's already the best thing I ever had."

She eye-rolled me, which was a hundred percent deserved, definitely. But as she grabbed an empty plate, started reaching for her picks with the eager end of her fork, from an entirely different angle, she looked noticeably livelier than she was before. 

"Fuck, you two are cute together…" Ria whispered from the side in grim, despairing realization. "... oh, I hate this. I hate this, and I don't know why I'm even hating this. Worst of all, I hate that I'm slowly liking this." 

All her thorny thoughts, and pent-up apprehension, Ria vented them out by ripping the leg off a roast chicken, tearing a bite with gnashed teeth, and lowly grumbling and leering at us through pieces of flesh.

Soon enough, we all found ourselves with a plateful of food and still an entire buffet of more before us should we ever run out. 

We sat in a circle of silence, just eating, and drinking, and then eating some more. For all the build-up and fanfare, when it came to the actual 'celebrating' part of the celebration, it actually turned out to be quite simple and dull. 

Admittedly, the main event has yet to actually commence. A quick peek at my phone revealed we were still over an hour away until the night, and the year by extension, finally close to a new beginning. 

It's a bit curious, now that I think about it.

"Why New Year's anyway?" I asked.

Ria was busy suckling on a bone raw, and took a couple of seconds before realizing I had her in my sights. With a loud pop, and her cheeks reinflating, she cocked her head at me. 

"Why what?" 

"Your birthday," I said. "Why'd you pick New Year's as your birthday?"

"Why not?" she frowned quizzically. "It's a free country, free will. I know my rights." 

"And I'm starting to think you just don't know when it actually is." 

"Of course I do," Ria said with a look full of confidence - a confidence that lasted all but a second. "Well, I would know. Provided I ever got around to actually doing the math and conversion on it. But I would, I mean Irene already had - um, Irene, when's yours again?" 

Irene, who had been listening attentively all this while, quietly answered over the rims of her beer can. 

"In this world, it's the third of July. That's if I'm not wrong. I wasn't - the last I checked."

"And how do you check that exactly?" I asked.

"Complicated," Ria dismissed my question. "And you Mr. Suave? How 'bout it? When did Hero Daddy and Demon Mommy finally receive their bundle of you?"

Now I'm Mr. Suave, apparently. Well, she's bound to run out of nicknames before the night runs dry, I'm sure.

"The tenth," I said, gazing at them both, and noticing both staring quite intently, perhaps Irene a little more. "Of January." 

"January!" Ria exclaimed, her eyes literally dazzling bright. "Ooh, you hear that, Irene? January the tenth! You better mark that down, the day ain't far! Not a lotta time to plan something special - and you are planning something special, right?" 

"Maybe," Irene said nonchalantly, yet behind her hazel eyes, there stirred something with a fervor. But then with a blink, it was gone.

"You sure you wanna play it cool here like that?" she cautioned her. "Being cool is cool, I get it. Everyone loves the cool girl. But if you're too cool, your boyfriend over here is eventually gonna think you're too cool for him. You want that?" 

To no one surprise, except Ria's, Irene chose to simply ignore her words of wisdom, and continued to play it cool… munching elegantly on a piece of rubber lamb.

"Know something? I missed the old you," Ria muttered resentfully. "My little Riri who'd come to check up on me on my stump. That lovely little girl that'll snuggle up to my flames in the winter, help me build my nest - where did she go, I wonder?" 

Once again, no response. 

Ria muttered again, sounding even more reproachful. 

"You used to love fondling my boobs too…" 

At that, I choked. Irene snapped. And the once sulking phoenix smirked.

"She - what?" I wheezed out, overcoming death by lamb meat.

"Don't answer," Irene barked, sounding tense and staring daggers. 

But inversely, and in return, Ria heard and heeded absolutely no words from her. 

"Oh yes, she loved it," She continued merrily on. "See, fledglings succubus get awfully nosy about things earlier than most races. Ah, she was such a sweet, curious child."

Then she leered at me, her lips barely even able to restrain herself from spilling it all. 

"Would you like to hear some childhood stories?"