XElenea
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MT - 86 Apprenticeship
🕑 Added 2025-01-24 16:00:04 +0000 UTCHer father, now in his twilight years, bore the toll of a life spent as an adventurer. Such a path often left one with hidden ailments, and even a strong body would falter with age. Though he still carried himself with vigor, in private, his weariness was unmistakable.
He understood his daughter's nature and recognized her talent, but his lack of power and connections made it impossible for him to find a suitable mentor for her.
The white-haired girl, however, was well aware of their circumstances. Though she never voiced it, she had long since resolved to seek the shelter of a stronger benefactor.
Weighing the risks and benefits, she ultimately decided there wasn't much to lose. With a resigned shrug, she prepared to sneak out and meet the person in question.
But as soon as she stepped outside her room, she froze.
Across from her room was her father's, flanked on either side by her second and third brothers' quarters. Her father's room was slightly larger than the others, though only by a modest margin.
And there he was—her father, standing silently at the doorway. At some point, he had moved to sit by the entrance, his gaze fixed intently on her.
Instinctively, the girl shivered. Her father had always imposed strict rules on her, though his discipline rarely extended to punishment. Even when she caused trouble, he couldn't bring himself to be harsh. This leniency had shaped her bold and impulsive character.
Yet in moments like these, her courage always faltered. Slowly, she retracted her foot and stepped back into her room, deciding to abandon her plan and return to bed.
What had once seemed a risk-free endeavor now felt dangerous, with no proportional reward in sight. She gave up on the idea altogether.
Unfortunately for her, her father was quicker. The slightly hunched figure rose to his feet, puffing on a weathered pipe as he called out to her from the doorway.
"Elena, stop hiding. They've already told me everything."
The man, likely in his forties, carried the signs of weariness not uncommon among adventurers of his kind. Though an ordinary man might consider this his prime, for someone of his profession, it marked the onset of decline.
What they had told him was clear enough.
The white-haired girl—Elena—had no choice but to step out of her room. Forcing a nervous smile, she timidly asked, "Can I just… not go?"
Her father rubbed his temples, his exhaustion evident.
Her escapades were becoming increasingly troublesome. Adding to his concerns was her growing beauty, which only made matters worse.
Just a short while ago, a passing noble had taken an interest in her charming appearance, proposing to purchase her as a servant.
At first glance, securing a position in a noble household might have seemed like a decent opportunity. But upon investigating the man, it became clear he was a minor noble with a tarnished reputation.
The rumors surrounding his household painted a grim picture. Even among the nobility, he was considered disgraceful, embroiled in scandal and disrepute.
Naturally, her father had refused the offer. Though he declined politely, the noble's demeanor shifted instantly. What began as a cordial conversation turned menacing as the man's expression darkened.
Were it not for the public setting and the sword at her father's hip, he might have acted on his threats then and there.
The encounter had ended in acrimony, with the noble leaving a chilling remark:
"Let's see how long you can protect your daughter."
That incident had taken place a month ago. Knowing the kind of man he was dealing with, Elena's father couldn't help but feel uneasy.
After all, he was just a broken-down adventurer, a shadow of his former self. How could he possibly contend with the power and influence of a noble?
In this harsh world, those without power, connections, or backing endure lives fraught with difficulty.
The man exhaled the last puff of smoke from his worn pipe, his gaze resting on his daughter's innocent smile. Slowly, her youthful face seemed to overlap with a memory—the face of a woman he had once known.
Her dull, lifeless eyes.
Her revealing, tattered clothes.
The hollows of her cheeks, etched with the passage of time and the weight of suffering.
The memory jolted him awake. His eyes refocused on the girl before him—his daughter, Elena—with her bright, unclouded gaze.
Once, he thought, that woman might have been like Elena: smiling with the same innocence, surrounded by people she loved, and by those who loved her in return.
The more he pondered, the deeper his fear grew. But with fear came helplessness, a crushing reminder of his limitations.
Finally, his thoughts coalesced into a sigh. Outside, the full moon hung high, its pale light spilling over the world. It bathed Elena in a silvery glow, as though she were draped in a veil of moonlight.
Her father took a deep breath. The dread of an uncertain future drove him to a decision he had long resisted.
"Let's go," he said at last. "I'll come with you. If it's real—if there's truly hope—you won't need to return."
As the words left his mouth, his figure seemed to age in an instant. His already stooped frame sagged further, his weariness now laid bare.
Elena froze, staring at the man who had always been so kind to her. A soft spring breeze caressed her face, but it couldn't ease the sudden ache in her chest.
Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill. She bit back her emotions, her voice trembling with suppressed sobs. "You… don't want me anymore? Did I do something wrong? You can scold me, punish me! Is it because of this? I promise I won't bully the street thugs anymore. I won't make them pay me again, I swear!"
Her father smiled faintly. His remaining left hand reached out to gently touch her forehead, his expression calm and serene. The sharpness of his youth had long since been dulled by years of hardship, leaving only a quiet resolve.
"No, it's not your fault," he said softly. "Didn't you always say you wanted to become a great adventurer? Go, then. See what this last hope has to offer."
His words carried a bitter truth. Entrusting hope to someone else was foolish, he knew, but he had no other choice.
Behind them, a figure watched in silence. Cloaked in black, Roya stood shrouded in the shadows of the night, his presence blending seamlessly with the darkness. The moonlight couldn't reach him, leaving him as an invisible witness to the conversation.
A smile crept across Roya's lips. He had expected to work harder to sway them, but learning of their past made things far simpler. Watching the pair move away, he vanished into the night.
In the dim light of flickering street lamps, Elena walked alone. The slums at night were eerily quiet, with barely a soul in sight. The occasional passerby was likely a drunken vagabond, stumbling through the streets.
When they saw Elena, their gazes instinctively roamed over her figure.
The crude stares sent a chill down her spine. The once-bold girl now felt an uncharacteristic timidity creeping in.
She quickened her pace, hoping to escape their leering eyes. Her urgency only seemed to embolden the drunkards, who grinned lecherously. One of them began to rise, but froze in place as a cold, piercing gaze locked onto him.
