Wandering Agent
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Machinist of Mana Chapter 122 Comparing Pictures
🕑 Added 2025-05-15 08:32:31 +0000 UTCI had a terrific day off from my torturous tutoring, so of course I was spending part of it helping another study.
“I do hate history class,” Rowenna grumbled. “Our teacher is so terribly boring.”
“Fair,” I admitted with a smile, happy just to spend time with someone else.
“And I feel like I'm falling behind too, never caught up.”
“It is difficult to catch up on history, they're always making more of it.”
My comment got my irritated girlfriend to toss one of her books at me, something I slapped away almost absently.
“Worse with all my cousins here, and their staff, the house is always bustling now. Sure, I love them, but it's all a little much.”
Rowenna's house had somehow come out of the attack on the city completely unscathed, one of several such places. She'd not been near anything too vital so hadn't been targeted, and with enough nobles around, and their people, they'd repelled the few goblins that had come this way handily.
Many, many others weren't so lucky, and while the duke was doing all he could to help, places were still full to the brim. Every boarding house was full, with families that had the ability to housing their kin. It meant that people were practically tripping over each other everywhere they went.
Yet Rowenna had still managed to secure us some time in her own room, though there was of course a chaperone.
“Don't throw things! It's unseemly,” her auntie griped from a corner. It was of course the same aunt who'd gotten me to come to her party. “Perhaps it's time for a break if you're so bothered, we could have some tea and chat for awhile...” The woman really was a terrible gossip.
“Now, now ma'am, we're here to make sure Rowenna has no problems with her classes not socialize. Mixing things like that will only cause this whole session to fail,” I said with a kindly smile, determined to sidestep further attempts at getting me to tell stories of what I'd been doing during the attack; rumors already abounded. Of course I didn't inform the woman that I would be leaving for an unknown quantity of time soon, but I was tired of her pressuring me and letting her wait would be fine.
“Pah, when will I need to know ancient history anyway,” she complained.
About an hour later her aunt left us, needing to go deal with some business or another for a moment and Rowenna sighed, beginning to put her books back together.
“You haven't told me much about what you're up to these days,” she observed.
“I cannot Rowenna, not because of anything you did, but because of my work. Certainly you understand that?”
“Well, yes, but that doesn't mean I enjoy it. I suppose with your propensity for weapons much of your personal business is with the military, so it's something I should get used to.”
“I imagine your aunt's been insufferable about it,” I snickered.
“She had, but if I don't know I don't know. She probably thinks she'll get answers hovering over us like she is.” Rowenna picked up the book she'd tossed as she spoke, eyes settling on it intensely.
“Something wrong?” I asked.
“No, just, really familiar...”
I leaned over, looking at the page and getting the same sense. There was something pricking at my brain, just on the corner but I couldn't piece it together. The face, I knew the face depicted there, clearly a copy of some old painting or some such, but from where? Had I seen it around town somewhere? If so I couldn't place the place.
“It's...” Suddenly the girl jumped up, running over to her closet and pulling the doors open where she found another bound volume, this one with oddly thick pages.
Rowenna brought her new book to the table and began flipping through it rapidly. Each page was a smaller one, pressed into almost a frame, letters I recognized. These were all the letters I'd sent her over the years, kept here where she could peruse them at her leisure.
“You framed them all?” I asked, surprised.
“Don't tell me you threw out my letters?” she said, sending me a sharp glare.
“No, but I didn't keep them so nicely either...” They were all sitting in a bunch in one of my trunks, or at least most of them were...
“Something we shall address later, but for now. Here it is!” One of the more recent pages was the one she was looking for, and I saw it there, the same face as in her book, the same eyes, and jaw. The ears were different though, just slightly.
“Oh, I remember now, the man from the town!” I let out, slapping myself on the face. “But wait, how is that possible.”
I looked down at her book and read the subtitle to it.
'Depiction of the Elven King'
My eyes bulged, the image was well over five thousand years old, or at least the original was, the picture here a reproduction from some palace on the other side of the world. Even his clothes looked like what I'd seen him in, flowing robes and almost tired eyes, but the ones from the ancient picture held a fire I couldn't quite square with the man I'd met.
Not that it would have even been possible. From both my own history classes and the basic lesson in the elven language my newest teacher were giving me I knew there'd only ever been one person to call himself a king among the elves. Others had tried to claim such a title but were all considered pretenders, and their mysterious deaths not long after they crowned themselves were taken as evidence. Theories abounded as to why, but my guess was that someone powerful took offense.
“That's not possible,” I muttered. “He'd have to be... millennia old.”
“Lots of people claim it's nonsense, but they say the purest blooded elves don't age.”
“And you believe that?” I asked.
“Well, I think I'm starting to.”
“Maybe I should I well,” I mumbled. “I don't suppose you'd loan me this book?” I asked, pointing to the history text.
Rowenna's eyes sparkled with mischief. “Go ahead, but you owe me.”
“I shudder to think what sort of debts I might be incurring there.”
