"Hi Rodrick!"
The class shouted.
He appeared as though doors could be completely optional for him, if he deemed it so.
"I am a Royal Knight of the Kosmairian Guard. I am tasked with defending important people, like the Kosmairian ruler, and I am frequently sent on important missions to defend our people against the forces of evil."
"Woahhhhhhhh!"
The kids were nearly foaming at the mouth. Now this was more their speed.
"That is all I do so…" he lowered his helmet's visor. His voice was muffled. "Any questions?"
Nearly every single hand shot up in the class.
"You um... the one with the big teeth."
He pointed to a child who looked as though they might die if he didn't pick them.
"Yes! Rodrick! Do you kill bad guys?"
"Do I kill bad guys he asks. Haha! Hell yeah, I do!"
The class cheered.
Mrs. Farcroft scolded the knight.
"Language."
"Oh, um... Yes, my bad, madam. Next question." He looked around the class. "You there, with the robe that looks like a petrovid threw up all over you."
The child looked around, as if they didn't stand out like a sore thumb.
"Me? Oh!" They were now bashful. "I forgot what I was going to ask…"
Rodrick chuckled.
"I'll tell you about something I've killed then." He struck a pensive pose. As if he were waiting for someone to start his portrait. "Hmmm. Would you believe me if I told you that I've killed a dragon before?"
"A dragon!"
The children were foaming at the mouth.
"Yes, I did! It was massive with green scales, and it spat acid that could melt my armor."
"Wooooooooooooooww."
Rodrick laughed, looking doubly as smug as before. He scoped the classroom, and every hand was raised and eager. But that didn't interest him.
"How about you?"
His hand traced to Gwyn, the only person without her hand raised.
Gwyn was annoyed at how hard it was to understand the knight with his lowered visor.
"Me? Oh… I don't have any."
"Sure you do! I've protected Chosen Ones like you before."
"That's nice."
Leave me alone, dude.
He left the front of the room and approached Gwyn at the back, standing in front of her desk. He leaned down, raised his visor, and whispered to her.
"Hey, so… like someone earlier said, you asked really good questions, so… can you help a knight out?"
He then leaned up and walked back to the front of the class.
Gwyn suddenly felt a sharp pain in her leg. She turned to her side, and Griffith's foot was sliding back under his desk.
"What makes you so special, huh?"
Gwyn had to restrain herself from making a makeshift shank out of a croissant and stabbing the mop-headed asshole.
"Wow! What did he say?"
A kid not-so-whispered to another.
"I don't know, maybe they just got married and they're having a marital dispute."
Gwyn rubbed the soreness of her leg and stifled a laugh at that comment. Now playing along with the knight, she raised her hand.
The knight eagerly called on her again.
"Yes, the Chosen One!"
"You're pretty tough, right?"
He chuckled to himself.
"Tough? Just look at me. I've killed creatures bigger than this delicious-looking room!"
He flexed in his bulky, shining red armor.
"Really? If that's the case, then you can kill the King of Terror, right?"
The moment his name was mentioned, it was as if the room had frozen.
The knight nervously laughed.
"Haha, that's a funny joke."
He looked towards the teacher, who was as wide-eyed as everyone else.
"What? You just said you were tough."
"Madam, no one can kill him."
"Then why parade around like you are this embodiment of masculinity? You say you fight against the King of Terror, but you are only alive because he hasn't killed you yet."
He lowered his visor. The room was utterly silent. One child burst into tears. Gwyn couldn't see the knight's face, but knew she'd gotten to him.
Griffith was stone-faced.
"Way to kill the vibe."
Gwyn rolled her eyes.
These elves are a joke, especially that knight. If they are soooo great, why do I have to kill the King of Terror then?
As if to end their suffering, the bell rang, and everyone solemnly picked up their belongings. Some kids looked sad or glared at Gwyn as they walked out, and the knight left without another word.
Mrs. Farcroft spoke when they were the only ones in the room.
"Ms. Grim."
Gwyn approached the desk, expecting this outcome.
"Yes?"
Gwyn's attitude was apparent. She knew a lengthy lecture on proper behavior was unavoidable.
"Would you like to hear a story?"
"Oh… sure."
She hadn't expected that.
"I was around before the King of Terror. I remembered when the Wall wasn't as close as it is now." She drummed her fingers on the desk. "Despite dire circumstances, our people have always remained hopeful. That was... until the King of Terror rose to power."
Gwyn took a deep breath.
"What does this have to do with me?"
The teacher sighed.
"Our people need hope. I know some are treating you poorly, but earlier today, I asked the class to no longer make comments about you." She looked expectantly at Gwyn. "If you were here on time, you would've known that."
Gwyn's jaw tightened.
"All I am saying is that not all elves are bad, and not all elves hate Chosen Ones. I think it would be to your benefit to try not to make any more enemies."
Gwyn stared at the floor. She thought of all the terrible comments people have made to her so far. She thought about Elise and her kindness. She thought about Mr. Keeper. She then wondered about all the things she hadn't yet learned. Maybe she was being too harsh with the knight who does his best to protect his people.
"Thanks for the advice."
Mrs. Farcroft leaned back in her chair.
"It's kind of my job." She wore a smug expression. "I'd say I'm pretty good at it."
"Has anyone told you how humble you are?"
"It's actually in the first sentence of my résumé."
They both let out a chuckle.
"Thanks, Mrs. Farcroft."
"It's no trouble, I'd like to see them extend your deadline, if I can have any hand in it."
She referenced the five years Gwyn has to kill the aforementioned King of Terror.
Gwyn didn't like thinking about that deadline, but nodded and smiled.
"Oh, be careful of the boys out there. I'm pretty sure they're still waiting. Want me to tell them to fuck off?"
"Mrs. Farcroft!"
"Hey! We're just a couple of gals, I can say whatever I like."
Gwyn couldn't help but respect Mrs. Farcroft even more.
"I'll be fine, I need to learn how to fight my own battle, if I can."
Mrs. Farcroft nodded.
"Well, good luck! I'm rooting for you."
Gwyn prepared herself and walked towards the door, but the second her hand touched the handle.
"There she is! She slipped by us. She went that way!"
The voice seemed to be pointing away from the room.
"I see her too! Hey, wait, Baby Cakes! I know you want my link!"
The stampede rushed off in that direction, shouting Gwyn's name and asking if they could see her feet.
A chill ran up her spine as she peeked out the door. There was only a single elf waiting for her. When they turned around.
Holy fucking shit.
"Hello."
The voice was smoky and deep. Gwyn could feel the heat rise in her cheeks. This was the same voice that led the crowd away.
"How-llo."
Her brain scrambled; this guy's attractiveness made her try to say 'howdy' and 'hello' at the same time.
"I hear you are the beautiful Chosen One everyone seems to be talking about."
The elf reached out a hand and kneeled before Gwyn as if she were royalty.
"Um..."
She frantically waved her hands, looking to see if anyone else was watching.
"You don't have to do that. I'm just—"
"Oh, I do."
He raised his head. His deep voice pierced her soul, his eyes a golden, fiery amber. Gwyn found herself immediately lost within them.
Am I dreaming?
Gwyn lost all words again.
The elf stood up and coolly said.
"Want me to show you around the Capital?"
He reached out his hand elegantly. This stranger was the perfect embodiment of nobility. Perfection like this just wasn't normal.
A thought had occurred to her. That she should be hesitant. She should probably vet this guy before blindly following this stranger.
But he was just so damn hot. Criminally so. Call the fire department.
"I guess, but… Some people may want me dead. How do I know you aren't one of them?"
Surely this was an honest stranger. This singular question would suffice her nagging self-preservation instinct.
"Don't worry about them or me, Gwynevere."
He said her name with the same cadence that Elise did, making Gwyn's heart skip and face flush red.
"I'll protect you."