The afternoon sun streamed through the tall windows of the big room, illuminating floating dust motes that danced in the light. Outside, the Edger estate was a hive of activity. A thousand Denares soldiers were setting up a perimeter, digging trenches, and patrolling with a seriousness that suggested an imminent invasion. Inside, Alaric Denares was likely drinking wine in his bath, plotting his next political move or perhaps just enjoying his "house arrest".
But in this specific room, the war felt a million miles away.
Eon sat on the floor, surrounded by a chaotic pile of scrap metal, leather strips, and broken wooden beams he had scavenged from the damaged furniture. He held a curved piece of iron in his hands, frowning at it with intense concentration. His brow was furrowed, and he muttered to himself, twisting the metal with his bare hands, using a low-level application of his Matter Manipulation skill to shape it without fire.
On the large, plush bed behind him, Elora Denares lay on her stomach. Her legs were kicked up in the air, swinging back and forth in a lazy rhythm. She was watching him, her chin resting in her hands, her expression one of profound, agonizing boredom.
She let out a sigh. It wasn't a normal sigh; it was a theatrical, long-winded exhale that sounded like a deflating balloon.
Eon ignored her. He bent the iron loop a little further, trying to match the image in his head.
"Ugh," Elora groaned, rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling. "What are you doing? You've been playing with those scraps for an hour. Are you also bored? Is this how you Elves deal with boredom? By bending trash?"
Eon didn't look up. He picked up a strip of leather and began threading it through the metal loop. "I am not bored, And I am not playing around with trash. Can't you see? I am trying to make something important."
Elora propped herself up on her elbows, squinting at the object in his hands. It looked like a deformed metal circle with a flat bottom. "Important? It looks like a handle for a bucket that lost its bucket. What is it supposed to be?"
"It's not a bucket handle," Eon muttered, struggling with a knot in the leather. "It's... well, I'm trying to make a paddle. Or maybe a pedal? A place where I can put my foot when I ride a horse."
Elora blinked. She sat up fully, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. Her sorrow from Darius's death was still there, a shadow behind her eyes, but being with Eon, the only person who treated her like a person rather than a porcelain doll, made the heavy moments a little lighter. Right now, she just looked confused.
"A paddle?" she repeated. "For a horse? Eon, horses aren't boats. You don't paddle them."
"Not that kind of paddle," Eon snapped, frustrated that the leather snapped in his hand. He grabbed another piece. "You know, the thing. The loop that hangs down from the saddle. You put your foot in it so you don't fall off when the horse decides to run faster than a walk. It helps you balance. It helps you climb up without looking like a sack of potatoes."
Elora stared at him. Her face went blank. Then, slowly, a look of skepticism crept in.
"Are you kidding with me?" she asked.
"Do I look like I'm joking?" Eon held up the twisted metal. "Does this look like a joke to you?"
"Just because I have been sheltered by my brothers all these years, doesn't mean I am dumb, you know," Elora said, crossing her arms over her chest. She lifted her chin, trying to channel the haughty energy of a noblewoman, though it was ruined by her messy hair. "I was the top of my class in etiquette and history. I even helped our family butler with the tax work once, I will let you know. I know what horse tack looks like. And I have never, ever heard of a 'foot-paddle' for a horse."
Eon stopped working. He turned his body to face her, raising an eyebrow. The "honor student" claim sounded suspicious coming from the girl who had been crying on the floor yesterday.
"Oh yeah?" Eon smirked. "I don't see any honor student vibes from you at all. Are you even telling the truth? Or are you just making it up because the only way I can verify that is by asking Alaric? And you know I won't ask him because I try to avoid talking to him unless I have to."
Elora puffed out her cheeks. "I am not lying! I am smart! Alaric handles the schemes, and Darius handled the swords, but I read books! I know things!"
"Clearly not enough things," Eon countered, tapping the metal loop against the floor. "If you're so smart, how can you not know what this is? It's a... saddle? No, the saddle is the seat. This is the... stir-thing. The step. Whatever. It's a standard equipment where I come from."
"Where you come from?" Elora narrowed her eyes. "You mean Seoul?"
Eon flinched. He quickly glanced at the door. "Quiet. Remember the rules? Rule number three: Absolute Silence."
Elora rolled her eyes, but she lowered her voice. "Fine. But in this world, we don't use 'paddles.' We use our knees. You grip the horse with your legs. That's how you stay on. If you need a metal loop to hold your foot, you're just... well, you're bad at riding."
"I am bad at riding!" Eon exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "That's the whole point! Do you remember the ride to the meadow? I had to hold onto Elsa's waist for dear life. It was embarrassing. I'm a High Elf. I'm supposed to be graceful. Bouncing around on a horse's back is not graceful. It hurts."
"It hurts because you have weak legs," Elora said with a smug grin. "Maybe if you trained more instead of playing with scrap metal, you wouldn't need training wheels for your pony."
Eon's jaw dropped. "Training wheels?How do you even know what training wheels are?, wait, never mind. You are mocking me. You, the girl who got kidnapped because she fell off her horse, are mocking my riding skills?"
Elora turned bright red. "I didn't fall off! The guard pulled me off!"
"Yeah, Good excuse."
Just as the bickering was about to escalate into a shouting match, the door to the room creaked open.
Elsa stepped inside. She was carrying a tray with a pitcher of water and some dried fruit. She looked tired, everyone looked tired these days, but she was calm. She saw Eon sitting on the floor surrounded by junk, and Elora sitting on the bed with a face like a tomato.
Elsa paused. She looked at Eon, then at Elora. She didn't sense any danger. In fact, the atmosphere in the room felt lighter than it had in days. It wasn't the heavy, suffocating air of war; it was just... normal.
"Did I interrupt something?" Elsa asked, her voice neutral.
"Yes!" Elora pointed a finger at Eon. "He is making up words! Ask her, Eon. Ask Elsa. She is an Elf. She knows everything about nature and animals, right?"
Eon sighed. "Fine. Hey, Elsa. Have you ever heard of a... saddle-paddle? A loop made of leather or iron that hangs from the horse's side? You put your foot in it to help you ride."
Elsa walked over to the small table and set the tray down. She looked at the twisted metal in Eon's hand. She tilted her head, her silver eyes thoughtful.
"A foot loop?" Elsa asked.
"Yes!" Eon said, looking triumphant. "See? She knows it."
"I have seen some people use it in the Elf country, yes," Elsa said slowly.
Elora's smug smile faltered. "What? Really?"
"Yes," Elsa continued, pouring a glass of water. "But mostly, it was just an item for the elderly. Or for children who had very poor balance. Or sometimes for people who, even after several lessons, never got the hang of riding any moving animal. We called them 'Invalid Straps.' But they were never in this shape Eon is making. They were usually just soft rope so the rider wouldn't hurt themselves when they inevitably fell off."
Silence descended on the room.
Elora stared at Elsa. Then she stared at Eon. Her lips began to twitch.
Eon stared at the metal loop in his hand. He looked betrayed. "Invalid Straps? For the elderly and children? Elsa, whose side are you on?"
Elsa took a sip of water, her face perfectly impassive. "I am on the side of truth, Eon. You asked if such a thing existed. It does. It is a tool for the incompetent."
Elora let out a snort. She tried to cover her mouth with her hand, but it was too late. The laughter bubbled up, escaping in loud, unladylike giggles.
"See?" Elora gasped, pointing at Eon. "I told you! It's training wheels! It's for babies! 'Invalid Straps!' Oh my god, Eon, you are making yourself a baby strap!"
Eon's face flushed. He felt ridiculous. Here he was, trying to introduce the revolutionary technology of the stirrup, an invention that had changed warfare on Earth by allowing knights to brace themselves for impact, and he was being mocked by a teenage girl and his own lieutenant.
"It is not for babies!" Eon argued, though his voice lacked conviction. "It provides leverage! It allows you to stand up in the saddle to shoot arrows or swing a sword with more force! It is a tactical advantage!"
"It allows you not to fall on your butt," Elsa corrected gently. "Which is also a tactical advantage, I suppose."
Elora fell back onto the bed, kicking her legs in the air, laughing so hard she was clutching her stomach. "Tactical advantage! He calls it a tactical advantage! Eon, you just have weak knees! Admit it!"
Eon looked at Elora. She was laughing. Really laughing. It was the first time he had seen her look truly happy since he had dragged her out of own will. The fear of her brothers, the trauma of seeing Darius die, the weight of the oath she had sworn to him, for a moment, all of that was gone. She was just a girl making fun of a boy.
A small, mischievous smile tugged at the corner of Eon's mouth.
"Oh, yeah?" Eon said softly. "You think that's funny, honor student?"
"I think it's hilarious," Elora wheezed. "Mr. Eon the elf needs his paddle."
"I knew it," Eon said, shaking his head with mock disappointment. "When you said you were top of the class, I knew it was a hoax. No way in hell do you fit the honor student image. You are a bully. A bully who doesn't appreciate genius invention."
"I am not a bully!" Elora protested, sitting up, her hair a mess. "I am merely stating facts provided by an expert witness!" She gestured to Elsa.
"Expert witness?" Eon snorted. "She called them Invalid Straps! That's slander!"
He picked up a small, soft velvet pillow from the floor, one he had discarded earlier when stripping the furniture, and weighed it in his hand.
"Heh heh," Eon chuckled darkly.
Elora's eyes went wide. "Don't you dare."
"You insulted my invention," Eon said. "And you insulted my knees."
"Eon, I'm a Lady of a Marquess House!" Elora squeaked, scrambling backward on the bed. "You can't throw things at me!"
"You're a hostage," Eon corrected, winding up his arm. "And my knees are very strong."
Thwack!
The velvet pillow sailed through the air and hit Elora square in the face. It wasn't hard, but the shock of it made her gasp. She sat there for a second, the pillow in her lap, looking stunned.
Then, her eyes narrowed.
"Oh, it is on," she whispered.
She grabbed the heavy pillow from the head of the bed. It was twice the size of the one Eon had thrown.
"Die, inventor!" she screamed.
She hurled the pillow with surprising force. Eon ducked, but he was sitting cross-legged and couldn't move fast enough. The pillow clipped his shoulder and knocked over his pile of scrap metal with a loud crash.
"Agh!" Eon yelled, laughing. "That's assault! Elsa, witness this! The prisoner is revolting!"
Elsa watched from the corner of the room. She took another sip of water. She watched as Eon scrambled to his feet, grabbing another pillow. She watched Elora jump off the bed, using the mattress as a shield, shrieking with laughter as Eon chased her around the room.
"Take it back!" Eon shouted, trying to corner her near the wardrobe. "Say the paddle is a genius invention!"
"Never!" Elora yelled, throwing a handful of dried flower petals she found in a bowl. "It's a baby strap! A baby strap for a baby Elf!"
They ran in circles, dodging furniture, throwing cushions, and trading insults that became more ridiculous by the second.
Elsa stood there for a moment longer. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips.
She remembered the vows she had taken at the grave that morning. She remembered the promise to be ruthless, to be a monster if necessary. She remembered the cold anger that had filled her heart.
But seeing this... seeing Eon act like a boy instead of a savior, and seeing the human girl act like a child instead of an enemy... it made the coldness recede, just a little bit.
They were young. In a world that wanted them dead or enslaved, they had found a moment to just be young.
Elsa set the glass down quietly on the table. She didn't want to disturb them. She didn't want to remind them of the army outside or the dead Marquess in the ground.
She turned and walked toward the door. As she slipped out into the hallway, she heard Eon yelp as Elora apparently landed a direct hit.
"Got you!" Elora crowed.
"That was a lucky shot!" Eon retorted.
Elsa closed the door softly, muffling the sounds of their joy. She stood in the quiet hallway for a second, her hand resting on the latch.
"Wear your smile like a summer sky, but keep your blade as sharp as the coming winter." she whispered to the wood a old saying from her home-land.
She straightened her back, her face returning to its usual mask of stoic determination. Then, she walked away down the corridor, her footsteps silent, heading back to the war that was waiting for them all.
Inside the room, the battle of the pillows raged on, a brief, beautiful sanctuary in the eye of the storm.
Author note: Joy is the reward for peace; seriousness is the price of keeping it.