With the promise of martial training, Sylvie's life continued as usual, though with one significant change.
Her first nine years in this world had been a happy time, though she did not recall her first one with as much clarity as this. It was a second childhood, though, and her life as a Wood Elf had been one with no problems with a kind, loving family; however, this comfortable and easy feeling began to vanish as she suddenly realised the dangers of this world.
Falamel was a safe City, well defended and structured, a place that protected you from the dangers and reality of the outside world, it almost made Sylvie forget that this world was no means a safe one.
However, this veil of safety was an illusion. Her parents had kept the reality from her for a long time, but now she had been unwittingly dragged into a game far beyond her. She had no idea of the dangers the High Elves brought. Still, her Parents and Haryk seemed wary of them, which was strange considering she had been told they were on friendly terms for most of her life.
Sylvie found that Haryk's outburst, revealing their true thoughts on the High Elves, had created a tense and disrupted atmosphere in their family life that no longer allowed them to live carefree.
Both Ballen and Lanren were old enough to understand the implications. Ballen, the oldest of the three and in the guards, took the news decently. However, he may not have understood the complete truth originally; her Father had been preparing him. Lanren, on the other hand, seemed strange.
He completely shut himself out from the rest of the family and was even ruder than usual. At times, Sylvie thought he was in denial, hearing him mutter that Haryk was just some foolish alchemist over his head.
Lanren had a strange contempt for the Warriors, believing they were from a backwards age; this view was growing in the new generation of Wood Elves, which was mysteriously gaining momentum.
Most crafters in Falamel had an almost worship-level view of the High Elves. They brought much innovation and influenced the change in the long-standing warrior culture of the Wood Elves, allowing the crafter profession to rise in importance.
Enchantments and modernisation of the city's structures, utilising magi-tech, made their hostile home in the Great Forest safer and more secure from outside dangers. This introduced an era of peace, in which Wood Elves no longer needed to be fierce protectors and Warriors of the Tree of Life, as no beast or outside force has been able to threaten them for thousands of years.
Sylvie, on the other hand, was not naive. According to Haryk, Wood Elves' one edge against the High Elves was always their Warriors. Despite the High Elves being taller, Wood Elves were superior physically and better combatants. Yet, the new generation of Warriors was growing smaller, and the mighty Warriors of old had grown old.
It meant that their dependence on the High Elves' magi-tech and enchantments grew by the day. And Sylvie knew it was never good to rely on an outside force, no matter how much you are on friendly terms.
The Wood Elves would never better the High Elves' talent as crafters; the fact that an eleven-year-old High Elf who was superior to every House Browman scion was considered average revealed just how adept they are at it.
Sylvie understood it made sense. Even when Haryk was a crafter, he understood their strengths lay as Warriors. For Wood Elves, who were proud traditionalists of their culture, she could see why resentment was building over the High Elves influencing them to a degree over the hundreds of years.
Her parents and Haryk seemed worried about it, and the view arose that she could use training to defend herself.
That led to Sylvie beginning her journey as a martial practitioner, though she continued her previous routine to maintain appearances, now as an Apprentice Alchemist.
Her days with Haryk did not lessen despite the chance. Now, she would craft potions with him and varied the variety, taking on complex commissions from the Alchemist Guild to craft some of the more difficult, challenging apprentice-level potions.
Haryk wanted to continue building her foundation before he had her attempting Journeyman potions. The gap between an apprentice and a journeyman was huge, with most apprentice alchemists taking fifteen to twenty years to progress in rank once again.
Sylvie found herself bartering and flexing her mercantile skills more.
âHow about two gold for everything? You're looking at high-quality potions; usually, only upper-level alchemists can brew potions like this at the Apprentice level! And they donât often do so as they can craft higher grade potions above the Apprentice rank worth far more, so this is a bargain, not to mention your forming a relationship with the youngest Apprentice Alchemist in Falamel history.â Sylvie said, revealing her bright white teeth as she smiled.
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
âYou're improving at this, Sylvie, though Iâm not the district's most experienced merchant if a few sweet words can deceive me. Make it one gold and thirty-five silver, and you have a deal.â The elf merchant said with a jovial smile.
Sylvie was surprised to find just how much enjoyment Wood Elves had in haggling. However, it was not in the typical human fashion of profiting, as they felt that beneath them, they did enjoy the mental challenge and social interaction involved. Sylvie amused many elf merchants by putting her cleverness and wit against Elves hundreds of years older than her.
Simply put, it was like a game with no real stakes. Sylvie found that the Elven Community here was run rather simply; your income increased based on your contributions to the community.
The merchants here loved the haggling game, yet it was by acceptable margins. They mainly consisted of merchants who were crafters themselves; they sold what they made at a fair price. The better the crafter, the higher up the tree you live and the more you make.
Through their long lives, their skills naturally increased, which is why the elder elves would often live higher up the tree, whereas those younger would gain and improve their experience at the lower levels.
Sylvie had been doing this for a while now. Though she barely made anything more than the value of the potions, it was good practice for her, not to mention the craftier, older elven merchants frequently went easy on her simply because they enjoyed her company.
Elves had a far lower birth rate than humans. Her family was bizarre since hundreds of years could pass per child in normal Elven families. Haryk himself had children hundreds of years apart.
Her parents were also over four hundred years old. They were surprised to have three children so soon after a long period of waiting.
âYou have yourself a deal, though Iâll get you to two gold eventually,â Sylvie said with a dramatic look.
The elven merchant chuckled in amusement as he said, âStill sharp as ever, Sylvie, youâre going to make a fine Elf, I tell you! Already this smooth a talker, when you reach your first century, you might be the best haggler in Falamel!â
Sylvie shook the hand of the good-natured Elf as she handed the potions over. It was common around here to sell things to each other; most do it to entertain themselves in their spare time. Though Sylvie handed many potions to the guild for the commissions sheâs been completing, she would still come back here to haggle; she found it enjoyable, and it was the primary social interaction she had outside her family, since Elven society was structured different and alchemy was a individual profession she had not interacted much with children her age.
It was then that Barren approached from behind her. He was accompanying her today and would take her to what she was looking forward to: martial training.
âAre you ready, Sylvie? I canât wait to show you what Brother does.â Barren said with a pleasant smile.
âOf course, I bet brother is the best!â Sylvie said with an eager nod.
Barren seemed to jump for joy when she responded like that. He then directed her to follow him as they went down a path leading to one of the few areas of the district she was unfamiliar with.
There was a training range in Neolune where martial skills could be practised. The guard commonly used it, and Barren frequently used it when he was younger.
When they arrived, Sylvie saw many guardsmen. And those familiar with Barren approached with friendly smiles as they introduced themselves.
Sylvie responded to a few curious greetings from some of Barren's friends, and each remarked that she was as bright and adorable as Barren said, much to his enjoyment.
She was used to such comments. Maxing out the traits had legit made her the personification of cute, which she loved to weaponise during her haggling with the merchants.
Though that was not the only thing maxing out the traits brought, as it turned out that doing so had made her the personification of what a perfect Wood Elf would look like.
It made her reach the full potential of everything a Wood Elf could be, including her athletic gifts. Sylvie was tall and physically gifted for her age; she figured it would be helpful for martial training even if she didnât have a specific weapon or martial talents to accompany it.
The training range was a large expanse of land that held hundreds of training areas, each being rectangular cubicles that were walled and closed off.
There was a range for bowmen, who practised shooting at elaborate targets that were designed to imitate real things, depending on the difficulty programmed. This was a type of magi-tech that discharged projectiles for the bowman to aim at.
It was also a classic range with just basic targets to aim at.
The training range was not fancy, yet like all Elven craftsmanship, there was an air of beauty in just how smooth and well-built everything was. Most of it was made of thick, strong marble-like stone that was designed to be durable.
After finishing chatting with Barren's friends, Sylvie and Barren found their father in one of the areas awaiting them.
He had a serious, professional tone about him and resembled every bit of a guardsman of the Forest he was. Sylvie often forgot how harmless he acted, that he was a remarkable warrior, well over four hundred years old, with many accolades.
âWelcome, you two. We might as well begin right away, Barren, you know this, but I will describe to Sylvie now what a Martial Practitioner is.â Her Father said.
Sylvie listened closely to him. She was about to undergo her first training session and was eager to learn.