Chapter 13 - Iron Tusk Boar

As their group travelled towards the lift-like structure she had used to ascend the City previously, Sylvie was about to descend the tree for the first time.

It felt like an adventure, and though Sylvie had been reborn in a fantastical, magical world, being confined in Falamel meant she had seen hardly any of it.

Sylvie had heard about the beauty of the Great Forest since she was born, so she eagerly anticipated it.

The group she travelled with had numerous guardsmen with significant experience in the Great Forest. Travelling with groups like this was standard for those her age or younger, though it was becoming less common recently.

Ballen had gone out even younger, showing her Father honestly thought of everything regarding her safety, since the group they were going out with now held the most competent squad of fighters in the district.

Voron himself was a Liadon scion. He was the equivalent of an elven officer to the guardsmen in this district, though the labelling of such ranks differed in elven society.

Either way, he was one of the few Wood Elves in this district superior to her Father as a martial practitioner, and her Father specifically wanted them to accompany him for that reason.

Sylvie found that things went more efficiently than when she went with Haryk. With a squadron of guardsmen and their trainees, everything was handled swiftly, and soon enough, they began to descend the tree.

It felt strange as she saw them rapidly moving down inside the familiar lift structure she had previously only utilised to ascend for her visits to the alchemy guild in Caelora.

Contrary to the other times when she ascended, though the familiar elven likeness remained in the craftsmanship, she could see that the lower districts appeared less modern, more traditional, and ancient than the upper districts like Caelora.

Now they were heading towards the bottom of the tree, to the first district of Falamel, Eshva.

Eshva was extremely ancient. Though it has undergone many changes over the past few millennia since its construction, Elven craftsmanship was designed to last, and most of the old architecture remains.

Sylvie thought it was pleasing to the eye, though simpler, it gave off a more earthly feel than Caelora.

Shortly after reaching the first district, they began marching through the streets of Eshva.

Being part of an elf guardsman escort had its benefits. With Veron at the lead, they could bypass many things that usually delayed her when she would ascend to the upper districts with Haryk.

She chatted with her brother and his friends about the guards during their journey.

Sylvie had previously heard many accounts from Ballen about them, yet it was interesting to hear different perspectives.

She had met some of them previously but had never had the opportunity to talk to them in this much detail.

Everyone in the group was confident about this excursion. They regularly went out with Veron before, and said he was a competent squad leader who was great at providing practical experience in excursions like this for greenhorn Wood Elves.

The trainees' ages differed significantly, though Sylvie was the youngest. The others, alongside her brother, were mostly in their late teens or early twenties, yet there was also a boy around fifteen who helped settle her nerves since he had also been going out regularly with them from a young age.

One of them was Arlen, Haryk's son and her brother's best friend.

Arlen said, “No need to worry, Sylvie. My Father would kill me if I let any harm come to you, not to mention, you know how he is. He would have never let me go at your age if it were unsafe. It is a rite of passage for all Wood Elves to do this, or it was in the past.”

Sylvie had known Arlen for a long time; she spent so much time with Haryk that she would inevitably see him often accompanied by her brother, getting up to mischief together.

Arlen was the youngest of Haryk's children, the others centuries older than him. The large age gap between his brothers led to him developing a close brotherhood with Ballen.

At that time, she responded to Arlen mischievously by saying, “I was nervous until I realised I was escorted by you.”

Arlen seemed satisfied with her praise until he realised the implication, “Wait, didn’t you forget about…”

At that time, Ballen placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed tightly before he said, “What do you mean by him escorting you? That’s my job. Would you like to duel again, Arlen?”

The duo looked at each other briefly before bursting into laughter, slapping each other on the back in amusement.

Sylvie smiled, though her Father, Yorik, took this time to step in and say, “At ease, boys, we’re nearing the gate, so fall in line.”

Sylvie realised they had stopped passing through all the buildings and were approaching a large, looming walled gate of ridiculous proportions.

Unlike the old architecture they passed through, which seemed conjoined with modern innovations that preserved and retained the ancient district Eshva's origins, the walled gate resembled the latest advanced magi-tech introduced by the High Elves.

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It was lined with inscriptions and pulsed powerfully. It was a thick stone wall made of metal, wood, and various sturdy materials. Sylvie estimated it must have been around 200 metres high; it was looming and so tall it covered a dozen lower districts they had passed to get here.

It was significant in height and must have been 60 metres wide.

Sylvie understood exactly why the Wood Elves faced no threats in Falamel for the past few millennia, yet it made Sylvie wonder how large and dangerous something would have to be to force you to create a wall that big?

Near the gate was a bustling area of Elves, the most boisterous she had seen in the city. There were orderly lines of Elves entering and exiting the City; it was clear it was common for those in the lower districts to go out to the Great Forest.

Neolune was a crafter district in which most remained in the City year-round, never even leaving the district, yet this was not the case in Eshva, a working district in which most Elves who lived this low would be the farmers, herb gatherers, hunters, travelling merchants, those who would regularly leave the City.

The gate was big, around twenty metres wide and forty metres tall.

It was heavily guarded with Wood Elves guardsmen everywhere, adorned in differing armour to her Father and Veron squad of guardsmen, instead of the light leathers they were covered from head to toe in a light-weight metal armour, with tall helmets that were angular, with simple aesthetic beauty, the armour gleamed and was covered in magical glowing inscriptions.

Sylvie was curious about the practicality of such a large gate until she saw giant bison-like creatures that must have been over 4 metres tall and 8 metres in length. They were used to drag large carts in and out of the City.

The Wood Elves have managed the Great Forest for years, and it seemed they had developed routes in the forest to bring produce from the farmlands to sustain Falamel.

Leaving the City was far simpler than she thought, or Veron made it so. The guards recognised him and waved them through shortly.

Upon exiting the gates, Sylvie was greeted by large paths, roads leading from Falamel away from the City in paths that had been cleared. Sylvie knew it must have taken much effort because as her gaze wandered around, she saw the densest, thickest forest she had ever seen. She has seen some things as an extreme sports enthusiast, but nothing could have prepared her for this.

With trees so tall that they reached higher than the eye could see, Sylvie realised the necessity of such tall walls. Though none could compare to the great tree of life the Elves built a City on, countless trees were over a hundred metres tall. Sylvie thought they may be even higher, but the dense foliage made it hard to look up.

At that moment, Veron took the group's centre, saying, “We will now venture into the Great Forest outskirts around Falamel. We will do our best to move silently. We will only go around the outer perimeter. Some of you will be allowed to hunt some weak, fierce beasts, whilst others of less experience are to observe. Either way, fall in line, wait for orders, stick together tightly, and everything will go smoothly.”

After that, Sylvie followed the others as Veron diverted from the laid-out paths, and they began to go through dense vegetation.

During that time, her Father Yorik came over to instruct her. He gave her advice on how to move and mask her footsteps.

“Just like I taught you, Sylvie, though differing, good footwork applies here too. Observe your foot placement, be mindful of how you place your steps…” her father said calmly as Sylvie did her best to mirror his instructions.

Others in the group did the same, and it was clear that the practical lessons in the Great Forest were meant to aid martial training and prepare one for survival.

Her Father planned to include her in such groups for the foreseeable future, as she had been developing since she began her training two years prior, allowing her to form a solid, rudimentary understanding as a martial warrior.

There was more to come to do with martial training and even things referred to as martial techniques, yet she needed to become an Apprentice to utilise those; otherwise, it would be too taxing for an insufficiently conditioned body.

Sylvie found she grew better as time passed, and masking her footsteps became easier since she had outstanding balance and movement. Her father mentioned that physically, she was one of the most athletically talented wood elves he had seen; it was a shame that you needed more than that to be a talented martial practitioner, since the body's connectivity and adaptability to essence were also necessary, which Sylvie lacked.

Eventually, they reached a clearing, and Veron told them to stop.

Sylvie wondered why he would instruct them so until she saw it.

Near them was a gigantic boar. It was trotting through the dense grass like it owned the place, chomping down on the grass noisily, not seeming to notice them as it was too preoccupied with eating.

“Iron Tusk Boar, dumb brutes, perfect for rookie archers as the things have poor danger sense and won’t flee even when sensing stimulus such as noise. Ballen! You're up.” Veron said sharply after assessing the situation.

Ballen stepped up calmly, removing the bow from his back, as he drew an arrow.

It was the first time she observed him use one on a live target.

Observing the boar, she found it was humongous and worried if Ballen could bring it down in one shot before it enraged, causing it to charge at him.

The Iron Tusked Boar resembled a titanic giant forest hog; it must have been over fourteen feet long and weighed over two thousand pounds.

Its flesh appeared remarkably thick, and Sylvie felt worried, as the boar resembled more a bear than a boar.

Yet Sylvie found her worries turned into nothing. As a martial practitioner, Ballen possessed an inner strength that he could draw from, making him far stronger than he looked. When Ballen drew the bowstring, energy appeared in the air around him, with him preparing a great deal of sheer strength and velocity gathered as Ballen prepared to pour all his strength into an all-out attack.

The Iron Tusked Boar appeared large and threatening. Yet, its thick hide could do nothing to stop the arrow that came at it in a blazing fury, a loud thwack sounded as the projectile flown into the beast, it cries cutting of quickly when the sheer force of the arrow left an explosion of flesh and gore as half the head of the giant boar was blown off.

Sylvie stared with an open mouth as she witnessed that. She thought, ‘My brother is a martial apprentice, and he can do that? What about my Father?’

Staring at him, she recalled what Ballen said years ago when she started training: ' You should see what Father could do with a bow and arrow!’

Now she felt Ballen was vindicated. She had underestimated Martial Practitioners, though Ballen was extremely exhausted after such an attack, so he knelt and looked spent.

Sylvie felt relieved since she had invested most of her talent into being a Mage! It would make her concerned if Martial Practitioners were too strong.

At that time, Veron approached Ballen, providing him a hand to support and help him stand as he said, “Decent. Though if that brute lived, you’d be in trouble right now! Considering the Iron Tusk Boar is a low-order warrior-rated fierce beast, you did well, kid! Targeting its vitals, whilst pouring everything you had in that martial technique was daring, yet it succeeded, so overall I’m satisfied, yet don’t expect me to slow down the group for you now.”

Veron winked at him as he said that, and soon enough, Sylvie felt the group begin to move as he said.

Trudging along, she promised to soak up everything like a sponge.