1 hour before Eon's grindstone invention:
The alleyway was quiet now, except for the heavy breathing of the unconscious thugs and the soft whimpering of the boy, Alen. Eon stood in the center of the mess, his expression was calm. He didn't look like a man who had just broken bones and crushed a metal ring into someone's flesh.
Meron, however, looked like he was about to have a heart attack. He kept glancing at the mouth of the alley, expecting a whole army of thugs to come charging in.
"Lord Eon," Meron said, his voice trembling. "You shouldn't have let them go. Especially not that leader. You should have... finished it."
Eon looked at the merchant, one eyebrow raised. "Finished it? You mean kill them?"
"Yes!" Meron hissed. "They are part of a group. They report to people who are much worse than them. Now they will go back, show their injuries, and tell their bosses about the 'Black-Haired Demon.' You've just painted a target on your back. They will come for you with more men, perhaps even mages."
Eon scoffed, a small, cold smile playing on his lips. He looked out toward the distant walls of the Count's mansion, where the flags of the Denares family were still visible.
"Did you forget about the thousands soldiers in front of the mansion, Meron?" Eon asked. "Do you think I have to worry about mere street thugs now? I have an army of Denares soldiers and my own elves. If a few more goons want to try their luck, let them come."
Meron grumbled, clutching his hands together. "The Denares soldiers are not your friends, Lord Eon. They are here for their own reasons. And these thugs... they are like rats. If you kill one, ten more appear in the dark."
"Exactly," Eon said, his eyes narrowing. "I want them to report back. I want them to gather. I cannot go around searching through every basement and sewer to prune these weeds from this estate. It would take too much time. So, I need them to gather up for me. When they all come at once to seek 'revenge,' I will kill them all together. It's more efficient that way. Do you get it?"
Meron stared at him, stunned. He realized Eon wasn't being careless. He was setting a trap. He was using himself as bait to clean up the local area in one single move. The merchant didn't know whether to be impressed or terrified.
Eon didn't wait for a response. He turned his attention back to the boy on the ground. He reached out a hand, and this time, Alen didn't flinch as much. He took Eon's hand and let the High Elf pull him to his feet.
"Are you hurt anywhere else, Alen?" Eon asked.
The boy shook his head, though he winced as he moved his arm. He looked down at his ruined basket of flowers. "I'm okay. Just some bruises. Thank you again, Lord... Lord Elf."
The boy looked at Eon's black hair and his pointed ears. "Are you... are you a ghost?"
Eon smiled faintly. "No. I'm just someone who can handle small fry like those. What is your name?"
"Alen," the boy whispered.
"Well, Alen. Your father was a gardener for the Edger family, right?"
Alen nodded, a tear tracking through the dust on his face. "He was the official gardener for many years. He could make the roses bloom even in the winter. But then he got sick... and the Count didn't help us. Nobody helped us."
Eon felt a pang of guilt, even though he wasn't the one who had abandoned them. The old Count Edger had been a fool who let his estate rot while he gambled away his fortune.
"I'm sorry for what happened to your father," Eon said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a single gold coin. He had taken it from the mercenary leader's pouch a day ago.
He pressed the coin into Alen's hand.
Alen's eyes went wide. He looked at the gold as if it were a piece of the sun. "I... I can't take this. This is too much! The thugs only wanted silver!"
"Take it," Eon said. "Use it to buy food and medicine for your mother. And tell her to stop selling flowers for now. Tell her to go to the Count Edger mansion tomorrow. Tell her Hans is looking for people to help with the new herb gardens. We need someone who knows how to grow things."
Alen's lip trembled. He looked at Eon, and for the first time, the fear in his eyes was replaced by a pure, shining hope. He threw himself forward and hugged Eon's legs.
"Thank you!" Alen cried. "Thank you, Lord Elf! I'll work hard! I promise!"
"Why were they hitting you?" Eon asked, wanting to hear the story from the boy's own mouth.
Alen's face flushed with anger. "A year ago, when things were getting really bad, my mother borrowed some money from them to buy medicine for my father. It wasn't much. But now they are asking for twice the amount just in interest. We've paid back the original loan, but the interest never ends."
He clenched his fists. "Today, when I told them we didn't have the silver yet, they started making... dirty jokes. About my mother. They said she could pay the debt in 'other ways.' I couldn't just stand there. I got angry and tried to hit them, and then they started beating me."
Eon looked at the boy's clothes. He was wearing a rugged, leather-and-cloth outfit that looked like a simplified version of a hunter's gear. There were small pouches at his belt and a worn-out knife sheath.
"Are you a hunter?" Eon asked.
"Huh? Oh, no," Alen replied, standing a bit straighter. "I am an adventurer. Well, a beginner adventurer. I was on my way to a mission when I saw these fuckers peeking at my house. I knew they were looking for my mother, so I approached them."
Eon turned to Meron. "I thought you said there was no Adventurer Guild in this town?"
"There isn't," Meron confirmed. "The Edger estate is too poor to support a guild branch. Most adventurers left years ago when the monsters in the nearby woods were all killed or moved deeper into the mountains."
"He's right," Alen said. "There is no guild here. But just across the border, in Count Hyra's estate, there is a town with a small guild branch. It's about a half-day walk from here. I go there to get small jobs, gathering herbs, hunting rabbits, or delivering letters. It pays better than anything here."
Eon nodded to himself. It made sense. Count Hyra's lands were prosperous he heard, so there must be work for low-level adventurers there.
"Well, Alen," Eon said. "Do you need any more assistance? After all, I beat those men up for you. They might come back to your house while I'm gone. It might be safer if I see you home."
Alen bit his lip. "I know that. But I can't possibly ask for more help. It would be shameless of me. You've already done so much."
"It's not charity, Alen," Eon said, stepping out of the alley. "Think of it as protecting an investment. I want you and your mother to come work at the mansion. I can't have my future workers getting kidnapped by thugs before their first day."
Eon insisted, and Alen finally gave in. They walked through the winding, dusty streets of the market district. The further they went from the main square, the worse the houses looked. Most of them were made of rotting wood, leaning against each other like tired old men. Roofs were patched with mismatched tiles or just covered in old cloth.
"It's right around this corner," Alen said, pointing to a small house at the end of a dead-end street.
The house was tiny. It looked like it was on the brink of collapse. The front door was hanging on a single hinge, and the windows were covered in greased paper instead of glass. It looked like the kind of place where hope went to die.
However, as Eon stepped toward the door, he noticed something strange. Despite the poverty, the small patch of dirt in front of the house was perfectly clean. There wasn't a single weed. And despite the cold North air, there were small, vibrant blue flowers blooming in a wooden box by the window.
Alen pushed the door open. "Mother? I'm home. And... I brought someone."
Eon stepped inside, ducking his head to avoid the low beam of the doorway. He was expecting to see a room full of filth, the smell of sickness, and perhaps a woman broken by years of hardship.
But what he saw was not certainly what he was expecting.
The inside of the house was spotless. It smelled faintly of dried lavender and fresh pine. The furniture was old and scarred, but it was polished until it shone.
Standing by a small stone hearth was a woman. She was stirring a pot of thin soup. When she turned around, Eon felt a genuine jolt of surprise.
She didn't look like a "poor woman" from a forsaken estate. She had long, chestnut-colored hair tied back in a neat braid. Her skin was pale and clear, and her eyes were a startling, deep green. Despite her simple, faded dress that had been patched a dozen times, she carried herself with a grace that reminded Eon of Teressa.
She wasn't just pretty; she was beautiful. But it was a different kind of beauty than Teressa's. While the Countess was like a bright, dangerous flame, this woman was like a steady, calm lake.
"Alen?" she said, her voice soft and melodic. Then her eyes landed on Eon. She saw his Black hair, his sharp, handsome features, and his pointed ears.
Her hand went to her throat, and the wooden spoon clattered to the floor. She didn't look terrified like the other villagers. She looked... shocked. As if she were looking at a ghost.
"An...Elf?" she whispered.
Eon took a step forward, his eyes scanning the room. He noticed something on the small table near the bed, a book. It was old and the cover was missing, but it was a book. In this world, books were expensive luxuries.
He realized then that Alen's father might have been more than just a simple "gardener." And this woman, Martha, was definitely more than just a flower seller.
"Good evening," Eon said, his voice lowering to a respectful tone. "My name is Eon. I believe we have much to discuss."
Author note: And here you go. A new Waifu material, a new female character. Rejoice.