Days turned into weeks, and months slipped past one after another. The life of the small four-person family had settled into a comfortable rhythm. Grey and Grace enjoyed peaceful days filled with training, lessons, and the long-awaited weekends.
Catherine, though concerned for her son's well-being, never neglected to maintain her own strength. Power was the foundation for achieving any goal, and she had internalized this truth with absolute clarity.
If she possessed the strength of a god, would the god of Light dare to touch her reverse scale? The woman's thoughts had shifted just as dramatically as little Grey's had, after the casual words of the helmsman who had spoken of his ants.
Ah, if only the sailor had known how profoundly he had shaped the worldview of this beautiful woman and Nivian. Of course, Catherine had taken his lesson merely as a reference. She was motivated and ready for any challenge, determined to ensure that what had happened would never happen again.
Her own training was far more Spartan than the children's.
As a matter of routine, once a week she summoned the elders for combat, giving them no small headache. Despite constant defeats, Catherine never lost heart for a moment. She understood that age and battle experience demanded respect.
Her only complaint was the villagers' excessive caution. None of them wished to cause her the slightest harm. Their training, in her eyes, was never rigorous enough.
Morgana was the only one who could spar with her without holding back.
Morgana. A demoness succubus from the continent of demons. Her appearance and age remained a mystery, as she always wore a mask and a flowing black robe. The only distinguishing features were a slender tail tipped with a heart-shaped point and bat-like wings.
The villagers respected her privacy and trusted her character. As long as she caused no harm, she was free to do as she pleased and live in peace.
The demoness was not a frequent visitor to the village and did not reside there permanently. In Catherine's lifetime, she had appeared only three times. Each time she stayed for several months before vanishing in an unknown direction.
To Catherine, Morgana was more a friend than a guardian. That was why she most often sparred with her.
Cassia trained under the guidance of Grandfather Jack. She had not yet reached the Nivian stage (7), so she could not challenge anyone to an honest spar. The maid continued to refine her fundamentals, hoping to push through the bottleneck.
One bright, sunny day, as the first snow blanketed the surrounding landscape, the old man Joseph appeared, only to vanish the following day after bringing Catherine and the children.
Slung limply over his broad shoulder was a tiny elf girl, looking more like a sack of potatoes than a sentient being. Her eyes were slightly swollen from tears. Her long ears drooped, and her face was pale and exhausted.
Their arrival shocked every villager. Yet, when they noticed the woman's green hair and long, sharp ears, the situation finally became clear.
"Old man, have you finally lost your mind? Do you even know the rules of etiquette or how to treat a woman properly? Do I look like a sack of potatoes to you?! You sent me a letter asking me to examine the child, and I agreed. But, for heaven's sake, who gave you permission to kidnap me and bring me to some remote wilderness?!" the elf girl exploded the moment she was set on the ground.
The villagers, hearing her loud complaints, immediately understood the situation.
Joseph was a stern man, looking to be about sixty, and silent by nature. He was a man of action—never one to appease anyone, always moving forward without concern for the opinions of others.
And true to form, a fleeting glance at Grey told him everything he needed to know. The next day, Joseph disappeared to travel to the continent of Yggdrasil in search of the finest healer. Along the way, he even stopped at Alaz, destroying several temples in the Province of Light. He executed everything with such skill and speed, it was as if he had been born to be a saboteur and arsonist.
For years, he wandered Yggdrasil searching for an elf proficient enough in life magic to meet his standards. As soon as a suitable candidate appeared, he acted without hesitation. The fact that he had even written her a letter explaining his motives could be considered the pinnacle of his rare courtesy.
The villagers were not so heartless—or insane—to expect that a kidnapped elf would willingly comply with her captor's request. They cautiously approached her, hoping to calm her anger and smooth over the tense situation.
"Miss, please, do not take Joseph's behavior as an insult. In his old age, the old man has entirely forgotten manners. He was so worried about the condition of his grandson that he acted without regard for protocol," interjected Grandmother Cornelia, the gentlest among those present.
Though kind and softhearted, the old woman's appearance—a spectral figure reminiscent of Death with a scythe—and her frail, creaking voice were more frightening than comforting at first. Yet, despite this, her words managed to have a calming effect.
The blind grandfather and Catherine quickly moved to assist the frightened elf.
"Your Highness, do not be afraid. We will not harm you. Please, come with me to the cottage for a cup of tea. You must be exhausted from such a harsh journey," Catherine said politely, guiding her gently forward.
"Exactly, miss, do not worry about your safety. We guarantee to return you to the continent of Yggdrasil intact and unharmed, while keeping your comfort in mind. We will also compensate you generously for your services and any inconvenience caused," the blind grandfather interjected.
His words radiated dignity and generosity, his manners elevated far beyond the reach of ordinary mortals. He was prepared to deploy every old trick and subtle maneuver to earn the elf's favor.
Unlike Catherine, the blind man was not impatient; he knew how to prioritize properly. The long-forgotten habits of a trickster resurfaced within him, lending his tone an added softness and reassurance.
The elf's shoulders visibly relaxed. The old man's words and friendly demeanor clearly calmed her. This was precisely how one should speak to a worthy healer.
Through her beautiful green-tinged eyes, she sensed the immense strength of everyone present. At first, this realization had tensed her already taut nerves. Yet the blind man's assurances, paired with the polite grace of the heavenly beauty beside him, soothed her deeply.
She understood that the people here could be not only a formidable threat but also remarkably generous patrons. She would make sure to repay them for any inconvenience caused.
Little did the poor elf know that the silver-tongued words and eloquence of the blind old man could pose a significant threat to her purse.
"One cannot bargain with the insane. I do not wish to seem petty, but I am truly expecting considerable compensation for fulfilling my obligations. My name is Selina Velesta de'Lirèl Celebrimbor. I am the third disciple of the current Saint Lilien Dariel al'Tariël. My services are not inexpensive," the elf declared, reclaiming her dignified composure.
"Of course, of course. Who could be unaware of Saint Dariel al'Tariël's reputation? It will be my honor to welcome her disciple into my home. Miss de'Lirèl Celebrimbor, allow me to escort you to the parlor and serve you the finest tea from our collection. Cornelia has recently gathered a fresh harvest of lunar dandelions. I trust it will meet your taste," the blind man said, his smile broad and warm.
"Please, just call me Selina Velesta," the elf replied, clearly enjoying the conversation with such a learned and cultured individual.
Elves had always held themselves to high standards of culture, valuing education and the arts. They rarely engaged with those who failed to meet their aesthetic ideals. The blind grandfather Selina had met was among the most polite and intelligent people she had ever encountered.
She found particular delight in how gracefully he pronounced both her name and that of her teacher. For most other races, saying them without a stumble—especially on first hearing—would have been difficult.
His manners and courtesy only deepened her favorable impression of him.
As the blind grandfather escorted Selina to his cottage, he leaned close and whispered a few instructions into Catherine's ear:
"Do not worry, little Catty. I will take care of our guest. Go to Cornelia and fetch the finest lunar dandelion tea and a few bottles of Nightlight wine. Today, that old lady will have to loosen her purse strings a little. It's been a full century since she fell for any of my tricks, but today, willingly or not, she will have to dig into her reserves.
Once you have everything I asked for, let our guest get a proper rest. She must be in top form to heal our Grey. Do not be impatient.
And make sure you learn her name and her teacher's. I've written them down for you on a piece of paper. Make sure the children pronounce them correctly too. Elves are tolerant of children, but she will be more motivated if we get everything right."
"Do you remember all that?" the blind man asked, as he continued leading the elf toward his cottage.
"Yes, I will do everything," Catherine replied gratefully, hurrying to carry out his instructions.
When Catherine returned five minutes later with all the requested provisions, she heard Selina's clear laughter from behind the door.
"And then I realized she had been one of my cousins all along… Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha!"
"Mr. Blind, you are so amusing. Hee-hee-hee," the elf laughed, sitting at the small table where the blind grandfather usually taught the twins.
"Ah-ha-ha-ha, little Selina, your grandmother and I also share some history. Allow me to tell you that in her youth she…"
"Ah, it's you, little Catty. Come in. Let me introduce you to little Selina again—hopefully, you two will soon become good sisters…" the blind grandfather called out casually, having already changed the way he addressed the elf three times in the past ten minutes.
Had the elders of her clan heard the familiar way the old man spoke to their precious Saint's pupil, they would have fainted from rage and outrage.
This man was infamous across the entire elven race. He often used their services without ever paying a single copper. Such stories were a shameful secret for every respected elder, one they would never dare share. Naturally, the young and inexperienced Selina could not help but fall for his decades-honed tricks.
Catherine visibly relaxed as she watched their interaction. Her worries drifted away like smoke on the wind. Finally, she saw firsthand the extraordinary talent of the blind old man.
With his skill in forging connections, she had no reason to fear that the elf would approach her work carelessly.
==============
Dear readers, I have to inform you that this work was rejected when applying for a contract without the possibility of revision. Therefore, I was forced to create a second version of the book, where I will publish the latest updates.
I will not give up on this version, but some chapters will be posted a little later than in the main one.
The book is called "The Mad Immortal"
https://www.webnovel.com/book/the-mad-immortal_34969618200258905###
Many thanks for your support, active comments and reviews.
This will help more readers to get acquainted with my book, which means my chances of getting a contract will increase and you will receive content more often. (The author also needs to eat and provide for his family)