My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World



There was a tradition in my family. The same, annual celebration that every other ordinary family partook in. A small, yearly occasion that comes around four times a year. 

The first was in January. And on that day for as long as I can remember, I'd always be stuffed full, crumbs on my shirt, smears on my chin, sweeping through an empty plate with a finger, trying to gather enough morsels to make up one last bite. My favorite treat, my favorite dessert, with a splash of love which Mom always made with excess. Just the way I liked it. All I needed. Always. 

April was the next time we would reprise the process, and perfection would be the running theme of that very special day.

Sammy was a tyrant, everything needed to be according to her standards. Everybody had to chip in. Dad and I helped in making the banners, hanging the streamers, sprucing and livening anything that could possibly be seen as drab and dreary, while Mom worked overtime in the kitchen to accommodate the seemingly endless names on Sammy's invites. Velvet cake was her go-to, and every single year, it needed to be bigger, better, more cream, more strawberries… and somehow Mom would always manage to meet her expectations. 

Usually, Sammy was never a person of compromises. In her day, things needed to go her way, no such thing as an option B or C anywhere in anything. It's not a side of her that rears its head often enough to be a problem, but on the rare occasions she finds it necessary, then things often go to an extreme degree.

Like that one time I fell sick just right before her big, bombastic evening was to commence. Everything was already set, prepared, she could have still had her special night just as planned. But she ground everything to a halt regardless, went and shut it all down, all because I was preoccupied with emptying out all the tissue boxes in my bedroom.

As soon as I felt better, her day picked up right where she left it off. And although most of her friends couldn't make it, the walls were barren of decor, and her cake was already a week old at that point, she still made the first slice wearing the biggest smile on her face… as she did when everything goes the way she wanted to.

Luckily, when July eventually came rolling around, everyone was allowed to actually breathe a little. Dad wouldn't have ever known if it was his turn if one of us didn't go out of their way to remind him, but by the late evening, seeing the dinner table brimming with his usual favorites, he'd usually get some sort of an idea anywho. 

Mom's was just a month later, and as such, August was the wildcard of the bunch.

She had her own way of commemorating things, and no two days were ever alike. It's how we wound up taking a cruise trip one year, and mountain hiking on another. If it's new or exciting, then you can count on it being an idea, a plan that has crossed her thoughts more than once. 

All in all, while we slightly differ in some ways, the common thread that linked one day to the rest was that we were always together by the end of the day. That hasn't changed. Or at least up until I moved away early last year. 

It seems that this year, we were beginning anew with it all, starting once more with me… while also adding a couple of new members to our little tradition to boot. 

The more, the merrier, I suppose.

After Mom had her fun picking and pilfering through my most recent ventures, I took the chance to finally take a slice of my cake, taking my fill of the brownies, savoring each bite, relishing the best of what life had to offer.

Mom simply watched me, silently, gleefully, savoring things in her own special way… as did the rest of the girls. 

To be honest, it was starting to feel a little awkward being gawked at. I'd put it just slightly below a rousing chant of 'Happy Birthday' aimed squarely your way. 

"Ash… Adalia…" I nudged the tray of brownies toward them. "Eat. C'mon, you're making me feel bad here." 

Ash's ears perked up at a steep angle, faced suddenly with a surprise conundrum. 

"I'm afraid I must humbly decline, Master," she said, bowing her head with utmost respect. "It would not be right of me to indulge in matters, in gestures, of such grand pertinence."

"It is… yours…" Adalia said, putting it concisely. "All… yours…"

"Except, if you weren't aware, birthday cakes are actually meant to be shared," I informed them, pushing the tray another inch forward. "So, either you eat with me or I'm not eating at all." 

And with that kind of grave threat looming overhead, both girls were left with absolutely no choice but to take their place at the table, each with their own small piece of such grand pertinence in their hands… as one would say.

A giggle slipped through Mom's smiling lips, seemingly finding every square inch within her line of sight the most amusing thing in the world. 

"Usually he'd hog it all to himself, you know?" Mom remarked. "I'd be so lucky to even have a piece," she propped her arms on the table, scooting herself closer, much closer, slowly drifting her gaze across between us three. "You girls must be so, so very special to him to get such preferential treatment. I'm almost jealous." 

Neither of us said anything back. But the shared silence between us answered enough on our behalf. 

"Save a few pieces," I said, glancing at Ash. "Sera might want some too."

"Sera…" Mom's gaze began to wander again, tilting upwards to the chandelier and the ceiling it was fastened to. From where we sat, the guest room would be just directly above us. Somehow, some way, Mom seemed to be able to see that. "That's her, right? The one you told me you summoned here. I'd actually love to meet her for myself." 

"She's shy." 

"Yes, the Fey usually are," she said in a soft, evocative tone that brought vague suggestions of a time long past. "But I've done my fair share of research. Supposedly Sera, and Ash here as well, are both my loyal and diligent servants, no? In that case, I'd say we're already quite well-acquainted." 

Mom broke away from the shimmer of the chandelier, and looked back down, as if immediately sensing the intensity of my stare. 

"You… looked yourself up?" I asked.

"I did," from afar, her face completely hidden behind the case of her phone, Sammy half-heartedly answered over the sound of clips and shorts blaring from her speakers. "Amanda was playing that Asteria game on-stream one time, got curious… never again, though, I want nothing to do with whatever… I used Mom for reference. Just to see how accurate it was." 

"Chronicles of Asteria," Mom muttered, each syllable ringing in my ears like some forbidden incantation never to be uttered. "Whoever made this game had quite the imagination. I never had any servants, underlings… you and your sister might be the closest resemblances to one," she added, turning to Adalia briefly. "But Eshwlyn, Sera… bewildering to know there exists an entirely different version of me that others may know." 

"I wouldn't fret over such frivolous ponders," Ash said. "In another life, another rendition of reality, it is true I may be your most loyal servant. But here, at this moment, I exist simply as I am, in the care of your son. My master. I suggest you simply see me as such, and think nothing more of it." 

"Yeah, can't agree more," Sammy said, a bit agitated. "And if we can put a stop to all this talk about fantasy and past histories here, I'd be very appreciative, thank you." 

Mom had her head shifted ever so slightly to the side, giving Ash a silent, assessing look I was all too familiar with when I was in the company of a privy Mrs. Collins.

"Then, in that case," she said. "How exactly do you see me, Ash?" 

"Nothing else but the mother of the man I love," Ash said quickly, unabashedly, so much so that I could feel a strange heat engulfing my entire face as I chomped into another chocolate chunk. "And it is to you and your husband that I wish to give my undying gratitude." 

"For bringing him into this world?" Mom said, smiling cheekily. "Believe me, the love-making was the easiest part of the entire process." 

"Christ…" I sighed, the brownie slipping away from my fingers.

"Ew!" Sammy objected just as fervently. "Mom!" 

"You may jest," Ash continued on without batting an eye. "But truly, I would have believed myself content with less… with nothing… had I not known, experienced the things I have living with Master. And these words I speak now stem solely from those experiences… these words of wants, desires, of love… it is with these same words I speak to you… these words that Master had slowly, patiently, lovingly taught to me… that I now thank you with sincerely." 

Some of the heat evaporated from my cheeks. I felt frozen in time. My muscles, my thoughts. I'm used to Ash saying sweet, loving things to me all the time. Totally different story it seems, when it comes to Ash saying sweet, loving things about me. 

Mom was quiet, but within that silence, a smile was spreading more and more across her lips. A blend of admiration, of pride, and of course, a touch of amusement… a staple ingredient no matter the occasion.

"Frent te talind'ho, Eshwlyn?" Mom asked her.

Didn't understand a word. Had no idea what she just said. But there was no mistaking that layer of zeal, of anticipation I heard treading every note in her tone. 

Suddenly, Ash turned her gaze towards me. I saw her blink, the green of her eyes pulsating once, ears wriggling in a blur before she quickly glanced back at Mom again, nodding her head with firm resolve.

"Okay, that's a promise!" Mom said at once, excitedly, giddily in a way I've never seen her. "I'm holding you to that." 

"Wait! What? Wait!" I exclaimed, snapping my eyes back and forth between both for any kind of answer. "What did you say? What'd you just ask her?" 

"Oh, that reminds me," Mom said, collecting herself as my pleas fell on deaf, ignorant ears. "That girl Samantha mentioned—Amanda. Is there a chance we could meet? And while we're at it, that Succubus. Ruria. Her too." 

Okay, this was just a ploy, wasn't it? Ask something so sudden and absurd that I'd forget the other sudden absurdity she just said. It has to be, right? She's not actually serious, right?

"Why?" I asked just in case. "You've met them already, haven't you?" 

"Your father hasn't," Mom pointed out. "And he'd love nothing more but to invite them both out for dinner sometime." 

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