My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

Just how on earth was this girl so clueless? And even more than that, so… well… 

Helpless?

They say with age comes wisdom, if so, then surely Amelia had to have been born yesterday with the way she's being, reacting… far from the pragmatic, logical insult-machine that I'm used to.

Makes me look almost like an idiot for thinking that she only came looking for me for the sole reason and goal of tearing me open a new one for some stupid insane reason like existing or something. But, honestly speaking?

I think I might prefer the reaming….

'Least then I knew when the argument eventually stops, it really stops. We leave it there and it stays right there, with maybe the occasional follow-up in a future argument. But talks like the one we're having, every word, every piece of advice becomes action. And actions have consequences. 

Amelia continued to wait for my answer. I never knew she had it in her to be so patient. And with that mild, gentle expression on her face, I'm reminded again how uncannily she resembled her lighter, quieter half.

"I think you already know what I'm gonna tell you to do," I said, and she braced herself; a tired knowing look creeping into her eyes. "You wanna get rid of that feeling so bad? Go and talk to him, Amelia."

"And say what? And do what, precisely?" She asked. 

"Doesn't matter what," I said, waving away her inquiries. "It doesn't matter to Tyler certainly. You're there. You're with him. That's all he wants." 

"It's not about what he wants," she said, getting riled up. "This is about me—my turmoil, my unrest—he is the problem. Help me rectify it." 

"I am. Listen, let him take you out somewhere. I guarantee you he has a lot of things he'd love to do with you. Go with him, Amelia. See how it goes." 

"No, I will not," she stated with such stubborn conviction I could have sworn she was channeling my sister. "How do you not see how meaningless a gesture that would be? I indulge him, how is that repentance? Fun and leisure. He would think and do only to appease me, to satisfy me… and just where I would be then, I ask you? Or do you finally understand the flaw in your approach?" 

I understood where she was coming from. Funny, I thought she was being her usual cranky self, but it seems she's put more thought into my own suggestion than I did. Indeed, it's gotta be hard to feel redeemed when you're being coddled and pampered every minute of every hour. 

In which case… 

"Then you ask him." 

"This again?" Amelia groaned, that infinite patience evaporating as suddenly as it appeared. "Didn't I just say—?" 

"No, Amelia, you're not understanding," I interjected. "I said you ASK him. Got it yet?"

This time she did. Or almost at least; her pale lips narrowing in doubt. "I fail to see the difference in either outcome." 

"Because you're still making it all about you," I said. "If you ask him, it becomes all about him. His appeasement, his satisfaction. The responsibility's yours now, you see?" 

"And again I ask you—what difference does it make? I need only show, and he's happy. More than happy. No different should he extend the invitation or I."

"Only if that's all you're going to do," I said. "Remember, it's all about him now. So you think exactly what you want to do. Not what he wants from you. But what you want for him." 

Suddenly, there were no more scoffs, no more harsh dismissals. Amelia poured over the view outside again. Quiet. Always a promising sign when she was. Something I picked up on from all our arguments. 

"So," I spoke up again, rising from my seat. "What do you want to do for him?"

She took a while to answer. At first, I thought she simply didn't hear me. A second later and I realized she heard me alright. It's exactly why she took a while. 

"I don't know."

I walked over to her, coming up before the view out the window. I could see everything still as it was, and then some. I could see a little more too. Off to the side. A raggy figure of ripped jeans and good vibes serving refreshments, scooping up generous portions, and always with a smile. 

"You figure that out…" I said, glancing over at her to the side. Her expression, once again, that same soft reflection of her sister. "...problem solved." 

I think she finally realized how silent she was being. Like a sort of timer just blared off in her head alerting her. Amelia drew away from the window, standing in the middle of the room, her crossed arms providing her with that air of superiority that had been sorely lacking. 

"You propose an interesting notion to consider," she said to me, which I think was supposed to be her way of praise. It's hard to tell. "Spout enough nonsense all your life, I suppose, even rare hints of wisdom can be heard."

"Yeah, surprise myself sometimes too," I muttered dryly. "Don't get your hopes up, though. I'm more or less an idiot most days according to some people." 

"Shrew individuals, no doubt," she said mercilessly. 

I take it back. She's nothing like Adalia. Any resemblances are merely illusions. Only darkness. And pain. Lots of it. Tyler has strange tastes, let me tell you.

"In regards to Tyler," she said, her gaze wearing thin of that deep mulling look. "Perhaps I'll give your suggestion a chance… should an opportunity present itself at some point." 

"At some point?" I said. I wasn't sure if she was seriously this clueless or doing this on purpose for some vindictive, self-sabotaging reason. "Amelia, he's right out there. Do you need help finding your way or something? I can walk you." 

"Do not patronize me," she warned. "I have my reasons."

"They must be some pretty good reasons then." 

"I sense your family's approach, they will be here soon," she took a single step, one in the direction of the exit. "I do not wish to linger when they arrive." 

That confused me. Was that… am I understanding right? 

"You don't want to see my family?" 

"As I said—I have my reasons," she repeated firmly. "And I certainly have no desire or intent to explain them to you." 

"Suit yourself," I said, knowing better than to push her. "But, y'know, I'm pretty sure my mom would like to see you. I thought you would too. I mean, wasn't your main goal to find her?" 

"To save my sister, yes," she grumbled back begrudgingly. "Eventually, I realized that with you, that wasn't particularly a necessity anymore." 

Why did she sound so tense? Like this was hard. This shouldn't be hard on her, right? Why was it?

"Still though…" I continued on. Maybe just a little nudge. "Just 'cause you don't need her doesn't mean you have to stay away. Unless you want to… in which case… well… you loved her, didn't you?"

"Then I left her," she immediately answered, throwing me a hard look. "We left her. One day, without her knowledge, without expressing our thanks, we left her. Loved her, you say. After doing that, would she still really see it as such? Is there really such a place for a proper reunion after that?"

Now, this was different. The questions have taken a turn, the tone in her voice more somber than exasperated. How did we get here? 

"I don't think you'll have to worry about things like that," I said, assuring her because, I don't know, it seemed right. "Adalia's already met her a couple of times at this point. Don't think my mom holds any grudges towards you both. She's not the type." 

"And you may be right," she said, agreeing with me, surprising me. "I know she doesn't resent, I know, upon seeing me, certainly she'll be delighted. All transgression, justified or otherwise, would instantly be forgiven. In her eyes, I am instantly forgiven." 

"So why aren't you—?"

"Because I see only through my own eyes," she answered. "And I see nothing there of me to forgive." 

Amelia took another step and because of how narrow the space was, she had already reached the door. There was a click, creases of sunlight broadening brighter, larger, as she slowly swung the door wider. 

I expected her to leave immediately. But recently it seems all Amelia was keen on doing was subverting every single expectation I had for her. She stood there, daylight bathing her figure, her skin… her black hair flushed momentarily in a glow of a familiar gray. 

"Thank you for your help," she said, whispering in a breath so faint I might as well have been imagining it. But no, even this was beyond my imagination. "Refrain from mentioning me to your mother, won't you?" 

I blinked, and she saw her chance right there. When I looked again, she was gone.