My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

Chapter 279: A Different Point of View

The theater was brimming.

I’ve never been to a Broadway showing before, and I think the closest I ever got to one was helping Sammy puppeteer her straw dolls for a showing we put on for Mom that one time she got real sick, but I’m gonna take a gander and say that this here play was certainly ten steps above playing with dolls.

The dazzle of bright stage lights balanced and adjusted atop hidden catwalks, the signature red curtains cascading a bright crimson blanket over the stage itself, and not to mention the rolling red carpets leading to the rows and rows of seats that were filled and occupied in no time at all.

As was with every attraction ever attended, the stage play was no exception to a crowded audience. In fact, it was a downright miracle we even managed at all to acquire some seats for three in the scramble. Good seats too. Not too far, not too close.

Comfortable too. Which was good, because if the murmurs outside are to be believed, then this showing could take up a significant amount of time to run its course, and so if I have to wallow in agony watching Leon’s acting for a solid hour or two, I may as well have someplace comfy to bash my head against... repeatedly.

“You sure you wanna watch this?” I whispered over to my right, just as the lights above dimmed to a dark glow. “It’s about you, you know? You know you already. Is there really any point in – ?”

A soft raspy snarl interrupted, a glare of golden-white shone offended, so I shut myself up, looking forward, and never again contended. No surprise, the snarling stopped shortly after.

.....

I swear this girl’s like a goddamn bulldog in a hoodie, except she was all bark and unfortunately also all bite.

“Adalia,” I looked left. “This might take long so – ”

A clump of murky silver fell, pressing, resting, against my shoulder. A second after, instead of any snarls, I heard breathing... slow, soft breathing.

“You can... go to sleep,” I finished, apparently speaking to no one in particular, looking ahead to the stage once again.

And this one here’s a cat... lethargic, quiet, and kinda adorable simultaneously, despite the fangs and claws. If you asked me which I liked best, it wasn’t even a contest. I’m more of a cat-lover anyway...

Just as the last few stragglers finally found their places amongst the whispering chit-chatter, the curtains slowly began to rise, began to part, unveiling the rest of the stage. A quiet started to fester through, then gradually, came a sound, a voice, a song.

A choir from somewhere unseen sung, their harmony entwined with the sway of violin strings, and the gentle strumming of a harp. Their melody told the tale of a girl, silent as can be, and her journey through years in a land wrought with pain and suffering, together with her only companion, an ambitious apprentice, bearing both as witness and victim to the pain of others.

They finished their song, and the scene was set – a backdrop of lush green and trees slid into frame, and along with it... the flutter of a familiar violet cloak ruffling past the makeshift grass.

Little child Sera.

I briefly glanced over right, where the glow of amber eyes blankly stared. There were times where she was easy to read, easy to predict... then there were other times where I couldn’t tell at all what harbored beneath the violet veil.

Curiosity. Confusion. Intrigue. Wonder. Sadness.

Her stare right then could mean absolutely anything, maybe... perhaps it could mean everything too. I wouldn’t know. It wasn’t my life story being reenacted before my very eyes...

Footsteps, followed by loud grunts, faded into the scene... and with it came, a tall handsome figure, clad all over in the most magnificent of robes, then in a confident voice, a familiar voice, the figure spoke to the child.

“The night-child of the forest, or as the rumors proclaim, and yet here a find but a simple Fey,” The figure bent a knee to the ground, raising a lantern in his hand forward, revealing by the flicker of candlelight a smile so charming and kind. “Tell me little one, whatever is your name?”

Sorcerer Leon was a vastly different specimen from Hero Leon. He lost his locks, kept scrunched and hidden in a cap fitted tightly around his head. Someone from the makeup department also smeared a goatee across his chin, giving him this slight hippie feel... that I really don’t think was what they were going for here.

Somehow, someway, however... aggravatingly, begrudgingly, I have to admit, he wore the look well, too well, in fact... if the fawning behind me wasn’t just a very peculiar snore that is.

With our main duo’s introduction out of the way, we begin our adventure with them.

Across seas, over mountains, flowing gracefully along the passage of time.

Okay, here’s another thing that infuriates that was quickly made apparent – this hippie can act, and he certainly can sing and dance like no other too.

No one told me this was going to be a musical.

He crooned and he tapped, a little special serenade for the child, assuring her all was well, and all was good, for she was now under his care forevermore.

It’s quite a strange thing, really... despite Sera being the titular character here, somehow I get the feel that she was being upstaged in her own show by her own co-star.

Every scene, every song, he constantly lingered in the limelight while the little Fey was just... there, I guess.

A shanty crossing the oceans explaining his plan to use her unique abilities for the good of others or so he claims – he had all the best bits there.

A lute-strummed ballad of Asteria’s citizens and their slow suffer slowly hymned over a campfire, he lulled the child to sleep.

Seriously, you’d think the play was about this guy and his lust for gold, then again, I suppose you can’t really do much when your main star has the vocal presence equivalent of a stage prop.

Gotta have to improve, I suppose... and what they went with, well – clearly it worked.

One thing I noticed was that the sorcerer portrayed here wasn’t the greedy nor the ambitious trickster the Wiki made him out to be.

Here, he was benevolent, kind... especially to Sera herself. Teaching her to write, to read... bonding with her over free time.

Almost like a father in a way.

Sure, he does have his off-putting traits, he still was money-hungry, he still took advantage of the people’s loss, but it was mostly downplayed to focus instead on his finer qualities.

Another thing that quickly caught my eye was the... slight liberties they took with Sera’s character.

Not the quiet, sullen child just being puppeteered along by the sorcerer’s many whims.

She helped people knowingly, and she helped people gladly... using her body as a vessel for the dead, uniting loved ones across the lands, with a kindness shimmering in the soft golden glow of her eyes.

The Sera onstage had one thing that this Sera here didn’t... and that was heart.

No one in the original tale preached about the springy girl in violet, frolicking in the woods, eager always to help the less fortunate, to aid the grief-stricken.

None of that ever happened... and Sera knew it best.

I glanced back at her again, thinking I’d see her incensed, maybe a little furrow in her brow at this brazen display of misrepresentation.

But no, in her seat she was silent, in her stare she was empty – I don’t think she minded too much about these slight alterations to her tale. Maybe there weren’t even alterations at all, maybe they did happen after all... but she just couldn’t see it living it.

Here, from an outsider’s perspective, all was clear – the young Sera was content, the young Sera was happy. Always by her side through thick and thin, even as she was ousted by her kin in her own homeland, when she cried for the first time ever, feeling the sharp sting of pain... there the sorcerer was, to wipe the blood and the tears, to gently coax and have her calm, to gently drift her to a peaceful sleep, laid warmly in his arms.

The Sera at my side had her pale slender fingers clutching the armchair tight. Her stare flickered, wavered... a hint of emotion stirring within her that I’ve never seen on her before.

Her gaze clung onto Leon’s performance, never straying once... every word from his lips, the every expression on his face... staring at him as if only seeing him now for the first time ever.

There was regret, I think. A bit of sorrow too. A silent, unspoken lament for things that could have been, instead of what was.

And what indeed was – it was no mystery to any of us. There was only one end to this tale, and everyone here knew it well... she especially, knew it more than most.

The fate of the child Fey... and her loving, doting adoptive parent.

“They never said what happened to him after you learned the truth,” I whispered, drifting my gaze slightly. “You... you killed him after, didn’t you?”

Like a dog, they would snarl, growl... but they would also whimper. And beneath the hood, under the veil, she whimpered.

Quietly.