Averyl pulled up the side of her gown, covered her exposed left breast, and opened the window. A breeze of morning summer air blew in, scattering her short hair, cherry red like all fae. The rush of refreshing air filled her highly decorated room with the city’s ambiance generated by the peaceful light elves going about their day. She shut her eyes in bliss and smiled. This past month had been the most stress-free one she experienced. Averyl gave her arms a second stretch, then her wings, spreading them out.
A knock thumped on her bedroom door.
Averyl spun to it. “Enter,” she said, loud enough for the visitor to hear.
The knob turned, then the door opened. Averyl’s maid, Marguerite, entered her room. She wore a standard uniform worn by all the elven housemaids, a black dress with a white trim ending at her knee, and long black stockings on her legs that matched her heeled shoes. Marguerite’s elegant white apron was spotless, made from the same material as the silvery choker around her thin neck. Averyl loved looking at the white lace bonnet adorning Marguerite’s shoulder-length blonde hair.
Marguerite walked past the dressing table and mirror, holding a tray with Averyl’s breakfast—a bowl of wild berries and a cup of fresh cream to dip them in. Marguerite’s timing was impeccable. So were the heels of her shoes and the way her hips moved as she walked closer to her.
“Breakfast, milady,” Marguerite said, offering Averyl the breakfast tray.
“Thank you, Marguerite,” Averyl said and gestured with her head to the nightstand beside her bed. “You can lay it over there.”
Marguerite did as Averyl requested and walked to the stand, her hands shaking with each footstep. Averyl ambled behind Marguerite, worried that the elven maid would drop it. “Is something wrong?” Averyl asked Marguerite.
“Oh, no,” Marguerite said, keeping her face to the nightstand. She placed the tray down. “But—”
“Your hands tremble,” Averyl cut in as she held Marguerite’s delicate hands from behind. The maid gasped and looked at Averyl, giving her the chance to gaze into her blue eyes, blue like the pearl earrings hanging on the tips of Marguerite’s long pointed ears.
Averyl touched Marguerite’s hands again and felt them tremble once more. She never let go of them. “There is something else,” Averyl said, inching her face closer. “I can tell.”
Marguerite could not break the stare. “Yes . . .”
Averyl was close enough to smell the fresh cinnamon-like scent of Marguerite’s perfume. Marguerite did not move, she just stood there with her pale cheeks reddening ever so slightly.
“What could that possibly be?” Averyl asked softly, then lowered her lips to Marguerite’s neck and kissed it. She pulled away, inched up, and pecked her neck again, kissed the lace collar, then her color bone. Marguerite erotically moaned the entire time.
“Mi . . . lady . . .”
“Shush . . .” Averyl silenced her. “It is okay,” she said, then looked into Marguerite’s blue eyes once more. “You brought me breakfast early, and I know why.”
She kissed her repeatedly and worked her lips to Marguerite’s right cheek, now flushed, then across her horizontal elven ear, kissing the point of it. Averyl released Marguerite, and as expected, Marguerite held onto Averyl’s waist. Averyl’s gown was so thin it almost felt like Marguerite’s hand had touched the flesh on her waist. She felt Marguerite move her hands down to the bottom of the gown and waited for the elven maid to pull it up and off Averyl, unveiling that she was naked under it. Averyl’s labia swelled with excitement and anticipated the tender strokes of Marguerite’s fingers.
Something else happened instead.
“I was asked to deliver a message to you,” Marguerite said.
Averyl stopped kissing her and took a step back. I suppose I was wrong about this one . . . “A message? For me?” Averyl asked.
“Captain Larrivée wishes to speak with you in person at the airship docks,” Marguerite replied.
Averyl winced. “I see.”
She backed away, giving the maid space, her face flushed and drenched with sweat. Marguerite nervously bowed in a curtsy and walked to the exit. She stopped at the door, held its frame with one hand, facing Averyl but saying nothing. Averyl sat at the edge of her bed and reached for her breakfast. As Averyl ate, she spread her fae wings slightly, giving Marguerite a better sight of them and reminding her of what she could have felt had she not left. Marguerite’s face never returned to its normal color.
“I can make myself available later tonight if you wish,” Marguerite said.
Averyl gave her a smile, then dipped the berry into the cream. She brought it to her lips and spoke. “I would like that.” She bit into it leisurely, then licked off the cream that coated her upper lip white.
Marguerite curtsied again, left, and shut the door behind her. After Averyl finished eating, she stood, pulled the gown up and over her head, and dropped it to her bare feet. The sunlight shone on her naked pale flesh, her pink nippled breasts, and red pubic hair as she waved her hand and created an Inventory screen.
She found her gear and looked at its information screen.
Silver Wand [Scepter]
Rank: C
Healing Potency: 13
Wisdom: +1 Magic Attack: +1
Asteriarite Slot: [Asteriarite: Wisdom +3]
Asteriarite Slot: [Asteriarite: Wisdom +3]
Requires: 69 Wisdom
Temple Dress [Robe]
Rank: C
Defense: 4 Magic Defense: 10
Wisdom: +2
Sigil Space: 8
Requires: 69 Wisdom
Amber Earrings [Accessory]
Rank: C
Magic Defense: 10
Wisdom: +2 Intelligence: +2
Asteriarite Slot: [Asteriarite: Wisdom +3]
Asteriarite Slot: [Asteriarite: Wisdom +3]
Requires: 69 Wisdom
It was new gear too. Averyl had synthesized the dress with her weaving skill, now level 17. The Silver Wand was a rare drop Averyl bought from the trade broker. It cost her 15,500 elven francs. She slipped into the Temple Dress then waited for its matching undergarments to appear on her body, like magic. She viewed herself in the mirror. The outfit was white, with black stripes along the edges of the fabric. They were various slits on the dress, creating eye-catching windows to the side of her legs, upper waists, and the top of her cleavage. Of course, the dress displayed the whole shape of her back so that her wings could be free to move. It was not the most ladylike thing to wear, but it allowed Averyl to place many sigils on the exposed skin—
Something else caught her attention, her hairstyle.
Averyl tugged on the ends of her long pixie hair. She would have to cut it soon. To have long hair as a fae woman was just unladylike, more so than the Cleric Temple Dress Averyl wore. She left her room and strolled through the chateau’s many hallways, decorated with hand-painted pictures on the walls and fine carpet on the floor. She lost track of how long she lived with the elves and how long it had been since the affliction touched her. Hence why she opted to put on the Temple Dress and carry the Silver Wand at her side, rather than wear one of the fancy dresses stored in her closet. Never leave home without afflicted gear on, altered by what the elves call the reality corruption.
She reviewed her stats on her way down the stairs and toward the chateau’s main entrance.
Averyl Autumnfall
Class: Cleric LVL 15
Subclass: NONE
HP: 414/414
MP: 800/800
AP: 0/100
LP: 8/10
EXP: 313/3797
Attributes
Strength: 26
Dexterity: 24
Vitality: 25
Agility: 27
Intelligence: 64
Wisdom: 106
Charisma: 43
Flight Stats
Flight Speed: 114 KP/H
Flight Time: 12 Minutes 42 Seconds
Combat Stats
Attack Bon
us: 13
Magic Attack Bonus: 33
Healing Potency: 66
Defense: 12
Magic Defense: 41
Critical Hit Rate: 2%
Attack Speed Bonus: 1
Persuasion: 2
Ranged Attack Bonus: N/A
The gear gave her a decent boost to her wisdom, which boosted her healing potency. She liked the upgrade. Next on her list was finding MP asteriarite.
“Good morning, Averyl!” One of her neighbors called to her after she left her home. “Asteria has blessed us with excellent weather today.”
Averyl smiled and waved to them as she walked down the stone path to the city’s many commerce areas. Her neighbor was right; Asteria had blessed everyone with beautiful weather today, allowing Averyl to view the Antoinette Mountains in the distance, just beyond Lumière City’s gigantic stone walls.
She stood out from the elves going about their day, and it was not because of her wings; it was her hair color. All elves were blonde, and all fae had red hair, and she was the only fae on Alfheimr last time she checked. The markets were bustling with elves speaking to merchants who all had a class and carried transactions out on their floating screens. Every elf in the city possessed a combat or noncombat class. Even the children at play in the park had a class and level. From what Averyl understood, Alfheimr had been like this for quite some time, even longer than Faeheim. And ever since her arrival, the speed at which the reality corruption spread increased. Now and then, she would hear a few elves whisper and insist that the strange fairy their kingdom took in caused the corruption to change their world faster.
“Ah, Averyl!” A merchant called out to her as she walked past his shop. “I have new goods for purchase now that I have gained another level.”
She turned to him, placing her hands on her waist. “Oh, is that so?”
“Indeed,” the merchant said with a bow. “Please take a look.”
The merchant created a screen listing the stock he had for sale and pushed it to her. She briefly looked at his information.
Land-elf (Item Shop Merchant) | LVL: 17 | Rank: B
He did indeed level up. It was a reminder of what could happen if you chose not to touch a weapon. The affliction would grab you anyway and force a class on you, sometimes a non-combat one. At least as a healer, Averyl could keep herself alive. To this day, she never regretted intentionally touching the Cleric scepter that changed her into a Cleric.
If only Rain could see what I have become, she thought as she browsed his wares. If only the two of us had gotten afflicted and leveled together. I would not have needed to hire those human bandits to fake my kidnapping. We could have escaped together.
Now Rain was gone, probably forever.
She scrolled through the list of items and smiled at one that caught her attention.
Asteriarite: MP +20 – 6,000 francs
He had second-tier MP asteriarite for sale. It put a grin on her face as she purchased three of them. The screen magically transferred the items into her inventory, and then she took her leave.
Averyl found the airship docks at the far edge of the city, a platform where the flying ships would land to undergo repairs and give the crew the chance to return to their homes. Up above in the skies circled three airships, their propellers spinning to keep them airborne as they patrolled Lumière for New Svartálfar airships. Lance wielding armored guards pulled away to grant her access. Battle scarred men limped about since their HP was low enough for their bodies to bleed. Durability screens displayed the health of the landed airships. They were low, which would explain why elves with Carpenter classes leveled approached the battered ships.
The Carpenters pulled sacks of crafting crystals and materials from their Inventory screens and used them to synthesize replacement parts for the battle-marked airships. With the parts in hand, the Carpenters pressed them into the damaged sections of the airship. And like magic, the blackened burn marks slowly faded and restored the ship’s durability rating. In a few hours it would look as if the airships were never in a battle.
The sorcery of the reality corruption was astonishing. Two guards nodded at Averyl as she approached Captain Remy Larrivée’s ship, the Swooping Eagle. They guided her onto the ship’s top deck to meet the captain.
Remy (Berserker) | LVL: 20 | Rank: B
He was a young elven man, had short hair, with two swords hanging at the sides of his sword belt. Remy was likely using an Assassin as a subclass for the duel-wield trait. There was no way the corruption would give a Berserker the skills necessary to use two weapons at once.
Averyl saw bloodied men lying on the wooden deck too.
“What happened?” Averyl asked him.
Remy Larrivée turned his bearded face toward her. “We were attacked. What does it look like?”
In the corner were piles of soul crystals. Some of the dead could not get a Resurrection spell cast on them in time.
“By whom?” she asked. “Judging by the dead and wounded . . . I would say the dark elves boarded you.”
“Enemies did board us,” Remy said.
“How? The New Svartálfarian’s would have to shoot down your airships to do that in most cases.”
“It was not New Svartálfar,” Remy said grimly. He looked away from her as he revealed. “It was your kind, Averyl. I think they came here to find you and killed my men in the process.”
Remy wanted answers.
Chapter Five
The surviving crew shot Averyl with distrusting glares across the deck of the airship. A few others shook their heads and limped to the lower decks. The aeronauts did not trust Averyl because of the autumn wings on her back and cherry red hair.
Averyl’s presence in the kingdom endangered them all, more so than they already were thanks to the threat from the frozen northern lands.
“I lost a lot of good men,” Remy said. “The other ships report the same.”
She listened to the murmurs of the elven aeronauts.
“Is that the fairy the king took in?”
“Do you think the fae who assaulted us want her back?”
“That would explain why they attacked and allied themselves with New Svartálfar.”
“Fairies do not belong in our world. Maybe that is why the dark elves stepped up their attacks.”
“Do not be stupid. The dark elves have always been our enemies, long before the corruption changed us.”
Guilt struck her in the chest like it had fists. Averyl should have sought refuge in another world.
Remy pointed at several elven men. They were unable to stand, and wearing gear stained with blood. “Can you heal our wounded and raise the dead before they change to soul crystals?”
“Yes, of course!” Averyl shouted with confidence.
Not like she had a choice.
Remy forged a screen ahead of himself, typed on it, and offered her a quest.
Healing Assistance Needed
Objective: Tend to the injured or dead aeronauts of the Swooping Eagle.
Issued by: Remy
Reward: 1500 Experience Points
Accept quest? Yes/No
As Averyl recalled, offering quests was not something anyone could do. It was likely a rule made by the corruption to prevent people from exploiting it and give away easy quests for rewards. Case in point, Averyl needed more mana potions for the job, and her urge to have them ignited a strange sensation in her astral circuits. Averyl’s desire for assistance allowed her to offer one quest to someone who could help her with her problem.
She opened her screen and typed on it to create a new quest.
Help a Cleric Help Others
Objective: Lumière City’s resident fae needs MP potions to complete her quest. Collect and provide her with 10 Greater MP Potions.
Issued by: Averyl
Reward: 1500 Experience Points
Issue quest? Yes/No
“This will take me some time,” Averyl said as she offered a fetch quest to an ab
le aeronaut. “Fetch me MP potions, please.”
“Of course.” The young elven aeronaut accepted the quest and nodded to her.
“Do not take too long now, Pierre,” Remy said to the elf, who accepted Averyl’s quest.
Pierre walked out of sight to grab the requested potions. In the meantime, Averyl clenched her Silver Wand and approached a dead aeronaut who had LP left. The longer you stay dead, the more LP drained away. She pulled off her sigil of Wrath and swapped it for the sigil of Life. Using the sigils of Divine, Heart, Target, and Life Averyl possessed the power to bring the deceased man back to life with a unique spell.
Resurrection
Resurrects one dead ally, bringing them back at 15% HP.
Casting Time: 10 Seconds
Cost: 500 MP
She selected Resurrection, stood idle for ten seconds, and waited for her spell to cast a ray of light onto the dead body. The dead elf coughed, rolled over to face up at Averyl, and opened their eyes, now full of life. She waited to repeat the task as her MP fell to 300, a second later it rose to 301, then 302 a second after that. Averyl’s passive racial trait was regenerating her spent MP at one per second. She needed 500 MP to cast Resurrection again. Or an MP potion. Averyl hoped Pierre returned soon with the potions. She had to bring the dead back to life before they lost too much LP, become a soul crystal, and suffer permanent death.
Averyl passed the time by tending to the injuries of the wounded elven men and selected one of the few spells she had MP to cast.
Starlight Recovery
Call forth Asteria’s light, recovering HP for a selected target.
Casting Time: 2 Seconds
Healing Potency: 50
Cost: 50 MP
The blood that soaked the injured men faded away with each cast of Averyl’s healing spell. They were able to stand and stretch their arms and return to their duties. She ran out of MP partway through, forcing her to rely on her passive racial trait to slowly regenerate it. Averyl sat on the hard wooden deck. Resting one’s joints was another way to recover MP faster, though at a slower rate. Proper bed rest was the fastest way without potions, and she did not have time for that.
Mirror Princess: A LitRPG Space Fantasy (Sword of Asteria Book 2) Page 5
