Chapter 9 - Martial Training

Sylvie was surprised by how quickly everything went by after passing the assessment.

Though she was now the youngest Apprentice Alchemist in Falamel's history, beating the previous record set by the Browman scion by three years, the reaction from the Elves seemed somewhat subdued.

Nonetheless, this was expected following Wood Elves' culture since they tend to have a long-term perspective and do not overly glorify such achievements, even if she was remarkably young for them.

Passing an Apprentice Alchemist assessment is the first step, and they would not be overly praiseful for what would be a minor footnote in her presumably long lifespan.

Sylvie found that Arun made it known she had a great talent in alchemy, and the guild and the other alchemists appreciated and applauded her. However, this did not change her situation; she would not suddenly be invited into the upper circle or anything like that.

She would be treated similarly to a normal Apprentice Alchemist. Sylvie knew Wood Elves were intensely loyal to their traditions and duty; it took a long line of impressive feats and being an asset to the community to move forward significantly.

Arun followed through and provided her and Haryk’s recommendations for some resources to help continue nurturing her development.

Per each Apprentice Assessment, or Rank Assessment in general, the Head Assessor, this time Arun, was permitted to grant minor stipends to a select few talents who undertook the assessment and the mentors as a means of motivation. It was nothing compared to what a Browman scion would receive, though Sylvie was proud she impressed him enough to receive the best one he could provide.

After the encounter with Faelar, they left the guild hurriedly. Sylvie noticed the High Elf boy similarly passed, and she couldn't help but notice he had just been eleven at most, yet most seemed to ignore the talent he displayed for his young age.

Haryk said the boy was nothing special for a High Elf regarding alchemy, which made her realise that High Elves might be quicker learners than Wood Elves; they sure seemed to think that way. Faelar hid that innate sense of superiority well, yet the High Elf boy wore it proudly.

Her Mother and Haryk did not elaborate on their concerns about the High Elves. They seemed fearful to speak about them, especially Faelar, who Sylvie put together was a highly formidable investigator with immense authority among High Elves. However, investigating what remained a mystery to her, especially in the Capital City of the Wood Elves.

Heading home was relatively uneventful. Haryk tried to change the subject away from the High Elves. He told her that now, as an Apprentice Alchemist, it was time to increase her experience by fulfilling requests and jobs from the guild. It would be a good way to build her reputation and connections around Falamel as a reliable young alchemist.

Her family and Haryk expected her to follow a similar path to his. After developing her alchemy talent, she would open an alchemy shop of her own and sell her brewed potions, which is precisely what Haryk had been preparing her for over the years and what a mentor usually sets out to do: assist a young Elf in finding their role in the community.

Sylvie found such a way of life appealing; it offered her a peaceful, fulfilling, and straightforward life.

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Yet, she knew she might not be destined for that the moment she gave herself a vast core and talents far beyond the alchemy talent she had shown. Sylvie could only wonder how strong the other gifts she gave herself were if her alchemy talent already made her more competent than any Wood Elf her age in the history of Falamel.

That made her recall Faelar’s strange, cryptic words and the abrupt manner in which he appeared and left.

Either way, it gave her a lot to think about, making her feel troubled.

Arriving at home with Haryk and her Mother, she was greeted by her jovial Father and brother, Ballen, who seemed to be celebrating before they told her she had passed.

Lanren was sitting to the side, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but here. Sylvie secretly saw he was peeking intensely, though the corner of his eyes never left them, and he leaned his ear in to hear whether she passed or not.

Haryk and her mother, Mryna's, forlorn looks made them assume she failed at first, with Ballen already placing his hand on her shoulder consolingly. Yet, when they declared she passed, they jumped for joy apart from Lanren, who exasperatedly huffed in annoyance.

Her Father said with a big grin, “Oh, you worried me there! You both look so disappointed. Just what could make a day like this bad?”

Haryk and her Mother looked at each other before Haryk sighed as he said, “I suppose I should be the one to tell you. It can be considered my fault and all. Friend, your daughter has Faelar's attention.”

Sylvie found it was the second time this day her parents made an expression she had never seen before. Only this time, Yorik, her overwhelmingly positive Father, now sported the angriest, darkest look she had ever seen.

It was frankly terrifying and chilling. She never pictured her Father as the incredibly competent guard he was reputed to be, but at that time, she felt his deathly aura radiating out of him just by looking at him.

“You mean that Faelar? The High Elf?” Yorik asked coldly.

“That one, I had no idea he would be here, training a Vaelorn welp, no less. An Inquisitor of his calibre being here is bad news. The Triumvirate has much to answer for, inviting the High Elves into our sacred home, bringing their war to us. Taking our Mages, Druids, all for those enchantments that make us grow weak as we fall back on our traditions…” Haryk’s eyes grew frightening as he went into a rant, and it took her Father to snap him out.

“The kids are listening. I know you have recently suffered much under the Triumvirate, but this is not the place.” Her Father, Yorik, said calmly.

“You’re right, friend. It’s just that I feel I failed you. I could not follow the Warrior path like you, and it feels painful to think of the old days when the High Elves would think twice before pressuring us like this.” Haryk shook his head despondently at that, and her Father nodded.

Sylvie, Ballen, and Lanren just stared in confusion. Ballen had a bit more of an idea of what they were saying. Still, even he was perplexed by the sheer detail the usually gentle Haryk went into about the High Elves.

When her father regarded her, Sylvie found herself receiving everyone’s attention.

“Well, Sylvie, I never wanted to do this. I never thought I would need to, but I will give you some martial training. This was the norm for all Wood Elf children, and I’m sure you will be a natural.” Her Father said confidently.

Her Mother appeared worried at the comments.

Haryk seemed similarly worried but simultaneously relieved. He seemed to think it would be a good idea.

Ballen seemed excited at the thought of him training her to be a warrior like himself, giving him more time to spend with her.

Lanren seemed jealous; the boy who scoffed at the thought of waving around a weapon all his life suddenly seemed to want to do so just because she might do it.

Sylvie had no idea what to think. However, the thought of her replicating those Wood Elves scaling the tree like martial artists from Chinese folklore sounded appealing.

“When will we begin?” Sylvie said confidently, a bright smile on her lips.