Chapter 65: It’s a Good Day.
Sella emerged first from behind the bushes. She wore a sky-blue swimsuit with white trim on the edges, appropriately fitted to her developed body. She walked with the naturalness of someone who didn’t consider her appearance worthy of her own attention.
Behind her, half a step slower, Liaraen came out.
Nathan looked up.
And for half a second, against his will, he stared.
Liaraen wore a dark green one-piece swimsuit. With a conservative cut by human standards: high neck, short sleeves, length to mid-thigh. But by elven aristocratic standards, apparently, it was considerably revealing. Her arms fully exposed. Her legs below the knee, exposed. Her hair loose, not in its usual braid, falling over her right shoulder.
Liaraen stopped beside the flat stones. She looked at Nathan.
Nathan, with the reflex that veteran instruction would have approved, turned his head toward the river in less than half a second.
"Nathan."
"Yes?"
"You can look at me. I’m dressed."
"I’m respecting your protocol."
"It’s not aristocratic protocol to look away when someone presents themselves dressed for swimming."
"It’s human protocol."
"Understood."
He turned with a smile.
He looked at her with the most controlled naturalness he could muster. As if he were looking at someone dressed for any routine activity.
Liaraen held his gaze for a second.
Then she spoke.
"Sella said this suit was the best she had."
"I see."
"From when she was thirteen."
Nathan stood still for a second.
He looked at Sella.
Sella was standing to the side with her usual broad smile. Without the slightest hint of remorse. With the clear satisfaction of someone who’d executed a small calculated social move.
"It’s the only one she had left from that season," Sella said innocently. "The others are worn out. And this one still looks great."
"I see," Nathan said.
He turned to Liaraen.
"The suit looks fine. You’ll be able to swim without issues."
"Nathan."
"Yes?"
"Don’t you notice?"
"Notice what?"
"The cut. It’s for a thirteen-year-old girl. I’m sixteen. Sella is an adult. This suit specifically highlights the difference."
Nathan looked at her.
Then at Sella.
Then at Liaraen again.
*Ah.*
*I see.*
*Good.*
*I’m staying out of this.*
"Sprout."
"Yes?"
"You’re going to swim in a river for the first time. I’m going to teach you to float. Those are the day’s priorities. The suit is functional. That’s all I’m professionally interested in."
Liaraen looked at him for a full moment.
Then, very slightly, she smiled.
"Acceptable," she said.
She turned to Sella.
"Sella. I appreciate the suit. Apparently it’s a selection from your youthful wardrobe. It fits me appropriately because elves, until age eighteen, keep physical development paused. When I turn eighteen, in about two years, my body will complete adult development in a phase elven biology documents as the major transition. I’ll have the proper proportions. It just requires nature to work its magic over the next two years."
Sella looked at her.
Nathan did too.
And for half a second, Nathan thought Sella would respond with something hostile.
But no.
Sella laughed.
With her usual broad, unrepentant laugh. Wide. Crystal clear. Genuinely amused.
"Liaraen!" Sella said. "That was amazing. You’re amazing."
"Apparently."
"Yes. Really." Sella approached her with her usual specific naturalness and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Apparently you’re exactly the kind of friend I didn’t know I needed. We’re going to have fun together today."
Liaraen stood still for a moment.
Then, with her aristocratic posture slightly relaxed by surprise:
"Acceptable."
Sella grabbed her hand.
"Let’s go to the water!"
And she pulled her running toward the bank.
---
Nathan watched them go.
He stood by the flat stones for a few seconds.
Then he walked to the big tree and sat beside Kalen with the sigh of someone who’d processed more social events in two minutes than he’d processed in the entire last week.
Kalen looked up.
"Nathan."
"Kalen."
"Everything okay?"
"Apparently." Pause. "What exactly just happened?"
Kalen inclined his head.
"Sella and Liaraen had a tacit conversation about status. Sella tried to mark territory with the suit. Liaraen responded with biological information that reframed the situation. Sella recognized that Liaraen was more clever than she’d assumed and decided not to continue the competition. They established friendship. In two and a half minutes."
"Understood."
"Sella does that with people she likes. Even if she likes them at a moment when she herself hadn’t decided if she liked them."
"Acceptable."
Silence.
Nathan looked at the river.
Sella and Liaraen were already in the water up to their knees. Sella laughing loudly. Liaraen walking with the specifically cautious posture of someone who’d decided to try something new for the first time.
Kalen spoke again.
"Nathan."
"Yes?"
"The conversation you just had with Liaraen about the suit."
"Yes?"
"She appreciated that you didn’t comment on her appearance."
"Yes. I assumed."
"You didn’t assume. You processed it. That’s different."
"Acceptable."
"Most men your age would have made a comment. Some would have attempted a supposedly innocent compliment. Very few would have maintained the professional neutrality you maintained."
"I’m not interested in making ambiguous comments about sixteen-year-old girls."
"Correct."
"Or about eighteen-year-old girls either when the social dynamic doesn’t justify it."
"Correct."
"It’s basic."
"It’s specifically basic. Yes. And yet many don’t apply it."
"Apparently."
Silence.
Nathan looked at the girls again.
Sella had just ducked her head underwater to wet her hair. Liaraen stood beside her, water up to her waist, arms crossed over her chest in a protective reflex. Sella emerged with her silver hair soaked and laughed.
Nathan smiled.
Then he spoke, with his usual specifically casual tone:
"Kalen."
"Yes?"
"The situation would be simpler if Liaraen and Sella were two adult women."
Kalen paused for a moment to process.
Then, with a specifically slow voice:
"Sella is an adult. She’s eighteen."
"Apparently yes, chronologically."
"Chronologically yes."
"But I’m also speaking mentally."
Kalen was silent for a full second.
Then he laughed.
A small laugh. Contained. Specifically surprised. The first audible laugh Kalen had produced since Nathan had met him.
"Nathan."
"Yes?"
"I see your point."
"I appreciate the understanding."
"Yes."
They both laughed.
Quietly.
---
After about ten more minutes of observation, Nathan stood up.
He approached the water.
Both girls turned to him when he reached the bank. Sella with her broad smile. Liaraen with her posture slightly more forward—the position of someone who’d been waiting for Nathan to approach but didn’t want to admit it.
Sella spoke first.
"Nathan! Come!"
"I’m coming."
"You’re not coming. You’re walking slowly."
"It’s a reasonable pace."
"It’s a slow pace."
"Sella."
"Yes?"
"We already established it was a reasonable pace."
"Nathan."
Sella approached the water’s edge with her usual specific energy.
"Yes?"
"Before you start teaching Liaraen to float." Deliberate pause. "Aren’t you going to say anything about how my suit looks?"
Nathan looked at her.
*Ah.*
*Her too.*
*Good.*
*Let’s handle this.*
"Sella."
"Yes?"
"The suit looks fine. You’ll be able to swim without issues."
"Nathan."
"Yes?"
"That’s exactly the same phrase you said to Liaraen."
"Yes."
"Literally word for word."
"Yes."
"It’s not a specific compliment."
"It’s not a specific compliment."
"Nathan."
"Sella."
"Really?"
"Sella." Nathan looked at her with his usual specific calm. "I’m twenty-two. You’re eighteen and sixteen. I’m here because I agreed to escort Liaraen home. The appropriate social dynamic doesn’t include me commenting on either of your appearances. Honestly. The swimsuits look fine and fit your bodies well. You’ll both be able to swim without issues. That’s what’s professionally relevant. The rest isn’t my place."
Sella looked at him for a full moment.
Then she laughed.
Again broad. Again without remorse.
"Acceptable," Sella said.
She turned to Liaraen.
"Liaraen! You were right!"
"About what?"
"About him. He’s very proper."
"Yes."
Liaraen looked at Nathan.
And she smiled.
A small smile. Controlled. Specifically grateful.
"Nathan. I’m ready for my lessons."
Nathan looked at her.
He returned the smile. Equally small. Equally controlled.
"Let’s go, Sprout."
And he walked into the water to begin the first swimming lesson.
---
The first lesson lasted approximately forty minutes.
Nathan took her to the natural pool upstream, where the current was minimal and the water depth was consistently about chest-height on Liaraen. He started with the basics. How to hold her breath. How to relax her muscles. How to let the water carry her without fighting it.
Liaraen learned fast.
Nathan expected that. Her ability to translate verbal instruction into physical execution was considerably higher than the average human’s.
What he hadn’t expected was the hands part.
When Nathan taught her to float on her back, he had to support her back with his right palm at the point between her shoulder blades and his left hand beneath the nape of her neck. Prolonged physical contact. Necessary.
And Liaraen said nothing for the first ten seconds of the position.
She just closed her eyes.
And relaxed.
Completely.
Nathan held her.
"Good. Now breathe slowly. Keep your arms open. Head back. Let the water support you."
Liaraen obeyed.
Her body rose slightly to the surface. Her hair spread around her in the pool. Her hands moved a little until they found a specifically comfortable position.
And she floated.
For the first time.
Without leaning on Nathan.
Nathan slowly withdrew his hands.
She kept floating.
After about twenty seconds, she opened her eyes. She looked at the sky. Looked at the treetops beside the river. Looked at the morning light filtering through the leaves.
And in a low voice, almost a whisper, without turning to Nathan:
"Nathan."
"Yes?"
"This is the best I’ve felt in weeks."
"I’m glad for you, Sprout."
"Thank you."
Silence.
The river continued. The distant current. The sound of Sella laughing in the main water. Kalen in the shade of the big tree, apparently sleeping.
And Liaraen floating in the natural pool, her green hair spread around her, her wet clothes clinging to her young body, her eyes open looking at the sky, with the sensation of living, for the first time in her life, a moment that no aristocratic catalog had ever considered worth documenting.
Nathan looked at her.
Without commenting.
Just watched her.
And after another thirty seconds:
"Sprout."
"Yes?"
"I told you. It was worth coming."
"Yes."
"Acceptable."
"Acceptable."
She closed her eyes again.
She kept floating for several more minutes.
And on the riverbank, with his hands in his pockets and the water up to his knees, Nathan Voss, F-Rank Hunter, bearer of the seventeenth god’s Seal, stood for a long time watching the aristocratic elf who had given him official permission to call her by a nickname, and who would probably be the reason he’d remember this day for all the years of his remaining functional life.
*It’s a good day.*
*One of the best.*
*Noted.*
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