July Pinup #1 - Redux (Patreon)

The brisk steps of a very concerned lady echoed throughout the manor. It was the aide de camp of Countess Frances Dysmere, and she was rushing to bring the good news of the Countess’s two sons returning from their diplomatic missions. Though the aide was unsure if “good” was a fitting word to use in this case. Over the year-long missions, the Countess had been preoccupied with internal affairs and had barely paid any attention to the reports that her twin sons had sent him. She trusted them well enough that whatever they sent should not be of her concern and instead entrusted that concern to her loyal aide de camp, Eleanore.

Despite being twins, the Countess’s sons were quite different from each other. Victor was the name of the older brother. But despite being the older one, he was quite diminutive in stature compared to his younger brother, Vidar, who was built like an Elf, tall and with big muscles. And their appearances betrayed each of the brothers’ personalities, with Vidar having great interests in the physical arts of knighthood, whereas Victor was a born diplomat, skilled in all aspects of speech and intellect. And with all of that in mind it was never up to a whimsical coin toss as to which one would be given which mission.

Victor was instructed to venture into the ancient forests of Volmagreir, where one of the largest kingdoms of Elves had its seat. He had been chosen for the task because of his great abilities as a diplomat and because he had an unquenchable thirst for learning. The Countess was more than certain that Victor would be capable of figuring out the inner workings of the Elves’ culture. It had been assumed for years that the Elves were nothing more than a savage and brutish race of middling intellect, but the Countess and her advisors believed that there was more to them than what appeared on the surface. So it was an obvious choice to make in this case. Victor would go deeper than anyone else would.

Vidar was chosen for a similar reason to act as a diplomat to the underground kingdom of Morundine, a relatively new nation created after the Nightfolk underwent their great racial transformation. The Nightfolk were unimaginably secretive to outsiders, but the idea of sending Vidar to establish contact with them came from the belief that Vidar appeared too earnest and that the Nightfolk would let their guard down in his presence. It also helped that Vidar did not just appear earnest, but was genuinely easy to speak to. If there were secrets to be unraveled among the Nightfolk, you could trust that Vidar would be clear about them.

And so the two brothers were sent off to their year-long missions, only to converse with the people of their homes by letter. A mission that Eleanore took upon her with great honor. And it was an enjoyable task indeed. Victor’s letters were well written and the prose flowed like an easy-going stream. He had an ability to explain with flowery, yet not arbitrary, words how the Elves lived their lives and how their culture was so much deeper than any Human in the Dysmere County had assumed. Contrastingly, but not negatively so, Vidar’s letters were short and to the point. He wrote efficiently yet spared no detail that he felt were necessary to include. Eleanore enjoyed that almost as much as the pretty words of Victor.

Correspondence between the brothers and the aide de camp continued on as weeks turned to months. But as the exchange of letters went on, Eleanore started to feel like something was getting strange with the brothers. At first she noticed it with Vidar’s letters which grew longer and more detailed. But then she started to feel like something else was strange with them other than their length. The younger brother’s letters began to have a certain feel to them. They were not just getting longer, but more complicated, with lengthy screeds about inane peculiars that either showed that his interest in Nightfolk culture was growing… or he was trying to confuse the reader.

It was around the same time that she noticed this change in Vidar’s writing that she went back to look for similar changes in Victor’s letters. And at first she thought she had found nothing, but when she compared Victor’s first letters to his later ones, she finally noticed it. Victor was writing less with each letter. Going from several pages full of aureate words to barely covering one page with trite and disinterested word choices. And once she had noticed this as well, she wrote letters to each brother demanding an explanation. She would receive their answers by messenger pigeon on the same day.

She chose to read Vidar’s letter first.

“Dear Eleanore Silverfalch, aide de camp of Countess Dysmere.

Allow me to write this letter without anything to hide for once.

Upon my writing of this response to your letter of concern, I have spent so far less than seven months in the Kingdom of Morgundine. And in my time here, my presence among the distinguished minds of the Nightfolk has had an irrevocable effect on my own mind as well as my body. I have immersed myself in the culture and erudition of this esteemed Race with the same passion that I have also consumed the blooded wine that makes them so infamous to the lesser peoples of the Realm. And I feel little shame in it.

Why should I? I have literally felt my mind expand manyfold over my stay here and despite my humble origins as a simple knight, the Nightfolk are more and more accepting of me each night that passes. Whatever shame I should feel over my integration into this brilliant and ambitious society is fading away faster than my own masculinity. And yes, for unknown reasons even to me, I am changing in more ways than those of my psyche.

It first became apparent to me some eight weeks ago when I inspected the armor I had worn when arriving here. It looked terribly oversized and upon trying it on again for the first time in months, I recognized that I had shrunk considerably. My shoulders have slimmed down, as has my arms which at this point bear only the smallest vestiges of me having used them for physical labor. My waist is thinning each day and my hips, posterior and breasts have grown with a speed that would alarm a lesser mind. Me on the other hand, I welcome these changes as my form is warping to fit into the society of my beloved Nightfolk. And they are all as eager as I am to see the day that I don’t just look like one of them, but will be able to bear their children as well.

Yes, you read that right. I am shedding this polluted Human male guise and I will soon carry myself through the rest of my life as a noble lady of the Nightfolk. Tell this to my former mother if you wish but I shall make my proclamation of disownment to her in person once the year of my mission has come to completion.

Please do not send me more letters to distract me from my new life.

- Lady Vidalia Shadowflax.”

Stunned by what she had read, Eleanore took a day off before re-reading the letter that Lady Vidalia had written several times to make sure that what she had read was indeed words on a page and not a crazy hallucination. But there was nothing to argue with, she had indeed read the letter of the knight she had seen off several months ago. Fearing the worst, she opened the envelope from Victor and predictably, only one page fell out.

“Hello, Eleanore.

Writing letters is dumb. Stories should be told in person. More engaging that way. Anyway, dumb writing aside, you wanted to know what has happened?

This is what happened. I spent weeks drinking wine and hunting with fellow Elves. Made me strong. I’m now two heads taller than I used to be according to my family and if I look in a mirror I can tell I’m bigger and stronger than Vidar. And he’s just a puny Human man unlike Elf men who are even bigger than I am.

This is why Elves are so awesome. We’re huge. Even the smallest Elf woman is larger than a Human man. Not that I’m a small Elf woman. I’m freaking huge! Oh right, I think I never wrote in earlier letters.

I’m an Elf woman now. Huge biceps. Legs like tree trunks. Shoulders like boulders. No idea how that happened. I don’t care either.

I’ll come back to the county in a few months to pick up some things. Stop sending letters. Writing is dumb.

- Torras.”

Needless to say, Eleanore insisted that the Countess would read these letters, but stubborn as she was, the Countess felt like it was a breach of trust. And besides, both siblings had written that they would return in a few months and that there wouldn’t be any more letters. So what was there to worry about?

- The End