Chapter 84: The Fall of the Violet

Pushing open the door to the room, we saw Poirot kneeling before the bed, staring blankly at the person lying on it. Lying on the bed was the beautiful Dark Elf, Eliot. She was completely unconscious, her eyes tightly shut, her lips cracked from dryness, showing an unhealthy white. In just a few short days, she had changed from a proud, strong female warrior into a nearly withered body. Only the faint breath passing through her nose from time to time proved that life had not yet left her body.

If not for the considerable differences between the Dark Elf’s body structure and that of a human, the Cretans’ vicious spear thrust might have pierced straight through Eliot’s heart. But it was also because of the same reason that none of the battlefield medics we could find could save this poor life. They uselessly applied all kinds of potions that only worked on humans, trying to close the terrible wound on Eliot’s body. It was completely useless. The injury on the beautiful foreign girl’s body continued to worsen. Her left chest had been completely pierced through by the spear, and the unknown organs inside had been damaged to some unknown degree. I think the reason she was still alive was perhaps because some kind deity was watching over us, letting us stop the blood gushing from her wound in time.

When the awakened Poirot learned that Eliot was still alive, ignoring the fact that he was seriously wounded himself, he struggled to his lover’s bedside and refused to move even a single step away. The Dark Elf’s collapsing life finally ignited the fire of love in the Necromantic Warlock’s heart. This flame burned so fiercely that it seemed the fuel feeding it was his own already-feeble life force.

When eating, Poirot’s gaze was always tenderly fixed on Eliot’s face. When sleeping, Poirot crouched by the bed, pressing close to Eliot’s hair. Even when his injuries flared up and he spat out large mouthfuls of blood, nearly passing out, his hand stayed tightly gripping Eliot’s fingers, unwilling to let go for even a moment. We tried to forcefully drag him out of the room and pull him to the sickbed that should have been his, but the stubborn silver-haired young man drove us away again and again with his sword and locked himself in the room together with Eliot, ignoring all our knocking, which finally put an end to our attempts.

Yesterday, Poirot for the first time loudly begged the Goddess of Death, Tefreelimeilansi, to withdraw the hand she had reached toward Eliot. The young Necromantic Warlock had never placed any reliance on the great Deities who dwelled in the eternal dark realm, even though that was the source of his natural power. He knelt on the ground, shedding endless tears, praying devoutly. He was willing to pay any price to bring Eliot back to wakefulness — even his life, his freedom, his soul, even the magic power that had been the only thing supporting him through the hardest journey of his life. He was no longer the Poirot Jonas we knew, the Chosen One bearing the mark of the deities, the frivolous, wanton Necromantic Warlock, the respected “Beacon of the Dead” who guided all lost souls back to their eternal destination. Instead, he was just a poor young man made helpless by watching his beloved walk step by step toward death.

“Slap!” Dakla pushed the door with a bit too much force, making a slight sound against it.

“Shh…” Poirot turned his head, nervously silencing Dakla and signaling him not to make even the tiniest sound. His face was pale and haggard. His once-handsome features were now covered with messy stubble. His originally moon-silver hair was now dull and coarse, piled up in a chaotic mess. His eyes were deeply sunken and bloodshot. His cheekbones stuck out sharply because of how thin he had become, and the skin on his cheeks carried an unhealthy gray-blue tinge from exhaustion and injury. Every single part of his body was honestly telling us how weakened he was. But more than his physical health, I was worried about his abnormal mental state.

A strange light burned in his eyes. Although it was as hot as two blazing fires, we couldn’t find their focus. He glanced at us dazedly, as if wanting to smile, but the muscles of his face were stiff and trembling uncontrollably. Worst of all, he seemed to be convinced that he was smiling, and spoke to us gently in a soft voice: “You’re here.” His wandering gaze made it impossible for us to tell who exactly he was talking to, and which one of us that “you” was meant for.

“Poirot, you… are you alright?” Kelsey’s naturally kind heart as a woman made her unable to hold back her concerned greeting. Before this, I had never known that this bold female pirate could have such a gentle side.

“We’re fine.” Poirot let out a cheerful voice under his wooden expression, which was both frightening and heartbreaking. “See, Eli is right here. She’s sleeping. We’re both fine. There’s nothing to worry about. Really. With me here to accompany her, there’s nothing to worry about…”

He kept rambling, repeating the words “nothing to worry about” over and over in his weak voice. His lips would twitch unnaturally from time to time, whether from grief or from madness, I couldn’t tell. Perhaps it was both.

Seeing him like this, I didn’t know what to say.

“Poirot, you need to rest.” Kelsey said softly, her face full of grief and her eyes sparkling with tears.

“I am resting. See, Eli is right here. We… we are resting.” Poirot answered disconnectedly. After saying this, he turned his head back, reached out his right hand to gently stroke Eliot’s delicate face, and hummed a warm little tune that must have come from who knows where. The moment his eyes fell on Eliot, they became as gentle as a patch of warm autumn sunlight, filled with endless affection and admiration.

He hummed softly, hummed on and on, his expression never changing, but tears had already dripped down and fallen into the earth beneath his knees, soaking a patch of yellow soil into a dull dark color.

“It was very chaotic then…” Poirot’s voice was as calm as a mirror polished from crystal. “I told Red Flame that I was going to help Jeff with something, so I took some people and left. I didn’t want to bring Eli along, but she insisted on following me. She said that as long as I was protecting her, she wouldn’t be in any danger.”

“But she took that spear for me instead. All I could do was watch helplessly as the spear stabbed in from the front of her body and then came out through her back. She was really silly, wasn’t she? This foolish girl. That spear was aimed at me. I could have handled it. I’m a great Warlock. How could a mere spear stab me? She always said that as long as I protected her, she wouldn’t be in danger. But she just had to turn around to save me. She was silly, right?”

“Poirot, you’re tired.” Fred reached out and held the Necromantic Warlock’s left hand, trying to pull him up. But Poirot suddenly jumped up from the ground and forcefully pushed Fred away.

“Let us be alone for a while. Please, I beg you, let us be alone for a while!” he suddenly shouted. “Eli has always wanted to be alone with me. Don’t you know that? At the dances, at the dinner table, on the battlefield, she always wanted to be alone with me for just a moment. I rejected her again and again, but now I won’t. Never again. Just leave for a while, let us be alone together, alright?”

Seeing him like this, how could we possibly dare to leave? I didn’t know what Poirot might do if we left. If Eliot really met with misfortune, he might do something foolish right after. He was capable of such things, I knew. Even though Poirot usually acted like a frivolous, free-spirited fellow, once he became impulsive, he would completely disregard his own life. We had already learned that lesson back when Fred saved him from the Winston people.

“We came to give Eli her medicine.” I stepped out from behind the crowd, holding a bowl of thick medicinal brew in my hands. “No matter what’s happened, let Eli drink her medicine before anything else.”

At this moment, Poirot was as if hypnotized. His eyes could only see the medicine bowl. He carefully carried the bowl to the bedside, did his best to prop Eliot up, gently scooped up some of the brew with a spoon, blew on it lightly twice, then slowly and carefully brought it to Eliot’s mouth.

“Eli, open your mouth, be good, be a good girl… That’s right, just like that. Slow down, slow down… you little greedy cat, be careful not to burn yourself…”

Only a little less than half of the medicine was actually swallowed by Eliot. Most of it flowed out along her lips, soaking her clothes and the bed beneath her. But Poirot didn’t seem to notice at all. He kept feeding her spoonful after spoonful, occasionally muttering a few irrelevant words. From his words, we could tell that what he saw before his eyes wasn’t the completely unconscious Eliot who could only swallow by instinct, but a lively, lovely, innocent and beautiful illusion.

“Feeling a little better?” After finishing the medicine, Poirot asked quietly. Even though no one answered, he still nodded in satisfaction and stroked Eliot’s hair. “…That’s good. You rest well. Once you’re fully recovered, I’ll take you to the Gemflower Plains to see the flowers, to see the violets. You love violets the most, don’t you… Yes, only you and me. We won’t tell Fred and the others. We’ll sneak off on our own. Be good, sweetheart…” At this point, Poirot could no longer tell reality and fantasy apart at all. We truly hadn’t expected his grief to be so intense that it twisted his originally strong reason.

Kelsey couldn’t hold it in any longer. Covering her face, she rushed out the door. From a distance, I could hear her sorrowful crying. Red Flame walked out after her to comfort his beloved. Fred and I looked at each other with sorrowful expressions, heartbroken over our friend’s madness.

At that moment, Poirot settled Eliot back on the bed again and brought the empty bowl before me.

“Thank you, Jeff. Please tell the doctor that Eli’s wound needs to be re-dressed. She says it hurts a little. If there’s nothing else, everyone please go back. Eli wants to sleep for a while.”

There was no reason left for us to stay. I took the bowl dejectedly and left together with everyone else, full of worry and concern. We had no way at all to help our poor friend. Although he was still alive, his heart was slowly dying along with Eliot. Nothing could save him. We couldn’t, and even he himself couldn’t. His world had completely collapsed because of the Dark Elf’s injury, with not a single trace of reason left. Unless Eliot’s condition improved and she recovered her health, I believed there was no one in this world who could bring our friend Poirot back to us.

And in this matter, we could not even fulfill the duty of friends, sharing with him what might be this final agony.

…

“This can’t go on like this!” Dakla banged his head heavily against the wall, shouting in frustration. “Poirot can’t go on like this!”

“Calm down, Dakla.” Rodrick said irritably.

“Calm down! How do you expect me to calm down! Eliot has become like that, and Poirot has become… become like that too. How can I possibly calm down? He’s my friend! I’m not like you. Even when your own brother died, you didn’t even cry once.” His restless mood made Dakla lose his reason, and he spoke recklessly without choosing his words.

“You bastard, what did you say!” Rodrick suddenly drew his sword and roared in fury. “Say that again!”

“I said, I have feelings. I worry about my friends. Unlike you, who’s a cold-blooded animal!” Dakla yelled, stretching out his neck.

“I’ll kill you, you bastard!” Dakla’s words were truly too hurtful. The insulted Rodrick sprang up like a fierce tiger, swinging his sword at Dakla. By this time, Dakla had already drawn his sword as well, ready to meet Rodrick’s attack.

I quickly threw myself over and held the furious Rodrick tightly, while Kelsey hurried over and snatched away his sword. The veins on Rodrick’s face bulged, his face was flushed red, and every muscle in his body trembled. On the other side, Red Flame had also wrapped his arms around Dakla.

“Don’t stop me! I’m going to kill this bastard!” Rodrick struggled.

“Come on then! Come and try!” Dakla shot back.

Suddenly, a flash of black light swept across, chopping the long table in front of us into two halves. Everything on the table toppled to the ground as the table split apart, making a messy clattering sound.

“That’s enough, all of you.” Fred’s low, angry roar sounded among us. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried his unique authority, startling the two men who had lost their senses back to themselves, and they both fell silent at once.

“Right now, our friends are suffering misfortune, and there are countless hard battles ahead of us. This is exactly the time we need you. But you two, not only can you not provide any help to your friends, you’re here instead brawling like a pair of thugs, making everyone else worry about you. Don’t you have any sense of shame?!”

I felt Rodrick’s stiff body gradually relax. His breathing was still heavy, but the uncontrolled ferocity in his eyes had faded, replaced by embarrassment and guilt. I tentatively loosened my arms that were tightly holding him, and he didn’t make any more violent movements.

“Dakla, my friend. I know you’re worried about Poirot. But you need to understand, we’re all equally worried about him. We just show it in different ways. Your words hurt Rodrick. You should apologize to him.” Fred said seriously.

By that time, Dakla must have already reflected on his careless words from earlier. His face flushed red with shame, he walked awkwardly up to Rodrick and said: “Rodrick, I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry. I must have gone insane just now. I just… I just lost my mind because I was too worried. I didn’t even know what I was saying… Damn it, I really am a bastard. I know Gerard’s death made you deeply sad. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. You have every right to be angry. Hit me, hit me hard. If that’s still not enough, even stab me with your sword, kill me if you want. Just please forgive me. I really didn’t mean it…”

“Rodrick, this is entirely Dakla’s fault. But we all know what kind of person he is. If the one in trouble right now weren’t Poirot but you, I believe he would do the same for you. We all hope you can forgive him.” Fred turned to Rodrick and said.

No more persuasion was needed. Once he had calmed down, Rodrick no longer harbored any hatred toward this burly man with whom he had forged a deep, life-and-death bond on the battlefield. With tears in his eyes, he reached out his hand and hugged Dakla tightly. I believed that this small episode would not hinder their friendship. On the contrary, after this little conflict, these two brave warriors might become even closer and trust each other even more.

Just at that moment, the large door was roughly pushed open, and the one who rushed in was none other than the friend we had just been so worried about — the grief-stricken Necromantic Warlock, Poirot Jonas. He looked even worse than he had a few days ago: his robe was slashed, with a large section on the back torn into strips of ragged cloth; the shoe on his right foot was nowhere to be seen; his face was covered in gray-black dirt; his right arm bore obvious scrape marks. He looked as if he had just rolled down from a hillside. Clearly, he had just run a long distance, bent over and gasping for breath, spitting mouthfuls of the saliva that had accumulated in his mouth onto the ground in big mouthfuls. His panic-stricken expression was terrifying, and the sharp glint in his eyes seemed to carry ill news, making our hearts tremble unceasingly.

What happened? How could this be? What could make Poirot, in his despair, risk losing the chance to accompany his beloved through the final stretch of her life, leaving Eliot’s side to come to us? Could it be that…

Although I had long guessed that this kind of result might come, when it actually arrived, I still didn’t want to believe it. Eliot — she was so beautiful, so kind, so young (even though her actual age might even be older than my grandfather). She hadn’t yet enjoyed the happiness she should have had in this world. Had she really left this world so early?

I still remembered the scene of our first meeting. She was so kind. Even when she was framed, slandered, and even threatened with her life, she never showed a trace of resentment. When she learned she might lose her vision forever, she was so calm, and yet so sorrowful. In pursuit of her own love, this beautiful foreign girl had turned her back on her own clan, staying by Poirot’s side, protecting him, taking care of him, standing quietly to the side as she watched him grow from an unknown Warlock into a hero worthy of respect. For Poirot’s sake, this kind Elf had become a brave warrior, going against her own conscience to fight on the battlefield against enemies who had originally nothing to do with her. Although she never said it, we all knew that after every battle, she would hide alone in a corner, vomiting and crying.

I could never forget the look of this flower-loving foreign girl when she first put on her Shaded Crystal Spectacles and held a violet in her hand. In that touching moment, I could no longer tell which was the delicate blooming flower, and which was the beautiful Elf.

I thought I had already prepared myself to lose her. I was deceiving myself. I could never be prepared for this.

Red Flame, standing beside me, silently shed tears. Originally, because of the differences in race, he had hated this dark-skinned girl so bitterly. But not long afterward, Eliot had won over everyone with her kindness and generosity.

Perhaps the only thing worth feeling comforted about in Eliot’s short life was that, at the very last moment of her life, she had conquered her lover and won Poirot’s heart. But for Poirot, this would only become a pain that would accompany him for the rest of his life, and for herself, it held no meaning at all.

“Pant… pant… you, you all, why are you making those expressions… pant… Eli, Eli is not… not dead.”