From Ashes To Scales

A few more days had passed since Magnus visited Erika. And now, Magnus had no idea why Rusalka, his cute weiss goblin slave, was dragging him away from his work. He had been in the middle of drafting plans for Ephiria’s new army when she had marched into his study, her eyes full of resolve. Without a word, she pulled him from his chair and led him outside.

“Master,” she began, her voice firm despite her small size, “when was the last time you got proper sleep?”

Magnus sighed, trying to wave her off. "I can get by with magic," he said, a tired smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I’ve been sending electrical signals to my brain to stay awake. I don’t need sleep when I can just tweak a few neurons."

Rusalka frowned, her soft features hardening. "That’s not healthy, and you know it. You’ve been working around the clock. I’ve already talked to the others—Saphira, Leona, Rose—they all agree. You need a day off."

Her tone left no room for argument, even if she was technically his slave. Despite her position, Rusalka was always assertive when it came to Magnus's well-being. He opened his mouth to protest but stopped short when he saw the genuine concern in her eyes. She wasn't asking. She was demanding.

"Alright," he finally relented, his shoulders sagging in defeat. "What did you have in mind?"

Rusalka beamed, her face lighting up with joy. "You’ll see!" she chirped, grabbing his hand and pulling him through the castle doors.

---

They began in the bustling markets of Ephiria, where the vendors' cries filled the air, advertising their finest goods. Since Volkos had been overthrown, the city had flourished, and many fine-crafted jewelry and pottery stores were now blooming. Magnus hadn’t had the time to appreciate just how much the market had grown. Delicate rings, intricately woven bracelets, and shimmering necklaces adorned every stall. Pottery, carved with patterns unique to each artisan, lay neatly arranged for potential buyers.

Rusalka tugged at his sleeve, her eyes landing on a stall selling enchanted trinkets. “Master, look!” she exclaimed, pointing to a silver bracelet inlaid with tiny sapphires. "This would look beautiful on Lady Saphira!"

Magnus smiled, indulging her excitement. “Perhaps,” he said, glancing at the craftsmanship. “But Saphira would probably prefer something more practical—a weapon, maybe.”

They continued wandering through the market, stopping at various stalls. One merchant proudly displayed enchanted pottery that could keep water cool indefinitely, while another boasted rings that could glow in the dark. The vendors were eager to catch Magnus's attention, bowing slightly and offering him discounts. Despite being their king, Magnus was rarely in the market, and seeing him in person was a rare occasion.

At one point, Rusalka led Magnus toward a small stand where an elderly elf sold flower crowns woven from magical blossoms. The flowers never wilted, their colors always vibrant. Rusalka picked up one of the crowns, placing it on her own head before turning to face Magnus.

“How do I look, Master?” she asked, her cheeks flushed slightly.

Magnus paused, taking in the sight. The soft pinks and purples of the flowers contrasted beautifully with her pale skin, and for a moment, he forgot how tired he had been. “You look... perfect,” he replied honestly.

Rusalka giggled, clearly pleased with his answer, and the two of them moved on.

---

Next, Rusalka took him to an archery range on the outskirts of the market.

“Archery? I thought we were supposed to relax, not train?”, said Magnus.

"Master, trust me. This is just for fun. Even if you're clumsy at it, the people I spoke to told me that this helps loosen muscle tension," she said, handing him a bow. "Maybe you should give it a try."

Magnus raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t exactly terrible with a bow, but it wasn’t his weapon of choice. “Fine, but aiming with spells is easier?” he teased.

Rusalka gave him a playful smirk. “I know you’re great with magic, but even the strongest mage could benefit from a backup plan.”

Magnus humored her and took the bow. He nocked an arrow and pulled back the string, aiming for the target at the far end of the range. When he let go, the arrow flew wide, completely missing the mark.

Rusalka burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand. "Maybe a bit more practice, Master," she teased.

Magnus rolled his eyes and tried again, but the result was the same—another missed shot. Growing increasingly frustrated, he clenched his jaw, trying to focus on the next arrow. But again he missed. It was at this point that he slammed the bow on the ground, conjured a fire arrow with staff and completely vaporized the target into a cloud of splinters and smoke.

Rusalka blinked, startled, but soon started giggling again. "I guess that works too!" she said between fits of laughter.

Magnus shrugged, grinning despite himself. “Archery’s overrated anyway.”

---

Their day continued with a quiet picnic in a secluded grove near the castle. Rusalka had packed a small basket of food, and the two of them sat under the shade of an old oak tree. The cool breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, Magnus felt his tension ease.

They ate in comfortable silence, occasionally exchanging stories or jokes. Magnus found himself leaning back against the tree, eyes half-closed, simply enjoying the moment.

"You’ve been going non-stop for days, Master," Rusalka said softly, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. "It’s okay to rest now."

Magnus shifted slightly, his body betraying just how tired he was. “Maybe,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. “But there’s always so much to do.”

Rusalka frowned, but she didn’t push him any further. Instead, she gently tugged him to lie down, resting his head on her lap. Magnus blinked in surprise, but he didn’t resist. Her thighs were soft and warm, and the moment his head settled, he felt his eyelids growing heavy.

"Rusalka..." he began, his voice trailing off as sleep tugged at his consciousness.

She blushed deeply, her heart pounding in her chest. Despite her embarrassment, she smiled down at him, her hand gently brushing through his hair. As his breathing steadied, she leaned down and kissed him softly on the cheek. "Goodnight, Master," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the quiet of the grove.

And for the first time in days, Magnus allowed himself to truly rest, feeling safe in Rusalka’s gentle care.

Magnus drifted off, a peaceful smile tugging at his lips as the last rays of sunlight filtered through the leaves above. The weight of his responsibilities felt distant, and for now, he was content to simply be.

As Rusalka watched him sleep, her own heart swelled with a sense of fulfillment. She may have been a slave, but in moments like these, she felt far more than that. She was someone who could protect and care for him, even if only in small ways.