I'm a Immortal Tavernkeeper, But My S-Rank Daughter Doesn't Know That!

The news brought by the messenger from the Athin Kingdom came as a huge shock to Victor Shieldman and, at that moment, as he listened to the messenger explain that all it would take was a signature from him, the only family member on record, to declare his daughter officially dead, his mind wandered to another place and time.

Victor had been white-haired for many, many years, but at the time he adopted Wanda Stillwind, his hair was still short and black, and he was still just a Hunter who had recently decided to live in that quiet village to have at least one place to die.

It was a rainy late afternoon. Thunder cut through the sky every second, and everything was so dark that it looked like night. While Victor was waiting for the storm to pass, sheltering in the mouth of a cave, he heard a baby crying from the forest. At first, he was a little worried about it, but as loud as the thunder was, the cry still stood out. It was very close.

"Could it be a Skinwalker?" Victor wondered.

In a vast forest like the one surrounding the village of Serenity, there were likely to be as many monsters as in any wild place in the north, and the possibility of there being a Skinwalker nearby, although rare, was not nil.

Skinwalkers were monsters commonly associated with the ability to imitate human sounds or even those of other creatures, which is why children were taught not to easily believe sounds coming from forests. Even when he was older, Victor still carried this lesson with him, so he was wary as he faced the dark forest in the midst of the storm.

Despite this, Victor left the cave where he was hiding and entered the forest. He couldn’t ignore a child’s cry, even if it meant taking unnecessary risks.

Victor made his way through the drenched bushes, following the sound, until he spotted a wooden hut among the trees. This hut was old, very old, but it had stood up bravely to the torrential rain.

"The crying seems to be coming from inside," he concluded, looking at the open door.

Then he crossed the short space between the trees of the woods and the small hut. His big, heavy boots stepped firmly, breaking up the puddles of water along the way, and when he put his first foot inside the hut, the wood creaked loudly and a great clap of thunder split the sky in half.

At that moment, thanks to the flash of lightning, the whole area for miles around was illuminated for a few seconds, and Victor saw a baby in the center of the hut, placed carefully in a basket and wrapped in a white scarf. It was a little girl with blonde hair, blue eyes and pointed ears. She was an elf, for sure. However, there was something strange about this scene, because blood was smeared all over the floor, but it wasn’t the baby’s.

Suddenly, a sharp squeak cut through the silence and, while Victor was staring at the trail of blood on the floor, an icy knife pressed itself against his neck.

"Who are you?" whispered a thin, suspicious voice.

Victor froze, feeling the coldness of the blade on his skin. He swallowed before answering, keeping as calm as possible. "My name is Victor Shieldman. I’m a Hunter. I just heard the baby crying and came to see what was wrong."

The person behind him remained silent for a moment, as if assessing the sincerity of Victor’s words. Then the knife loosened slightly, allowing him to breathe more easily.

"Are you one of them?" asked the mysterious person, still full of suspicion.

"Of them? I don’t know what you’re talking about," replied Victor, trying to remain calm while his hands remained raised in surrender.

The person took a breath and moved away from him, allowing Victor to turn and face her. It was a hooded figure, whose hands held the knife that had almost taken Victor’s life. The person then removed the hood, finally showing its face. It was a woman with blonde hair, blue eyes and pointed ears, just like the child in the basket. She was young, but an expression of pain marked her tense face. Her eyes narrowed as she examined Victor, who couldn’t help but notice the large scratch that had practically ripped the woman from shoulder height to her belly.

"What happened to you?" Victor asked, a little distressed.

The woman hesitated for a moment before answering. "It doesn’t matter, none of that matters. You’re a human, right? Please take my daughter with you. They’re coming for her!"

Victor’s eyes widened? "What? I can’t do that! And who are ’they’? And why are they coming for you?"

The woman looked at the baby in the basket before speaking. "You could say they’re... hunters like you, but they’re different." Her voice was already starting to get a little breathless. "They think she’s a threat and they won’t stop until they see my daughter dead!"

The man pondered for a moment before speaking. "I can help. I can protect you."

"No, you don’t understand! They’re too powerful! Mr. Shieldman, please, I know this may be too selfish a request, but take care of my little girl! The local spirits are telling me that I can trust you, so please, I beg you, help her."

The baby was still crying loudly, and the storm was even stronger outside.

At the time, Victor had no idea how to care for a child, but compassion spoke louder than any doubts. He knew he couldn’t just leave the baby there and her mother didn’t seem to have more than a few minutes left to live, with all the blood she was losing.

Victor then approached the basket where the little child was crying, feeling the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. With trembling hands, Victor lifted the child into his arms, cradling her gently as he tried to calm her down. The little elf looked at him with curious and frightened eyes, and her crying gradually subsided. Victor realized the fragility of life at that moment, a helpless baby, a mother on the verge of death and a subject about local spirits that he barely understood. Everything that seemed too complicated to deal with became easier when Victor looked into the eyes of this little child.

"I promise to protect you with my life," Victor murmured to the child, although he wasn’t sure if he could keep that promise. He looked at the elf woman, whose eyes expressed both gratitude and despair. There was no more time for questions, only action.

The adult elf smiled and took a deep breath, looking relieved. Then she moved back a little and leaned against a wall, where a few minutes after she said goodbye to her daughter and saw Victor taking her away, the woman died.

Victor had to face the roaring storm outside, and the child clung to him tightly inside his cloak, where she was protected from the rain. Victor ran away from the hut as fast as he could and shortly afterwards he heard a crash echoing through the forest, a sound so loud and frightening that it brought Victor to an abrupt halt.

He thought about returning to the clearing where the hut was, but his instincts told him not to. It was at that moment, under a clump of trees, that Victor looked at the girl and said:

"I’m going to take care of you and I’m going to train you, so that you can be strong enough to take care of yourself and find out who you really are." Victor declared as she grabbed one of his fingers and they walked through the woods.

Her small hand could barely close completely on his big pinky finger.

"That reminds me, your mother didn’t tell me your name..." Victor looked at the young elf’s face and couldn’t think of a suitable name for her. He wasn’t the creative type for that sort of thing.

However, miraculously an idea for a name popped into his mind. His eyes looked at her once more and he said:

"Your name will be Wanda, like that of a legendary witch from a story I know, and your surname will be... Stillwind! Like the strong, persistent breeze of this storm, so you won’t have to carry my tarnished surname."

As he promised Wanda on the day of her baptism and on the day of her mother’s death, Victor kept his promise, caring for her and raising her. However, it’s clear that for an old man with no experience of babies, raising an elf would not be easy, especially as she was a girl.

"Oh, shit... why do babies need so many diapers a day?"

Wanda’s first years passed slowly in that hut on the edge of the village. Although Victor had already fought many challenging battles against monsters, raising a child was certainly the biggest challenge he had ever faced. Changing diapers, preparing bottles and soothing nighttime cries became daily rituals, as did the practice of looking for herbs to sell at the Serenity Hunters’ Association in order to earn a little money - after all, he couldn’t hunt monsters with a child strapped to his chest.

Despite all this, Wanda grew up faster than Victor had expected. In the blink of an eye, she was already talking, walking, and thinking. She was an elf, so it was to be expected that she would grow quickly, at least until she reached a mature age when her growing old would be almost completely slowed down, but Wanda herself was a different girl. The girl had a curious look in her eyes, as if she was absorbing every detail around her, from the bees landing on the flowers to collect pollen, to when Victor was repeatedly brandishing his sword to keep himself in shape.

Wanda’s blue eyes shone with an intensity that Victor had never seen in a child. Her hearing seemed acute, picking up the sounds of the forest that the hunter often unconsciously ignored. She was special, very special.

When Wanda finally reached the age of six, Victor thought it was time to show her the world of the sword, something he knew well. He carved a piece of wood to create a training sword proportional to the girl’s size, and when she sat down to watch him train, he looked at her and gestured with his head for her to come to him.

The little girl raised her eyebrows and stopped in front of Victor. "What’s wrong, Dad?"

Victor then suddenly threw the wooden sword at her. Wanda, surprisingly, caught the sword and instinctively made a defensive stance with the weapon, putting one of her feet back and one hand to follow the movement of the sword.

"Uhum!" Wanda looked proudly at Victor, her chin held high, as if she had been practicing this all along in order to surprise him in a situation like this. It wasn’t without reason that she watched Victor every day. For Wanda, watching was also a way of learning.

However, Victor showed no surprise, nor did he congratulate her on it. Picking up a sword was the very basics for a swordsman and a warrior.

"Wanda, did you know that, in battle, it’s almost impossible for most people to anticipate their opponents’ movements?" asked Victor as he patiently approached her and observed her posture.

"But, Dad, you can predict the monsters’ movements." She retorted, getting out of her combat stance.

Victor then knelt down in front of her and said: 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

"What I do doesn’t apply to most people, Wanda. There are as many variables in moves as there are stars in the sky and for every action there is a reaction. However, I must admit that I use a trick to try and predict attacks when I fight."

"Trick?"

"Pay attention, every individual in this world knows a limited amount of moves. Every monster has its limitations, as do magical beasts and Hunters. In the art of the sword, for example, slashes, thrusts, quick cuts... all these types of moves a well-trained individual can know, but it doesn’t mean they do, so it’s important to try and get to know the enemy and what they’re capable of. Sword users, no... humans, in general, are much more complex than monsters, they hide, manipulate and deceive. You have to think actively during a fight to avoid being caught off guard."

" But I don’t want to fight humans, Dad! I want to be a monster hunter, just like you are!"

Wanda’s statement with flushed cheeks made Victor smile once again. He put a hand on the top of her head, played with the strands of her hair, and said:

"Even Hunters encounter problems on the way. If you want to be a good Hunter, you must understand that there are people who look like humans, but don’t necessarily act like one. There are humans much more evil than any Troll or Lich you might meet on your journey."

Twelve years after that day when Wanda got her first sword and learned that hard lesson about humans, Victor blinked slowly, bringing himself back to the present.

The messenger of the kingdom continued his explanation, insisting on the importance of Victor’s signature to make Wanda’s death official.

With a deep sigh, Victor stood up from his seat near the bar and replied:

"You don’t understand, boy," Victor said to the messenger. "She’s my daughter. I was her father, I saw her grow up, and face challenges. I saw her become the skilled Hunter she is today. I can’t just accept that she’s gone forever and sign a death certificate. That’s not how things work."

The messenger of the kingdom, looking into Victor’s eyes, finally seemed to understand that he was being too insistent. He held out the parchment to Victor and said:

"All right, do whatever you want. These are just formalities for the King. Informally, her death is already practically certain for everyone in the association and her guild. When you’re ready to accept it, sign this paper and deliver it to a nearby Hunter’s Guild. Wanda’s will only has your name on it and you will receive the bonuses she has accumulated."

The messenger then fixed his hat on his head, bowed slightly in respect, and turned to leave the tavern. However, Victor interrupted him with one last question before letting him go.

"Can you tell me the last clue you found to her whereabouts? You from the kingdom have investigated, haven’t you?"

"Clue? Our investigators found practically none. You know, she’s a Rank-S Slayer, she knows very well how to hide her tracks. But the latest information about her is just a rumor. They say that a blonde Elf killed a Trasgo near the town of Kozáni a few months ago."

"That’s enough for me. Thank you."

"What do you intend to do, Mr. Shieldman?" The messenger asked, frowning.

"Isn’t it obvious? I’m still a Hunter, so I’m going to track down my daughter, or hunt whatever killed her."

At that moment, Victor Shieldman’s eyes didn’t express determination, but anger and the messenger felt a chill run down his spine.