A few hours back before Mixarnt and Aelries met...
"Yawn… The hell? Why was I sent here?" Mixarnt yawn, sprawled on the ground of the forest. The air smelled too alive, nothing like the sterile archives of the Timekeeper Headquarters. "Maybe if I annoy Xarnt enough, he'll yank me back. Or better yet, Luxiriel. She owed me after that incident with the wine and the interdimensional ink." he muttered.
With a lazy flick of his finger, the air split open, revealing a shimmering screen. But instead of Xarnt's perpetually exhausted face, Luxiriel's sharp violet eyes glared back. Her silver hair was disheveled, cheeks faintly pink but still beautiful and alluring. It was clear she was sleeping with Xarnt.
"What do you want? Xarnt—cough—Boss is… busy." Mixarnt's grin turned wolfish. "Haha, you see, I might've pressed a button while 'accidentally' annoying Xulia. Sooo… wanna teleport me out before I corrupt this timeline with my handsomeness?"
Luxiriel's sigh in exasperation. "You and every other idiot know I can't override a misaligned assignment. But congratulations, Boss approved Xulia's workload transfer. Your workload now, just support the Heroine, and try not to break reality."
"You're joking." Mixarnt's voice flattened. "I file reports on dust accumulation in the Archives. Since when do I babysit a-"
The screen magnified Luxiriel's face, her smile cold and menacing. "Are you defying Boss's orders?"
Mixarnt's spine stiffened. "Haha… I'll... uh...check the mission specs! Balance, maintenance, easy peasy." His babble died as the system feed updated.
There she was. The Heroine. An elf.
Aelries Aranthiel, Crown Princess of Aranthiel. Dislikes humans and dwarves and has a strong personality.
"Oh, you bastards," Mixarnt said, his brow twitching. Elves didn't die of old age. Which meant his assignment wasn't a century. It was eternity. "You're sentencing me to rot here!"
Luxiriel's smirk was vicious. "Think of it as… job security." She said while fixing her hair and then the screen winked out.
Alone again, Mixarnt stared at the canopy, his deep blue eyes staring at the distant using his timekeeper powers. Somewhere beyond those leaves, an elven woman with a beautiful crown of thorns with gemstone engraved on it and a kingdom's weight on her shoulders was running from a monster, and he was supposed to help her.
"…I need a drink," he announced to the uncaring trees.
"Sigh…" Mixarnt yanked out his canteen of supposedly stolen celestial wine, uncorked it with his teeth, and took a triumphant swig—
Only to immediately spit it out in a spectacular arc.
"S-soda water!?" He gagged, wiping his mouth as a small, floating note materialized behind the canteen. In Xarnt's infuriatingly elegant script, it read:
"All booze you touch turns to soda water if you dare drink it on-duty. I don't drink, and as my fragment, neither shall you, you bastard! …Though I don't mind if you drink after your mission is over."
Mixarnt's eye twitched. "Mission is over? I'm stuck here for eternity Boss! ... ugh, this is tyranny," he muttered, flopping onto his back like a deflated balloon. He understood, technically, Xarnt hated drunk agents. 'Come on. I'm stranded in a backwater fantasy realm with an immortal elf who probably will want to stab me. A little booze isn't too much to ask.' he thought to himself.
"This is the pits…" he groaned at the sky. The trees rustled in mock sympathy.
Then, with the grace of a man who'd already given up, he yawned, folded his arms behind his head, and declared: "I'm just gonna sleep."
Within seconds, he was snoring.
In the timekeeper headquarters, Xarnt facepalmed.