Story of Seasons: An Ambrosia Story

[Proto Man]

A few miles from the outskirts of Ambrosia, Mireya let out a sigh and leaned against a tree. She’d managed to ‘escape’ from the crowd of excited citizens by excusing herself to use the bathroom and slipping out a back window. With the strange mini-metropolis behind her for now, the half-night elf was able to enjoy some fresh air. This zone of the Tangled Green wasn’t that violent, and with the growth of the settlement, it had become even less so over the last year.

The princess—the strange, short one (why were all these primes so tiny?) with the pink hair and dead eyes—had given her permission to live outside the city proper and still consider herself a citizen of Ambrosia. The ability to live on her own yet still trade and mingle with civilization on her terms was perfect for the woman, who was still used to living life on the edge of society. While she had come to love Blues like a naïve kid brother, she knew she had to be on her own to truly find a stride.

After walking another half mile from the city, Mireya came to a nice little spot. It wasn’t much—a clearing wide enough to let a few rays of sunshine touch the forest floor. Even so, it felt like a beacon, drawing her toward the end of her little exodus from Ambrosia. Walking into the light, Mireya glanced up at the sun and smiled as it warmed her mauve-colored skin. As she soaked in some of the lovely rays, she removed her heavy pack and dropped it against the closest tree. A beat later, she removed her spear, scimitar, kukri, and her collection of small chakras and placed them on the ground.

“Axe…” the half-night elf muttered as she knelt in front of her pack, pulled open the drawstring, and rooted through the tools. It didn’t take long for her to pick out the yellow cloth that protected the business end of her chopping axe. Since she was a secondary, she would have to do her work the long way.

Stepping back, she eyed up the closest tree, and as she hacked it down, she found herself whistling the little tune that Blues used to hum to himself. Despite her lithe frame, she was through the tree in just under a dozen heavy chops, and once she was clear of its path, she moved on to her next adversary. Unlike the blighted monsters and undead creatures she’d fought over the last few months, the trees were far less aggressive.