While Ju dampened a handkerchief to wipe my cheek, I turned my gaze back to the castle. Strange greenish lines flickered across the shield, shifting like an eerie aurora borealis.

Ju scrubbed at my cheek with increasing effort. The bloodstains must have dried into a stubborn crust—probably in places my tongue hadn’t managed to reach. I sighed. Nobody's perfect.

With a shrug, I turned to Drackar. His eyes were locked onto the shimmering shield.

"Is this normal?" I asked.

He hesitated, then shrugged.

"I’ve never seen it before..." he admitted, as if trying to excuse himself.

"Shouldn't the shield be broader?" I wondered aloud.

Hadn't Drackar mentioned something about protecting the entire barony? Yet, the shield barely extended beyond the castle, just reaching the outer wall and gate.

Drackar let out a weary sigh. "I didn't think it would be visible at all, so I don’t understand what’s happening," he admitted, his expression clouded with frustration. "It’s supposed to expand gradually, drawing magic from the environment until it stabilizes. Maybe it just needs more time... or maybe it’s consuming more magic than I thought? For some reason?"

Ju glanced between us, her eyes sharp with curiosity, trying to piece together what kind of shield we had conjured and how we had done it.

"What was the last message we got from the castle?" I asked.

"Oh, there were several," Ju replied. "They arrived just as we finished dealing with the incursion. Apparently, they’re planning to throw a party to celebrate."

"A party?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow.

Drackar gave a small nod.

"Yes," Ju confirmed. "A party."

As we approached the central gate under the torrid glare of the twin suns, the only sound that greeted us was the rhythmic chirping of crickets—no tower guards, no response to our calls.

Even more unsettling was the sight of a large, triangular red flag fluttering above the gate. Fixed to the pole along its shorter side, it bore the image of what looked like a black dragon. A shiver ran down my spine. I had no idea whose banner this was, but it certainly looked like someone had taken over my castle. My eyes narrowed as my blood pressure spiked. Hopefully, they hadn’t harmed my friends.

I turned sharply to Drackar.

"Do you know which bastard owns that banner?"

Behind me, Ju erupted into a coughing fit.

"Ahm," she cleared her throat, clearly scrambling for words. "I... saw your sketches for a new banner and thought I'd surprise you. I consulted with a lot of people—including Captain Drackar—and this is what we came up with, to the best of our understanding," she added, doing her best to distribute the guilt evenly.

I blinked at her, utterly dumbfounded.

"But... but in my drawing, my banner was white on black!" I protested.

Ju responded with an uncertain shrug. "Yes, I see what you mean. But the dragon is black—black on black wouldn’t work. That’s probably why you made it white in the first place. However, white on black looks too much like a brigand’s flag, so I changed the background to red. You remember, I asked you, and you said the background didn’t have to be black—red could also be fine. But… you did mention you’d like to see it first, right?"

I blinked again, shifting my gaze from her to the banner. How had my simple painting of a dove carrying an olive branch turned into a fire-breathing dragon?

"I was thinking of symbolizing a bringer of peace," I muttered.

Drackar, arms crossed, smirked as he studied the banner. "That’s also a way of putting it," he said dryly. "Exactly how I imagined it. Good work, Lady Julietta!"

"But… how did you even manage to do it?" I asked, still struggling to believe it.

"I asked my aunt to help…" Ju admitted.

Oh. So no enemy takeover, no coup—everyone clearly knew who the owner of that banner was.

But that still didn’t explain the eerie silence.

I looked at the banner again. Honestly… it actually looked quite good.

As we drew closer to the gate, movement caught my eye. Someone was waving from one of the tower's balconies.

"Is that Wokta?" Ju asked, turning to Drackar for confirmation.

"It seems to be him," Drackar replied.

A moment later, Wokta disappeared from sight. Then came a deep rumble, and suddenly, one side of the gate groaned open. Wokta pushed it wide before moving to the other side to do the same.

"Why is Wokta opening the gate himself?" I wondered aloud.

He moved oddly, swaying as he walked—unsteady, almost as if…

"Is he drunk?" Ju asked, narrowing her eyes.

Drackar turned and shot her a sharp look, but even he couldn’t deny what we were all seeing. Wokta now stood in front of the gate, legs wobbling, shifting his weight like a sailor on the deck of a ship caught in a storm.

Drackar exhaled, clearly uncomfortable. "It does look like it…" he admitted.

We halted about a meter from the shimmering shield. Even from this distance, it was clearly visible. I was the first to step through, and the moment I did, new sounds drifted from the castle. Music?

"What’s this music?" Ju asked, frowning at the castle. "Is the party still going on?"

Before we could make sense of it, Wokta approached, a wide smile on his face, arms spread in welcome.

"Welcome, welcome!" he greeted, swaying alarmingly on his feet under Drackar’s horrified gaze.

Since we were all still mounted, he went straight to Lynx and wrapped him in a slightly off-balance embrace. "Welcome!" he repeated, his voice a little too enthusiastic.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Drackar, still staring at the empty watchtowers, turned to him sharply. "Where are the others?"

Wokta hiccupped, then straightened—or at least tried to.

"They were called by His Majesty, Sir, to join the party… and haven’t returned yet… Sir," he reported, the drilled precision of military discipline momentarily taking over, though his wobbling stance made it look almost comical.

"Party?" Drackar repeated, his face darkening with barely contained fury. "Why would they disobey my orders to stay at their posts?"

Wokta, now standing as stiff as possible—though dangerously tilted—managed to respond without too much slurring.

"Sir, you ordered us to execute His Majesty’s commands as if they came from yourself!"

The stress was clearly too much for Wokta. He nearly stumbled, catching himself by leaning heavily on Lynx.

"Which one of them majesty’s ordered the guard to the party?" Drackar pressed, his voice sharp with frustration.

"Both of them!" Wokta declared. "They wanted me to go too, but I said I couldn’t leave the gates completely unguarded!"

Drackar rolled his eyes. "You're drunk. What did you drink?"

Wokta looked genuinely wounded by the accusation. "I stood at the gates all night! I haven’t had anything but water, Sir!" He sounded indignant, though his grip on Lynx’s shoulder remained suspiciously firm.

"Don’t lie to me!" Drackar snapped.

Wokta’s eyes went round with shock. "I would never do such a thing, Sir!"

Before Drackar could retort, Ju interrupted, her nose wrinkling. "What’s that smell?"

Only then did I notice it—a faint, unfamiliar scent lingering in the air. Subtle, but unsettling.

I turned to Drackar, searching his face for answers. He sniffed the air and shrugged.

"I don’t smell anything," he said, unimpressed.

Lynx, however, growled at me. "I smelled this on you when we left!"

I blinked, then it clicked.

"Troll-mojo?" I muttered.

Ju burst into laughter.

"The air is full of troll-mojo!" she exclaimed, then turned to me with a look of both amusement and curiosity. "How did you do this?"

Then, narrowing her eyes in a sidelong glance, she added with a chuckle, "I wonder how my aunt is doing."

"Shit, we missed the party!" Lynx groaned from beneath me.

*

"You poisoned us!" Dame Hiera accused, her voice sharp with indignation. A paladin I’d had little interaction with until now, she was clearly not in the mood for pleasantries.

We were gathered in the main hall, discussing the situation with the prince and his leading paladins. The queen was still indisposed.

"How could she have known that some idiot had broken those barrels of troll-mojo?" Ju countered smoothly.

No one actually knew who that idiot was, but for now, this was our best defense. Worst case, we could have convinced Tom, Mike, or Hew to take the blame—if they hadn’t been completely incapacitated. Low-level people couldn’t purge troll-mojo from their system that quickly.

"One barrel caused all this?" Dame Hiera pressed.

"No, there were several," Ju clarified. "They must have rolled down the stairs and broken open."

"Why didn’t he cast an alarm spell?" another paladin asked, frowning.

Ju kept a perfectly straight face. "Not everybody can cast alarm spells. Besides, he probably got knocked unconscious immediately."

I stared at Ju, dumbfounded, marveling at how effortlessly she could lie.

"That must have cost a fortune! Troll-mojo is expensive!" another paladin blurted out.

"That's your concern?" Dame Hiera hissed, shooting him a glare.

Before anyone could respond, another voice cut in.

"Speaking of money—who’s paying my bill?"

Barak, the owner of the valley’s brothel, stood with arms crossed, looking entirely too comfortable in the middle of a royal debriefing.

Apparently, someone had the brilliant idea of calling the girls from the brothel to the castle. They were still here, slowly recovering after dancing all night. Yet now, miraculously, no one could remember who had invited them.

I could investigate. I could even find the culprit. But… then what?

I sighed. "That will be on me, Master Barak."

The sum wasn’t that high. The domain could absorb it.

"Very well, Lady Lores," he said with a wide, pleased smile, practically oozing satisfaction.

With great effort, I refrained from snorting—or rolling my eyes.

"That was it? Just some barrels of troll-mojo?" Sir Gamesh asked, his expression uneasy.

I shook my head. "The real problem was that there was no wind," I tried to explain.

"Because of your damn ‘protection’ shield!" Dame Hiera erupted again, her temper barely restrained.

"Dame Hiera!" Sir Gamesh interjected, attempting to calm her down.

"The shield doesn’t block the wind!" I protested, though, if I was being honest, I wasn’t entirely sure what else I had messed up that night.

Through it all, the prince remained unusually silent. From time to time, he exchanged glances with Therella, and the two of them smirked and chuckled, clearly enjoying the situation far more than they should have.

Then, abruptly, the prince straightened and clapped his hands together. "I think I’ve heard enough!" he declared.

And just like that, the session was over.

Luckily for me, Dame Hiera was the exception. Most of the revelers were raving about what they claimed was the most extraordinary party they had ever attended—at least, those who actually remembered it. Some, like Dame Hiera, were struggling to come to terms with their own actions or piecing together hazy memories. Others had simply woken up with pounding headaches and little recollection of what had transpired.

Still, odd fragments of the night lingered in their minds, and now, they were eagerly comparing notes, trying to reconstruct the chaotic spectacle.

I closed my eyes, recalling how I had found them.

Tables groaned under the weight of food and drinks, a massive all-you-can-eat buffet left in glorious disarray. The few loudspeakers—probably the only ones in existence in this world—blasted their final notes, their volume cranked to eleven, consuming the last of their batteries. The deep, sultry melodies of Hew’s one-of-a-kind-in-this-world music box pulsed through the air, setting the slow, intoxicating rhythm of the aftermath.

People—orc, elf, and human alike—were sprawled throughout the hall, dancing, eating, sitting, or simply passed out where they fell. In adjacent rooms, some had collapsed into sleep, while others remained, stubbornly active.

In one corner, I spotted Alice, lounging on a pile of leather cushions, resting her back against Sir Gamesh. From their position, it seemed like they had originally intended to keep watch over the room but had ultimately succumbed to exhaustion, now dozing peacefully against each other.

As I stared, Alice’s eyes fluttered open.

I yelped in surprise.

“Hi, Lores,” she greeted me casually, as if she had just woken from an afternoon nap. Then, with a mischievous grin, she stretched and added, “Wanna dance? I learned a new one!”

It had taken me yet another chain-hanging session to reprogram the shield’s spirit, forcing it to stop spewing troll-mojo into the air.

“Think of it this way,” Ju said “What might have happened if we all had stayed inside?”