I walked over to the fountain, watching as small birds chirped along the edges, some splashing and shaking off the water. Circling around the fountain, I let my gaze wander before refocusing on the path ahead. The Queen's Palace wasn’t far, and keeping royalty waiting probably wasn’t the smartest move.

I adjusted my belt with one hand, making sure the sword rested securely on my shoulder. In this upscale part of town, people barely glanced my way, likely used to seeing high-quality items. Still, I gripped the hilt tightly, imagining the trouble I'd be in if I accidentally dropped it.

Nearby, a guard was questioning a jewellery merchant---probably because of elves.

“Seen any elves around here?” he asked. “We have reports that some pointy-eared cunts have been spotted.”

“In Norman? No, sir, not a one,” the merchant replied quickly.

“Keep an eye out. These are dangerous times,” the guard warned, his tone low. “If you see one, steer clear and call for us.”

“Yes, of course. Gods protect us from them,” the merchant muttered, looking genuinely rattled.

As I walked past, I caught snippets of another conversation drifting from a stall nearby, where two well-dressed women were examining ornate vases. It seemed like the fear and distrust of elves reached every corner of this society, even here in Norman.

“How do elves even get in here?” the blue-eyed woman asked, shaking her head. “What’s the point of paying more in taxes if they can still sneak around?”

“Ah, darling, elves can even trick a god,” her friend replied, rolling her eyes dramatically. “It was only a matter of time before one ended up in our precious district.”

“What a joke,” her friend scoffed. “The Queen’s doing her best to rid Nu’tar of them, gods bless her name. All we can do is pray she succeeds.”

I kept my head down and moved along, realising just how deep the resentment went. From what I’d seen, both humans and elves seemed capable of causing harm to innocent people. Trying to figure out who was “right” was a waste of time; it felt like stepping into a mess that no amount of reason could untangle. Best to steer clear.

Turning a corner, I glanced up at the sky. Not a cloud in sight. The heat was intense, and even the occasional breeze did little to cool things down. At this rate, you could probably crack an egg on the street and it’d cook.

Behind me, another conversation reached my ears, two women gossiping as they walked.

“Did you hear about Natasha’s dog?” one woman said, her voice thick with concern. “Apparently, it ran off.”

“Oh, poor thing. She should go to the Guild and post a quest for it,” her friend replied.

“She’d never set foot outside Norman for that. Says the dog isn’t worth sullying her reputation.”

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

“Wait, I thought she loved that dog?” her friend asked, sounding a bit surprised.

“Not as much as her pride, it seems,” I muttered under my breath, quickening my pace to escape the overheard chatter. “Guess some things never change, even in a different world. Nice to know rich people are still… rich people.”

══════✦══════

There it stood, the Queen’s Palace, an imposing five-story structure shaped in a broad "Ո." Its symmetry was almost mesmerising, with each wing mirroring the other, featuring rows of arched windows that gave glimpses of lavish interiors. A wide path ran down the middle, leading straight to the grand entrance, bordered by vibrant blooms that created a dazzling carpet of colours.

The front garden sprawled, even larger than Redwood Academy’s grounds, filled with unfamiliar trees that twisted and spread in every direction. Various flowers lined the walkways, while a large clock sat atop the palace, ticking quietly. Guards were stationed everywhere—at the gates, near the flower beds, and along the paths.

“Hmm,” I muttered, approaching the front gate.

Nearby, a modest tavern stood close enough to the palace to draw glances, though it was at least fifty steps back. Through its sparkling windows, I caught a glimpse of patrons enjoying their meals and drinks, clearly unfazed by the palace’s shadow.

Several carriages trundled by, their horses remarkably well-groomed, muscular, and clearly well-fed. Even the armour the horses had looked expensive.

As I neared the palace entrance, two guards flanking the gate raised their swords slightly, motioning for me to halt. I complied, holding out the sword and the papers Mortan had given me. One guard stepped closer, examining the document, then shared a quick nod with his companion. The wait was getting tedious with all these security checks.

“You may enter,” one of them finally said, his tone firm. “Follow me.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied, ready to move forward.

We walked through the palace garden toward the entrance, the path flanked by guards who stood silent and stoic, watching me intently from behind their helmets. As we reached the main doors, the guards stationed there stepped aside, granting us entry.

Inside, the Queen’s Palace was grand and ornate. A vast hall stretched before me, its polished marble floors reflecting the sunlight streaming through enormous stained-glass windows. Elegant chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, casting a soft glow across the spacious room. Along the walls were towering statues of past rulers---probably, each one carved from dark stone and featured golden accents. Guards were stationed around the room, standing at attention near each door and staircase. Plush red carpets led up to several grand staircases, each one curving upward.

“This way,” my escort instructed, nodding toward the nearest spiral staircase.

I gave a quick nod, following him up the winding steps, keeping my expression neutral.. I wondered, half-regretfully, what might have happened if Mortan hadn’t spotted me back at the tavern—perhaps I’d still be on the hunt for that missing dog, Gentle Gerald. Hell, I wished I hadn’t gone to the restroom at school. If I hadn’t, maybe I wouldn’t have been teleported to this strange world. I wouldn’t have to deal with the giant eye staring down at me from the sky. I could be at home right now, lounging around and listening to James rant about the stock market on the phone.

Reaching the top of the stairs, we stopped in front of an ornate door, its surface shining as though made of solid gold. The guard rapped on the door and turned to me, his gaze serious.

“Our Queen has been a bit on edge for a few days. I hope this sword will lift her spirits,” he said.

“Elves?”

“Yeah. Those damned bastards and their—”

“Come in!” a voice called from inside.

“Ah, okay,” the guard replied. “Are you ready?”

“Uh-huh,” I said, taking a steadying breath. “I’m ready.”