One of the guards gestured for me to step inside the building. Without a word, I followed, leaving the Queen and the other three guards behind in the garden. The man leading me had a massive greatsword strapped to his back, the blade gleaming faintly even in the dim corridor lighting. As we entered the halls, I noticed the lessons had ended, and students filled the space, some seated in groups and chatting, others simply loitering.
The atmosphere shifted as we passed. Heads turned, hushed whispers followed us, and every so often, I caught snippets of gossip about the Queen’s unexpected presence. Thankfully, it seemed her arrival had overshadowed the minor destruction I had caused earlier. For now.
The guard ahead of me glanced back briefly, his eyes scanning me with a flicker of curiosity before he faced forward again, clearing his throat.
“You’re not limping anymore,” he remarked, his voice gruff but neutral.
“Yeah,” I replied, keeping my tone casual. “Looks like it finally healed.”
He didn’t respond, but his attention lingered on me for another moment before shifting back to the hall. This guard was different from the pair who had whispered to each other earlier. While those two carried twin swords at their sides, this man wielded a weapon so massive I doubted I could even lift it, let alone swing it.
As we rounded a corner, a commotion ahead drew both our attention. Two students were locked in a brutal fistfight, rolling on the ground as they traded blows. A teacher tried to intervene, but one of the boys lashed out with a wind spell that struck her square in the chest, sending her sprawling to the floor.
The guard halted immediately, his hand flying to his sword hilt. He waited a moment, perhaps expecting the teacher to regain her footing and take control, but when she remained unconscious, he stepped forward.
“Oi!” he barked, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. “Stop that right now! The Queen is here, and this is how you behave?”
“He’s a damned elf sympathizer!” one of the boys shouted, his face twisted with fury. “My mother died because of those monsters, and he has the nerve to say they should be treated as equals!”
“That’s enough!” the guard snapped, his presence looming as he stepped closer. “One more word, and you’ll both be thrown in the dungeon!”
The other boy, struggling to his feet, glared defiantly. “Not all elves are the same,” he said, his voice trembling but firm. “Some are bad, yes, but some are good. Just like humans. That’s all I was saying.”
Teachers rushed into the scene, pulling the boys apart and escorting them in opposite directions. One teacher cast a healing spell on her unconscious colleague, helping her sit up, while the guard beside me shook his head and sheathed his sword.
“Pathetic,” he muttered under his breath as we resumed walking.
The tension lingered, heavy in the air, as though the fight had left an imprint on the space. It wasn’t surprising that even here, among students, the hatred for elves ran deep. But the defiant boy’s words echoed in my mind, a rare voice of dissent in the sea of prejudice.
The guard’s hand tightened on his sword hilt, his eyes scanning the hallway as if expecting another outburst. His vigilance was palpable. If I were tasked with protecting the Queen, I’d probably be just as jumpy. One mistake, and it would be my head on a pike.
“Naïve thinking,” the guard said suddenly, breaking the silence. “Humans and elves living in peace? That’s a fantasy.”
I glanced at him. “So, you agree with the other boy? That all elves are evil?”
“Of course,” he replied without hesitation. “But I don’t blame kids like him for holding onto hope. It’s foolish, but hope often is.”
I didn’t respond, merely humming softly as we stepped into the back garden. The drizzle had stopped, leaving the air cool and damp. A handful of students lingered, some reading under trees, others chatting in small groups.
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The guard moved to the center of the garden, his boots crunching against the gravel. Removing his helmet, he raised his voice to address the students. “Students of Redwood, clear this area immediately! A training session is about to begin for the Queen’s observation.”
The students groaned audibly, their displeasure written across their faces as they gathered their belongings and shuffled toward the building. Despite their frustration, none dared to argue. The Queen’s authority was probably too large for that.
As the last of them disappeared indoors, the guard signaled me with a raised hand, gesturing for me to approach. I stepped out of the building’s shadow and walked toward him.
“There,” he said, pointing toward a nearby training ground. “Go wait there. I’ll find your teacher and arrange for someone from F-class to spar with you.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied, my voice steady despite the churn of unease in my stomach.
The guard gave a curt nod before striding off, leaving me alone in the clearing. I let out a long, quiet breath, bracing myself for what was to come. Fighting had never been my thing—I'd spent most of my life avoiding confrontations. Now, here I was, willingly walking into one just to get the Queen off my back. It felt like I was miles outside my comfort zone, a foreigner in every possible way.
The training grounds stretched out before me, a vast square with tiered seating surrounding it, each row slightly higher than the one in front, offering a clear view of the arena. The scale of the place reminded me of a football stadium back home, though the ground here was grass, unlike the gravelly back garden I had just left.
"Great," I muttered under my breath, my shoulders slumping. "Sparring… just what I needed."
I climbed up to the second row of seats and sank down into a chair. My eyes scanned the arena, but my mind was somewhere else entirely. I'd never held a weapon in my life, let alone used one. If the Queen thought this would be entertaining, she’d be sorely mistaken. My strategy? Run, dodge, and hope my opponent got bored before I got hurt. Even though my body had healed, my mind was still bruised from every encounter I'd been through since arriving in this world.
My fingers fidgeted with the edge of my school uniform as my thoughts wandered. I remembered the first time my mother hit me. She had been high on drugs, her paranoia at its peak. She’d accused me of being a doppelganger sent to steal her money. No matter how much I pleaded, telling her I was her son, she wouldn’t listen. She slapped me, her voice trembling as she screamed that I shouldn’t dare speak her child’s name.
The memory felt distant, like an old scar, but it still ached. My dull gaze drifted to the arena again, only to lift when I noticed movement. The door to the main building opened, and the Queen emerged. Three of her guards trailed behind her, their polished armor reflecting the faint sunlight.
I straightened in my seat, my mind snapping back to the present. The fourth guard wasn’t with her—likely the one tasked with finding someone for me to spar with. As I watched her approach, the air seemed to thicken.
Suddenly, a translucent box appeared in front of me, hovering just above eye level:
================
NEW QUEST
================
Quest Title: Save the Queen
--------------------------
Deadline: Today
Objective:
* Save the Queen before
it’s too late.
--------------------------
Rewards:
- Gold: 2
- Experience: 25 XP
==========================
[Accept] [Decline]
The world slowed as my eyes locked onto the message. My heart thudded against my ribs.
I shot up from my seat, my focus shifting between the Queen and the guards around her. Something wasn’t right.
The guard nearest to her unsheathed his twin swords with smooth precision. My hand shot out instinctively, though I wasn’t sure what I was even trying to do. The sound of steel scraping echoed across the training grounds, and before I could shout, the second guard followed suit, drawing his own weapons.
Then it happened.
One of the guards kicked the man in the center, sending him stumbling forward, his balance broken. The other guard took advantage of the moment, plunging his sword directly into the man’s skull. Blood sprayed as the victim crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
My breath caught in my throat. “Oh, shit,” I whispered, frozen in place. “You’ve got to be kidding me…”
The Queen turned sharply, her eyes widening as she registered the betrayal unfolding before her. The surviving guards raised their weapons, their intent clear as they closed in on her.
"No, no, no. Fuck me," I muttered, my pulse racing. My feet moved on their own, carrying me toward the arena. I didn’t have a plan, but I knew one thing—if I didn’t act now, this wasn’t going to end well for anyone.