Chapter 31

Queen for a day?

When the news of the king's death reached the villages, the first reaction all the elves of the Evasha forest villages had was one.

"Humbug!"

This was completely normal behavior. After all those years, many of them had learned that hope can be even crueler than resignation.

But the more time passed, the more the same news continued to circulate.

At first a whisper, which out of embarrassment of being laughed at was uttered in a low voice.

Then louder and louder, until no one could silence it anymore.

Therefore, moved by curiosity and against the advice of the elders, many young people began a pilgrimage to the capital of Crescent Lake.

There, they were amazed to find that the rumors were true.

Decem Hougan, king of the elves and ruler of the Evasha Forest, had indeed passed away.

The royal throne had remained empty, as there was no suitable heir, and at the moment the capital was ruled by a committee made up of a few surviving ministers.

Or, at least, this was the official version.

In their hearts, the elves had already chosen their new ruler.

"So, when is it that we will return home?" Divine Chain asked the other Black Scripture members. They were currently staying in one of the royal chambers, awaiting new orders.

"Cardinals Santini and Lauransan will be here shortly," Astrologer had adjusted quite well to her temporary arrangement. She lovingly stroked her ferret while reading a book borrowed from the royal library. "Now that the elf king is dead, they are our allies again. I wonder what the Council's intentions are for the future."

"Do you guys think Lady Zesshi will now become the new queen?" The tattooed man asked, running a hand to tidy up his messy hair. "After all, she is the only suitable heir at the moment," he said. "She and Mr. Logem." A brief pause. "Or Miss Aella."

"I don't know," Myriad Barriers was intent on doing push-ups on the floor. Even in calm situations, training came first for him. The pinnacle of diligence. "But we can't rule it out. Having a new pro-Theocracy ruler would make our relations much easier to manage."

"On the other hand," Time Turbolence interrupted, savoring a cup of coffee that one of the maids had brought. Despite the fact that they were still wary of humans, the gratitude the palace staff felt for their little team outweighed any distrust. "I don't think Argland would take kindly to a new nation under our indirect influence. Platinum Dragon Lord might finally step in after all these years of slumber."

A bad prospect, but not unlikely. As they say, troubles never end.

"By the way, where is Lady Zesshi now?" It had been hours now since Infinite Magic had gotten out of the comfortable bed where she was resting. To say that she had become one with it would not have been too far from the truth. "I have not seen her since last night."

"Where she always is," Divine Chant answered her, brushing back her long blond hair. "In the treasure room. She has not moved from that place since we discovered it. I think Miss Aella is with her."

They knocked on the door.

"Come in," Time Turbolence was the one who gave permission to enter.

"We're sorry for the disturbance," a pair of maids slowly opened the doorway to the room. "But the people you were waiting for have arrived."

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"What do you think this is for, Aella?" Antilene inspected a peculiarly shaped ring between her fingers. An indigo gemstone was set in it, glowing with a warm light. "Perhaps to resist charm effects. Or it might confer some buff against curses. Add it to the list."

The elf took the object and set it aside. "I will tell our druids to do some experiments to test its abilities." The treasure room was now divided into several sections. On one side had been placed all those items that could be easily identified and cataloged, on another those that were to be tested, and finally those yet to be inspected. "But why don't you take a rest, Lady Zesshi? You've been cooped up in here for days. The festivities are almost over, and you haven't enjoyed them one bit."

"I've already told you there's no need to call me Lady Zesshi," by now the half-elf had no need to hide her identity. Not in front of her, at least. "Just Antilene is more than fine."

The woman bit her lip, hesitating. "I have not yet thanked you properly for what you have done, Lady Zessh... Antilene." A lifetime, in all honesty, would not have been enough to repay that debt. Yet she did not feel displeased at all by that circumstance. "I think you could call me by my real name, as well... Agravaine."

The information was quickly registered by Antilene, who merely shrugged as if nothing different had occurred. "Agravaine... that's a good name." Not that she was really an expert at judging. "As for your request just now. I have no intention of taking part in the festivities. I don't think there's much to celebrate."

Since she had killed her father, Antilene had not felt very elated. She had certainly lifted a weight from her heart, knowing that now her mother could rest in peace. But the half-elf felt that something was still missing.

Perhaps that was why she kept spending so much time in the treasure room. Looking for answers to interrogatives she didn't even know had been raised.

"We still know so little about the king," the half-elf murmured in a soft whisper. "I hoped that here I would find some clue to where he came from. What his origins were, but the results were unsatisfactory." There was certainly no shortage of precious objects in that place, but nothing that would allow Decem's origins to be traced. Antilene's talent had not reacted to anything up to that point. If nothing else, the questions were growing.

"Does it truly matter that much?" Agravaine asked, still intent on compiling the list. "This story is finally over, so I don't see why we should keep wrapping our heads around irrelevant matters." After the long night, comes the morning sun. Why not enjoy the warmth of its rays?

"I know it sounds ridiculous from your point of view," Antilene had gripped a sword with a diamond-encrusted hilt. At first glance, more a precious heirloom than a battle tool. "In fact, truth be told, I don't even know how much longer I can keep this up." She cleaved the air to feel the sharpness of the blade. Quick. Methodical.

Agravaine did not even sense the beginning of the movement, distinguishing only the tilt of the wind caused by the cuts.

"This sword is not enchanted, but the sharpness is out of the ordinary," placing it back in the sheath from where she had drawn it, Antilene handed it to the woman. "I sense something else… I see… My grandpa uh… It might be useful to determine what material it was forged from. I think adamantium was also used, but I'm not sure. Better ask a blacksmith."

"I will arrange that as soon as possible," Agravaine placed the weapon among the items that needed to be examined more, marking on her list a quick note about what needed to be done. "I do not mean to say that I do not understand you," she resumed the speech of a few moments earlier. "It's just that after all these years, enjoying some peace still doesn't feel real to me. My heart might burst with happiness. I just want you to feel the same."

"You don't need to worry about me," Antilene paused, contemplating the rest of the treasury. By now they were almost done with that job. "I'm fine. It's just that..." There was a twinkle in Agravaine's gaze, a mixture of apprehension and admiration that did not escape the half-elf. "Now that I have completed my goal, I feel a void inside me. I've spent years planning this revenge, but now that it has been accomplished, it's as if with it the reason that drove me forward has also gone."

Some might have called what she felt mere greed. A quest that would never find peace, always intent on finding a way to satiate its hunger. And perhaps they would have been right.

"I know that both elves and humans right now are celebrating me as the hero who defeated the monster," and wasn't that what she had always wanted deep down? "Don't make your own dreams come true, or you may find that in the end, the dream is the only concrete thing you have left."

"Now you have much more," Agravaine intertwined their fingers, in a familiar gesture. "You have me. And Logem. And all the others. We are a family, that can never change."

"I don't know what it's like to have a real family," Antilene replied sincerely. "I buried my mother… my mothers a long time ago. And the closest thing I've ever had to resembling a father is a cranky old man."

"Do you think you're ready to find out?" Not an easy question to answer.

"I still have a lot to think about," the half-elf fixed her tousled hair after hours spent in that room. The need for a hot bath was growing. "But at least I'm sure there will be plenty of time to figure out what to do."

"Why don't you stay here with us?" It was amazing to think that until a week ago the woman now so accommodating was having a hard time concealing her contempt. Antilene had no difficulty understanding what had changed; the answer was obvious. This did not make it pleasant, in any case. "Our people need you."

One king dies, another is made.

Or to be more precise a queen, in this case.

"I thought we had already talked about this," Antilene recalled a quick conversation held on the very night they had burned Decem's body. "These are not my people. I only helped you because our interests concurred this time. Nothing more, nothing less."

A life spent guarding a tower would not be replaced by one spent guarding a castle. Trading a prison for a bigger one was not a great exchange.

"Do you intend to return to the Theocracy, then?" Agravaine maintained a firm tone of voice, although she could not hide an almost unnoticeable melancholy. To whom was it directed? To Antilene or herself? "And once there what will you do? Will you kill anything that is not human until the time you can retire to a small cottage in the countryside?"

"I have no idea," and that was the whole truth. "All I know is that I'm not going to sacrifice myself for someone else again. I plan to live my life for myself, and for no one else." Selfishness? Maybe. But she preferred to be selfish rather than unhappy.

The doors to the treasure room opened. An old butler, one of the king's last 'purchases', and a naive-looking maid entered with the utmost respect.

The man had long white hair that fell down his shoulders like a cascade of pearls. Despite his discarded clothes, he moved with such grace that he represented the very concept of elegance. The finely patched vest showed that he held in high regard the way he presented himself to others.

The girl had short red hair whose locks framed delicate features. Thin lips and sincere eyes gave her an approachable feel. Her maid's dress, though certainly not woven of precious materials, accentuated her modest and genuine nature.

As soon as they saw Antilene, both prostrated themselves in adoration, their eyes twinkling with a distinctive sparkle.

Nothing abnormal about that devotion. It had been a couple of days now that the half-elf had grown accustomed to those reverences from anyone who crossed her presence even for a moment.

At first, Antilene was annoyed by it, but once she realized that trying to persuade those elves to behave differently toward her would be much more exhausting than simply letting it go, it had been easy to figure out what was best to do.

Was this perhaps the way the first humans had welcomed the Six Great Gods? A similarity to what was written in the diary was certainly there.

"Go ahead and speak," until commanded, they would not move from their adoring position. They treated her more like a God rather than a normal girl, to her displeasure. "Although it seems hard to accept, I am not my father."

"Your majesty," the girl began. There had been no ceremony or coronation of any kind. To be precise, there had been nothing at all that would suggest she was the new queen, but the elves had already begun to treat her as such. "We are sorry to disturb you, but some people wish to see you."

"Who is it?" Overlooking the title she had been given, Antilene turned her curiosity to the news she had been told. "If it is once again some village chief who has come to pay his respects to me, they will receive the same treatment that their predecessors received. I do not intend to waste my time with such nonsense."

"It is not about elves this time, My Queen," the butler had risen, still remaining in a deferential posture. Now they had even started calling her queen. Splendid. Didn't these rubes know the meaning of 'coronation ceremony'? No, of course not. The last time there had been something like that they had probably thought it best to erase the memory of it from their minds. "This is about humans."

"Humans?" There was only one possible explanation then. "Have the Cardinals arrived?"

"Yes, your majesty," the awe in the maid's gaze was more penetrating than a knife. Did being a savior mean that anyone would begin to be unable to hide the intense amount of admiration they felt? "They are a man and a woman, accompanied by a personal escort. For now, we have seated them in the dining room. Normally the throne room would have been the most suitable place but unfortunately, it is still being renovated after the... um... battle."

"It must be Raymond and Berenice, then," Antilene pretended not to have heard the part about her latest 'feat'. "I'll head over to them right away."

"One moment," before she could turn away, the butler caught her attention with a fake cough. "Do you intend to present yourself to the emissaries of a foreign nation dressed like that?"

The half-elf gave herself a quick glance. She was not wearing her usual armor -remaining in the watchful custody of the Black Scriptures- opting instead for a simpler outfit consisting of a white cotton shirt and linen pants.

Shaking his head, the elf replied, "You have been wearing those clothes since this morning. They do not befit a person of royal rank," but she was not a queen or anything like that! "I took the liberty of commissioning a dress suitable for official occasions. If Your Majesty would like to follow me, I will lead you to the room where it is kept."

"It will fit you like a glove, Lady Antilene," the maid added, beginning to nudge her toward their goal. "All the princesses of the neighboring realms will envy your beauty and elegance!"

With the tip of her eye, Antilene glimpsed Agravaine struggling to hold back a laugh.

This was a bad situation!

Not that she minded wearing something more refined, but if she continued to indulge the elves with their comedy, she would soon end up being unable to break away from the role they had given her without asking for her approval.

"There will be no need for that. I'm perfectly comfortable even like this," the half-elf tried not to hurt their feelings, but she stood firm in her decision. For she was not one of those pathetic spineless people who never voiced what they felt for fear of hurting their interlocutors or shattering whatever silly idealized image they had of her. "As a matter of fact, we've wasted far too much time! Maybe we'll talk about it another time..." It was frustrating enough that no matter where she went, no one could separate her from the carefully crafted image they made for themselves, no matter how far from the truth it was.

And without waiting for a reaction, Antilene hurriedly headed to where the emissaries of the Theocracy were waiting for her.

As she predicted, it was indeed the Cardinals of Earth and Fire. Both Raymond and Berenice were waiting for her seated at a large table, accompanied by a handful of guards. Waiting with them were also Time Turbolence and that elf minister who had managed to escape her 'peculiar entry' during the battle with her father.

"Sorry for the delay," Antilene lowered her head in apology as she crossed the entrance, Agravaine behind her repeating the same gesture. "I hope you did not have to wait long."

"Not at all. In truth it was a pleasant wait," Raymond was the first of the two to open his mouth. Both he and Berenice wore informal clothes different from the usual tonics of their position. Seeing him dressed like that the half-elf, now used to seeing him only in his official robes, was seized with unexpected nostalgia. "The little welcome buffet was very good indeed," he said, pointing to several baskets of fresh fruit and a couple of bottles of wine resting carefully on the table. "And the prime minister was an excellent host!"

"I live only to serve Lady Antilene," the surviving minister also shared, like the others, that persistent adoration for the girl. "It is only thanks to her that I am still here today."

Funny, because the only reason he had been saved had been an unexpected stroke of luck. But the half-elf avoided pointing this out to the elf. Not least because, in all likelihood, it wouldn't have done any good.

"Were there any problems with the trip?" Antilene asked, as she found her place at the table. Her sister sat right by her side. The butler and the maid who had followed them instead stood by, waiting for orders that would never come. "I personally saw to it that there were no problems."

"We noticed that. It was certainly a ... stimulating experience!" Berenice sketched a smile somewhere between astonishment and embarrassment. Her eyes moved furtively to seek complicity with the guards, who were also still shaken by the experience. "It's not every day you get escorted by a dragon in the flesh. I'm not sure I would do it again."

"The Emerald Dragon Lord decided to settle near the capital for 'protection'. Protection of whom, I'm not sure. So it seemed only right that he should return the favor the elves did him by making himself useful," a kind of lodging tax, however absurd a dragon paying dues to a country seemed. "When the little ones are grown, I think he will find accommodation more suited to his needs."

"A sensible decision," the butler said, receiving a nod of agreement from the maid. "We could not have expected less from Her Majesty."

"Um, yes, of course," Antilene replied, trying to hide her embarrassment. "But you don't need to call me your majesty."

"Would you prefer Your Highness?"

"Never mind..."

"You seem to be settling in nicely these days," Raymond noted, slowly caressing his goatee, amused by that friendly exchange. "I'm glad to see you so cheerful. If I may say so, you look almost radiant. When the news of the king's death reached the supreme council, we were all incredibly relieved."

"Time Turbolence kept us updated throughout the expedition," Berenice continued, smiling sweetly. Her small black eyes shone with motherly affection. "We have been eagerly awaiting the outcome of the confrontation. I would like to say that we were all convinced of your victory, but to lie at this point would not be fair," the second Black Scripture seat nodded, a sign that he too shared the Cardinal's apprehension. "Now that the war is over, a new era of prosperity awaits both us and the elves!"

"All very nice," Antilene rocked in her chair as she turned her gaze to the ceiling. "But now why don't you tell me why you are here? If you had waited a few more days, I would have gone back to the Theocracy myself and brought my report. My father's treasure has now been cataloged and all valuables will be transported to our capital."

Woe to the vanquished. Except for a couple of magical items useful for reconstruction, much of Decem's legacy would soon enter the hands of the Theocracy. After all, it was her rightful inheritance.

"Speaking of which," the Earth Cardinal paused for a moment to think, trying to find what were the best words to use. "Have you decided what to do now, Lady Zesshi? Or should I call you Your Majesty?"

"You can also just call me by my name, Raymond," replied the half-elf, visibly bored by the conversation. "We are old teammates. There is no need for formality between us."

The Cardinal did not think so, but tried to comply.

"So may we know your answer, Lady Antilene?"

If she had known, she would have gladly answered.

"I haven't decided yet," being frank was her only option left. No sense in lying. "I thought traveling would be good for me. Visit the world and find a new path. There is so much to see outside the Theocracy."

"Remember, you can always find a home with us," had a wooden table and a hint of embarrassment not separated them, Berenice would probably have embraced her. "In truth, the Supreme Council had thought it best for the time being for you to remain here, as the rightful ruler of the elves."

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Agravaine's expression brightened in astonishment, but from the satisfied smile she had it was not hard to guess what her opinion on the matter was. Same with the servants and the prime minister.

"Why do you say that?" And more importantly, why had the Cardinals also come up with that crazy idea? Antilene could not wrap her mind around it. "Point one. I just can't see myself as queen of a people that, frankly, I don't give a damn about," she would have expected any reaction from the elves present, but they continued to look at her as if nothing had changed. What condition had her father reduced them to? "And point two. Even if I agreed, I have no idea how to govern a state and I'm not going to learn now."

What special kind of idiot would take on all that responsibility without having a clue of what to do?

"Obviously, the title of Queen would only be temporary and cosmetic," Raymond explained, trying to persuade her of the merits of the proposal. "Although we have tried to keep your existence a secret all these years now there is nothing we can do. Our efforts have not been enough to prevent your clash with the king from spreading to neighboring nations."

One of the most powerful things in the world was gossip. Stopping them was virtually impossible. At most, one could control them, in a limited way.

The Theocracy was a master of controlling information, however not even the expert propagandists of Slaine had been able to limit the spread of the news of Decem's death. The elves were just scattered in too many places at the same time, and thanks to [Message] separated families had made contact almost immediately.

"I admit that I did not pay much attention to what the elves were telling about me, or to stop some of them from leaving the capital," all things considered, after the war was over many of them had decided to leave Evasha Forest and the ominous memories of the conflict behind forever, in search of a new place to live. "Yet I don't understand how this relates to my situation."

"Our relations with the elves are still uncertain," Berenice searched for a possible reaction from the prime minister, who merely looked at Antilene apprehensively. "I don't need to explain to you that many of the citizens of the Theocracy did not take the end of hostilities with them well. In return, I'm sure many of the elves still have a lot of resentment toward us."

Antilene noticed that from the beginning of the conversation, her sister had not uttered a word. Agravaine's impassive gaze seemed only a mask that might give way at any moment, now that she was looking at her properly.

"And from what I understand you Cardinals believe that with me in charge, it will be easier for the elves to mend fences," thinking back to how they had treated her in the past few days, was not a far-fetched idea. But the half-elf had a feeling that it was not a simple diplomatic request that was required of her. "There's more, isn't there? You fear that a true dragon lord might attack."

Both cardinals fell silent. But the concern on their faces was as easy to read as a children's picture book.

"We're pretty sure that if you were to take an official position of another nation, at least Platinum Dragon Lord should be inclined to leave you alone," perhaps it was time for her to pay a visit to the dragon, to set the record straight. Where was it that he rested? The flying castle in the southern desert? "Our losses were profound. We cannot afford to open any more hostilities at the moment. It will take years for our army to return to the way it was before the king's onslaught."

"Don't you care that you no longer have your secret weapon at your disposal?"

"We are certain that if the need should come, you would not think twice about putting your life on the line for humanity."

How annoying it was that they were right.

"So, what have you decided to do?" Berenice's face closed in questioning. The woman's shoulders tightened as she waited for an answer while her cheeks filled with trepidation.

Thinking back to what she had said earlier to her sister, Antilene wondered if she was ultimately a hypocrite. "I don't think I have many alternatives except to abandon you all to go my own way," but everyone in that room knew she would not do that. The half-elf thought she had to learn to be more unpredictable. "Obviously, I'm not going to act like a normal queen. And I can't stress enough that it will be a temporary arrangement."

"You have nothing to worry about," the ministers and servants replied in unison. Perhaps it would be time for her to learn their names, since she would have to spend a lot of time with them. "Crescent Lake officials are used to handling things themselves. If it weren't for the fact that every time one of us started to gain experience the king would kill them on a whim, we would now have a real bureaucratic elite."

"I'm sure that's true," actually, Antilene couldn't have cared less about any of this. But she sported a smirk nonetheless to shoot down the elf. The latter, strangely enough, began to sweat as if bad memories had taken hold of him. "Surely this time there will be no shortage of opportunities to test you."

"There is one more matter to be discussed," One of the guards handed Raymond a finely decorated invitation, which he handed to the half-elf. "The Emperor of Baharuth has induced a ball to celebrate the new ruler, to be attended by all the royal families in the surrounding area. He has even temporarily ceased hostilities with Re-Estize to call this special occasion."

Certainly, the emperor of Baharuth was not a man who liked to waste time.

"Interesting," Antilene took the invitation, feeling in her hands the finishing touches that adorned its definition. Truly a splendid piece of work. Too bad about the stench of rats against the wind that not even a great artist would have been able to hide. "It's definitely a trap, but I've never been to Baharuth. A pity, given how close the Empire is compared to the Theocracy," the half-elf read aloud the name of the organizer on the card, taking care to spell the words well. She only had a general smattering with the language of the Empire and some of the letters felt unfamiliar. "Jircniv Rune Farlod El-Nix. I am curious to meet this precocious prodigy of whom I have heard so much."

The tale of the Bloody Emperor, as he was called, had not escaped Antilene's attention during her stay in the Theocracy.

"I gather you are interested in participating," Berenice ventured. As was to be expected, even the Cardinal had little faith in the goodness of the young emperor's initiative. "Jircniv is a shrewd boy. If he has spent time and resources to organize this ball, surely there are other intentions behind it that he intends to carry out."

"Oh, for sure. And I can't wait to find out," but curiosity was not the only thing that made Antilene eager to attend. 'The royal families of the land will gather here. Maybe some of them can give me clues to what I'm looking for.'

Unlikely. But with no other alternatives, the half-elf was left with nothing but groping in the dark, hoping those clumsy attempts would lead her to the truth about her origins.

'Yeah, maybe I can get something from this situation.'

The Cardinals rose from the table. Antilene and the elves did the same.

"If it is all over, we will go. The journey ahead of us is long. We will gladly stay the night, but our schedule is full," and besides, having other humans from the Theocracy in the city would not be well received by all the elves, Antilene pondered.

"Ahem...," Raymond cleared his throat, then turned to the minister. "In the coming days, a specialized delegation will arrive to continue the peace talks. Burying old grudges will not be easy, but we hope that future cooperation will be worth the effort."

"'Likewise for us,' the elf replied, not without managing to conceal a hint of discomfort. Some wounds would take a long time to heal, even when one lived for centuries.

"I will go with you," Antilene interrupted them, the decision already made. "I want to personally take the sacred equipment back to the treasure room. And if I am to settle in this place, I have many things to bring here. Also, there is someone I need to talk to."

"We were going to propose it ourselves, actually," Berenice said, bringing her lips together in a thin line. "It's good that you learn etiquette, and we've already prepared some suitable teachers," the Cardinal pretended not to notice the annoyed expression that popped up quickly on the half-elf's face. "Your servants will be permitted to accompany you. It's wise to get used to always being surrounded by specialized attendants."

"I guess there is some truth in those words," for sure, now her life had taken unexpected turns. Antilene did not know what to think about that. "We will meet at the entrance to the city in a couple of hours. Time Turbolence will round up the rest of the Black Scriptures."

"Perfect."

And with that, they said their goodbyes.

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"Then you will become our new queen. How about living your life only for yourself?"

Both Antilene and Agravaine had returned to the room assigned to the former. With them were also the butler and the maid from before.

"Yes, but it will be just for a few months," said the half-elf, as she checked that everything was in order. She was once again wearing the Wind God's armor, Charon's Guidance at her side. "A few years, at most."

Sometimes, you had to compromise between what you wanted and what needed to be done. There would have been another opportunity for sure to be egotistical.

"Still, we are honored that you have decided to accept the role of queen, Your Majesty!"

"Yes, nothing makes me happier than to be in the service of the Kingslayer!"

Was that what they called her? Kingslayer? Antilene had to be honest with herself... She liked it!

"By the way, you haven't told me your names yet," it would have been better to find something other than 'maid' and 'butler' to call the new servants.

"My name is Etienne, your majesty!" The man replied, his intense gaze appeared like intent to judge her soul.

"And mine is Melody," cheerfully added the girl, her big black eyes and the jovial facial expressions composing a soft smile.

"Good. I'll try to remember them," the half-elf was now out of the room when she turned to her sister. "Oh, I almost forgot. Where is Logem? I'd like to say goodbye to him before I leave."

Antilene had not seen him since that night when they had burned their father. The latest news she had received about the scarred elf had him busy finding suitable housing for the king's orphans.

"You know what he's like," Agravaine replied to her, trying, not with very good results, not to let her concern show. "One day he's here and the next you don't know where he's gone. I'm sure when the time comes, he'll show up."

Indeed, Antilene was not the only one who found herself having to reevaluate her life from scratch after Decem's death. But the thought that Logem was also going through an inner turmoil similar to her own had not touched the Kingslayer in the slightest until that moment.

After all, what she now hardly called family nonetheless remained strangers to her.

Perhaps in the future things would change.

"Let's go!"

A new chapter was opening.

Imperial Palace of Arwintar

A luxurious room.

Precious furniture graced the interior. Despite their value, the furnishings never exceeded good taste, remaining faithfully balanced between the splendor of luxury and the placidity of sobriety.

Soft light, warm as a summer afternoon gave a hint of color to the environment, making it extraordinarily cozy and welcoming for anyone who would enter.

"We have also received confirmation of participation from Queen Oriculus," the secretary reported the latest news to his master. Despite his young age, the blond hair was already showing the first gray signs of many winters. "In addition to her usual entourage, she also seems to have requested the presence of a particularly trustworthy knight as an official escort."

The emperor opened his eyes. The triclinium on which he was resting was accompanied by cushions so soft that they gave the feeling of lying on a gentle cloud. "It seems that wretched hag has managed to find time to pay us a visit. I thought her reign was now on the verge of collapse," the pleasure of comfort was not enough to indulge his mind, which remained always alert and sharp. "So the reports that the invasion had momentarily ceased were true. Loune, have you gathered information about this self-styled knight?"

"Not much," the diligent secretary pulled out a paper from the many in his hand, then placed it neatly on the desk beside his ruler's favorite resting place. "Our knights stationed in the Draconic Kingdom have not gleaned much information. From what they refer he seems to be a mercenary of some near country, probably the Theocracy. However, his origins can be traced to the southern kingdoms. His name is Gazef Stronoff, and his skill with the sword, observed during the war with the demi-humans, has been compared to the four imperial knights."

"Oh," the young emperor's lively amethyst eyes glittered with curiosity and desire after hearing the last sentence. "What do you think, Baziwood?"

The question was directed to one of the bodyguards -the Four Imperial Knights- guarding the highest authority of the Baharuth Empire. At the moment, only two of them were present.

"The way I see it, there are only two possible explanations, Jircniv," addressing the emperor in that informal way would have been, on any other occasion, seen as gross disrespect. In that case, it only emphasized the great trust that existed between the two. "First. During the battles that mercenary has dealt some lucky blows and his skills have been greatly exaggerated."

"Yes, it could be," the emperor reflected aloud, barely holding back a yawn caused by drowsiness. "That cursed old woman might also have been spreading rumors around to increase the fame of a desk-created champion and convince more people to enlist in the army," one of the servants tending to him handed a bunch of grapes, the sweetness of which he savored with relish. "What about the second one?"

"Well, it's simple," the hardened muscles of the knight exploded in the armor as Baziwood crossed his arms, almost annoyed by that obvious question. "He is indeed as strong as they say."

"And what do you think is the most likely hypothesis?" Jircniv asked, moving a strand of blond hair that had fallen on his forehead.

"The second one," Baziwood answered truthfully. "The fact that he is alive is proof enough."

"And who do you think would win in a confrontation between the two of you?"

"Hard to say without more information," the strongest of the four imperial knights, also known as Lightning Bolt, stroked his chin in a pensive manner that did not suit at all his brutish appearance. "One thing is certain. If I were to find myself in the same situation as him, that is, facing a horde of demi-humans who want my scalp, I would have no second thoughts about what I would do. Running away with the tail between my legs."

"Ahahahahah," Jircniv could not hold back a hearty laugh. "And no one would blame you for that, Sir. Baziwood," the sincerity of the reply had put him in a good mood. Knowing that his closest subordinates had no problem telling him unpleasant truths put him at ease. It made him believe that he could trust them in any situation.

"Loune," he turned to his secretary. "I want you to find out as much as you can about this Gazef Stronoff. What he likes, what he dislikes, his aspirations, his sexual orientation…everything. If he is as extraordinary as you reported to me, we must not let him slip through our fingers." Jircniv was like that. If he found something -or someone- that piqued his interest, his first move was to try to seize it. An instinct that couldn't be held back.

"It shall be done, your highness!" The bow he received was a signal that the order had been understood.

"Excellent," Jircniv stood up to stretch his legs. Keeping his body in shape had always been one of his top priorities. Charm and beauty were some of his best weapons, after all. "Changing topic, what about the guest of honor?"

"We received news just a few hours ago from the Theocracy. The new elf queen has communicated her desire to take part in the ball. The Fire Cardinal has also confirmed her attendance."

"Are you genuinely interested in this elf, Jir," the last guest in the room spoke for the first time. He was an old man whose skin was barely visible hidden by countless wrinkles. If wisdom and experience had been embodied in human form, they would probably have taken on an appearance similar to his. "If the rumors we have gathered are true, this is indeed an unusual specimen. To think that the Theocracy hid such a secret. Who knows how many other mysteries lurk in their archives, waiting to be studied? If I could access them, I'm sure the history of magic would make great strides!"

He smoothed a long white beard that reached his knees with his calloused hands, while lamenting the injustice of the circumstances. To hear him speak was like opening an ancient and precious text, to taste the immeasurable amount of knowledge contained within.

"Of course, gramps," the tone of Jircniv's voice was filled with deep familial affection. The imperial wizard was the closest thing to a family he had left, and the affectionate nickname proved it. "I can see that you think the same. The political life of the region will certainly be disrupted by this new entry. And only those who secure their assets when the storm arrives will enjoy the fruits of stability!"

"But I still cannot believe that this elf is as powerful as they say," objected the second of the imperial knights: Nimble Arc Dale Anoch. The nobility of his features was second only to the grace of his bearing. "I mean, routing an army of fifty thousand men is an extraordinary feat worthy of his lordship Fluder. Even if we were to admit that the king of the elves succeeded alone, another, even more dangerous actor now presents himself."

"I understand your concerns," thinking back to the news of the defeat of the Theocracy's army, Jircniv once again felt his stomach begin to fall prey to sickness. He drank a glass of white wine to calm himself.

At the time, aware of Slaine's military superiority over the Empire, he had feared that after an eventual fall of the Theocracy, it would then be their turn. Therefore, the young emperor had momentarily ceased hostilities with Re-Estize. Both to conserve his forces and to have an ally in case the need would arise. "But gramps and I think the stories told in the taverns are well-founded, or at least reliable to a great extent," yet the emperor knew where this reluctance of the young knight to accept the news came from. Indeed, it was a dangerous situation to handle with the utmost care.

"Evil deities' stories dated back only two centuries. It was not unthinkable to imagine that one of them had managed to escape the battle against the thirteen heroes and assumed the role of ruler of the elves. Or, more simply, the king of the elves was simply gifted with an uncommon talent. An outlier, if you will," and, for that matter, proof of these exceptional individuals was in the room with them. "It's frightening to think about, but there are monsters in this world that are beyond our wildest imaginations."

"The disaster caused by Landfall shows us that this world is poised on a thin piece of paper placed on the pointed top of a mountain, at the mercy of strong hurricanes," Fluder agreed with him. Once the harsh reality was uncovered, the roads that opened were that of fear and that of endurance. Jircniv had chosen the latter. "If this Queen Antilene is indeed as exceptional as they say, meeting her could be crucial to my research."

As usual, the eagerness to reach what he called 'the Abyss' was the compass that guided the imperial mage's every thought and action. Jircniv preferred not to imagine how far his loved master would go to reach it.

"Why don't we just toss her into the arena against the Martial Lord when she arrives?" Baziwood proposed. Had it come from anyone else, the suggestion would have been accepted as the folly that it was. Instead, Lighting Bolt was frighteningly serious. "In that way, we could verify with our own eyes her battle prowess. I think I heard that the champion's manager was lamenting about not being able to find opponents up to the mark."

"That might be a good idea," the young emperor's face colored with an arrogant smirk. Of course, he did not consider that nonsense even for a single moment. Pretending nothing was said, Jircniv continued. "Gentlemen, what lies before us is an opportunity like few others. Years and years of hidden knowledge from the most powerful country in the area combined with a body that could edge toward invincibility."

"It is not hard to see that a plan has formed in your mind, Jir," for Fluder to decipher his beloved protégé's intentions was as simple as solving a child's riddle. If reaching the depths of magic had been as simple as cherishing that young boy, by now the old wizard would have long ago accomplished his raison d'être. "Don't tell me you plan to use the girl to your advantage."

"Isn't that what you always tell me, gramps?" The young emperor tilted his head slightly, the eyes turned toward his old teacher, but his gaze focused on a future he could feel was so close enough to be grasped. "I think it's time for me to think about settling down, too."

"You don't mean..."

"Nothing certain or definitive, of course," to surprise the preceptor who had taught him everything always amused Jircniv. "But yes, I plan to ask the new Queen to marry me."

?

Granz's mind gave one order, and her body carried out another.

The scorching desert sun beat down with force. Besides her, no one else could be seen for miles.

'Why am I here?'

No matter how hard she tried, her own brain could not provide a satisfactory answer.

Vengeance was the only impulse that was always present with certainty in her being. A thirst for revenge that was not her own was the source of every actions.

The undead passed yet another dune. Not even the remnants of any civilization had left the slightest trace in the place where she now stood. She remembered brushing past a fortress manned by a few humans in coming to that place.

How many days had passed since then? If only she could think clearly.

The Saintess of White's consciousness was in turmoil. The countless galaxies that formed the universe known as Granz Locker were intermingling in perpetual motion.

In the luckiest moments, she could regain something close to self-awareness.

In the worst ones, there was only a voice filled with hatred that could be heard in the starless void.

His.

For the moment, she was in an intermediate situation. But how much longer would it last?

'Walk. You're almost there.'

The voice commanded, and she complied.

After a few hours that seemed interminable, the monotony of the desert was replaced by an unusual sight.

Ancient rubble towered timidly in the center of an almost drained oasis. Indeed, it was a mystery of magic how those four stones still could stand.

Granz approached, when she arrived at her destination an all too familiar sight. Undead, thousands of them. And of all kinds. Even some elder liches were among them.

'Don't worry, they won't hurt you.'

Not that they would be a match for her. But with what little conscience remained she found it strange that none of them had attacked her yet. They seemed almost in the grip of a mystical trance that had separated them from this earthly plane.

The undead walked through what remained of the gateway of what was once perhaps a splendid palace. Now only a sign of the indifference of time.

The corridors were also haunted with ghostly presences, though they followed the behavior of their fellows outside. A few coats of arms that to call ruined was to pay them a compliment, had remained attached to the walls, with the same eagerness as cockroaches that do not want to be exterminated.

From those remaining fragments, the only thing Granz was able to distinguish were two crossed scepters resting on a completely red plane, the luster of which had now faded.

Red seemed to be the dominant color in that now abandoned place. Shreds of curtains, remnants of carpets, and old armor now abandoned were various shades of that hue. Even what remained of the robes worn by the undead were of that color. There was no doubt that the lords of that old palace had chosen red as the symbol of their Household.

'It's near. I can sense it.'

The voice became more mellifluous, barely able to hide the increasing excitement.

Following his directions, Granz entered a room larger than the previous ones. Crossing the threshold was pleasant; the air one breathed was composed of death and decay. The Saintess of White felt invigorated as she savored the most delicious of meals that could be offered to her.

Looking around, she noticed a more massive presence of zombies than those she had previously observed. The undead carefully scrutinized the clothing -or what remained of it- to realize that these were most likely servants and guests whom the latter had been called upon to serve.

The bizarre thing was that they were slowly continuing to mimic the human behaviors they had had to leave behind after the 'transformation'.

Butlers walked around with empty trays that they offered to their masters, who, in return, grabbed the air to perform meaningless gestures.

Ungainly couples who moved without any rhythm, listening to nonexistent music to engage in grotesque parodies of grand gala dances.

Waitresses trying to clean that endless dirt with termite-eaten tools. The dust they raised trying to move now unusable brooms only made that already disastrous situation worse.

Finally, half-destroyed jaws attempting to make sounds that sounded even vaguely human, but only came out as distorted parodies of whatever their language had once been.

If Hell was to have its own nightmarish court, Granz thought it should not be too dissimilar to the one that now stood before her very eyes.

'Don't worry about these pops. They have already undergone the judgment of time. Quick, get the crown!'

And it was then that Granz saw the reason why she was in that place.

At the back of the room were positioned two thrones side by side. Seated on them, as many skeletal figures remained completely still, were it not for their fingers that kept intertwining in a sea of tiny movements.

On the head of one of them was placed a headdress woven entirely of thorns, the sharp point of which was comparable to an exquisitely crafted blade. Green gems from which negative energy emanated were set in the center of it. Written in the center, in blood, was an inscription that Granz read as 'I.N.R.I.' but whose meaning she was unable to discern.

'Take it!'

Thundered the voice.

The Saintess of White felt her mind start to become clear. The control exercised over her had faded, though not entirely gone, still imprinted in her soul, and now her thoughts began to belong to her once again.

She approached the object of her master's desire. But why had a being of such great powers as he needed her help if the desire for that crown was so much?

Evidently, the master couldn't take it alone.

Granz touched it with her hands, when she felt a surge of energy pushing her back.

A solemn voice, eerily similar to the one controlling her, but more noble and solemn, echoed through the room.

"Here are kept the remains of the King of Pestilence! Go away, intruders, if you do not want to make the world recapitulate once again into darkness!"

Granz ignored it. Not that there was any other choice.

She examined that strange crown more closely. A magical seal had been placed on it as a guard, to prevent anyone from appropriating it.

The undead recognized the magic used as a special form of sealing spell belonging to the seventh tier. There were not many other incantations belonging to that rank suitable for that purpose, so she was sure of being not mistaken.

But there was also something unusual about it. The seal seemed partly already broken. As if for a gateway that required two keys to be opened, the first one had already been inserted.

Try as she might, she could not recognize those tiny traces of magic that still hovered. Regardless, it had been a stroke of luck.

To break a magic seal of that type there were two ways.

The first consisted of a thorough study of the magic formula and the adoption of a suitable counter spell perfected with details extrapolated from insight into the original. It was an effective but time-consuming method.

The second was simpler. Higher-tier magic would have achieved the purpose in most cases without requiring much effort.

"[Counter-Lock]!"

The seal was broken.

Granz took the crown in her hands. A surge of power erupted from it.

Suddenly, there was a scream.

The spell that seemed to have put the other undead in the palace into a trance was as if vanished.

She felt herself being grabbed from behind. The two skeletons on thrones were trying to take back what had been stolen from them.

"[Lighting Bolt]!"

Granz's index fingers began to light up. The air grew hot as particles of artificial light accumulated on her fingers.

An electric discharge drew a parabola of pure energy. The bones of the attackers became the conductors of the spell.

They crumbled instantly.

'Enough of this nonsense! It's time to go back.'

The voice returned, louder than before. Granz felt her consciousness fading again.

In her last moments of lucidity, she realized one thing. The master was not invincible. He had needed her assistance because he, too, had a weakness.

'[Silent Magic-Control Undead]!'

She cast the last spell before losing herself again in the darkness.

Her last thought was a prayer of hope.

A prayer that her plan hadn't been found out.

----------------------------------------

Antilene Heran Fouche:

Fighter (10)

Berserker (10)

Master Fighter (10)

Lesser Valkyrie/Almighty (5)

Weapon Master (7)

Rogue (1)

Assassin (5)

Executioner (10)

Cleric (10)

High Cleric (10)

Inquisitor (10)

Kingslayer (1)

Tot: 89