Morgan took a deep breath and released it heavily. “Verily, this doth appear as a mysterious secret unraveled. How hath the mythical realm but now discovered that the culprit who did vanquish the erstwhile monarch of merfolk and the unnamed unicorn was a mere child of eleven summers?”
"Indeed," spake Morgan, "My lord husband was of humankind, at the tender age of eleven winters or perchance twelve, when he committed this egregious deed."
"How did the merfolk, consumed by vengeance, not seek retribution upon witnessing a mere human stripling slay and partake of their purportedly benevolent king?" inquired Morgan in bewilderment.
The elves' memories were refreshed when Morgan referred to the merfolk king as benevolent. The truth was, he wasn’t. To elaborate, the king was a tyrant of the seas.
“Oh, perchance I forgot the tale of a unicorn… wandering the mortal realm aforetime, preying upon chaste maidens…? For what purpose, doth my memory fail…?”
Once again, they were reminded of this particular unicorn who was notorious for raping virgin women in exchange for little to no blessing.
"Ah, aye. Was it not in that era that these creatures, the unicorn and the merfolk king, ceased their mythical dick-farting?"
In a rare occurrence, the occupants of the room were graced with a silence so loud that it could have rivaled a thunderclap.
Morgan clutched her temples, her knuckles turning a shade of white that could blind if caught in the sunlight just right. It seemed only yesterday she was wallowing in heartbreak, unable to tap into his mind like a psychic hotline, yet managing to piece together a speculation solely through the power of her own impeccable memory.
"I fucking wept," Morgan proclaimed, causing a pall to fall over those assembled in the hall. "My lord and spouse was compelled to undertake actions drastic to purge his very being of the Soulnaught Syndrome. At the tender age of eleven, he chose to relinquish his very humanity and ate the flesh of two dirty criminals."
Once more, a wave of shock rippled through the gathered company.
"Aye, I did not afore disclose the reasons behind his actions, did I? Such dire necessity compelled him. He stood upon the brink of mortality. My husband was dying," Morgan murmured. "And yet, I reproached him, for he kept his affliction veiled from my knowing gaze."
In the next loop, she would go and find the truth herself, preparing for a proper court of justice. And even though she wouldn’t remember the exact detail of this point in time because Burn wasn’t here to witness it, she would come to this conclusion the moment she read his mind—unless he decided to hide it.
Certainly, Burn would do something like that. He refused to elaborate after she found out until she forced him to tell her after all. But there were things he wouldn’t hide from her.
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For example, his one important declaration.
She would leave that to the past her later, and now, she would sincerely yell at them. These naive little princesses.
"Thy Holiness, this transgression is indeed grave. We do offer our sincerest apologies for this malevolent accusation. It behooves us to swiftly undertake proper measures to redress the harm wrought by this defamation," proclaimed the chief of the High Elves.
With a chorus of solemn nods, the esteemed elders of the elven society acknowledged the gravity of the situation, fully versed in the art of reputation management among the mythical clans.
In the intricate tapestry of this mystical realm, The Holiness stood as a revered cornerstone. Her tireless efforts had preserved the delicate harmony among the diverse species and creatures, a legacy spanning countless ages. The time had come for them to repay her selfless deeds in kind.
The incredulity was palpable as they pondered the absurdity of labeling her husband a demon, a being supposedly indulging in a diet of mythical kindred. The sheer audacity of such a claim was as baffling as it was comical, a farcical twist.
"But that's—!" Nahwu suddenly exclaimed.
Immediately, everyone turned to her. Frowns were an understatement. Now, they looked displeased with her presence.
"That's the same man who attacked the outsiders before they could even explain their peaceful purpose for visiting our realm!" She continued passionately, "Three years ago, he mercilessly destroyed them, causing irreparable harm. He's an unprovoked monster!"
Nahwu's voice grew more assertive. "I refuse to believe the narrative that he was protecting our realm. The outsiders were a mighty civilization with advanced technology. How could one man single-handedly obliterate them unless they posed no threat in the first place?"
She added with thick sarcasm, "And to top it off, by sheer coincidence, he killed two criminals who happened to be the cure for his illness, and thus he conveniently consume them—"
SLAP!
Nahwu fell to the side.
Among all the people present, she didn’t expect that the one who silenced her with a resounding slap was her own beloved sister.
Princess Shorof prostrated herself before Morgan, beseeching, "Please, Your Holiness, extend your most benevolent mercy. My sister is young and ignorant."
The elders rose from their seats, their expressions clouded with shame. It seemed that at that moment, they finally grasped the depth of ignorance festering within the younger generation, all brought to light by the words of their youthful princess.
She, in her wisdom, had graciously exposed their offspring, the promising youths and the future of their community, to a theatrical farce.
The intricate web of academia and its political entanglements was far too perilous for the pure and guileless after all. Inkia had ingeniously manipulated their children into a state of bewildered submission, leading them astray from rationality and common sense.
This corruption unequivocally stemmed from outsiders meddling in the affairs of royals and nobles. But how dare they touch the tender saplings of the elven race? How, as the esteemed elders of the elven realm, could they have permitted such a descent into folly to take place?
As those intriguing thoughts took root in their minds, Morgan, with a nonchalant air, shifted her focus elsewhere.
The young human boy, a quiet observer, calmly assisted Nahwu, who was still reeling in shock. Gently lifting her from the ground, he offered his support.
Approaching the two, Morgan observed the human boy keeping his gaze lowered, a heavy silence coating the room once more.
Despite expectations of a sharp retort towards the second princess, Morgan surprised everyone by inclining her body and reaching towards the human boy—his ear, to be specific.
YANK!
“Ah!”
Locan's startled exclamation filled the room as a device was forcefully removed from his ear.
Recognizing the device as a translation tool akin to Burn's, Morgan turned her gaze to Locan, a sly hum playing in her tone, "Ah, the one who graciously added elven tongue to the outsiders' linguistic repertoire, I presume?"