"What are your thoughts on Utopia, Princess?"
Grukel asked as he and Alvara strolled through the bustling streets of the Utopian City escorted by Utopian Elite Knights trailing behind at a cautious distance.
"Nothing," Alvara replied curtly. She didn't bother to mask the contempt in her expression.
Grukel chuckled softly at her brusque answer.
"I must extend my deepest apologies for the incident in Vanadias. The Behemoth's attack was never our intention. We had rely tasked them to ensure Princess Bryelle's safe passage to Utopia as a asure of goodwill in our agreent. Unfortunately, it seems they had...other plans."
"Spare your lies. You may deceive my elder brother with such hollow words, but I am not as naive as he is."
Her voice dripped with contempt, and her composed deanor cracked just enough to reveal the simring anger beneath the result of what happened to Bryelle. She didn't believe for a mont that Utopia had intended to keep Bryelle alive. To her, it was obvious-they would have been equally content with her alive or dead, so long as it suited their agenda.
"I assure you, Princess, I speak with the utmost sincerity. I do hope the young princess is safe and unhard."
His tone was gentle, but his words felt barbed, probing for information. Alvara's eyes narrowed further, her instincts screaming that his concern was more like a calculated maneuver to discern Bryelle's current whereabouts.
"Now, now," Grukel continued, raising a hand as if to calm the rising tension. "There's no need to be so wary of us, Your Highness. Especially not when you are soon to beco a part of Utopia. His Majesty has high hopes for you."
Alvara let out a bitter laugh, her lips curling into a mocking smile.
"I couldn't care less about your Majesty's expectations. If you would kindly show to a place where I can rest assuming such a luxury exists in this city built by cowards fleeing Sancta Vedelia—I'd be more than happy to end this tireso conversation,' she said with mockery and disdain. Grukel, however, seed still calm.
"Cowards, you say? Perhaps," he mused, his tone tinged with amusent. "But rember, Princess, it is often the cowards who outlive the reckless and arrogant."
Alvara raised an eyebrow, letting out a derisive laugh.
"How ironic to hear that from you, the ones daring to attack Sancta Vedelia. Truly, I find it amusing."
Grukel chuckled softly. "I beg to differ, Your Highness. Our King is no coward. He is different. He will win and, in doing so, return us to our rightful ho-to the lands that are our legitimate birthright."
"Birthright you have abandoned," Alvara reminded him.
"Abandoned our birthright?" Grukel scoffed. "On the contrary, we High Elves were on the verge of achieving supremacy, of finally claiming our dominance over all other races. Until..." His voice trailed off.
Alvara waited for him to continue.
What absurd claim was he about to make?
"Until we faced a most terrifying adversary," Grukel said.
Alvara raised an eyebrow.
"The Holy Tree itself," Grukel muttered, his grip tightening on his cane. "It, the very source of our strength, gave birth to the First Apostle of Nihil, and First Prophetess, at the worst possible mont."
***
More than a week had passed since I beca Freyja's personal guard, and to be honest, I felt like I was getting too accustod to my disguise. The role was second nature now, though not without its frustrations.
Obviously, it wasn't like I spent that ti idly. My main goal remained clear: finding a way to reach my mother. To that end, I tried to build a friendly relationship with the two bastards stationed at the corridor leading to her quarters. Unfortunately, these two had no interest in camaraderie. Instead, they had the audacity to express an interest in my 'body.' The bastards also thought I was a woman-a misconception I entertained purely for strategic purposes. The temptation to reveal my true identity and watch their disgusted faces while throwing up as they realized the truth was strong, but I resisted. For now.
Since befriending them was clearly off the table, I had to change tactics. A risky but promising plan ford in my mind.
Under the cover of routine, I slipped into the bustling kitchen. The aroma of freshly prepared dishes and the sound of clinking utensils filled both my ear and nose. As I entered, the staff paused montarily to bow their heads respectfully.
"Milady," they greeted .
By now, everyone knew as Freyja's guard, always trailing behind her. This familiarity, coupled with Freyja's habit of having personally deliver her als, gave unimpeded access. It was no secret she was trying to bind to her service, but I had no intention of becoming her eternal servant.
Feigning nonchalance, I wandered through the kitchen. Then, seizing a mont when no eyes were on , I produced a small vial from within my cloak. The liquid inside was a potent sleeping concoction-one of the many items I'd co across while exploring Elyen Kiora.
I tipped the vial carefully, spilling its contents onto two plates waiting to be served. Satisfied, I exited swiftly.
In the garden, I crouched behind a bush and waited. My vantage point provided a clear view on the hidden door. As expected, a maid appeared shortly, carrying the two plates ant for the
guards.
Perfect.
A smirk tugged at my lips as I watched her deliver the als. My plan was unfolding perfectly.
"Lady Loki!"
The sudden call jolted , and I spun toward the source of the voice. One of Freyja's loyal, simping maids was searching for . Her eyes scanned the area, though she hadn't spotted
yet.
"Lady Freyja has summoned you!" She called out, her voice loud and hopeful, clearly expecting to erge.
I grimaced. Of course, Freyja had to summon now, of all tis. Ignoring the maid's increasingly desperate calls, I remained hidden. There was no way I was going to her at this mont. My plan was already in motion, and nothing was going to derail it.
From what that shady elf told , it would take at most five minutes for the concoction to work, but I waited ten minutes just to ensure I wouldn't stumble upon the guards again. After ten minutes had passed, I carefully entered the corridor. As expected, the guards were slumped over, their heads resting on their plates, which still held untouched food.
Finally.
I moved quickly yet cautiously down the corridor. My heart pounded as I reached the next obstacle: a sturdy door with a keyhole. I rushed back to the unconscious guards. As I had hoped, one of them had a key hanging from his belt. I snatched it and returned to unlock the door.
The mont I stepped inside, an indescribable sensation washed over . The air was heavy, charged with an oppressive mana that made my skin crawl. It was utterly unlike the corridor I
had just left.
Before stretched another long passageway. This ti, I proceeded with utmost caution, every sense heightened to its limit. The further I walked through, the stronger the pressure
beca.
Soon, a faint red glow appeared, spilling from a room to my right. My breath hitched. I could
feel it now-her mana.
"Mother..."
Without a second thought, I rushed toward the room.
[]
I froze, standing at the threshold, my gaze fixed on the sight before . Shock rendered
speechless.
"What the hell is that...?"
The room was unlike anything else in the castle. Its walls were almost sterile white, devoid of
any decoration or warmth. At its center stood a grotesque sight: my mother, encased within an amber cocoon, her unconscious form suspended and unnaturally still. The cocoon itself was embedded in a small white tree. Dozens of roots extended outward from the cocoon, weaving through the floor and connecting to an array of crystalline structures.
The roots pulsed rhythmically, as though alive, drawing sothing intangible from my mother's body. That energy flowed slowly into the crystals, filling them drop by agonizing drop. Most were only half full.
My gaze locked onto my mother's face, pale and pained within her prison.
Any trace of emotion vanished from my face. My fists clenched tightly, nails biting into my palms with such force that the sharp sting brought a thin line of blood.
[
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