Vyrelda arrived at the castle entrance with an expression that could only be described as unamused. Her presence was unmistakable: tall and imposing, her figure encased in light armor that seed to blend strength and elegance. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a braid, and her deep, piercing blue eyes were full of unwavering determination. Vyrelda was, in every sense, the embodint of a knight—unyielding, strong, and dedicated. Her presence brought a sense of security, though not necessarily comfort, as her deanor carried a chill to it that matched her stare.
She approached Mikhailis and Lira, and the contrast in her greetings couldn't have been more pronounced.
"Good morning, Lira," Vyrelda said, her voice polite but with a trace of warmth as she acknowledged the maid.
Lira smiled back, nodding respectfully.
"Morning, Lady Vyrelda."
Then Vyrelda turned to Mikhailis, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"Your Highness," she greeted him curtly, her tone as cold as the winter wind.
Mikhailis raised an eyebrow and gave her a wry smile.
"Why, Vyrelda, I think that's the warst greeting you've ever given ."
Vyrelda gave him a sharp look. "I assure you, Your Highness, my job isn't to provide warmth."
Lira stifled a giggle behind her hand, and Mikhailis couldn't resist the opportunity for a verbal jab.
"You know, Vyrelda, they say a little warmth never hurt anyone. I an, unless you're secretly a snow golem. Then I suppose it could be fatal."
Vyrelda frowned, her eyes narrowing further as she attempted to co up with a witty response, but it was evident she wasn't quite used to verbal sparring of this nature. Mikhailis's smile only widened.
"I an, you might be strong and headstrong, Vyrelda, but you know what they say—n don't really go for too powerful and stubborn won. Hard to date soone who looks like they'd beat you up if you forget an anniversary."
That got Lira. She let out a soft, almost-snorting laugh, trying but failing to hold back her amusent.
Vyrelda, on the other hand, clenched her jaw.
"Your Highness," she said, her tone icy.
"I suggest we avoid further nonsense. There is an important eting today, in case you've forgotten."
Mikhailis shrugged, still grinning as the coachman cleared his throat. It was clear that it was ti to go.
"Alright, alright. Let's get moving before you decide to throw into the carriage," Mikhailis said, taking a step towards the coach. He could still feel Vyrelda's disapproving gaze on his back.
They boarded the carriage—Mikhailis, Lira, and Vyrelda. As the door closed behind them, the air inside felt undeniably awkward. Vyrelda sat stiffly across from him, her gaze occasionally flicking to Lira, who simply looked out of the window, her face still carrying a trace of amusent.
Mikhailis decided to save everyone the trouble of forced conversation. Instead, he tapped the side of his head and whispered quietly.
"Rodion, display the chira colony's progress."
Mikhailis smiled, trying not to draw attention to himself as Vyrelda eyed him suspiciously. He had to admit, the ants were exceeding his expectations. The food storage chamber looked well-stocked, and the luminescent beetle shells embedded into the walls provided a soft glow throughout the tunnels.
"Good job, my little army," he muttered under his breath.
Mikhailis nodded subtly, his excitent building.
"Noted, Rodion."
Mikhailis glanced up to see Lira giving him a curious look. He flashed her a reassuring smile, to which she only raised an eyebrow, her lips curling up just slightly.
They continued their journey, the carriage rolling along the cobbled road. The tension between Vyrelda and Mikhailis seed to simr down, replaced by an uneasy silence that filled the carriage.
But then, the stillness shattered.
It happened.
Out of nowhere, the carriage jolted violently to a halt, throwing Mikhailis forward. Vyrelda's hand shot out to steady herself, her eyes instantly narrowing with suspicion.
"What the—"
Before she could finish, the air was filled with the sound of clashing tal and distant shouts. Vyrelda imdiately drew her sword, her eyes flashing with determination as she looked out the carriage window.
"Mikhailis, stay inside!" she commanded sharply, her voice leaving no room for argunt.
Completely disregarding the honorifics in the heated mont, aren't you now, not very professional, Vyrelda.
The door was wrenched open by one of the knights escorting them.
"Lady Vyrelda, we're under attack! Masked n—well-ard, possibly Technomancers!"
Vyrelda's eyes widened, her knuckles whitening around her sword's hilt. "
"Technomancers?" she hissed, her gaze darkening.
Mikhailis peeked out the window, his eyes scanning the scene. The attackers were dressed in dark cloaks, their faces hidden by masks, and they moved with a kind of precision that set off alarms in his head. So carried swords glowing with a strange, purple energy, while others had strange talismans etched into their clothing—talismans that looked unnervingly advanced.
Rodion's voice echoed in his mind, confirming his suspicions.
Mikhailis's eyes narrowed as Vyrelda and the five knights outside engaged the attackers. The clash of swords filled the air, and he could see Vyrelda fighting fiercely, her movents swift and precise as she parried an attack and countered with a powerful strike. She was shouting sothing—a curse directed at the Technomancers.
"You Technomancer bastards, are you trying to start another war?!"
Despite the urgency of the situation, Mikhailis couldn't help but feel a strange sense of curiosity.
Why now?
Why attack them now, on their way to et the Saintess?
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