"What are these ensembles?" Lionel’s voice broke the silence, a mix of confusion and curiosity coloring his tone.
He stood there, arms loosely crossed, scanning the three won who had just arrived as if trying to piece together a puzzle. The way his brows furrowed slightly gave away that he wasn’t angry—just caught off guard. Still, beneath that composed exterior, there was a faint spark in his eyes. He was happy to see Trill again. Anyone could tell, even if he tried to hide it.
Myrcella and Titania were also here, their presence giving off that natural sense of authority that ca from being born into power. Behind them stood Anne, the one who had piloted the helicopter that brought them here. Her expression was calm—almost blank, in that oddly chanical way of hers. Kirk was there too, quietly standing at the edge of the room, though for what reason, I couldn’t quite guess.
"Well, they’re human princesses," I said, breaking the silence. "Each of them holds the power to stand in line with their respective countries. Both are people who could very well lead their nations in the near future."
"Princesses, huh?" Lionel muttered, his tone thick with thought as his gaze drifted toward the two won standing proudly beside .
Myrcella, with her fiery poise, was still running for the position of the next king. Titania, on the other hand, already had her path set—no competitors, no opposition. She was bound to beco queen sooner or later. Saying they might lead was true, but nothing in politics was ever certain.
"So why’d you bring these two here?" Lionel asked, finally turning back to with a slightly raised brow. "Don’t tell you’re bragging about having won from different races."
I let out a short breath and shook my head. "I’m not."
"Then what is it?" he pressed, his tone carrying that weight of authority only soone like Lionel could pull off.
Myrcella didn’t speak. Instead, she reached down, pulled out sothing from her side, and gently placed it on the table before him.
Lionel’s eyes narrowed slightly as he studied the object. "What’s this?"
"Open it and find out for yourself, Lord Lionel," Myrcella said, her tone polite but firm.
Lionel didn’t move. Whether it was hesitation, pride, or just plain stubbornness, he simply sat there, staring at it like it might bite him.
Trill sighed softly, stepping forward. "Just open it, Dad," she said, a small smile tugging at her lips as she nudged it closer to him.
"A-Alright..." he murmured awkwardly.
The corners of my mouth curved up slightly. Even a man as strong and respected as Lionel could be disard by his daughter. Seeing that side of him—soft and a little bashful—was oddly heartwarming.
When he finally lifted the cover and peeked inside, his expression shifted. His eyes widened a little. "Trading, huh?"
"More precisely, a trading offer, Lord Lionel," Myrcella clarified smoothly. "We both know the Great Forest has been at a disadvantage due to its isolation. Without external resources, your people are slowly being boxed in. That’s why we’re proposing an exchange—an opening of trade routes. And trust , this isn’t so half-baked idea we just threw together."
"So you’re suggesting we open the borders to traders?" Lionel said, his tone laced with skepticism. "You’re asking us to let people just co and go into our country freely?"
It wasn’t an unreasonable concern. The Great Forest had a long, bitter history with humans—centuries of tension and distrust. Expecting them to suddenly open up to outsiders was like asking a wounded animal to bare its throat.
"You’re saying this would protect us and be beneficial in the long run, Leon," Lionel continued, his sharp eyes settling on . "But don’t tell this isn’t partly about your business interests. It’s a good plan, sure, but I don’t buy that we should welco humans who might just enslave us."
Before I could answer, Myrcella leaned forward slightly. "We’re not asking you to open your borders to humans, Lord Lionel. What Leon wants is a foundation—a first step toward mutual understanding between our kingdoms and yours. Nothing more than that. This isn’t about handing over control; it’s about cooperation. And we don’t even need open borders to achieve it."
She gestured lightly, her eyes steady. "Magic portals could serve as our trade routes. That way, no human physically enters your land. We’d only be exchanging goods—and maybe services. The world is evolving fast, and staying isolated will only hold your people back. Modern technology is advancing every day—especially weapons. And as progress grows, the threat grows with it. If the Great Forest refuses to adapt, it’ll only get left behind. With the rise of modern armies and weapons made of tal and magic, it’s only a matter of ti before the entire forest falls under that pressure."
Lionel didn’t reply imdiately. His eyes flicked between her and , as though weighing her words in his mind.
"Myrcella’s right," I said, stepping in. "There’s a republican nation out there that’s pushing boundaries every single day. They’ve already developed tallic soldiers—machines that don’t think, don’t feel, and don’t stop. They just follow orders, no hesitation, no remorse. Imagine millions of them—soulless, tireless, unstoppable. Do you really think even the Titans could hold their ground against that?"
I turned slightly, glancing over my shoulder at Anne. "Anne," I said. "Lift your skirt."
Without hesitation, she obeyed. The motion was chanical, precise. She lifted her skirt, exposing herself right there in front of everyone. There was no blush, no emotion—nothing but obedience.
The light caught on her thighs, reflecting faintly off the tallic texture beneath her synthetic skin. It wasn’t obvious at first glance, but once you saw it—you couldn’t unsee it.
"As you can see," I continued, "Anne’s body is largely tallic. Though she still appears to have flesh, most of it is artificial—composed of synthetic materials and chanical parts. I gave her an order, and she followed it without question, without emotion, without embarrassnt. She’s a robot—built to serve. Now imagine thousands, even millions, like her... soldiers programd for war, driven by nothing but the will of whoever commands them. That, Lord Lionel, is what we’re up against."
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