I waited for her to say sothing. She sat there, silent, almost too calm, like she was asuring every word she was about to let out. Then finally, slowly, she lifted her head and t my eyes—really t them. Her gaze was steady, heavier than usual, like she was about to say sothing she’d carried for a long ti.
"I’ve been thinking about this for a while now," she began, her voice steady but edged with sothing old and tired. "And I felt like I’ve made you wait far longer than necessary. So I want to talk about it now."
I exhaled quietly, not out of frustration but because I could tell she wasn’t saying this out of whim. This wasn’t the kind of tone people use when they’re bored or just trying to kill ti. This was her giving a verdict she’d been chewing on for days.
"The idea of uniting the kingdoms seems foolish to ," she said bluntly. There was no hesitation. No sugar-coating. "Even before you were born, these kingdoms have been fighting like lifelong enemies. And I don’t an petty disagreents. I an real blood and hatred, the kind that seeps into your bones and stays there."
She paused, as if rembering sothing that made her jaw tighten.
"That includes . The Queen of Elves, Solaris—she probably didn’t tell you this, but we actually hate each other. Truly. To the point where, at one ti, we almost killed each other."
I blinked. That was... not sothing I expected. Solaris always acted like so elegant, eternally calm monarch who stepped out of a damn painting. Thinking of her trying to murder Agneis—or vice versa—felt like learning your teachers once threw chairs at each other behind the school.
That wasn’t just a small piece of lore. That was ancient, deep-rooted, kingdom-shaking history.
"I don’t like the idea of uniting," she continued, her voice tightening. "The elves and the dwarves may have co from one mother, but we’ve been separated since birth. They were gifted with beauty and magic, while we were blessed with strength and our ability to craft weapons. We don’t bond well. We never have."
The way she said it wasn’t bitter—it was factual. Like she had accepted this reality long ago, even if she didn’t like it.
"Solaris being the Queen still leaves a terrible aftertaste on my lips," she muttered, grimacing slightly. "One so strong that I don’t like thinking about it. But we know that going to war with each other would be foolishness of the highest degree, so instead, we signed a treaty. As long as the treaty stands unbroken, our kingdoms won’t clash. We stay on our side of the Great Forest, and they stay on theirs."
She drew in a deep breath—slow, controlled, almost like she had to steady herself before saying the next part.
"However," she said, her eyes sharpening, "I understand the implications. The forest won’t remain safe for long because of the machines you warned us about. I may be knowledgeable, but even I have no idea how to fight sothing like that."
Her hands curled slightly, like she hated admitting weakness. The queen of dwarves... admitting she couldn’t fight sothing was probably sothing she’d never done openly before.
"And since we dwarves mainly use our strength for crafting rather than warfare, it’s only natural we wouldn’t stand a chance. It’s been so long since we dwarves last took part in war. So naturally, we wouldn’t win if sothing like that attacked us. And so..." she trailed off.
Then she looked right at —really looked at . It wasn’t aggressive or demanding. It was more like she was trying to see if I would flinch, if I would look away, if I would hesitate. Her eyes pulled at mine, steady and deep, like she was trying to read the truth behind my bones.
"I’ll accept the unification," she finally said.
There it was. The confirmation that should’ve made burst into a satisfied grin.
But I didn’t.
Because the way she said it carried weight. Conditions. Expectations. A promise that wasn’t coming freely.
"But..." she continued.
Of course. Of course there was a "but." Nothing in this world was free, and especially not sothing like this. That’s why I didn’t smile. It wasn’t ti for celebration yet.
"I have conditions," she added. "Three conditions, to be exact."
"Alright," I said, nodding. "What are those?"
"One," she said, lifting a single finger. Her voice shifted back to that queenly firmness. "The dwarves keep their kingdom to themselves. Even if the unification makes it look like all kingdoms have rged, in truth, each kingdom still governs itself. We allow trade, cooperation, and all necessary interactions, but the Dwarf Kingdom remains its own sovereign territory, even while being part of a larger whole."
Honestly, that was fair. More than fair. It was expected. Unity didn’t an dissolving identity. It wasn’t a bad condition at all—in fact, it was probably the easiest one.
"Two," she continued, lifting another finger. "Even though the Dwarven Kingdom falls under the banner of the unified nations, we do not take orders from anyone except our queen, which ans . I will et with whoever becos the leader of the unification, but I will still make the decisions concerning my kingdom. If there is sothing I disagree with, I will not follow it."
Her voice hardened again—not rebellious, but firm, carved from stone.
"If the Beastfolks want to go to war with the humans, then they may do so on their own. Just because we share a banner doesn’t an we are obligated to join their wars. However... if the forest itself is hard—if the heart of the Great Forest is threatened—then we will fight. But if it does not concern that, we will not lift a finger."
Again, fair. Honestly, logical. She wasn’t wrong. Why would dwarves bleed for unrelated disputes? A pact shouldn’t beco a leash.
Which ant, naturally, that the third condition was probably the one that would hit the hardest.
"What’s the third?" I asked, already bracing myself.
She looked at —calmly, clearly, like she already knew what this would an for both of us.
"I want you to be the leader of the unification, Leon."
My eyes widened for just a mont. Not because I didn’t want it. Not because it shocked in a bad way. But because hearing her say it—Agneis, the Queen of the Dwarves, soone who had lived through wars and hatred older than my entire existence—made the reality settle in deeper.
This wasn’t her throwing responsibility away.
This was her entrusting with sothing priceless, ancient, and fragile.
And sohow, it aligned perfectly with what I had already planned—sothing I had quietly pursued from the beginning.
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