Morning light stabbed my eyelids.
"Hnnghh! Ah! What a glorious dawn!" Fleda sang, flinging open the curtains.
"...Is this the afterlife? I hope so..." I groaned, my body a sack of wet sand.
Fleda glowed, her cheeks rosy, while I lay corpse-like, every muscle screaming. How?
"Sis, do you want to have breakfast together, or should I bring it here? You don't look well."
Whose fault is that, huh?
"...Just... leave it here.... and tell the waitress downstairs to make a hot lemon tea..."
"Suit yourself!"
The door clicked shut.
While Fleda was out, I was suddenly startled by a voice in my head.
"It seems you really went to the afterlife last night. Besides, your sister, she can be like that too. I'm surprised."
Go away! My whole body feels awful right now.
"Ahaha! Look at you, is this really the tool I chose, a High Elf with mana reservoir as vast as the ocean?"
Whatever. I should just go back to sleep.
"I can't stand seeing you so lethargic. As a good master, I'll help you this time, pet."
Snap!
A jolt of fire ripped through my veins.
"AAAAH!" I convulsed, vomiting nothing but bile. My breathing became heavy. I didn't know what had just happened to my body.
"There, there!" Anastasia's voice purred in my skull. "Consider this a favor."
Sweat drenched the sheets as the heat subsided, leaving me oddly... recharged. It was like I had just finished exercising, with my body covered in fresh sweat.
"What. Was. That!?"
"Energy transfer! You're welcome~"
"Warn me next time! You sick monster!"
"Fufufu~"
Knock-knock!
"Sis? You okay? Sounded like a cat dying in here—"
"Fine!" I lunged for the door, my legs miraculously steady. "Just... uh... morning exercises!"
Fleda squinted. "Why are you sweating so much?"
"Nothing! Let's eat!"
***
Downstairs, breakfast was served—a bowl of noodles with an omelet on the side.
"Mmhmm! This is heaven!" I slurped another mouthful of noodles, the spicy broth burning my tongue in the best way.
After Anastasia's energetic intervention, my appetite had roared back with a vengeance. Skipping dinner last night—too busy recovering—left me ravenous.
The inn's breakfast wasn't the bland vegetable soup I'd expected. Instead, the maid brought a steaming bowl ofnoodles—springy wheat strands drowned in a crimson broth that numbed my lips and set my sinuses ablaze. I'd never tasted anything so gloriously addictive.
"Careful," Fleda smirked, sipping her herbal tea. "You'll sweat through your tunic."
"Worth it," I mumbled, chasing a rogue noodle. The tea, fragrant with lemongrass and honey, soothed the fire—a perfect counterbalance. Ten out of ten stars for the Isenhart Inn.
Across the table, Alruna stabbed her omelet like it had personally wronged her. Dark circles bruised her eyes, and her usual sharpness had dulled to a grumpy haze.
"Sleep well?" I asked innocently.
Her fork screeched against the plate. "Peachy."
Fleda, blissfully oblivious, shoved a pancake into her mouth. "Are you alright, Alruna?"
"Shut up."
***
Packing took minutes—our new armor, polished and waiting at the blacksmith's, was the final errand. But as we stepped into Ersten's crisp morning air, I lingered, breathing in the scent of baking bread and river mist. The city had nestled into my bones—its lantern-lit alleys, the grandmother who'd gifted us sweets, the way the Weim River glittered at dawn.
"We're coming back," I declared. "After Gaede. A proper visit."
"Assuming we survive," Alruna muttered, adjusting her quiver.
"Optimism, Alruna!" Fleda looped an arm around her. "Think of the food!"
Alruna shrugged her off, cheeks pink. "Just... hurry up."
The blacksmith's shop smelled of oil and ambition. Our armor gleamed on a rack—reinforced chest plates etched with frost-resistant runes.
"Fine work," the smith grunted, pocketing his fee.
As we loaded the gear onto the horses, Alruna avoided my gaze, fingers fumbling with Sten's saddle straps.
"You okay?" I nudged her.
"Fine." She jerked away, nearly dropping a bridle. "Just tired."
"If you are unwell, we could rest for a bit."
Alruna whirled, her composure cracking. "Maybe if certain people kept their nighttime activities quieter, I could sleep soundly!"
The street fell silent. A passing merchant coughed.
"Ah..." Fleda blushed, her face redder than a tomato. She tried to hide it with her hand.
"Hahaha..."
I can't help but laugh. I'm sorry, Alruna. Truly. But I swear, it's necessary.
We rode out, Ersten's gates shrinking behind us. Ahead, Alruna urged her horse into a trot, putting distance between us and her frustration. Some mysteries, it seemed, were best left tangled.
***
Gulp.
The sound lodged in my throat as Gaede's walls loomed ahead—towering slabs of gray stone that scraped the clouds. After three days of uneventful travel, the sight should've been a relief. Instead, my gut churned.
"Finally... the moment's here," Alruna muttered, her knuckles whitening around her reins.
"Nervous?" I nudged my horse closer. "We've got your back. All of us."
"It's not that..." She trailed off, eyes fixed on the gates.
"Then what?"
"Does it matter?"
The walls, though impressive, baffled me. Why such fortifications in the kingdom's northern heartland, far from borders or battlefields? Maybe monsters. Or maybe paranoia. Nobles loved their symbols.
Our journey had been smooth—well-maintained roads, cozy villages, and rest stops every few leagues. But the prices! Seven Gulden for a loaf of rye bread? It's daylight robbery.
"Alruna," I ventured, breaking the tense silence. "Why are we here? You could've ignored that letter. Fled."
Her jaw tightened. "My father threatened my mother. The servants. Everyone I... care about. If I didn't return within a month."
"How'd he even find you?"
"Guild registration." Her laugh was bitter. "His spies are everywhere. The 'hero' of Ingvaeon needs to keep his puppet strings taut."
Hero. The word curdled in my stomach. Karl Gustav—celebrated general, defender of the realm—was a tyrant in silk gloves. A man who'd rather crush his daughter than risk a smudge on his legacy.
"He's worse than William," I spat, memories of our alley confrontation flaring.
Alruna's gaze snapped to me. "William?"
"Our... father." The title tasted like ash. "Another man who confused family with furniture."
She nodded, her voice hollow. "Ah... I see. Mine collects people like trophies. Perfect heirs. Perfect pawns."
The line to the gates inched forward. Merchants' carts creaked, children whined, and guards barked orders. Gaede's defenses weren't just stone—they were bureaucracy. Each entrant presented stamped permits, scrutinized by armored sentinels.
"Next!"
Five minutes later, it was our turn. The guards wore forest-green tunics under polished breastplates, spears glinting like teeth.
Gaede had a more complicated process than your normal city; the people who came before us were always asked for documents containing an entry permit from the city's bureaucrats.
Don't worry though, we have the Indicium, aka the Guild Membership Card. This card lets us enter cities easily, showcasing the Guild's influence, which extends far beyond these borders.
"Show your entry permits—Oh wait... Aren't you... Lady Alruna!?"
"What!? Lady Alruna!?"
"Lady Alruna! You've finally returned! Where have you been!? We've been worried sick!"
"Sigh... Knew this would happen if I used the front gate."
Chaos erupted as the guards recognized Alruna. Her face tightened, shoulders stiffening under their fervent gazes. Apparently, "discreet" wasn't in the Gustav family vocabulary.
"Proceed, my lady! His Lordship awaits. And... these companions of yours?"
"...Yes. Escort them to the guest hall."
The two guards swelled to a dozen, forming a honor guard that parted the bustling streets. Citizens gawked as we rode through, Alruna sitting rigidly upright, every inch the noble she despised being. Fleda gaped at the marble fountains lining the avenue, while I muttered about the grandness of city's architecture.
"Attention! Lady Alruna has returned! Open the gate!"
"Yes, sir!"
The Gustav estate loomed ahead, its wrought-iron gates felt taller than Ferderuchus pines. With a groan, they swung open, revealing a courtyard where rows of servants and knights bowed in unison.
"Welcome home, Lady Alruna!"
Her smile was porcelain—beautiful, brittle. "Escort my friends to the parlor. I'll... attend to my father."
A maid with the build of a warhorse stepped forward. "This way, honored guests."
The maid then led us to the parlor. Though she was a fellow elf, she was taller than me, who often praised for my unusual height. She was well-built, well-trained, and emotionless—every movement of her precise. Dressed in a black-and-white maid's uniform, she looked like a former soldier or adventurer.
Upon arriving the terrace, smell of wealth reeked all over the parlor. Sunlight streamed through stained glass, casting jeweled patterns on velvet couches. Crystal vases held flowers I couldn't name, their scent cloyingly sweet. Even the air felt expensive. So, this is the home of a true noble?
"Rest here. Refreshments will arrive shortly." The maid turned to leave.
"Wait!"
She paused, eyebrow arched.
"Um... How long until Alruna—Lady Alruna—returns?"
Growl~
"Oh dear."
My stomach answered for me.
The maid's stone face cracked into a grin. "Ah. Priorities first. I'll expedite the meal."
Fleda collapsed onto a divan, sighing. "This cushion alone costs more than our monthly expenditure."
"As expected of a noble." I flopped beside Fleda. The sofa swallowed me whole—clouds had worse posture.
A sharp jab stabbed my thigh. "Ow!"
Digging into my pocket, I found Beiyang's pendant, its azure gem shining faintly. No scratches, despite the chaos it had endured.
What exactly are you?
"Pretty," Fleda murmured, peering over. "But what use is it?"
"To protect us from something bad, I suppose." I tucked it away. "Never mind. I hope nothing bad happens to Alruna."
****
Knock Knock.
"Enter."
The door creaked, its sound slicing through the silence like a blade.
He sat bathed in sunlight—an ancient High Elf carved from ice and arrogance. White hair swept upward like frozen flames, a beard merging with a mustache that framed lips perpetually twisted in disdain. His eyes—those eyes—pierced me, gold irises sharp as a lion. A general's posture, even in silk robes embroidered with peacocks. Gaudy. Garish. Him.
"Welcome home, Alruna."
"Your Grace." My bow was a marionette's jerk.
It was my father, Karl Gustav Gaede, whom I despised. Even accepting that I was his daughter made me sick, because he never behaved like a father. He was excessively harsh to me, my mother, and the people in my household.
"So, how was your vacation, playing as an adventurer?"
***