"Hnnghh...!!"
...Ugh, my bladder's about to explode.
"Hoaam..."
Morning light filtered through the ornate curtains, rousing me from the deepest sleep I'd had in years. Fleda and Alruna were asleep beside me. Perhaps because it was my first time experiencing such luxurious comfort, I slept like an ox, drooling onto my pillow.
Right... Last night, we all crashed here together.
This room was actually reserved for super, super, super important guests, but Madam Fiora insisted we use it. Alruna herself didn't want to sleep in her own room, clinging to me until she finally drifted off to sleep on this massive bed.
The room itself was a glittering museum of wealth. Gold-framed mirrors, jeweled trinkets, velvet drapes—everything screamed, "You don't belong here, peasant." The giant mirror opposite the bed mocked me with my reflection: wild hair, sleep-crusty eyes, and a crumpled nightgown. But none of that mattered now. The urgent call of nature roared in my ears.
"Alruna! Alruna!" I shook her shoulder, desperation sharpening my voice.
"Mmmhmm... Wha...?" She blinked drowsily, her blue eyes foggy with sleep.
"Bathroom! Where's the nearest bathroom!?"
"...Bathroom? Oh, just go out to the right of this room, follow the corridor, then turn left, turn right at the second turn, then go down the stairs, and then—"
"Too complicated!" I hissed, already leaping off the bed. "Is that a bathroom or a garden!? Forget it, I'll find it myself!"
"Haa... Be careful..." she mumbled, collapsing back into the pillows.
The hallway was eerily silent, save for the creak of floorboards under my bare feet. No maids, no guards—just endless corridors of cold stone and frost-tinted windows.
Where is everyone?
Even the usual morning bustle of a noble household was absent. Snowdrifts piled against the castle walls outside, and skeletal trees swayed in the wind, their shadows clawing at the glass.
Following Alruna's garbled directions, I stumbled through labyrinthine passages. Left, right, stairs—wait, was that the third door or the fourth? Panic simmered as my bladder screamed louder. Finally, a blessed sight: a door slightly ajar, revealing marble tiles.
"Haa... Saved..." I slumped against the wall, relief flooding me.
Okay, that's taken care of. Now, let's go back to the guest room. Since I successfully found the bathroom, there shouldn't be any problem returning, right?
...
If I remember correctly... after this, turn left, then... then...? Damn it. I'm lost. And there's nobody around to ask.
Clang! Clang!
Metal striking metal echoed from below. Curiosity overpowered urgency. Peering through a frost-laced window, I spotted a training yard blanketed in snow. Three figures sparred fiercely: a broad-shouldered elder elf wielding a longsword and two younger warriors attacking him in tandem. Their breaths fogged the air as blades clashed.
"Is that...?" I crept closer, hiding behind a pillar on the terrace overlooking the yard.
The elder elf moved like a storm—parrying, dodging, his strikes precise and brutal. The two younger knights lunged, but he disarmed them with a flick of his wrist, sending their swords skidding across the ice.
"Pathetic!" he barked. "You swing like children chasing butterflies!"
""Thank you for the lesson, Sir!"" The defeated pair bowed, retrieving their blades before retreating into the barrack.
The old elf wiped sweat from his brow, his breath steady despite the cold. His simple linen shirt and brown trousers contrasted with the Gustav family's usual opulence, but his aura crackled with authority.
A seasoned Gustav knight, maybe their captain?
"Yikes, let's stop gawking. I've seen enough 'amazing' for one morning." The old knight sheathed his sword, dusting snow off his sleeves.
Maybe he can point me back to the Emerald Room?
Swallowing my nerves, I stepped forward.
"E-excuse me, Sir! Pardon me!"
"Hm? You—" He turned, and oh gods.
Up close, his face was a storm carved into flesh. Thick brows arched like a lion's mane, his white hair swept back in a silver wave. A beard, flecked with frost, framed a gaze sharp enough to pierce armor. He towered over me, muscles taut beneath his linen shirt—a warrior in winter's prime.
"I-I just need directions to the Emerald Room!" I blurted, cheeks burning.
"The Emerald Room..." He stroked his beard, eyes narrowing. "Fiora must've taken quite a liking to you."
"Hm? What do you mean, sir?" My voice squeaked.
Since when do knights address their liege so casually?
Something prickled at the back of my mind—his face, his bearing...
Why does he feel familiar?
"Never mind that." He waved a calloused hand. "Follow me."
"Th-thank you, Sir!"
Don't overthink it. Just get back before Alruna wakes up.
The corridors blurred as we walked. He asked about our journey to Gaede, his tone deceptively light. I rambled about monster encounters and snow-laden roads, carefully omitting why we'd come. All the while, his presence loomed—a silent avalanche waiting to crush me.
"So, what do you think? Is our residence to your satisfaction, young miss?"
"Satisfactory is an understatement! The service we've received in just one day here is already more than enough!"
"Hahaha!" His laughter echoed in the hallway. "Glad to hear it!"
"...And what do you think of Karl Gustav?"
Thud. My heart dropped. Trapped.
"H-he's... generous!" I forced a smile. "The hospitality here is beyond anything a commoner like me deserves! And his heroism for Ingvaeon Kingdom... legendary, truly!" Lies, lies, lies. My childhood admiration had curdled the moment I'd learned how he'd treated Alruna.
"Hm." His grunt held neither approval nor disdain.
Five minutes stretched into eternity. Just as I wondered if we'd circled the estate twice, he stopped.
"Here."
I blinked. The Emerald Room's jeweled door glinted ahead.
Finally.
"Thank you so much, Sir! May I... ask your name?"
A smirk cracked his stony face. "Karl Gustav Gaede. Head of the Gustav Family. Lord of Gaede. Hero of Ingvaeon."
Silence.
"...Eh?"
"Now that you know, I suppose there's no need for further formalities." He continued, icy calm, "join me in the main parlor this afternoon. Alone."
"WHAAAT?!?!" My voice echoed down the hall. This mountain of a man—Alruna's father? The tyrant I'd vowed to confront?
He was already walking away, his parting words slicing the air. "Don't be late."
"Sis, why're you gaping at the wall?" Fleda leaned against the doorway, yawning.
"N-nothing!" I shoved past her, pulse roaring.
"Whatever." Fleda shrugged. "Madam Fiora invited us to breakfast."
"Right... breakfast." My appetite had fled, but Alruna bounded over, eyes sparkling.
"They're serving cloudberry tarts!"
"Sounds... great." I forced a grin.
How long until noon?
***
"Come, come! Eat your fill! All of this is prepared in your honor!"
Inside the dining hall, a line of servants stood ready, presenting dish after dish onto the long table. Every kind of food a commoner could dream of was laid out before me in abundance. There were even some dishes I didn't recognize, not knowing their names or ingredients. But of course, my favorite treat since arriving, a silken chocolate pudding glistening under the chandelier light.
"No need to tell her twice," Fleda snorted. "She'll inhale it all like a starved wolf anyway."
"Mmmfph! Thif ifh amafing!" I mumbled through a mouthful of fruits, cheeks bulging like a chipmunk's.
"See!?" Fleda rolled her eyes. "And stop talking with your mouth full! It's impolite!"
"Fufufu, it's alright!" Madam Fiora chuckled warmly, delicate as wind chimes. "Eat as much as you like! A guest's happiness is our pride."
"Thank you, madam!" we chorused, though my gratitude was muffled by a buttery roll.
An hour later, I slumped in my chair, groaning. "I'm... gonna explode..."
Fleda, ever the hypocrite, glared at her empty plate. "Why... did I eat three servings...?"
"More?" Madam Fiora offered, gesturing to a platter of fruit tarts.
"No, thank you..." we whimpered in unison.
Note to self: Madam Fiora's hospitality is a weapon.
"So..." Alruna said after breakfast. "If you're free this afternoon, I was thinking of taking you two around the city. I know some good places to buy adventuring gear."
"That sounds fun," Fleda replied enthusiastically.
Guilt clawed my throat. "Uh... I can't come."
Fleda blinked. "Why not?"
"Just... a little chat with Madam Fiora, that's all." I offered vaguely.
"Really?" She raised an eyebrow but shrugged. "Oh, okay then. We can go just the two of us. Want us to grab anything for you?"
"Nope! Just have fun!"
"Okay." Alruna nodded in understanding.
As they left, I exhaled. Good. It wouldn't be good if Fleda became overly curious about what I was really up to.
***
Knock Knock.
"Sir, Miss Adele has arrived."
"Send her in."
"Yes, sir."
The door opened.
Gulp.
Beyond the doorway, Alruna's father—Karl Gustav Gaede—sat rigidly on a velvet sofa, his presence dominating the opulent parlor. A second sofa faced him, separated by a low table laden with pastries, donuts, and a steaming teapot. The spread was clearly meant for me. A peace offering or a trap?
The air hummed with tension, thick enough to cut with a dagger. By the door stood a muscular maid, one I'd met when we first arrived. A bodyguard disguised as a servant. Clever.
"Sit." His voice brooked no argument.
Plush.
The sofa swallowed me whole, softer than anything I'd touched in my life.
"Let's skip formalities." Karl leaned forward, elbows on knees. "I'll reintroduce myself: Karl Gustav Gaede, Head of the Gustav Family. You already know what that means."
"Adele Ercangaud," I said, throat dry. "Pleasure to meet you... officially."
He dismissed the pleasantry with a wave. "First—it's been decades since I encountered another High Elf. You're aware I'm one as well, yes?"
"Everyone knows. Your heroics made sure of that."
"Good. That saves us from lengthy explanations. Then answer me: where are you from?"
"A small village southwest of here. Ercangaud. Four days south of Tiel City."
His eyes narrowed. "And you're the only High Elf there."
"How did you—?"
"Simple. The High Elf settlements I know are nowhere near that backwater."
My pulse spiked. "You know where they are?!"
A lifetime of questions surged—orphaned as a baby, raised by ordinary forest elf, always the outsider. His—my... once father—words echoed: "Your real parents died when you were an infant." But what if...?
Karl's chuckle cut through my hope. "Of course I know. A century serving the royal family grants certain privileges. I myself was born in one of those villages."
"Then tell me!"
"Patience." He poured tea, the clink of porcelain sharp. "Locations of High Elf villages are classified. Royal decree. Even if you share our blood, I can't disclose secrets to a stranger."
"Stranger?!" I slammed my cup, liquid sloshing. "I'm as much a High Elf as you!"
The maid shifted, hand twitching toward a hidden weapon. Karl raised a finger, halting her.
"Control yourself, young miss." His tone chilled. "Your temper won't unlock my tongue. Prove you're worthy of trust, and perhaps I'll reconsider."
Prove? How?
I bit back a retort. "What do you want?"
"Your story. Start from the beginning."
***