Chapter 51: Disagreements in court
The absolute dead silence of the ruined courtyard was broken only by the low, ominous hiss of cooling slag. Plumes of acrid grey smoke drifted lazily up toward the shattered canopy, carrying the sharp scent of scorched iron and ozone.
Where a legendary ironwood gate had stood for generations, there was now only a smoldering, jagged gap opening out into the dark mountain pass.
Vince stood directly in the center of the devastation. His hands were casually slipped back into his pockets, his posture completely loose as he watched the remaining elven high command descend from the high battlements.
The royal vanguard moved like ghosts, their silver armor clattering unnaturally loud in the breathless quiet. Dozens of paladins instinctively drew their glowing halberds, their arms trembling violently as they formed a defensive wall around their monarch.
Every single weapon was pointed squarely at Vince, but the sheer panic in the soldiers’ eyes made it clear who felt cornered.
"Stand down your weapons."
The Elven Queen’s voice cut through the courtyard like a blade of ice.
She stepped past her trembling council, her exceptionally busty frame tightly bound in her golden chest armor, her sweeping hips shifting with a tense, rigid grace as her emerald military silks brushed against the ash-covered stones. Her flawless, sun-kissed face was a mask of cold royal composure, but the slight flare of her nostrils betrayed the storm raging beneath her surface.
"Your Majesty!"
one of the high-ranking commanders hissed, his knuckles turning white against his hilt.
"He is an still a human! We must contain him before—"
"I said, stand down,"
The Queen repeated, her amber eyes flashing with a sudden, lethal authority that instantly froze her guard detail in place. She looked past the silver spears, her gaze locking onto Vince’s amused purple eyes.
"A Sovereign of the Canopy does not break her word. Lower your steel."
Reluctantly, the paladins parted, their weapons dropping in a synchronized, hesitant motion.
Vince didn’t offer a word of gratitude. He didn’t offer a bow. With a relaxed, mocking smile playing on his lips, he simply walked straight through their fractured lines. His shoulder casually brushed past the lead paladin’s armor, sending a jolt of sheer terror through the soldier’s frame, but Vince kept his eyes moving forward, casually heading toward the grand elevator structures that led to the upper, luxurious guest suites.
He had a massive amount of soot to wash off.
---
While Vince casually enjoyed the hot, elemental spring waters of his private quarters, an absolute, unadulterated panic was consuming the grand solar of the royal chambers.
"It is madness! Absolute, pure-blooded madness!"
Elder Sean roared, slamming his fist onto the ancient ironwood council table.
"We are the elves! We do not bow to the whims of a magicless human trespasser! He is probably asleep in our guest wing right now. This could be our window of opportunity. We should deploy the High-Tier Restraint Wards, or simply execute him while he rests!"
"And who will swing the blade, Sean?"
Elder Everwood asked softly, speaking up for the first time.
Everwood sat near the edge of the grand table, his fingers steepled as he quietly observed the chaotic room. Unlike the others, his dark grin wasn’t driven by panic; it was driven by an intense, deeply analytical fascination. His eyes gleamed with a calculating curiosity. He had been observing Vince since the courtroom, and every single variable Vince introduced broke the paradigm of elven superiority in a way that delighted his scholarly mind.
"If the Dread Commander’s obsidian armor could be turned to shrapnel by a single redirection punch,"
Everwood continued, his tone dangerously smooth,
"what do you think your steel will do to him? You will only succeed in waking a predator."
"We cannot do nothing!"
another elder cried out.
"The crown’s pride is at stake!"
"Silence."
The Queen’s voice echoed off the petrified wood walls, instantly flattening the room’s argument. She stood by the massive arched window, her back turned to the council as she stared out at the smoldering ruins of her southern gate. Her full hips pressed against the stone sill, her emerald silks swaying gently in the night draft.
"Elder Everwood unfortunately speaks the truth,"
the Queen said, her voice dropping into a register of freezing reality that vibrated through the chamber.
"You speak of assassination as if we are dealing with a standard mortal. Did you not watch their fight in the courtyard? Did you not see the way he moved?"
She turned around slowly, her amber eyes scanning the pale faces of her elders.
"He did not just defeat Balthazar. He toyed with him. He manually delayed his vibration recovery frames like he was intentionally waiting for Balthazar to show his full strength,"
she hissed, her exceptionally busty frame heaving with an angry, controlled breath.
"He wanted us to see it. If we attack him now, if a single ward activates against his persona, he will not just defend himself. He will turn this capital into a pile of kindling before sunrise. An attack means the literal end of the Canopy."
The council chamber fell into a stunned, helpless quiet. The reality was undeniable. Their options were exactly zero.
---
An hour later, the heavy ironwood doors to Vince’s luxurious guest suite groaned softly as they were pushed open.
There was no guard detail outside. There were no heavy iron chains waiting on the floor. Instead, a high-ranking royal handmaiden stepped through the door, her head bowed low in a rigid, submissive posture.
In her trembling hands, she carried a polished silver platter. Resting upon it was a meticulously tailored set of midnight-blue elven formal silks, embroidered with faint silver runes, alongside a heavy, dark green scroll sealed with the flawless wax imprint of the royal crest.
"From Her Sovereign Majesty,"
The handmaiden whispered, her voice shaking as she refused to meet Vince’s purple eyes.
She placed the platter on the low wooden table and quickly retreated, closing the doors behind her as if she were escaping a dragon’s den.
Vince walked over, casually picking up the heavy green scroll. He broke the royal seal with a single flick of his thumb, unrolling the parchment to read the neat, elegant elven script detailing the exact, highly secluded location within the upper royal gardens for the upcoming date.
A dark, supreme smirk played on Vince’s lips.
"At last."
Meanwhile, back in the deep privacy of the Queen’s personal chambers, the heavy silken drapes rustled.
The Queen had finally removed her golden chest armor, wrapped only in a loose, flowing gown of white military silk that accentuated her voluptuous silhouette. She stood by her vanity, her mind still waging a massive internal war over the contract she had just signed with her own pride.
The hidden side door to her chambers slid open without a sound.
Stepping through the shadows was the small, mysterious hooded female figure—the very same one who had sat quietly beside the Queen’s throne while Vince had systematically dismantled Orion in the Colosseum. Her dark robes completely swallowed her form, but as she stepped into the soft, warm light of the vanity, she raised two slender hands and slowly pulled back her deep hood.
A pair of striking emerald eyes,l, looked across the room.
"You actually agreed to it,"
the hooded figure spoke, her voice carrying a youthful, yet deeply resonant melody that caused the Queen to freeze.
The Elven Queen closed her eyes, a heavy, exhausted sigh escaping her lips as her ancient pride fractured just a little bit further in the quiet of her room.
The hooded girl stepped closer, a knowing, complicated smile touching her flawless features as she looked at her mother.
"What are you going to do now... Mother?"
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