Sais listened with her heart surging like a storm tide. As one who’d lived it, the ache ran deep. Before Xurenxus City rose from stone, the Wind Sprites were scattered sand, weak against any gust. No one knew their fate more clearly than Sais.
Medith’s brows knotted like thunderclouds; where Sais heard insight, she heard dominion. Paris kept saying “my Eunomia” with every breath. He was a prince, yet that possessiveness scraped like grit under the tongue.
“Your Highness... what are you getting at?” Medith cut straight to the blade. Paris blinked, puzzled. “What? Medith doesn’t like the old stories of my Eunomia?
Then forgive me. I was carried by the tide. When I hit the nerve, I felt indignation for the realm my father’s generation carved, and for the homeland of my birth.
Why? Why must we suffer such injustice?” His fingers around the teacup trembled like leaves in a gust, regret and fury shadowing his face.
“Why...” Medith recalled the Elf Clan’s lot. Why did they have to be hunted and humiliated by humans?
Medith looked at Paris’s pained gaze. “Your Highness is right. You carry the country on your heart and earn immortal merit for your people’s happiness. My respect is small, yet sincere.”
Paris didn’t take it. “Do you know... why humans grew so strong?” He dropped it like a stone into still water. Sais thought long. “Your creativity and imagination? Or stubborn will and faith?”
“Because humans rage, humans hate, humans desire. Hatred makes you powerful. Rage strips reason. Desire turns you into a devil.
Put them together, and you get a devil both mighty and mindless.” Medith spoke with a heavy sigh, a veteran tasting iron.
Paris clapped, sharp as firecrackers. “Commander Medith, no wonder Mountain Bandits call you the Ironblood War Deity. Your grasp of war has teeth. It’s late. Go rest.”
Sais and Medith froze for a heartbeat, thrown by the abrupt end. Nothing had unfolded like they imagined. Medith, relieved, turned to leave.
At the garden gate, Paris called after her. “Oh—Commander Medith.”
“?” Medith lifted an eyebrow, a question hanging like a feather.
“About what we just said, I have another view.” Paris smiled with a blade hidden in velvet.
“I’m listening.” Medith stood steady.
“You know, Medith.
A god cannot be touched. A god cannot be gazed at. A god cannot be killed. A god cannot be erased. A god can only be feared.
But if a god is dragged from the throne, it becomes human.
And humans can be killed.”
“What... do you mean...” Medith couldn’t catch the thread. The door before her swung shut, and the moment felt like mist.
...
“Why aren’t any of you afraid of me? The old men in the palace and the maids look at me like I’m a ghost! Hmph!
None of you treat me like a princess at all. No one’s ever talked to me this seriously. I’m so happy!” Venus knelt on the bed with the girls, a bright smile in a vast room.
“Princess? Doesn’t feel like it. Venus-chan’s just a normal girl. Mmm... mm~ This thing called cake is too good!” Milia squinted in bliss as she bit a slab drowned in cream, oblivious to the streak on her nose, every inch a foodie.
Phiby stroked her hair. “Easy now~ I know that feeling. Being alone tastes bitter, huh? No playmates in the palace you can chat with?”
Venus pouted, cheeks like peaches. “Mother won’t let me leave the Vesta Palace! Says it’s dangerous! Makes me play with cats every day. The servants don’t dare speak to me.
Big brother Elyu is traveling the world! She’s so biased!”
Iling sifted through a rainbow of dresses like butterflies. “That’s because His Highness Elyu can handle himself. He’s got people guarding him. You’re different. You’re precious. You’re this cute. What if some uncle tried to snatch you?”
“I would never! I’m quick and clever!” Venus bounced like a sparrow, eager to show off, then realized she had nowhere to land. In the end, she could only lift her skirt and execute a graceful curtsey.
“Hahaha...” The girls burst out laughing, pulling her into a cuddle and nuzzling her cheeks.
“Hey now... you all ran off, made me search everywhere...” Medith closed the door with a sigh.
“Whoa! Cake!” Sais’s eyes lit up like stars. She dived at the towering cake on the table, broke off a chunk without a care, and stuffed her mouth.
Medith was stunned. Sais always ate like a swan; this was beyond imagining. Medith cut herself a slice, slid it in—“It’s not that—mm...”
The girls saw Medith pause, caught the hint, and swarmed the cake like sparrows on millet.
“Don’t fight! If you like it that much, I’ll have the chef make more... hey! Leave me some!” Venus threw herself into the hungry pack, battling for spoils...
....
October 26, 5:13 p.m. The market in Sia City throbbed with life. Dusk leaned close, yet people gathered to chat, grabbed vegetables for supper, ebbing and flowing in warm noise.
Powell, rarely seen outside his manor, walked the stalls, eyeing trinkets and wonders. Folks lit up at his arrival. That day, he’d emptied his coffers to save countless citizens of Sia City. His prestige blazed like noon sun. Even city guards beyond his command gave way.
“Good day, Lord Powell!”
“Hello!”
“Lord Powell, this is our home-dried fish. If you don’t mind, please take it!”
“Idiot! How can you give the lord that stuff?”
“It’s fine. I like fish.”
“Thank you, my lord! May the god of Eunomia be with you.”
“May Eunomia bless you.”
Powell kept moving, two dried fish in hand, until he reached a corner flower stall run by an old man. “Lord Powell... why... why are you here?”
“To buy flowers. I want to gift them to a certain lord,” Powell replied.
The old man’s eyes swept the crowd, saw no one watching, then lowered his voice. “How many bouquets does Lord Powell need?”
“Thirty thousand black roses. Twenty thousand Klein Blue blossoms.” Powell answered like it was long decided.
The old man’s face shocked, color draining. “My lord, you’re making it hard for me. Where would I get so many?”
“Don’t worry. I already have thirty thousand black roses. You only need to make up the twenty thousand Klein Blue.”
“All right. I can do that. How fast to deliver to you?”
“Within five days. That lord is likely already in the city. I need the surprise in place before he shows up.”
“No problem. I’ll make sure you’re pleased.”
“Good. I’ll be going.”
“Walk safe, my lord.”
Their talk wasn’t truly hidden. People drifted by, paying them no mind. Watching Powell’s back recede, the old man packed up and vanished into the market like smoke.
Only... neither of them knew a green owl on the clocktower had been watching for a long while, head tilted, eyes like twin emeralds, cold as deep water.
The owl cocked its head left and right, cute as a doodle. Then it beat its wings and streaked toward the far side of the sea...
