On June 20, Medith returned to Xurenxus City. Thousands of Crimson Sun members had weathered their first bloodletting; not war gods yet, but tempered into elites.

Her journey carried the taste of reward. Outside, it’s mostly humans, mostly men. Here in the fabled wonderland, they met countless graceful Sprite women, and hot tears spilled like fresh wine.

Clang—clang— the welcoming bell sang. The city boiled like a kettle. Sprites swarmed like bees, jostling to see their heroes return. The white-clad ranks stood at the gate, tall and humming with force.

Most faces couldn’t hide their joy. When the gate opened, the Elven Queen drifted out in a white dress, as if she’d stepped from a gallery of dreams. Butterflies and bees seemed to orbit her. A train of dazzling Sprite fairies flowed behind.

With Medith’s leave, the men finally screamed. They hugged and sobbed, kneeling like children. If you didn’t know, you’d think disaster had struck.

“Hahaha… these human lads are something.” Elders of Eterkles appeared, steady as a metronome, escorted by the Dusk Legion.

He wore the same black robe, veiling a frail, stooped frame. The Dusk Legion inside the walls saw their long-missed Commander and only flickered with surprise.

It said enough—Milia had kept everything in crisp order while he was gone.

“Medith!” The Queen’s longing surged first. She flung her Scepter away, lifted her hem, and ran like wind through reeds.

Medith rushed in three strides. She opened her arms. The Queen hit her like a wave, hard enough to rattle the crown.

“Thank goodness… thank goodness…” Her lake-green eyes turned wet. Relief bloomed. Pale, tapering fingers cupped Medith’s water-smooth face, and tears burst like a breached dam.

“You… you’re the Medith I know again.” She looked at that vibrant green hair and spoke from the heart.

Medith laughed softly, brushed the tears from the Queen’s lashes, smoothed her fringe, and, under every watching eye, kissed her lips.

A moment later, they parted. Forehead to forehead, they gazed at each other, faces bright with relief.

Sais stepped up and touched the Queen’s shoulder. On her mature, sultry face, there was no sourness—only deep comfort and contentment.

After that release, the Queen’s blossom face opened. She straightened her crown, dabbed at her makeup in a small mirror, and settled back into royal poise.

“Sais, it’s been a while. You’ve grown a lot.” The Queen smiled. Sais shrugged, helpless. “Can’t be helped. Following the General across the lands, living and dying every day—it’s hard not to grow up.”

“Hehe…” The Queen’s laugh was light. They met each other’s eyes and embraced, a formal peace at last.

Medith smiled, warmed. They’d always been comrades bound by life and death, ruler and vassal. A flare of temper had knotted things; now the ice had melted. Better this way.

“Commander~” Milia wriggled out of the crowd and nuzzled into Medith’s arms like a kitten.

“You’re finally back. These people are so hard to lead—” Tears rimmed her eyes as she pouted up at Medith.

The Sprites of the Dusk Legion stayed silent. Their eyes flitted like minnows; fear shaded their faces, worried Medith might flare.

Luckily, Medith only smiled. She tapped Milia’s head. “Hard already? Think how hard it was when I first took you in.”

“That’s different! I’m not naughty…” Milia muttered, glancing around—then spotted the Lina Sisters at the rear, flirting with a fine-featured young man.

“Huh?” Milia rubbed her eyes, unsure she believed it. In her mind they were still children. Yet there they lounged beneath a tree, spring breeze in their smiles. Each sister held a hand of the boy, eyes bright with springwater, feeding him fruit.

“What—?!” Milia froze. Medith shrugged. “As you can see, they’re off the market.”