Fawena told Lyselle and Shall that the Elven Matron seemed to have gone mad.

Lyselle’s first instinct was to bolt.

Are you kidding? That’s the Elven Matron!

Lyselle didn’t know her exact rank. But it couldn’t possibly be low.

For one thing, she’d birthed the entire Elven race from nothing. She’d even grown that massive tree. Bards claimed Elves were born warriors and mages. Compared to frail humans, each could easily fight a hundred alone.

So how could the Matron who created them be weak or pushover?

Lyselle guessed the Elven Matron must be incredibly powerful. She’d crush Lyselle and Shall without effort.

Why wait around? To die?

Lyselle immediately wanted to tell Fawena: We don’t have the skills for this job. Find someone else!

But before she could speak, Shall spoke first:

“Has this ever happened before?”

Lyselle was dumbfounded.

Seriously, bro? You’d take this job? The mad one is the Elven Matron—a god at minimum. Don’t you think bonds and friendship can beat a god?

If it were that easy, I wouldn’t have died taking that knife for you!

—That blade had been swift and brutal. It struck right after Shall’s big battle, when he was weak. Lyselle had no warning. Only the Old Sage’s death-substitution spell, made long ago, saved her. Even then, she’d lain in a coffin for half a month to recover.

Thinking this, Lyselle felt a flicker of resentment toward the thick-headed guy before her.

But she couldn’t say anything.

He’d probably activated Magic Nullification again. She couldn’t grab his ear in front of Fawena and yell, “Get on voice chat!” So she nudged him subtly—

Lyselle stretched out her foot, stepped on Shall’s shoe, and ground her toe a few times.

Shall’s body tensed for a split second. Then he calmed, face steady as he watched Fawena. He waited for her answer.

Fawena hadn’t noticed their little exchange. Softly, she replied:

“No. Never. Elves may err, but the Matron never does. I’ve been Governor of Lundeheim for two thousand years. This is the first time.”

“Besides the Nursery Chamber, are there other signs proving your Matron’s madness?”

“No…” Fawena shook her head. “But it’s enough, Champion. This is the Nursery Chamber. Every Elf in Lundeheim was born here. Every future Elf will be too. If this fails, even as immortals, we lose our future.”

“?”

Lyselle almost said it was impossible.

Even if the Nursery failed, Elves could find other ways to reproduce. Like…

But someone cut her off again—not Shall this time, but Fawena.

She added: “Moreover, there’s the strange fog.”

“Lundeheim never had fog before. Recently, without warning, we woke to find the whole city shrouded.”

“As the fog fell, embryos in the Nursery Chamber twisted into monsters.”

Shall thought carefully. Then, serious, he concluded:

“That doesn’t prove your Matron is mad. At best, it links the fog to the embryos’ corruption.”

Lyselle glanced at Shall, surprised. Huh. He’s actually being thorough.

She had to admit he was right.

The twisted embryos alone couldn’t prove the Elven Matron’s madness.

But the fog over Lundeheim was eerie. And Fawena’s words tied it tightly to the Nursery’s chaos.

Lyselle turned to Fawena. She wanted to ask: Are you hiring us to solve the fog and Nursery, or to rebel against your Matron?

Those were very different things.

Then, for the third time, she was interrupted.

Shall again.

He met Fawena’s eyes. Quietly, he said:

“Governor, we can’t yet link the fog or Nursery to your Matron. If possible, share more intel. Or…”

The Champion paused, fighting the pain as Lyselle stomped his foot harder. Calmly, he continued:

“Or give us time. We’ll uncover the truth.”

Fawena fell silent. She seemed hesitant. But she never voiced it. Just nodded lightly.

“Alright.”

…

Their talk with Fawena ended there.

Afterward, the Governor hurried off.

She told Lyselle and Shall to seek her or Captain Mula if they needed help during their investigation. She had urgent matters to handle.

But Fawena didn’t know Lyselle had been praying for her to leave.

No more playing the good girl. The Sorceress felt instantly lighter.

The moment Fawena vanished, Lyselle bounced from behind Shall to face him.

“How much of the Governor’s story do you trust?” she asked.

Shall shook his head. Said nothing.

Lyselle knew him well. She smirked.

“So you noticed she’s hiding something? Is it a secret she can’t share… or a trap for us?”

Shall was quiet a moment. Then slowly:

“I hope it’s a secret.”

Lyselle liked that word—“hope.” Clearly, Shall had prepared for the worst.

Her knife wound hadn’t been for nothing. At least he wasn’t blindly trusting everyone like before.

The Sorceress was pleased—though she’d prefer him acting silly around her again.

“No matter,” she said. “Secret or trap, we’ll dig it out.”

But then she frowned.

“But if our findings point to the Elven Matron—say she’s truly mad—we ditch this job. We leave Lundeheim immediately. Understood?”

Shall didn’t answer. He just picked up the Bronze Lantern Fawena left them. He seemed ready to exit the Nursery Chamber.

—Clearly ignoring her.

Lyselle got annoyed.

She chased after him. “What’s that mean? So the Elves gave you one coffin. Must you work this hard for them?”

Shall stopped. Turned sharply to face Lyselle.

“When I needed it most, the Elves sent that coffin. Now they need my help. I won’t run—from my oath. Just like you revived me, so I signed the Master Servant Pact. I’ll serve you for life.”

“If I broke my word and fled… would you still trust me when the Pact fails?”

His expression was firm. His voice unshakable.

Lyselle had no rebuttal.

Once a Champion’s honor shattered, who’d believe him?

Even a troublemaker like her needed someone trustworthy.

Grudgingly, she muttered, “Oh.” Accepting his point—for now.

“So what next?” she asked. “Start investigating?”

Shall stepped out of the Nursery Chamber. Paused outside. Shook his head.

“I don’t know.”

Lyselle perked up instantly.

Heh. So tough earlier, lecturing me. Now clueless?

Heh heh. Guess you still need me!

She snatched the Lantern from Shall.

“Before leaving, I asked the Governor where we’d stay. She gave an address. Said it’s arranged.”

“It’s late. We don’t know Lundeheim. Let’s find shelter first. With this fog, I won’t sleep on the streets with you.”

Shall nodded. “Makes sense. I’ll follow your lead.”

Coincidentally, their lodging was very close—just two streets from the Nursery Chamber. Probably for easy investigation.

Soon, they arrived.

Like other buildings they’d seen, it was a small wooden hut grown by Elves.

Lyselle had never stayed in one. Curious, she dashed ahead, flung the door open, and peered inside.

The hut was tidy. Slightly plainer than the one she and Shall built together. But it had everything needed—a true “small but complete” home.

Only one issue nagged her—

Why was there just one bed?

[To be continued]