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Nation of the elves, Capital City of Iysngrad. 500 years after the death of Emperor Cieus III, 50 years before the appearance of Marco the historian.

***

The slap of her hurried footsteps against the hard wood floor echo up and down the corridor. Banners and curtains sway from the displacement of air she as she glides past. Servants duck out of her way and bow deeply, guards stiffen and stand at attention, fist clenched and pressed to their heart in a salute to their superior.

She did not have time for them, she did not have time for pleasantries or to scold the guards about their poorly shined armor. Which it wasn't, but she was sure she could have found something wrong with it.

She needed to hurry, and fast, so she quickened her pace, the soles of her long, leather boots clacking against the floor loudly. While her servants may have been able to wrangle her into a dress, something she still detests, she absolutely refused to wear heels! Those abominable excuses for shoes were just one part of court life she could not and would not heed to!

Then there was the hair! Oh, by the gods, the hours they spent just trying to do up her hair! She had grown so fed up with how long it was taking that she had ushered her servants away and did it herself. Not to say that her servants were bad, but the problem was that they wanted to create an artwork out of her white locks when all she needed was the ponytail she now wore.

As much as she hated dresses and all the finery a diplomat was expected to uphold, she could not deny that the dress she now wore was a perfect match for her. The servants had not gone overboard, settling on something simple and modest yet very nice looking.

The color was a nice soft white, the hem decorated in an intricate, black, lacey floral design. The back of the dress fell down to her ankles, curving up and ending just below her knees in the front. She had also settled on wearing a vest-like top that ended just below her bust, it too designed with a black, lacey floral pattern.

At least the dress complimented her azure eyes, said eyes being the source of many a failed outfit.

What stood out most about her appearance, however, was no doubt the tattoo on her chest, located above her bosom and right where her neck connected with her torso. The design was that of a set of scales, perfectly balanced with a heart on one scale and a skull on the other, encircled by a ring of fire.

Turning a corner, the sound of her footsteps die almost immediately, the dark wood flooring now covered in a long, red carpet. Paintings hung on the wall on either side of her, the faces contained within the frames nothing more than blurs as she rushes past them. She knew every single one by heart, having grown up here, the faces of past queens meaning nothing to her when her current majesty had summoned her.

Finally, she comes to a stop in front of a set of massive double doors, flanked by two royal guards who instantly snap to attention and salute her. Good, she hated it when people bowed, every royal guard knew that, and those who didn't were quickly taught.

The wooden throne room doors were gracefully carved with detailed scenes of nature, inlaid jewels such as emeralds, rubies, sapphires, and diamonds giving color and life to the serene nature settings.

The guards were dressed in finely crafted armor, lightweight and durable; she would know seeing as she use to be one. Sabers hung at their hips, no doubt enchanted with arcana, as well as standard issued military pistols, made of wood and metal with a curved design, a glowing blue gem embedded into the firearm right below the hammer.

She took a deep breath, her long pointed ears twitching at the sound of conversation on the other side of the doors. She didn't hate politics, not entirely at least, she had come to like some parts of it during her time as a diplomat. However, one thing that never changed was the constant bickering, the disagreements, the power plays, the rivalries. It all grew so tiresome, so overwhelming, so… dull.

Placing a hand over her tattoo, she prayed to her patron god, “Please, Lady Rayla, give me the patients and wisdom needed to deal with these people."

With her piece said, she nods to the guards, the two stepping forward and pushing the doors open. They swung inward without a sound, the hinges so well crafted and taken care of that there was no sign the doors had open except for a rush of air.

The two guards step through, standing at attention, one announcing her arrival as she moved into the throne room.

“All hail Myrra Iryafiel, princess and royal diplomat of the elven nation, champion to the goddess Rayla, niece to her majesty Queen Evalon Envaris, and heir to the Sy Serine!"

The room fell silent, all heads turning in her direction. As she stepped into the room, she ignored the advisors and politicians, the nobles and aristocrats, especially the ones who glared at her entry. There were no doubt elves here that still staunchly refuse to acknowledge her claim to the Sy Serine.

Quickly, she approaches the tall, elven woman who sets upon a beautiful throne made of dark wood and bright silver. Reaching the base of the raised dais on which the throne and the woman rested, Myrra dropped to one knee and bowed her head.

“My Queen, I came as fast I could once I received your summons," Myrra said dutifully, her soft yet vigor filled voice cutting through the silence that had descended upon the court.

“Myrra, my dear niece! Please, stand, there is no need for you to bow to me, we are family after all," Queen Evalon responded warmly, motioning for Myrra to stand.

She did so, rising to her feet and looking at the queen. She was as beautiful as always, her pale skin glowing with youth, dressed in a long, flowing, green and white dress, a silver crown inlaid with emeralds resting among the silky waterfall of her light brown hair. She looked lovingly at Myrra with her warm hazel eyes, like how a mother would look at her child.

Next to the queen, on her left, stood Viessa Phifina, the royal protector. She was an impressive head taller than Myrra, perhaps one of the tallest elves she has ever seen, dressed in a dark blue uniform that was no doubt enchanted with more protection wards than the royal capital. She was lithe yet muscular, her short, black hair trimmed to perfection and complimenting her tanned skin.

The two share a look, smiles tugging at each of their lips as they nod politely to one another. She would have to remember to invite her old friend out for a drink sometime soon.

Finally, her eyes are drawn to the person lounging at the foot of Evalon's throne, lying amongst a sea of soft, fluffy, throw pillows. She smiles at him and he smiles back, face partially hidden behind a purple, silky, see-through veil that covered his mouth and nose. He was adorned with jewelry, from dangling sapphire earrings to silver and gold necklaces and gorgeous rings.

His shirt was a strip of the same transparent silk as the veil, covering nothing more than his pierced nipples. Sleeves, just like his shirt, covered his arms, running from his shoulders to his wrists where they ended with flashy gold bracelets. His pants were much the same as the rest of his attire, purple, see-through, and billowing, his ankles wrapped in gold anklets. Thankfully, he wore undergarments that kept his more intimate areas concealed.

It was still a matter many discussed, the fact that Queen Evalon had only one concubine and a human one at that. Many had pushed for her to take more than one husband, to at least have a male elf at her side as well. She had staunchly refused.

She had wished to name her human companion as king, in title only of course, but her advisors had shot her down, saying that it was too far a stray from the elven traditions of a matriarchal society. Therefore, she settled on a new title for him, Royal Consort.

The story behind how Queen Evalon Envaris and Royal Consort Avos Envaris came together was a long one. Of course, since then, their story has been written down and added to elven history.

“It is good to see you again Myrra!" Avos calls cheerfully, waving at her. His cheerful and bubbly attitude was a scourge for many advisors and politicians, most likely because he cared very little about the court or the procedures they involved. The queen always let him get away with it too, much to the chagrin of her government officials.

She smiles at him and nods, “It is good to see you too, Avos, I hope my aunt hasn't been too much for you to handle?"

Avos threw his head back and groaned, pulling at his long, blond hair in mock frustration.

“You wouldn't believe! Just this morning I had to stop her from going on a rampage for sweets, then I had to do her hair and she wouldn't sit still, then she couldn't decide which dress to wear, and then—“

The Queen smacked the back of her husband's head, “Oh hush you! You're exaggerating half of that!" The slight blush that was overcoming her cheeks seemed to suggest there was at least a bit of merit to Avos' words.

Avos just leaned his head back and smiled up at her, and in turn, the Queen leaned forward and planted a kiss on his lips through his veil before relaxing back into her throne.

For those who didn't know Avos personally, unlike herself who was quite close with the royal consort, one would think his outfit to be selected for him by the queen, when in fact, it is by his choice that he dresses so flamboyantly. When she had asked him about his strange choice in clothing, he always said that it had to do with how he and Evalon met, and then would refuse to go into further detail. That, as well as the fact the queen likes how he dresses so freely.

After such casual introductions were over, Myrra started to pick up on the slight murmuring of hushed conversation from the other politicians that filled the room. With a quick glance around her, it seemed she may have interrupted an important meeting. Not like she cared though; she was summoned by her Majesty after all.

A mousey looking elf with a pointy nose, short blonde hair, sharp, emerald green eyes, and a considerably shorter stature than Myrra, coughed into her hand, bringing the room's attention to herself.

“If her Majesty wouldn't mind, could we please get back to the situation at hand? I'm sure whatever the Princess needs, can wait till we are finished? This is rather important after all," she spoke in a high pitched nasally voice, emphasizing the word “Princess" with very well concealed sarcasm. It was quite obvious, with the way the elf looked down, or rather up, her nose at Myrra with contempt, that this elf was one of the few people who did not recognize her claim to the Sy Serine.

It matters very little, the ancient temple and all its secrets were Myrra's birthright, even her patron goddess knew that and supported her, it is the very reason she was chosen in the first place.

The queen nods towards the elf, “Yes, of course Veydoria. Myrra, dear, take a seat, this meeting shouldn't take too much longer." She gestures to a smaller throne next to hers, made of the same dark wood and silver metal. It was meant for Avos, but he seemed to be content to lounge at the feet of his wife as she played with his hair.

She quickly scaled the few steps up the dais, turning around and gracefully lowering herself into the throne next to her aunt. She could see several other elves sneer at her, most likely all of them supporting the Ethalcant family in their attempts take away her birthright to the Sy Serine.

“Please Veydoria, continue," said the queen, giving the elf her full attention once more.

“Ahem, as I was saying, the northern districts are in need of a desperate overhaul," began Veydoria, picking up from where she was before Myrra had barged in.

“The housing is outdated, they lack running water and proper plumbing, and the forest has not been culled properly in that area for a very long time. That could lead to sinkholes and landslides, putting the entire district in danger."

“What do you suggest we do to solve this problem?" asked the queen, expression impassive. Myrra had seen this look many a time, mainly because it had been directed at her. Evalon was judging Veydoria, even if it didn't seem like it, the elf's solution to the northern districts' problems would determine whether she remains an advisor or not.

The queen was not without mercy though, she wouldn't just fire an advisor simply because they had a lapse in judgment or made a mistake. If they continued to make the same mistakes, however, or messed up in a big way that affected the populace, than they could expect to be out of a job quicker than a Varu running down a mate.

Veydoria, however, was on thin ice. The queen had a three-strike rule, three strikes and you are out of a job, Veydoria, was on her third and final strike. If her plan wasn't well thought out and in the best interest of the citizens, then she would be done for.

“My suggestion would be to begin culling the forest in small amounts so the underbrush can be revived, and new trees can grow, which will in turn allow the earth to soak up the rain and allow the tree's roots to grow deep and keep the ground stable," explained the mousy elf.

The queen nodded, so far seeing the merit in the plan, gesturing for Veydoria to continue.

“Furthermore, while the trimming of the forest is happening, we should reinforce the housing and setup evacuation routes just in case a landslide or sinkhole does form before we can finish the overhaul. Once all of that has been done and the forest has been sufficiently culled, then we should focus on the matter of upgrading living conditions by building newer housing and setting up pipelines for running water and working plumbing."

“I see," hums the queen, fingers steepled in front of her as she rests her elbows on her knees and thinks.

“Yes… Yes, I approve of this! Begin the preparations at once!" She finally declares.

Looks like Veydoria is keeping her job. For now. A pity, Myrra would have loved to seen the pompous little elf get thrown out on her ass. There was a deep rivalry between her and Veydoria Ethalcant. The Sy Serine was Myrra's birthright, something that was supported by both Queen Evalon and the goddess Rayla, deity of Light and justice. However, the Ethalcant family has been trying to rest control of the Sy Serine from the Iyrafiel family since Myrra was born 129 years ago.

Those who controlled the Sy Serine, controlled the forest, and are known as Serine Priestesses. The power a Serine Priestess held was second only to the queen and is meant to be used to help keep the kingdom, and the great forest in which the elven nation thrives, safe from harm and forever prosperous.

The Iyrafiel family has always been the ones to control the Sy Serine, mother passing the job down to daughter, generation after generation. The Ethalcant family want the power of the Sy Serine for themselves, and as such, have been doing everything they could to get Myrra's birthright revoked since her mother died.

If they manage to garner enough public support and a valid reason as to why Myrra should not inherit the Sy Serine, then the courts will have no choice but to award control of the temple to the Ethalcant family.

“Now then, what other issues or requests does the court wish to put forth today?" called Queen Evalon, sitting up in her throne, poised perfectly and scanning the room.

A wiry elf stands up from his seat, green eyes gazing up to the queen through a pair of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He brushes a strand of green hair out of his face before he presses his fist to his heart and bows.

“M-My Queen!" stammers the elf, straightening from his bow, “M-M-My name is E-Eker Valeleaf, I-I am the Grand L-Librarian and C-Caretaker of the Iysngrad p-public l-library." Eker was trembling something fierce, his hands shaking and sweat pouring down his brow as he addressed the queen of the elves. Myrra had only seen the man once or twice during other court proceedings, though she had never directly interacted with him.

“Ah, yes, Eker. I remember appointing you to Grand Librarian. How are you and the library doing these days?" asked the queen, her voice calm and serene, arcane power flowing through her words.

Whatever arcana spell the queen had woven into her words, seems to have calmed Eker enough to allow him to speak without stumbling over every other word.

“I… I am doing well, your grace, t-the library on the o-other hand is the r-reason I have come before you. T-The basement has r-recently been flooded, and s-several ancient documents have b-been badly damaged."

“I see, please, tell me, how may I be of service in order to help you and the library?"

“W-Well, I am here t-today in order to request if we m-may have some f-funds in order to repair the d-damages to the building and the d-documents, as well as to s-stock our shelves with more l-literature, especially b-books from o-other nations."

“I don't see why not, there is nothing more valuable than knowledge. Go see Magistrate Fyona, she will set you up with the necessary paperwork and funds needed in your endeavor."

“T-Thank you, your Majesty!" Eker exclaims, bowing so quickly that his glasses almost come flying off his face.

After Eker had left the throne room with Magistrate Fyona, Queen Evalon had once again called upon those there to come forth with problems that needed to be solved, or requests they would like to petition. Many of the following problems stemmed from monster attacks and the decay of parts of the forest long since abandoned.

Even though Evalon had said they were almost done with their meeting, the court continued for several more hours, discussing and debating national and local problems. If only they had the power of the Sy Serine, then the queen would not even have to be dealing with half of these difficulties.

Myrra sighed and rested her head in her hand as she propped it up on the throne's arm rest. Court could be interesting at times, but most of it was usually long, boring talks. She would rather be out there doing something rather than sitting in a stuffy room full of disgruntled nobles and politicians as they presented problems to the queen, problems that they should have been able to deal with on their own! What was the point of overseeing a section of government if you can't run it without the help of the queen for at least one day!

Her aunt had summoned her this morning, and already it was midday! Had she summoned her just to sit through another court session? Her letter had sounded urgent and yet here they were, currently debating on where the best place to grow this year's crop of silk trees were.

“How have you been Priestess?" someone whispers over Myrra's shoulder. Glancing behind her, she finds Viessa now standing resolute in between and just behind, the two thrones. Her gaze was a perfect thousand-mile stare, excellent for hiding the fact she had just started a whispered conversation.

Myrra smiles and turns back to look out over the court, covering her mouth with one hand as if to look like she was deep in thought.

“I am not a Priestess just yet, old friend," she replies.

“No, not yet, but the Sy Serine is your birthright, you will gain the position soon will you not?" Viessa's lips were barely moving, her voice hushed so only Myrra, and perhaps the queen, could hear her.

“Soon," she confirms, “In one year's time, when I turn 130. However, there has been… complications."

“Yes, I've heard of the Ethalcant's desire to seize control. This is the first time in history a noble house has petitioned to have the Iryrafiel family removed as the heirs to the Sy Serine."

“Remember, they began the petition after my mother died, and I can't deny they had good reason too at the time, it has been 129 years without the power of the Sy Serine to guide us. However, now that I near my 130th birthday, the age in which the Sy Serine will unlock and I become the Priestess, the Ethalcant's have grown quite desperate to make sure I do not inherit it."

“They do not have the populace's support, nor have they yet come forth with a valid reason as to why you should not inherit the Sy Serine. Do you have any idea as to why they are pushing so hard?"

Myrra shakes her head slightly, letting out a heavy sigh, “I do not know, but I believe they may just want the power of the temple for themselves. The ability to control nature itself is rather enticing, wouldn't you agree, Viessa?"

“Hm, while it does sound enticing, it also sounds like a lot of work. Work I would rather not deal with. I enjoy my current job anyways; I have no reason to want for such power."

“Then you are wiser than most, Viessa. Hey, how about after all of this is over, you and I go out for a drink, hm?"

“That sounds lovely, Myrra, I will let you know when I have some time off."

As Myrra's and Viessa's secret small talk comes to an end, the queen raises her hand and instantly the room falls silent, all attention on her.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the court, I am sorry to interrupt, but I believe I shall call this session to an end," she announces, “I have other matters to attend to today, so if there is nothing else that needs my approval then—"

“One moment, your Majesty!" Interrupts a woman, standing from her seat. She was a tall elf, with fair skin and golden blonde hair that cascades down to her waist. The dress she wore was immaculate, finely crafted with some of the rarest silks and fabrics one could find, jewels of varying types sewn into the detailed weave on the skirt.

“Lady Ethalcant," said Evalon lowly, the hatred she felt for this woman perfectly concealed behind a bright, yet fake, smile, “Is there a problem?"

“Yes, I believe so!" Declares Lady Ethalcant, “We have yet to discuss the Sy Serine!"

There was a collective groan from everyone. Every time Lady Ethalcant was present at court, everyone knew that the subject of the Sy Serine would eventually be discussed… again.

Queen Evalon narrows her eyes at the head of the Ethalcant house, smile fading from her lips. “Lady Ethalcant, we have been over this many times. My niece, Myrra Iyrafiel, will inherit the Sy Serine, what more is there to discuss?"

“The fact that the Iyrafiel family have been in control of the temple since its creation one-thousand years ago! When Myrra's mother died, the temple sealed itself and we lost the power to control nature! It has been 129 years since then, and because of our lack in power, we have lost much to monster attacks and decay!"

There was a wave of murmuring amongst those gathered, many agreeing that Lady Ethalcant had a point.

“Furthermore, Myrra is not of the age to unlock the temple yet while I have several daughters, all of whom are of the age and are quite capable, and even then, there is myself! If none of my daughters should take up the title of Serine Priestess, then I can do so myself!"

“Lady Ethalcant…" warned the queen, her voice cold and sharp, gaze shooting daggers at the noble woman. Surprisingly, Lady Ethalcant continued, ignoring the queen in favor of finishing her rant.

“Myrra Iyrafiel has always been such a free spirit, never paying attention in court sessions, failing to uphold several sacred traditions, always slacking and blowing off her job in favor of galivanting about the forest! And have you all forgotten about the fiasco she created last decade? She nearly burned downed our most sacred tree! Not to mention her failure at being a diplomat several decades before that!"

Myrra's hands clench against the armrests of the throne, her nails digging small furrows into the wood. She knew Avos would be a little disgruntled she had scratched up his throne, a throne he hardly ever uses, but the damage could easily be fixed. Right now, she was doing her best to not summon her whip and lash out at the noble in front of her.

“Enough!" shouts the queen, her voice carrying across the room and filling every corner. She rose from her throne, standing tall and proud, like an unmovable force.

“Lady Ethalcant, you have yet to sway even a fraction of the populace to your side, furthermore, you have yet to even produce so much as a shred of evidence as to why Myrra should not inherit what is rightfully hers!"

“Y-Your Majesty, I—" stutters Lady Ethalcant.

“Silence!" Evalon hisses, making the noble lady shut her mouth instantly. An aura of power starts to grow around her, the room becoming soaked in arcana. A wooden staff appears in the queen's hand, her intricate silver grown growing larger, two horns, like those of a dragon, sprouting from the headdress. The large tree trunks that make up the pillars of the throne room begin to grow branches and leaves. The ivy covering the ceiling starts to grow faster, dangling down and creeping along the walls. Brambles start to grow from the floor, making people shuffle away lest they get poked.

“Need I remind you we are all mortal! We all make mistakes, we all have skeletons in our closets, some more so than others! While yes, Myrra has made mistakes, so have the rest of us, no one is perfect! However, those were mistakes that happened decades ago when she was younger, inexperienced, and she has more than made up for them!"

The queen was seething, her eyes almost glowing with rage. The amount of arcane power she was letting off was so much that it was visible to the naked eye, a feat only the gods could achieve, or in Queen Evalon's case, a very powerful champion. It was like green light was emanating from inside her, tendrils of it shooting out and lashing about. The air felt thick and oppressive, and no doubt, those who were not a champion or arcane wielder, would be experiencing a throbbing headache.

Most people in the room were taking it pretty well, some still standing while others had to take a knee, Lady Ethalcant among them. Out of the corner of her eye, Myrra could see Avos curled in on himself, clutching at his head in pain.

Avos has always been unusually sensitive to arcana, so much so that something like this, while uncomfortable for most, was absolute agony for him. Something the queen realized very quickly upon hearing his pained whimpers. Almost instantly, the arcane aura Queen Evalon was emitting, disappeared, the odd plant growths receding and transforming the throne room back to normal. The staff she held disintegrated into a storm of leaves, getting blown away by a nonexistent wind and dissolving into colorful particles. Her crown shrunk as well, the horns melting back into the silver metal.

Evalon was breathing heavily, the rage in her eyes reduced by none, “Do not speak of this again, Lady Ethalcant. Not unless you have managed to sway the majority of the citizens to your side and can produce to me undeniable evidence that my niece has no right to inherit the Sy Serine." Her voice was as cold as ice, and as sharp as a blade.

“The court is dismissed! I want everyone out, now!" She takes her throne once more, gesturing for the guards to usher everyone out as fast as possible.

Once all the advisors, politicians, and nobles had been removed from the throne room, so too did the guards take their leave. Now it was just herself, the queen, Viessa, and Avos.

“Are you alright my love?" asks Evalon softly, kneeling next to Avos and guiding his head into her lap, petting his head gently.

“M' fine," he groans, voice still clearly racked with pain. He turns and buries his face into his wife's stomach, clutching at her waist as he shook like a leaf.

“I am sorry, my dear, I did not mean to hurt you… I just… I…" stammered the queen, her voice almost breaking.

“Lost control," mumbled Avos, “I know, my love, I do not blame you. I will be alright, just give me a kiss and moment to rest and I'll be right as rain."

The queen chuckles lightly, leaning down and planting multiple kiss all over his face.

“Your Majesty," speaks Viessa, concern dripping off her words, “Should I go fetch a healer? Or perhaps a potion?"

“No," both Avos and Evalon respond at the same time. The two look at each other and then laugh light heartedly, though if a bit strained.

“No, Viessa, there is no need, I am feeling better already," said Avos, sitting up and leaning back against the throne.

“If you insist, Sire," replies Viessa, doubt clearly audible in her voice.

“I am sorry, Myrra, about Lady Ethalcant's attitude," the queen apologizes.

Myrra waves the apology away, “There is nothing to be sorry about, Auntie. I have heard worse; her words have no effect one me."

“Even still, it was wrong of her to act in such a way."

“Hmm," Myrra hums in response, “I have no doubt that Lady Ethalcant is going to try and find some way for her family to take control of the Sy Serine. Though if we are able to prevent it for at least another year, then I will be able to inherit what is mine and she will no longer be able to do anything about it."

The queen nods in agreement, “Agreed, though I doubt she will be able to come up with anything solid. The citizens adore you, and even with some past mistakes, there is nothing in your history suggesting you would be a corrupt leader."

The queen takes her throne once again, her body practically sagging into the cushions. She had expanded a lot of arcane power in her little display of force, she would need at least a few hours of rest to be back to full strength. Though the fact she was able to make her arcana visible is an impressive feat.

“I am sorry court had to drag on for so long, with the power of the Sy Serine gone, more problems have arisen, problems I am not use to dealing with," the queen laments.

“As I said before, you have nothing to apologize for. In a year's time I will be able to take control of the Sy Serine and the power to control nature will be ours once more. After that, I will be able to take on the burdens of reclaiming the forest and keeping it healthy and secure," Myrra reassures her aunt, reaching over and grasping her hand comfortingly.

Evalon sighs and pats her niece's hand gratefully. “I look forward to the time you and I can work together to bring the forest back to its former glory. For now, though, let us discuss the reason I have summoned you here."

“Yes, lets," confirms Myrra, “What reason did you have for summoning me? Your note sounded urgent."

“Dexan," replies the queen.

“Dexan?" Myrra questions raising an eyebrow, “Is there a problem with the human kingdom?"

“Yes, there is, a rather large one to be frank." The queen pauses for a moment, eyes glazing over as she got lost in thought.

Myrra looked at her aunt curiously. Something was wrong she could feel it. Hell, she had been feeling it! Ever since this morning, a tightening to her gut, a stab of cold to her heart. The scales of justice were out of balance and yet she had been wishing the sign her goddess was giving her was nothing more than a stomachache.

She should have known better, she has felt the same thing many times, always when the scales were out of balance.

“You are familiar with Dexan, the human kingdom that borders the Great Forest of Aelia, yes?" asks the Queen, coming out of her stupor and inclining her head towards Myrra.

Myrra nods, “I am aware of it, yes."

“Well, news reached me this morning that Dexan soldiers have been spotted crossing the Great Plains. I have no doubt in my mind that they are head in our direction."

Myrra couldn't say she was shocked, or even surprised, there were rumors that Dexan had been amassing a large number troops, all of them pointed in their direction. However, to have confirmation that their neighboring kingdom, a kingdom they have had no quarrels with, is about to start a war with them… Well, it was a little hard to digest.

“So the rumors are true," Myrra said thoughtfully, “What does this mean? Surely you had more of a reason to summon me than to tell me we are about to go to war?"

“Indeed. You see, this morning Avos had to calm me down from my anger before I made a rash decision—“

“Like I always do!" He butts in.

The queen ignores him and continues, “—That in turn allowed me to think, and I have come up with a plan."

“You came up with a plan and failed to inform me?" asked Viessa, turning to the Queen with her hands on her hips and looking a bit annoyed.

Evalon chuckled, “Yes, my dear friend, I am sorry for keeping you in the dark but this plan requires the utmost secrecy and the two of you have a very large role to play in all this."

“And what, exactly, would those roles be?" Myrra asked.

“I am putting Viessa in charge of the military, she will amass our forces, prepare them for war, and be on stand by if the first part of the plan should not go as, well… planned."

“Your Majesty! Are you sure that is wise?" questioned Viessa stepping forward, “Is there not anyone else you can put in charge of the military?"

The Queen turns to her protector, looking at her with an understanding yet resolute gaze, “Yes, there are others I could charge with the task, however, there are none I trust more than you. You are the only one I can rely on to carry out this task effectively."

“But your Majesty! What of your's and the Royal Consort's protection? Forgive me, but I trust no one but myself to keep you two safe!" She protested, the look in her eyes something Myrra had never seen before. Desperation.

“I understand your worries, Viessa, but I need you to do this for me. If it is of any consolation, I will double—No, triple, the guards and Avos and I will not leave the castle till this is all over. Also, do remember that both he and I are capable fighters, even if he doesn't look it."

“Hey! I can look tough when I want to!" Avos protested, only to begin to practically purr like a cat when Evalon starts to play with his hair again.

Viessa sighs, shoulders slumping as she steps back in defeat.

“It is not very consoling, no, but I will respect your wishes and do as you command my queen." She straightened her back and came to attention, right hand clenched into a fist over her heart.

Evalon waved for her protector and friend to be at ease before turning her attention on Myrra, fixing her with a gaze that told the elf to pay close attention.

“Now, Myrra, your task…" She trails off, eyes staring off into space as her brow knits in worry. Was she having second thoughts about her plan? That wasn't like her aunt, Queen Evalon always had a plan for everything, she hardly ever second guessed herself. When she did, though, it was usually because the plan put someone she cared about in mortal danger.

“Yes?" She pushed when her aunt had yet to continue.

The queen shook herself out of her stupor, gaze returning to her niece. The worry was still there, something that greatly concerned Myrra, but she looked more determined now, less scared that whatever this plan might be would backfire.

“Myrra, my dear, what I am about to ask of you is dangerous, the chance of failure is high, and the reward is uncertain. Because of this, I understand if you refuse, I will not hold it against you nor think any differently about you, do you understand?" asked the queen, her tone neutral and serious, eyes hard and lips pursed.

“I understand, Auntie," Myrra replies steadfastly. She had already made up her mind that whatever it is her aunt was going to ask of her, she would do it. It wasn't out of blind loyalty, no, that would be ridiculous and foolish. It was because the scales of justice tipped ever so slightly back into being balanced. She couldn't explain it, it was just a feeling she had, she just knew what course of actions would keep the scales balanced. To put it into the more simple terms, it was like a sixth sense, an ability that allowed her to feel into the future and see which path she should take in order to guide the scales back into being balanced.

“Then with that, here is your task. I want you to go to Dexan, to their capital city of Idota, the one that lies right on the border of the Great Plains," the queen began, sitting up straight in her thrown, “It is a massive trading hub, the city resting on the borders of three separate nations, ours, the humans, and the dwarves."

“So, what, you want me to go to Idota and discuss opening a trade deal? How would that help us?" Myrra asks, confused.

“In a sense, yes. I want you to go to Idota and, under the guise of opening a trade deal, see if you can scrounge up any information regarding the humans' sudden change of heart towards our nation," replied the queen.

Myrra raised an eyebrow, “It would be rather suspicious if we suddenly wanted to trade with them when they have started to 'secretly' make a move."

“Yes, I do see how that could be suspicious, however, sending you, a member of the royal family, would give the impression that we are, in fact, serious about a trade deal and are not wise to their machinations."

“Assuming that works, what would you recommend this fake trade deal be? It is no secret that our nation has been mostly self-sufficient for a long time."

“I do believe faking a sudden need of raw resources should work, say… arcana rich ore, it is a rare enough resource for even the humans to believe we elves have run out. And with the Sy Serine having been locked away for the past 129 years, the idea is not unthinkable."

“Ok, then assuming that all of this panes out, how exactly am I going to find anything incriminating? It's not like they are just going to let me search anywhere I please." Myrra crossed her legs and folded her arms, leaning back in the throne as she gazed at her aunt questioningly.

Evalon smiled, her eyes sparkling with pride at how her niece was taking this far better than she had expected, as well as trying to gather as much information as she could. She really had taught her niece well.

“King Ortho Dexan, ruler of, well, Dexan, prefers to make any and all trade deals with other nations personally. As such, you are more than likely going to be hosted by the king himself inside his own palace. I am confident that with the skills I have taught you, as well as your astounding gift," she gestures to the tattoo on Myrra's chest, “You will be able to accomplish this far better than anyone else."

Myrra nods while in thought. The plan wasn't terrible, not the best, but not terrible either. Though they did just receive news of Dexan's attempt at invasion, something that the humans are no doubt trying to keep secret with how small they are keeping things at the moment. There was no telling when they might strike, it could be tomorrow, or in a week, they did not have time to plan for everything. They needed something that had a chance of giving them an advantage, and it seemed the queen, someone known for their intelligence and incredible skills at planning, had deemed this to be the best course of action.

“So, you want me to go from being a diplomat to a spy? Is this a promotion or demotion, I'm having a hard time telling," Myrra smirked.

The queen, as graceful as ever, laughed softly, “I would believe this to be a promotion, considering how much trust and faith I am putting in you."

“Hmm," hummed Myrra, pretending to think it over, “Okay I'll do it, on one condition!"

Queen Evalon raised an immaculate brow, curious as to what her niece, a princess of the elven nation and heir the Sy Serine, could possibly want when she had, and could have, anything she desires.

“I'm listening," replied the queen.

“No more heels! Or dresses, or fancy makeups, or crazy hair!" She began, listing everything off on her fingers, “Oh, and no more boring meetings or aristocratic parties, or anything! I'm so tired of court life, it's unbearably dull!"

Evalon sat there wide-eyed and stunned for a moment, unable to process the fact that what her niece desires most, was to not deal with any fancy things one might expect from a princess.

The silence is broken when Avos breaks out into a fit of giggles, his laughter quickly evolving into a much louder, mirth-filled guffaw.

“O-Oh my gods! I was right! V-Viessa," he struggles to speak, clutching his stomach as he tries to control his laughter, “V-Viessa, you, hehe… Y-You owe me 20 silver shards!"

Myrra watches dumfounded as one of her oldest and bests friends, the person who guarded the royal family personally, grumbled and reached into a pouch on her belt. She dropped a handful of small, silver sticks into the open palm of Avos who snatched them away quickly and squealed in delight, more from winning the bet rather than the actual money.

“Wait… you guys betted on me? For what!" She asks incredulously.

“If you would demand to leave the court as payment for whatever, sweet-tooth, would ask of you," explained Avos with a shrug. Him using his pet name for his wife earned him a light swat and a few choice words from said wife.

“But I thought you didn't know what was happening either," Myrra said looking at Viessa accusingly.

The taller elf raised her hands in defense, “Hey, it's true! I had no idea what was going on, only that the queen had something to discuss with you and Avos wanted to make a bet with me, it's not like I could just refuse the royal consort."

Myrra sighs exasperatedly, “I suppose you're right. Now then, Auntie, what say you? Will you let me leave the court should I accomplish this task?"

Evalon sat on her throne, perfectly poised and looking like a queen should, gazing at her niece contemplatively.

“I am well aware of your dislike of the court, you have always been a rambunctious child, and it seems even now, that free spirit has not left you, I am glad," she said, pausing for a moment afterwards to appear as if she was thinking the request over. “Very well, Myrra. Do this last thing for me and I will release you from all courtly duties."

Myrra smiles and stands from the throne, walking down the dais and standing proud in front of the queen. Making a fist, she presses it to the left side of her chest, right over her heart, and bows.

“Then thy will shall be done, my queen."

Her aunt nods approvingly, “Very well then. Myrra Iyrafiel, champion of Rayla, Princess of the elven nation and heir to the Sy Serine, I hereby promote you to the position of royal spymaster. From here on out you are exempt of any past and future crimes, you also retain the right to both diplomatic and royal immunity as well as free access to any and all resources the kingdom has to offer. Do you accept?"

Myrra looks up to her aunt, determination blazing her in azure eyes. “I do so accept."