Chapter 178: Love?

("While there are some people who no doubt find clown chicks enticing, I just don't see it.") Mikoto regarded the jester woman with a pointed hidden stare.

"Ah, apologies, I interrupted you lovebirds without even introducing myself,♠" Her annoying sickly-sweet voice rang out once more as she expertly pivoted on her heels, doing a small curtsy, "Jester extraordinaire, Verence!♣" She introduced.

Astrid gave a sheepish smile at the over-the-top introduction, "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Verence. Might I say that your show was simply extraordinary?"

"Oh, sweetie, you'll make me blush.♦" Verence giggled. "Now a rose for the lovers.♥" With a dramatic flourish of her hands, a white rose appeared in her hand as she presented it to Mikoto.

"You have the wrong idea about us," Mikoto corrected, taking the white rose from her. "Why a white rose, though? Am I supposed to paint it red or something?"

"What an odd thing to say.♪" Verence mused, "And not lovers? You two seem like a good match.♥"

Astrid blushed at the comment, clearing her throat as she spoke. "Thank you, though Mikoto is quite endearing, I am unfortunately promised to another."

Mikoto raised a brow at that, he could quickly come to a conclusion on just what she meant, "Arranged marriage, huh?" He deduced; she was a princess after all. When you're royalty, you hardly get to choose your would-be partner.

Astrid nodded her head, almost grimly, while Verence shook her head at the prospect. Though the gesture seemed insincere, "Oh, now that simply won't do.♣" The jester gave an exaggerated huff, her ample breasts straining against her dress as she continued. "Love is the most magnificent aspect of life. You simply can't be happy in an arranged marriage, my dear.♣"

"It's...it's not something I can merely deny. The whole of Galadriel may be at stake should I refuse this marriage," She grimly stated. "Though I wouldn't want to vex you with the needless details," She whispered with a wry smile.

"Tut, tut. Worry not, young dear! True love will certainly find you all the same.♥" Verence declared, turning her piercing yellow eyes to Mikoto.

"Will you be the brave knight to save this damsel?♪" Verence mused, leaning in far too close as her dainty slender finger touched the tip of the rose still within her grasp. As if dipped in a crimson pool, a bright red color started to engulf the pure white rose. She gave him a coy smile as she continued, "Or do your interests lie elsewhere?♪"

"Astrid doesn't need a knight," Mikoto jabbed a thumb her way, "She'll tell her dear ol' dad to can it and take that marriage proposal and shove it where the sun don't shine. Ain't that right?"

"I am very tempted to," Astrid muttered with a sheepish grin.

"Delightful.♦" Verence leaned back and clapped her hands at Astrid's semi-confirmation. "Love should not be forced; love is the enduring flame that warms the coldest heart and illuminates the darkest soul.♪"

"Quite the wise clown, huh?" Mikoto snarked.

"Jester, you adorable little thing.♪" She corrected as she gently tapped her index finger on the front of his helmet. "But it was fun talking to you, dear. Tata!♣" She gave a large grin as she pivoted on her heels, skipping away without a care.

Astrid watched her leave wryly, not exactly sure what to make of the odd jester woman. She was quite unorthodox, and gauging her intentions was all but impossible. Astrid turned to Mikoto, "She was quite odd... but nice."

"Odd would be an understatement." Mikoto murmured as he watched the jester leave. As if sensing his gaze, the woman looked back with a grin before walking with a provocative wiggle of her hips. Mikoto frowned, "Is she doing that on purpose?" He shook his head and brought his gaze back to Astrid. "There's something creepy about that chick; she sounded... fake." He stared at the rose in his grasp, a slight breeze blew past them as he let go of it. The wind took the rose, it gracefully gliding through the air.

"I think she sounded rather jolly," Astrid smiled, "Her attitude was quite infectious."

"More like annoying," Mikoto shook his head. His mind was still on that mana signature of hers. Usually, mana that refined in quality and control would belong to the most skilled sorcerer. She surpassed him in those aspects, but he would say someone like Guinevere could match that kind of quality. The jester spoke as if she meant nothing she said, save for a few words. Though currently his mind was on something else, "But is your old man seriously planning on marrying you off?"

"He is," Astrid confirmed with a small sigh. "It is to the prince second in line for the Vel'ryr throne, Avice Von Auerswald. The marriage was originally planned for Mira, but I could not let my father simply force that upon my sister. So I volunteered. With how fragile relations have been, my father thinks a war may be on the horizon should the festival come to an end."

"Guess that's a given. With Vel'ryr setting up illegal outposts on Verdantis, who knows what those animals would do. Still, were I in his position, then I would never offer up my own daughter as a solution. Honestly, what does Vel'ryr have that he fears so much?" Mikoto questioned.

Astrid gave a small smile at his words as she spoke, "Galadriel has vaster military forces, but Vel'ryr's advanced weaponry negates that fact. However, his main fear lies with Selwyn. My father fears that man too much."

"Oh?" Mikoto hummed at that, all that fear directed into one individual. "Tell you what, princess, come the festival, I'll kick the shit outta Selwyn to show daddy dearest that he isn't all that. And with me in Galadriel, I'll scare off all the other nations. 'Cause I'm pretty strong." He declared.

"Well, you have matched Selwyn once before..." She murmured in thought. "But I don't think you need to go that far just for me."

"It's no biggie. I was planning on fighting him anyway, remember?" Mikoto waved off. ("Specifically, I plan on killing him, but whatever.")

"Then I shall thank you beforehand," Astrid beamed. "I have no doubt that you will emerge victorious."

"You know it. Now let's head back before the others get pissy."

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[Galadriel]

[Capital City]

("To be honest, I'd rather not do any of this. I see no point in risking my life to face these Ancestors. Alas, as an Inheritor, others would have me believe that this be my sworn duty. I fail to understand individuals such as Dante. Why throw yourself on the burning pyre, sacrificing your own breath for the fleeting chance of saving another? Is it some primal instinct, this urge to protect? A misguided notion of heroism, a desperate clinging to the illusion of meaning? How I see it, Death is inevitable. Disease, famine, war – they claim us all eventually. What difference does it make if you die today, shielding some stranger from some falling rubble, or tomorrow, peacefully in your sleep? They will mourn you, of course. Shed crocodile tears, erect a monument of marble, and forget you within a year. Life moves on, indifferent to your sacrifice. The world keeps spinning, oblivious to the void you leave behind. So why do so many risk it? Why gamble your precious, finite existence on a roll of the cosmic dice? Preserve yourself. Indulge in the fleeting pleasures of life. Savor the sunshine, the taste of good wine, the warmth of another's skin. Let others worry about the greater good. Their blood is not your responsibility. You owe them nothing. Live for yourself. That, at least, is a certainty. Though my sister would no doubt see my views as cynical, I think I am quite a realist, I suppose.")

"Aerinon, could you cease your internal monologue?" As if reading his mind, a rather annoyed voice huffed out, standing near a fountain with an ethereal statue of the Goddess Arielle, overseer of the sea and depths and center of freedom. The statue was that of a rather short young girl, wearing flowing intricate robes with a unique crown atop her head.

"I was merely thinking, Lady Lyra." He shrugged, glancing at the Ancestor. "You seem rather stressed."

"A severe understatement," She scowled. "That damn Aelfric and Rhiannon so casually dwell within this city right at this very moment." She bit the nail of her thumb; he had never seen her so worked up. As a court mage, the woman was always calm and composed, yet the existence of this Ancestor called Aelfric seemed to negate that calm demeanor.

Aerinon pocketed his hands into his slacks as he gazed at her, his single eye almost blank. "Rhiannon is the mightiest of your kind, yes? Then how would this Aelfric compare to her in power?"

"He may as well be an ant compared to her," Lyra scoffed out, "Yet if we were to compare who was more dangerous, then I would pick Aelfric every time. Merely saying he is an insane and cruel man would be an understatement. He is… a paradox. A viper in silk. He isn't just merely cruel. He is efficient. His cruelty isn't born of rage or malice, but of cold, calculated logic. He understands the realm as a chessboard, and every living thing as a pawn to be moved, sacrificed, or elevated as it suited his grand design.

His wisdom, however, is a venomous fruit. It isn't the wisdom of a sage, guiding others towards enlightenment. It was the wisdom of a spider, weaving a web of deceit, manipulating every thread.

He sees weakness as a disease, compassion as a folly. To him, empathy was a weakness to be exploited, a vulnerability to be weaponized, that I know all too well hell I've even witnessed it. He revels in the suffering of others, not out of sadism, but out of a perverse sense of his intellectual superiority. And the most terrifying thing? He thinks nothing of his actions; he thinks them necessary. In the end, his wisdom, his cruelty, his genius… it all amounts to nothing. A brilliant mind, twisted and corrupted, serving only to bring misery and destruction. Someone like that simply cannot be allowed to plague this realm." She took a breath as she finished, a heavy scowl still present on her face.

Aerinon rubbed his chin in thought, "What could a man like him seek in the capital?"

"The spawn of Octavia," Lyra hissed out, "In the age of Gods, we Ancestors were neutral, but even so, conflict blossomed all the same. He has a fierce ire directed towards Octavia... three hundred years ago when he was unsealed, he directed that fresh hatred towards the first thing that resembled Octavia. The former princess... Alyssia was a victim to his cruel games." She frowned at the memory. "With Rowena still in the capital, she would be able to best him should they encounter, however, Aelfric is wise enough to avoid an encounter with her. He is taunting us by flaunting his mana."

"If he has ire with Octavia, then I presume our best course of action would be to find the current spawn of Octavia." Aerinon surmised, Lyra nodded at his words. "Then our next course of action is clear."

"Be on guard, Aerinon. Rhiannon has not caused any kind of commotion. Knowing her, her purpose here isn't another one of her misbegotten tests. Though you no doubt hold her interest as one of the stronger Inheritors." Lyra warned.

"What a bother," He rolled his single eye as he folded his arms, "If she could stalemate Dante in battle, then I'd rather not fight her. Though maybe we should have retrieved Maerwynn; she seems crazy enough to want to fight these Ancestors," He mused with a shrug.

"My brethren are weary of Maerwynn and Rowena, even Rhiannon. Though the former more so, Maerwynn's strength is almost comparable to that of Vagnir. She could be a trump card were she not so... unusual." Lyra remarked. "Though it is good she is currently not with us. She would cause too much unneeded destruction. For now, we'll have to do."