Spread the word

"...Isn't this… a bit too much?" I ask Bouyd, Leah's butler, my voice tinged with unease as I stare at the outfit laid out before me.

"Not at all, Master Adam. In fact, this is rather sparse in comparison to what Mistress Leah originally wanted," Bouyd replies, his tone carrying a certain dread, like he'd just narrowly avoided a catastrophe. "It took quite the effort to convince her to choose something less... red."

"....." I don't respond immediately, my eyes glued to the ensemble. It's… well, it's fancy. A crisp white shirt with puffy sleeves that look like they belong in a theater play, topped with a sleek black vest. A silver chain loops elegantly from the collar of the vest to a pocket on its side, adding a touch of sophistication. The black pants are tailored to perfection, clearly designed to complement the rest of the outfit. It's undeniably sharp, but it screams "formal" in a way that makes me want to squirm.

"Now, Master Adam," Bouyd continues, stepping closer, "it's important that you know how to wear this outfit properly. If you don't mind, I'd be happy to assist you." He gives a slight bow, his tone patient and polite.

"Oh, sure…" I reply, scratching the back of my neck awkwardly. Then a thought strikes me, and I glance at him. "Actually, Bouyd, right? Can you do something for me?"

His expression shifts, curiosity flickering across his face before he smiles warmly. "Of course, Master Adam. So long as it doesn't take too long—after all, you'll be leaving for the banquet soon."

I nod, trying to sound casual but feeling a little excited about my idea. "Can I have a wand? Or something like one? You know, like what a mage or wizard would carry. Considering I'm a mage and all, it'd feel… right."

Bouyd's eyes widen slightly at my request, as if he hadn't expected it. But then his gaze softens, and his smile turns genuine. "Absolutely. I was waiting for a moment like this."

His tone carries a hint of enthusiasm now, and he quickly straightens up. "Please, wait just a moment, Master Adam." Without another word, he turns on his heel and strides off, leaving me standing there with the outfit still mocking me from its perch.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair as I glance at the clothes again. "Guess there's no getting out of this…" I mutter under my breath, but a small smile creeps onto my face as I picture myself with a wand. At least that part will be cool.

"Cool, huh? Heh… wonder when the last time I thought something like that was cool," I mutter quietly to myself, the words tinged with a faint, almost nostalgic amusement.

The thought lingers for a moment before I let out a small sigh. Sadly, the wand isn't just for show or aesthetics. It's something I've been wanting to experiment with for a while now. If my theories are correct, it might help focus my magic.

My fingers twitch at the idea, anticipation creeping in. Though, to be fair, every attempt I've made using random sticks, broom handles, or whatever else I could get my hands on has ended in disaster. Maybe that's because those things weren't designed for magic.

As the thought fades, my attention drifts back to the outfit on display. The intricate details of the vest, the shimmering chain, and the absurd puffiness of the sleeves hold my focus as I absentmindedly study the ensemble. I'm so lost in thought that the sound of approaching footsteps nearly startles me.

The distinct, measured rhythm of Bouyd's gait breaks the silence, and I glance up just as he enters the room. His hands are occupied with a surprisingly long, rectangular box, polished and slightly worn at the edges, as though it's been stored away for some time.

"Here you go, Master Adam," Bouyd says, his tone light but holding a trace of formality. "This is something Mistress Leah prepared personally some time ago but never got the chance to give to you."

I blink, curiosity piqued as he steps closer and carefully holds out the box. It's about as long as my arm, and for a brief moment, I wonder if it's a cane or something equally mundane. But when Bouyd opens the lid with a small flourish, the sight inside takes my breath away.

Resting within the box is a wand—a proper wand.

The main body is crafted from a wood that gleams faintly under the light, its surface smooth yet radiating an odd, natural freshness, as though it was carved only yesterday. Running along its length are intricate metal accents, woven seamlessly into the wood like veins of silver, giving it a striking balance of elegance and strength.

The handle is a masterpiece of its own, designed with carved symbols etched deep into the silver grip. The symbols seem to shimmer faintly, catching the light in a way that feels almost alive. It's clear that this isn't just an accessory—it's a tool, a weapon, and a work of art all at once.

"Here," Bouyd says, lifting the wand from its velvet-lined box with deliberate care. "Give it a try. See how it fits."

He extends the wand toward me, holding it delicately, as though passing over something precious.

I reach out, my fingers brushing against the cool metal of the handle.

"..."

I say nothing, my attention fixed entirely on the wand resting in my hand. The weight surprises me—it's heavier than I expected, solid and substantial, as if it's carrying more than just its physical form.

Without much thought, I give it a cautious swing. The motion feels natural, almost instinctive, but the sudden movement catches Bouyd off guard. His eyebrows lift slightly in surprise, though he says nothing, merely observing me with his ever-patient gaze.

I wonder…

A flicker of curiosity sparks in me, and I decide to test it. Drawing in a steady breath, I channel a small amount of magic into the wand—the same amount I'd normally use to create a tiny flame, no larger than a fingernail.

The response is… unexpected.

The magic flows slower, taking far longer to gather and concentrate than it does when I use my hands. It's almost as if the wand resists the energy, demanding patience and precision. I wait, feeling the magic coil tightly within the wand, building with a focused intensity.

When the flame finally manifests at the tip, I can't help but blink in surprise. It's no longer the modest flicker I'm used to. The flame is sharper, brighter, and far more concentrated. Its edges are clean, almost unnaturally precise, and its size is notably larger—closer to a small torch than the delicate ember I had intended.

Hmm…

I hum thoughtfully, tilting the wand to observe the flame from different angles. The light dances along the metal accents, casting faint patterns across the room. The flame is undeniably more powerful, but something feels different—controlled, yet detached.

With a small nod to myself, I cut off the magic. Normally, the flame would vanish almost instantly once I stopped feeding it energy. But as I watch, it lingers, holding its shape stubbornly.

1… 2… 3… 4… 5.

Five whole seconds pass before the flame finally flickers out, leaving behind only the faintest wisp of smoke. I lower the wand, rolling it thoughtfully between my fingers.

So that's the difference, I think to myself. The wand slows the process, but the result is more refined, more stable—and it seems to hold onto the magic longer, even after I release it.

"Ah!" Bouyd's voice cuts through my thoughts, bringing my attention back to him. "I nearly forgot—if you're to take the wand with you, you'll need somewhere to store it when it's not in use."

He turns away, his hands rummaging through a nearby chest. "Now, where did I put it…? Ah, here we are!"

With a small exclamation of triumph, he pulls out a belt and holds it up for me to see. It's simple yet well-crafted, made from sturdy black leather with polished silver accents that match the wand's design. On one side is a wand holder—a small loop reinforced with metal, designed to keep the wand secure while still allowing for quick access.

"It's a belt with a wand holder," Bouyd explains with a touch of humor in his tone. "Though it can be used for other things as well, should the need arise."

I take the belt from him, running my fingers over the smooth leather. It's clear that as practical as it is, its design wasn't neglected; the craftsmanship is meticulous, every stitch precise. Sliding the wand into the holder feels seamless, as though the two were made for each other.

I fasten the belt around my waist, adjusting it slightly for comfort. The wand sits snugly at my side, its weight a reassuring presence. For the first time, I feel… complete, like a mage should.

"Thank you, Bouyd," I say, my voice quiet but sincere.

He bows slightly, a small smile on his face. "Of course, Master Adam. Now, shall we prepare for your grand appearance at the banquet?"

________________________

"ready? this will be your first offical debute as my persnal mage and bodyguard... adam i need you to be on your best behaver.. i know you hold some resentment twords me still but.." before queen leah can finish i rais my hand and say" dont worry....i can handle it" witch makes leah sigh and look forward" wish you wouldhave worn more red" leah said inder her breath witch made bouyd who was preparing the carrige shake his head. ( so this is it.... ill be interacting with people... with ich people... ill have to talk walk and do other things.... oh god just kill me id rather die then talk to people..." i think to myslef makeing usre not to show any of it to leah... we enter the carrige.

_________________

"All welcome Her Majesty, Queen Leah, and Adam Terra!"

A muffled voice rings from the other side of the grand doors. My heart pounds in my chest as they slowly creak open, revealing the glittering banquet hall beyond. The moment we step inside, the atmosphere hits me like a truck.

Eyes. So many damn eyes.

Every single person in the room is staring at us, their gazes dissecting, studying, judging. Nobles in elaborate attire stand in small clusters, their murmurs hushed but palpable, and the gleam of chandeliers above reflects off the endless sea of polished jewelry. Despite the oppressive scrutiny, I force my face to remain neutral as I enter beside Leah.

Leah, of course, is unfazed, her regal poise unshakable. Without looking at me, she leans in just enough to speak softly. "Adam, go mingle. Talk to some people, get yourself known, and start building connections. In about thirty minutes, I'll come find you. There are some… special targets of interest I want you to meet. Understood?"

"Yes, I got it, boss," I reply, a sly smile creeping onto my lips as I emphasize the last word. It's a small victory, exploiting the loophole I'd found in the curse Leah had placed on me.

She doesn't acknowledge my cheekiness, instead gliding off toward a group of nobles who immediately bow as she approaches. Meanwhile, I take a deep breath and begin to navigate the crowded room, careful to maintain my posture and keep my guard up.

I haven't taken more than a few steps when a well-groomed man steps into my path. His presence demands attention—his coat is adorned with medals, and his graying hair is neatly combed, accentuating the sharp, square lines of his scarred face.

"Ah, excuse me, young lord," he says, his voice rich and practiced. "You must be the one who entered with the Queen, no? Might I know your name?"

"Adam Terra," I reply, mustering my most cordial tone. I lift an imaginary glass of wine, adding with a grin, "The pleasure's all mine!"

The man chuckles heartily, clearly amused by the gesture. "I must say, I like you already. Berterg Halger, merchant by trade." His sharp eyes flick briefly to the wand secured at my belt. "And by the looks of it, you're a mage."

"Indeed. It's a pleasure to meet you, Berterg." I dip into a gentle bow, careful to bend only my neck, keeping my back straight as Leah had taught me. Straightening, I remove the wand from my belt and tap it lightly against the rim of his wine glass. A small flame bursts forth, igniting the wine momentarily before it extinguishes itself, leaving the liquid untouched.

Berterg stares at the glass, intrigued, before swirling the wine and taking a sip. "Impressive," he remarks, his tone thoughtful. Then his eyes narrow slightly as he asks, "Say, Lord Adam… I've never heard of any noble family by the name of Terra. Might I inquire about its origin?"

"It's not a family name," I reply smoothly, keeping my expression neutral. "It's the name of a place—my homeland, if you will."

The moment the words leave my mouth, Berterg's eyes widen, and his posture straightens sharply.

What… was that? Did I say something wrong? Oh, God. What did I do? Panic claws at the edges of my mind, but I force myself to remain composed.

"Well, Berterg," I say quickly, bowing again to excuse myself, "the night is young, and I'm sure you have many important people to speak with."

As I turn and walk away, my thoughts spiral. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What did I do? Why did he react like that?! I clench my fists, suppressing a sigh as I move through the crowd, making polite conversation with others while internally berating myself.

Unbeknownst to me, Berterg wastes no time spreading word of our exchange. The young boy who bore the name of a place, not a family—something reserved only for royalty. Princes and emperors, specifically. Soon, whispers fill the hall, and all eyes subtly shift toward me, their gazes now tinged with curiosity and speculation.

On the far side of the banquet hall, Leah catches the murmurs with a faint smirk. The noble she's speaking to doesn't notice the glint of amusement in her eyes as she sips her wine.

"Interesting," she murmurs under her breath. As I predicted. Though… to think he's an emperor's son… it all begins to make sense.

The noble, a pompous man in an opulent crimson coat, chuckles at something she says. "You're too kind, Your Majesty. A rare treasure, truly, to have such insight into the workings of the kingdom."

Leah's smile doesn't falter as she responds, her voice velvet-soft yet razor-sharp. "And it's even rarer to find someone so willing to display such… openness. One might think you'd care more for discretion, given your—ah, unique position."

The man's expression falters for a split second, his laugh turning uneasy. "Y-you misunderstand, Your Majesty. I only meant—"

"Of course," Leah interrupts smoothly, her tone sweet but laced with subtle venom. "After all, words spoken in jest are just that… jest. No need to worry, dear Count. I would never hold something so trivial against you."

He pales slightly, bowing low. "You are most gracious, Your Majesty."

Leah watches him retreat into the crowd, a quiet chuckle escaping her lips. Her games of doublespeak were feeding her darker side well, but she wasn't here to toy with lesser nobles. No, she was seeking someone special tonight. Someone worthy of her true attention.

Her eyes scan the room, briefly landing on Adam, who's attempting to maintain his composure amidst the growing interest in him. She smirks.

Yes… everything is proceeding as I had hoped.

_______________________

"Say, Lord Adam… what is your homeland like?"

I turn toward the voice, expecting another merchant or noble looking to pry for gossip or status. Instead, my gaze lands on someone different—someone who stands out even in this sea of grandeur. His sharp silver eyes meet mine, and I feel their weight immediately, as though they're stripping away every layer of pretense. His clothes are deceptively simple yet clearly of the finest quality, every thread speaking of understated wealth and power. The most surprising detail? A wand strapped to his belt, displayed openly.

"Ah, my apologies, my lord. The name's Duke Nilguard D. Fug of House Fug," he says with a respectful bow.

I blink, quickly masking my surprise. A duke? Isn't that, like, really high up in the noble hierarchy? Great. No pressure.

"Oh, no need for apologies, truly. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Duke Nilguard," I say, keeping my tone professional. My earlier mishap with Berterg is fresh in my mind, and I'm determined not to repeat it. "If you're curious about my homeland, please feel free to ask, and I'll do my best to answer."

Nice. Stalling tactic for the win. Good job, me. Thanks, me. You're the best, me.

The duke chuckles, his laugh warm yet somehow calculating. "Intriguing. Then tell me, what was your home like?"

"My home?" I pause, searching for the right words. Talking about Earth feels like walking a tightrope—I want to be honest but vague enough not to raise too many questions. "It was… warm, rather loud at times. Filled with lights and tall spires that reached into the skies."

I try to sound poetic, obscure, and totally not out of my depth. God, I hope I don't sound like an idiot.

The duke's eyes widen ever so slightly—a reaction so subtle it might have gone unnoticed by anyone else. His black-and-white hair, tied neatly in a knot at the back of his head, sways gently as he leans forward with interest.

"Sounds like a remarkable place," he says, his tone thoughtful yet layered. "It must have been quite the journey to come here."

His words carry a strange weight, as if they hold a double meaning I can't quite grasp. Unaware of his layered intent, I smile genuinely. "Yes, it certainly was… far bloodier than I ever wanted it to be," I admit, my voice dipping into a self-deprecating tone.

The duke's smile remains, but behind his calm facade, his mind races. Blood? What could he mean? Political turmoil? A coup? Was he caught in a war, forced to flee? Or is this a veiled threat—warning me to tread carefully, lest my blood be spilled instead? And that wand he displayed earlier… The Queen wouldn't have brought him unless he was special. Is he… a self-taught mage?

The thoughts swirl in Nilguard's mind, but outwardly, he remains composed. "Say, my lord," he says, a hint of boldness creeping into his tone. "I see you, too, are a mage. Might I trouble you for a demonstration of your capabilities?"

The request catches me off guard, but his genuine curiosity and the fact that he's a fellow mage pique my interest. "Sure!"

Sure?! That's all you're going to say?! the duke screams internally.

I take out my wand, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement. Drawing on my magic, I create a flame—a small, controlled blaze hovering just above the wand's tip.

The duke watches intently, his sharp eyes analyzing not just the flame but the flow of magic into the wand. Impressive, but rudimentary. The Queen wouldn't settle for someone with such basic skills. He must be hiding more.

Encouraged by the duke's apparent interest and feeling a rush of confidence, I decide to push further. I focus, pouring more magic into the flame. It grows larger, brighter, shifting and morphing until it takes on a rough humanoid shape. The flickering figure vaguely resembles the duke himself.

The duke raises an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. Young, inexperienced… yet capable of this? How terrifying.

The duke's lips curl into a faint smile. "Impressive, Lord Adam. Allow me to return the favor."

He reaches for his wand, the motion fluid and practiced. With a few intricate movements, the liquid from nearby wine bottles and glasses begins to rise, floating gracefully into the air. The shimmering crimson and gold hues swirl around us, forming a translucent dome.

I watch, mesmerized, as the liquid shifts and expands. Suddenly, the dome begins to break apart, droplets cascading downward. I flinch, instinctively bracing for the splash, but when I open my eyes, I see… snow. The wine has transformed into delicate snowflakes, drifting gently to the ground.

I stare in awe, unable to hide my amazement. "That was… incredible," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

The duke bows slightly, his expression calm but satisfied. "You are too kind, Lord Adam. A demonstration is only as good as the audience that appreciates it."

As the snow melts into nothingness, I can't help but feel a newfound respect for Duke Nilguard—and a renewed determination to hone my own abilities.

On the other side of the hall, Leah watches the exchange with a faint smirk. Good. Let them see him. Let the rumors spread. Let the pieces fall into place.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the noble beside her—a stout man with an overinflated sense of importance. "Your Majesty, it is remarkable how you've managed to—"

"Remarkable, indeed," Leah interrupts, her tone as sweet as honey but carrying an edge sharp enough to cut. "I suppose one might say it's akin to juggling knives. A slip could be… catastrophic, wouldn't you agree?"

The noble pales slightly, his bluster deflating. "O-of course, Your Majesty. Your skill is unparalleled."

Leah sips her wine, hiding her satisfaction. The game of doublespeak was as much an art as it was a weapon, and tonight, she was wielding it masterfully.

_______________

(Holy crap, that actually worked! How did I do that? Well, I know how I did it, but man, that was awesome. I totally redeemed myself! Hell yeah, me—high five!) I hold back a grin, barely managing to keep my composure. (Wait. I'm high-fiving myself in my head. God, my therapist would have a field day with this. "Adam, why do you feel the need to validate yourself through imaginary high-fives?" Ugh. Good thing they're not here.)

I glance back at Duke Nilguard, who seems genuinely engaged, even… impressed? He's nodding slightly, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp. Honestly, I like this guy. He's got that whole "mysterious mentor" vibe going on—silver eyes, dramatic hair, the works. Also, he made wine turn into snow, which is insanely cool. Yeah, I've decided: this dude is awesome.

Meanwhile, I'm blissfully unaware of the silent chaos erupting in Nilguard's brain.

Duke Nilguard's inner thoughts: (What is this boy? A prodigy? A trickster? A walking disaster? No… he's too genuine. But perhaps that's the greatest trick of all. Could he be playing the long game? Feigning inexperience while quietly observing and assessing his opponents? The Queen wouldn't tolerate a fool, after all. And that wand work… crude yet deceptively powerful. Like a diamond in the rough. Or a flaming catapult. Either works.)

"Say, Lord Adam," Nilguard says, his voice as calm as a still lake despite his mental storm. "I must admit, your demonstration was most impressive. Few can command such creativity with their magic."

"Thank you!" I reply, beaming. (Yes, he likes me! I'm making a good impression! Take that, stupid fancy nobles from earlier!)

"Tell me," Nilguard continues, his tone casual but his words carefully chosen, "what inspires you to wield your magic the way you do?"

(Oh, crap. This sounds like one of those deep, philosophical questions. Think, Adam, think! Say something smart!)

I clear my throat, pretending to be thoughtful. "Well, Duke Nilguard, I believe magic should… reflect the user's personality. You know, like an artist with their paintbrush."

(Nailed it. That sounded super wise. Totally nailed it.)

Nilguard raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "A fascinating perspective. And quite fitting, given your… unique approach."

(Wait, was that a compliment or a backhanded insult? Oh, who cares—he's still smiling. I'm taking it as a win.)

As we continue talking, I start to relax. The duke genuinely seems to enjoy our conversation, and honestly, it feels nice to talk to someone who doesn't immediately look at me like I'm some kind of exotic curiosity—or a walking fire hazard. I can't help but feel a little smug about how well this is going.

On the edges of the banquet hall, however, the other nobles are less at ease.

Random Noble #1: (Who is this Adam Terra? The Queen's new mage? But he seems so… young. And he's clearly not of noble lineage. How intriguing.)

Random Noble #2: (Did he just say his homeland is "filled with lights and spires reaching the skies"? Where on earth is that? Or perhaps… not on earth? No, impossible. I must speak with Nilguard about this.)

Random Noble #3: (I swear, if one more mage shows up and makes me look incompetent, I'm switching careers. Maybe farming. Do farmers have to deal with wands?)

Meanwhile, on the far side of the hall, Queen Leah is playing her own game. Her lips curl into a subtle, knowing smile as whispers about Adam ripple through the room.

Leah's inner thoughts: (Ah, the beauty of Adam's unintentional chaos. The nobles don't know whether to be awestruck or terrified. Perfect. Just as I planned. Though, to think he actually managed to impress Nilguard… fascinating. Perhaps there's hope for him yet.)

"Your Majesty," a rotund noble pipes up beside her, "I must commend you on selecting such an… unorthodox companion. It's quite bold of you."

Leah turns to him, her smile as sharp as glass. "Bold? Perhaps. Or perhaps it's simply a matter of knowing when to embrace a wild card. Tell me, Lord Stanton, how well do you play cards?"

The noble falters, clearly unsure if he's being complimented, insulted, or threatened. "Ah, well, I dabble, Your Majesty…"

"Do you?" Leah muses, taking a sip of her wine. "Then you'll know the thrill of a game where the stakes are high, and the outcome… unpredictable."

Stanton swallows hard, his face pale. "O-of course, Your Majesty."

Leah's smile widens ever so slightly as she turns her attention back to the room. (Amateurs. All of them. But tonight is just the beginning. Let the whispers grow. Let the game unfold.)

________________________

The moment the Pope's voice broke through the clamor of the banquet hall, Leah's expression tightened. The familiar tone, rich with insincerity and self-importance, was one she knew all too well.

"My! If it isn't Her Majesty the Queen," Pope Ferdinand boomed, his voice resonating across the room. He stood there, an older man with a bloated figure, dressed in the traditional garb of the Church of Ferra. The gold on his robes gleamed, but his smile was anything but warm.

Leah's eyes narrowed slightly, but her smile remained outwardly pleasant, a dangerous mask she had perfected over the years. "Well, if it isn't the Church," she replied, her voice soft but laced with a biting undertone. "Pope Ferdinand, how kind of you to grace us with your presence."

The words seemed innocent enough to an outsider, but to anyone familiar with Leah's true nature, it was clear. How dare you show up late to a charity banquet you organized? Have you no shame?

Ferdinand, on the other hand, responded with a laugh—loud and jolly, his ample belly shaking with every exaggerated motion. His eyes twinkled with a thinly veiled smugness. "Your Majesty, you seem tired. Perhaps you should rest? You've been standing quite a while."

Leah's smile didn't falter, but her tone shifted just a hair, turning sharper. "Tired?" she echoed, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Not at all. Though if we're talking about exhaustion…" Her eyes flicked briefly over the Pope's hunched form, noting the age lines that had only deepened over the years. "I believe it's time for you to take a vacation, Pope Ferdinand."

Her words, though veiled in the politeness of a public conversation, cut deeply. They were a challenge, an accusation—You're ancient, and you should be dead by now.

Ferdinand's chuckle was as loud as ever, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Ah, Your Majesty," he said, his voice taking on a mockingly sympathetic tone. "How I wish to. But as you know, the will of the Goddesses must be followed to the letter. And as of now, I'm the one making sure it's done properly." His eyes flickered with a subtle flash of challenge, a warning not to push too far. "You may be the Queen, but I control the Church. You're not the only one with power here."

Leah hummed as if in deep thought, an innocent expression playing on her face, though her mind was calculating the next move. She tilted her head just slightly, eyes gleaming with mischief, before she spoke. "Say…" she began, her voice dropping low and conspiratorial. "I heard you ran into a bit of trouble a few days ago…"

The Pope's demeanor faltered for a brief second, the jovial mask slipping momentarily. His smile vanished, replaced by a subtle tightening of his jaw. He'd been cornered, and he knew it.

Leah could feel the tension shift, a thin thread of satisfaction winding through her chest. The Pope, for all his bluster, had just revealed a crack in his armor. But he wasn't one to let a weakness show for long.

"Not at all," he replied, the words leaving his mouth with an edge that suggested he was far less calm than he appeared. "Just some pests in a small house nearby. Nothing to concern you, Your Majesty. I'll be sure to take care of them." His eyes briefly flickered, a flash of something unreadable passing over his face.

Pests? Leah thought, smirking inwardly. We both know that's not the full story, Ferdinand. I've heard more than enough whispers to know it was more than that. But then again, you've always been skilled at sweeping things under the rug.

But Leah wasn't finished. She had more to say. "On the topic of trouble," she mused, her smile widening ever so slightly, "have you yet to marry, Your Holiness?" Her voice was sweet, but the words felt like a poisoned gift.

The Pope stiffened, the question clearly one he was ill-prepared for. The smile that had played at his lips turned into something more forced, almost strained. "Marry?" he repeated, as though the very concept was beneath him. "Age doesn't matter, Your Majesty, so long as the Goddesses will it. And as of now, I am the one who ensures their will is followed."

But Leah's eyes sparkled with something far darker as she took a slow, deliberate step forward. "Ah…" she drawled, "you prefer them younger, I thought?" She allowed the words to hang in the air for a moment, each syllable calculated, as though savoring the sting. "Shouldn't you be chasing after children by now, Pope Ferdinand?"

The Pope's eyes narrowed, his hands twitching as if he wanted to reach for his ceremonial staff. His mouth opened, but the words caught in his throat. It was the first time in this exchange that he was truly caught off guard.

"Age doesn't matter," he muttered, recovering somewhat. "Not when the Goddesses are involved. The will of the divine cannot be questioned, Your Majesty. And as long as I breathe, I will ensure it is done as they intend."

Leah tilted her head, her smile widening further. "I'm sure you will," she purred, "but I'll leave you to it, Your Holiness."

There was no need for further words. Both of them knew the unspoken truth—their war of words was far from over. The Pope had his plans, and Leah had hers. But neither was in any rush to end this game just yet.

As Leah turned and moved away, the subtle crackle of tension lingered in the air between them, each knowing that this was merely the beginning of a far deeper battle.

____________________________

"That was..." Adam started, but the words faltered on his tongue as he tried to digest the odd tension that had just passed between Leah and the Pope.

Nilguard, who had been observing the entire exchange with the Queen, chuckled knowingly. "Yeah, that happens quite often, I'm afraid," he said with a wry smile. His silver eyes gleamed, a hint of amusement flickering behind them. "We should go talk to her; she gets in a rather violent mood after she talks to Pope Ferdinand."

Adam, who had barely been able to keep up with the verbal sparring, raised an eyebrow. "Violent mood?"

Nilguard just gave him a knowing look, his expression more serious now. "You'll see," he said cryptically, before motioning for Adam to follow him. The Duke walked with a confident stride, leading Adam through the crowd as they approached Leah, who was standing near the balcony. Her face was the picture of regal composure, but Adam could practically feel the storm of rage brewing beneath her calm exterior.

As they drew near, Nilguard's face lit up, and with a mischievous grin, he slowed his pace. "Your Majesty the Queen," he declared loudly, his voice carrying through the room. He swept into a deliberately slow and exaggerated bow, his movements comically grand.

Leah didn't miss a beat, rolling her eyes, but her lips curled into a thin smile. "Nilguard, it's nice to see you too," she said, her tone playful yet sharp. "Have you gotten older? I hope you're not overworking yourself."

They both laughed—a shared, knowing laugh that spoke of long history and perhaps more than a few secrets between them. Adam, standing awkwardly to the side, couldn't help but notice the familiarity in their banter, the comfortable ease they had with one another. Oh, they definitely slept together before... drama! he thought to himself, watching them with growing curiosity.

Trying to break the odd tension that had settled over him, Adam cleared his throat and spoke up. "I, uh, hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said, though his words came out unsure.

The moment his voice broke through the laughter, both Leah and Nilguard glanced at him, and for just a heartbeat, their eyes exchanged a silent, shared understanding. Then, as if on cue, they both snickered, their amusement barely contained. Leah's eyes twinkled with mischief, while Nilguard raised an eyebrow, a playful grin curling at the corners of his mouth.

You think I'd do it with someone like that? the look between them seemed to say, and in that instant, Adam had the unsettling realization that they both found his discomfort... well, amusing.

Adam couldn't help but narrow his eyes at them both, clearly unamused. "By the way," Leah interjected, as if the odd moment had never happened. "Nilguard, this is Adam Terra." She emphasized the last part, her voice playful, though there was a slight edge to it that suggested she was making sure to remind Nilguard of their close alliance. "And Adam," she continued, turning to the young man, "this is Duke Nilguard—one of the Empire's best magicians and the royal court magician." She raised her glass in a small toast toward the Duke, who graciously bowed in response.

Adam, still feeling a bit like a fish out of water, nodded politely but had no idea how to follow up. The Duke was intimidating, to say the least, and the atmosphere was far from comfortable. But then, Nilguard's next words hit like a splash of cold water.

"I didn't think you had anything in common with the Pope," Nilguard remarked casually, his eyes flicking from Leah to Adam, his smile bordering on the sarcastic. "But, I guess I was wrong."

Leah's response was immediate, and the change in her demeanor was subtle but sharp. Her previously polite smile faltered, and her eyes darkened ever so slightly. "Not funny," she said, her voice colder now, with a thinly veiled threat beneath the surface. "Do better."

But then, her voice dropped even lower, carrying a clear warning. "If you ever so much as imply that I'm in any way similar to that pig—" Her eyes flashed with something darker, more dangerous. "I'll have you hanged."

There was a long moment of silence where the air between the three of them seemed to grow thicker, as if the tension from Leah's words were forming a weight on the room. Nilguard, however, only laughed, a deep chuckle that vibrated through his chest. The tension didn't seem to faze him at all.

Adam, for his part, was thoroughly confused—and perhaps a little horrified. "I... I feel like a third wheel here," he mumbled under his breath, his discomfort palpable. He was clearly out of his depth, trying to make sense of the strange dynamic between the Queen and the Duke.

But then, he added, "Also... ew, no thanks." He made a vague motion with his hands, as though to suggest that he really, really didn't want to imagine anything further involving Leah and the Pope.

Leah blinked in mild surprise, then glanced at Nilguard. To Adam's shock, Nilguard's lips twitched, his gaze turning to the young man with something almost... approving. "In that, we are alike, Adam," Nilguard said with a smile that was equal parts cryptic and amused.

Leah, however, did not seem as pleased. Her face remained a study of unimpressed neutrality, her lips pressing into a thin line. But underneath it, there was something else—perhaps a begrudging respect for Adam's bluntness. It was hard to say for sure.

Adam, still trying to figure out the layers of this conversation, just shot a look at both of them and sighed. "This is going to be a fun evening," he muttered, but neither of them seemed to hear him, caught up in their own unspoken rivalry.