The Arcwright Heir Arrives in Valenthrial

He was at a banquet. A royal event.

The Elven Kingdom.

Which means…

Her breath hitched.

"He's on the elven continent."

A place that no one thought he'd ever reach.

A place that, as far as she knew, should've been impossible for him to enter.

And yet, he was there.

Not as a prisoner. Not as a refugee.

But as a guest. A dance partner to the Crown Princess.

By the time the servant returned with the details, Eirlys was already packing.

"My lady, the banquet was held at—"

"The Elven Capital, right?"

The servant blinked. "Y-Yes."

Eirlys strapped a dagger to her thigh and threw on a travel coat.

"Prepare the fastest airship we have. I leave in twenty minutes."

The servant paled. "But, my lady, you can't just—"

Eirlys whipped around, her voice sharp.

"My brother is alive. Do not tell me what I can and cannot do."

The servant flinched, then quickly bowed.