Chapter 26 – Dinner and war?!

Scheon blinked, his eyes darting between the skewers and me. "Exchange gifts?" he repeated, his brows furrowing slightly before his lips curved into a small smile. "I… I like that idea."

He opened the pouch he was holding, revealing the colorful gems inside—the same ones he had tried to give me before. Their luminous hues sparkled in the light, catching my eye. With a careful hand, he picked one out and held it toward me.

"This one," he said, his voice quiet but warm. "It's the brightest. I thought it might suit you."

I hesitated for a moment, the unease in my chest flickering again like a faint ember refusing to die out. But I pushed it aside with a deep breath and forced a smile. Extending the skewers toward him, I said, "And these are for you. I made them myself—or, well, I helped... by watching someone else cook them."

A nervous chuckle slipped out as I spoke, trying to make light of my minimal contribution.

Our hands met briefly during the exchange, and I couldn't help but feel the contrast between his steady grip and my slightly trembling fingers. Still, when I saw his expression light up as he inspected the skewers, I felt a strange sense of relief. For the first time since I'd met him, I felt like the distance between us had lessened, even just a little.

Now that I thought about it, the irony wasn't lost on me. Here we were, exchanging gifts that neither of us had truly created ourselves. Scheon had picked up the luminous gem I'd forgotten to retrieve, while I handed him skewers that Sophia had painstakingly cooked.

Still, as I watched his face light up with a genuine smile while holding the skewers, I couldn't help but feel a strange warmth replace the unease in my chest. Maybe it wasn't about who made what—it was the thought behind it that mattered. Or at least, that's what I told myself to keep from feeling ridiculous.

Suddenly, a yawn escaped me. The exhaustion from staying up all night finally caught up, making my eyelids feel heavier than usual. Scheon noticed and chuckled softly, a warm smile spreading across his face.

"Hey… Miss Mashiro," he began, his voice slightly hesitant. "Would you like to have dinner… at Lisa's? You know, if you're free." His gaze darted away from mine, focusing instead on the horse and the wagon, as though he was nervous.

I felt my cheeks grow warm. Was this… an invitation?

"Um… sure," I managed to reply, my voice quieter than I intended. My mind raced with thoughts. I'd have to make sure Catherine was okay with it, but knowing her unpredictable schedule, I had no idea when she'd even come home.

Still, as I watched Scheon's face brighten at my answer, I couldn't help but feel a small flutter in my chest. Maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad after all.

❦ ❦ ❦

"I'm home…" I muttered as I pushed the door open to Catherine's house. The blazing sun finally stopped scorching my back as I stepped inside, relishing the cooler air.

The living room greeted me with an unexpected sight. Catherine's head was resting on the table, her long red hair spilling over like a fiery curtain, partially obscuring her face.

As I walked closer, she slowly turned her head toward me, her movements sluggish and heavy. "Good morning… Mashiro," she mumbled, her voice thick with exhaustion.

I glanced at the cluttered table, covered with stacks of papers, scrolls, and what looked like an empty coffee mug. "It's already midday, though," I pointed out, raising an eyebrow. "Weren't you heading to… uh, Thal-something place?"

Catherine let out a groan, waving her hand dismissively. "Thalradia," she corrected, her voice barely audible. "And I did. I just got back an hour ago. Bureaucrats... They'll make you wish dragons were running the world." She slumped further into her chair, looking utterly drained.

I couldn't help but chuckle as I slipped off my shoes. "Well, welcome back, I guess. You look like you've been through a war."

Catherine's tired eyes flickered up at me as she weakly scanned another paper, her fingers absently drumming against the table.

"At this point, war might happen," she muttered, her voice dry and humorless.

I furrowed my brow, walking closer to her with a confused expression. Deciding to lighten the mood—or at least help her recover some energy—I made my way to the kitchen. I grabbed a clean plate and summoned the last of the tuna and octopus skewers from my inventory, arranging them neatly on the dish.

I couldn't help but smirk at the memory of Sophia's over-the-top cooking. "Turns out Sophia was right to over prepare," I murmured to myself, amused.

Returning to the living room, I set the plate down in front of Catherine. "What exactly are you working on, Catherine?" I asked, trying to make sense of the papers scattered across the table.

She glanced at the plate, and despite her exhaustion, a faint smile tugged at her lips. "Thanks," she said softly, reaching for one of the skewers. "You've got good timing, Mashiro."

I pulled out a chair and sat across from her. "So… what's all this about war?"

Catherine slid four papers across the table toward me, her tired gaze fixed on me as she bit into a piece of skewer. I picked up the papers and frowned, scanning them. Words covered most of the pages—or at least I assumed they did. I couldn't make sense of any of the text, but the pictures were unmistakable.

"They're… elves?" I murmured, tilting one of the pages to get a closer look. The images showed elves in disheveled states, their faces hollow and clothes barely hanging on their bodies. Some were shackled, their gazes filled with despair.

Catherine let out a heavy sigh as she chewed another bite. "Slaves," she said flatly, her voice tinged with bitterness.

My stomach twisted as I looked closer at the papers. The images were grim—elves with hollow expressions, their bodies bruised and their dignity stripped away. Even without being able to read the words, the pictures told a story I didn't want to believe.

"Slaves," Catherine repeated, her voice heavy as she chewed another bite of the skewer. She didn't sound angry, just… resigned.

I stared at the papers, a cold chill creeping up my spine. "Why are you showing me this?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Catherine leaned back in her chair, resting her elbow on the table as she rubbed her temple. "Because this is where the kingdom of Thalradia headed. These papers are reports. Elven territories are being raided, and their people are being captured and sold. If things keep escalating… a war between humans and elves isn't just a possibility—it's inevitable."

I swallowed hard, my appetite completely gone. "And you're involved in this… how?"

Catherine let out a deep, weary sigh, placing the plate of skewers aside as she leaned back in her chair. "A long time ago, when the Demon Lord ravaged the world, chaos consumed everything," she began, her voice laced with both nostalgia and pain. "Nations that couldn't stand each other, who had been at war for centuries, put aside their hatred to face the greater evil. We fought together. We bled together. And finally, we defeated him—300 years ago, back when I was still young, still an adventurer."

Her gaze grew distant, her fiery red hair falling over her tired eyes. "After the Demon Lord's fall, we believed the world had changed. The treaties signed after that war brought unity. For the first time in history, humans and elves, dwarves and beastkin, all lived in harmony. Thalradia, the greatest human kingdom, shared a bond with Diavara, the kingdom of the elves, that no one thought possible."

Her voice cracked slightly as she continued, her fists clenching on the edge of the table. "But in the last decade… something changed. The peace we worked so hard to build began to fray. Whispers started spreading—dark, ugly whispers. Rumors of Thalradian nobles capturing elves. Of them being sold into chains, treated as less than people. At first, it was dismissed as baseless gossip. How could it be true? How could anyone betray the trust we fought so hard to build?"

Catherine gestured at the papers scattered across the table, her voice trembling with frustration and sorrow. "But it is true. These reports prove it. The elves—their suffering—it's real. Thalradia is letting this happen. And now… now there's nothing left to hide behind."

She shook her head, her expression a mix of anger and helplessness. "If this continues, if these monsters aren't stopped… war isn't just a possibility—it's inevitable."

I stood there, the words catching in my throat. What could I possibly say to that? My fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the table as I struggled to process everything.

"What about the king?" I asked finally, my voice quiet, almost hesitant.

Catherine let out another weary sigh, her expression growing even darker. "The king has fallen ill," she said, her voice heavy with resignation. "No one really knows the extent of his condition. Some say he's bedridden; others whisper he's barely clinging to life. Either way, his strength is gone, and so is his control over the kingdom."

I swallowed hard, a chill running down my spine. "What about the royal family? His sons?"

"The first prince is in no better shape," Catherine said bitterly. "He fell ill too—around the same time as the king. No one dares speak about it, but it's strange, isn't it? Two members of the royal family struck down by illness at once?"

She didn't wait for me to respond before continuing, her words sharp with frustration. "The second prince? He's not even here. He left for the dwarven kingdom to marry into their royal family. Probably enjoying a grand feast while everything here falls apart."

"And the third?" I asked softly, though I already knew the answer wasn't going to be good. I wasn't even sure if there was a third prince.

Catherine let out a dry, humorless laugh. "The third prince? He ran away. No one knows where he is. Some say he abandoned his title; others think he's hiding. Either way, he's gone."