Preparations and Legitimacy

In the chamber of the wingless princess, the Fairy was donning—with difficulty—the gown that one of the queen's servants had given her for the ceremony: a corset, high heels, frills, a diadem, makeup… An entire ensemble meant to render her the most beautiful in the fairy realm.

Beneath the admiring gaze of her two parents and two friends, she sighed with both exhaustion and relief when the costume-maker had finished dressing her; the preparation for the throne of Sylvania was nothing short of an ordeal! Who would have thought that being queen could be so difficult? She had revised all her lessons, trained rigorously in physical challenges, and spoke several languages—both fairy and human… yet the official gowns were truly a nightmare for her; she simply could not get used to them.

 "Damn corset," she declared, weary from all its manipulations.

 "That is what you will have to wear if you become queen; you had better get used to it," replied the costume-maker, before spitting at her, "if you ever had the slightest chance of becoming so. It already vexes me that this magnificent gown should be worn for such an abomination—even as an attendant, none of the other princesses would want you…"

The Fairy's father courteously showed the exit to the well–groomed man with the perfectly combed mustache, tired of hearing him speak ill of his beloved daughter. He had finished his work and could now leave, and the man departed without further ado.

The mother then came to reassure her daughter who, despite her courteous smile, was deeply affected by all these personal attacks.

  "Whether you become queen or not is not the most important thing. What matters most is that you see through the things in which you believe. So, for now, enjoy the ceremony! It is not every day that one is the center of attention, especially for such a grand event."

The Fairy wiped away her tears and returned a genuine smile to her mother.

  "I am certain that you will be capable of becoming the new Queen of the Realm," affirmed Mina.

  "Anyway, who could resist that outrageously generous bosom," added the elf.

The dwarf elbowed him to shut him up, and Min returned the gesture; a childish quarrel ensued between the two.

Watching them argue made the wingless princess laugh, which, in turn, lifted the spirits of the gathered assembly.

At that very moment, someone knocked at the door. It was the Fairy's father, Niselios, who went to open it. Upon opening the door, he saw that it was the champion of his daughter who stood before him.

  "Good day, Mr. Niselios," greeted the young man, "is she here?"

  "Yes, of course. She is in her room preparing for the parade preceding the tournament," he replied, inviting him in.

He seated himself in a chair and waited until his protégée had finished adorning herself and donning her princess attire before presenting herself to him.

This man—who was obliged to honor the one he adored for her pride, bravery, courage, honor, and loyalty—was named Yeneltig, a fairy being hailing from a rather prestigious family in the fairy realm, though not belonging to Sylvania's elite. He had been forcibly enrolled in the military at a very young age, despite possessing the soul of an artist. He had managed to escape that service due to his frail constitution and, consequently, his sole duty—prior to being named the champion of the wingless Fairy—had been to patrol in the Haute-Ville or the Sanctuary (one might say it was a subordinate post). The free time his work afforded him he devoted to his passion, drawing, and to the girl he had fallen for since high school.

The Fairy approached him unnoticed and embraced him tenderly. Sensing this embrace, Yeneltig turned toward her, and the two shared a languorous kiss.

  "Ready?" the champion asked.

The Fairy nodded happily and stepped back to display her gown replete with ornaments and frills, dancing elegantly and performing bows to present her new ceremonial attire.

  "You look like a Winzolok tree," her beloved mocked.

Winzolok was the "Noël" of the Fairies in that realm.

Irritated, the Fairy pouted at her boyfriend, who burst into laughter at his own joke.

They completed the final adjustments of the magnificent attire of the fairy–princess, and Yeneltig escorted his beloved to the Palace de la Sylve, the residence of the queen of the Kingdom of the Fairy Forest.

At the castle, all the princesses vying for the throne of Sylvania had been gathered in the courtyard of the royal garden—a garden whose architecture, design, floral composition, and arrangement of decorations unmistakably recalled that of Versailles, one of the few vestiges of the pre–world-fusion past and the Age of Darkness to have survived the ravages of time and more-than-supernatural catastrophes.

Now assembled, the princesses exchanged appraising glances, challenging and judging one another according to the various criteria demanded by the queen and her ministers, just as their champions did likewise—evaluating the physical condition of their future adversaries, regardless of the race to which they might belong.

Nevertheless, the main attraction of this gathering—as her mother had surmised—was none other than the Fairy accompanied by her hero of a willowy frame. It was clear that she stood out in the assembly, among all those other fairies who delighted in unfurling their elegant wings displaying innumerable shimmering colors in every size and shape, all conspiring to unsettle her. Yeneltig tried to comfort her with a gentle caress on the back, yet even he was not entirely at ease in that place, despite having attended the castle on several occasions for various royal events.

Though she did not show it, the Fairy was truly envious of her winged peers; how long had it been since she ceased lamenting her birth without wings and her yearning to fly—especially since the fairy–princesses were endowed with the most beautiful wings on Earth. The only occasions on which she had ever soared were when she was with her mother in her youth, when her mother still possessed the ability to carry her aloft.

She maintained a polite smile despite the snickering, ridicule, lewd remarks, and incessant snide jabs from her rivals and their champions—even though a vast majority of the champions present were not even fairies, and they openly ogled her.

The "valiant knight" of the wingless Fairy wished to react, but when confronted by a throng of "Mister Muscles" and level‑75 master magicians who reminded him of his lowly station, he quailed and fell silent.

  "Is that really the one who is going to fight for his protected one?" whispered one champion to another.

  "What a wimp!" another declared.

Within their circle, these two were veritable pariahs—one perhaps more deserving than the other—but, alas… for the champion possessed none of the qualities of his illustrious ancestors and was considered the shame of the realm; yet the Fairy was no less so, for although she was wingless, had rose-colored eyes like the others, shared the same rosy complexion, had similarly pointed ears, and even possessed golden irises, she was, in every respect, identical to her peers – at least in their eyes and in the entire Rose City (the district within the district surrounding Java-Aleim where Sylvania's highest nobles resided, save for the ministers, the royal family—that is, those blood‐related to the current queen—and her subjects) – and of the Sanctuary (the quarter where all nobles reside, even the less prestigious) – she resembled the Grande Félonne down to the last detail.

  "Disgusting! Repulsive! Trash! Bimbo! Abomination! Anomaly! Demon! Debauched!" and many other epithets were hurled at the Fairy, meant to insult her gratuitously and unjustly.

For fifteen years she had been forced to endure these slurs, day and night without cease… For how long must she suffer? Even her dimwitted champion—supposed to honor her and elevate her among all the princesses—was utterly incapable of defending her properly.

Suddenly, the murmurs ceased with the arrival of Sylvania's sovereign, accompanied by her ministers, attendants, guards, and bodyguards. All the champions bowed their heads before the queen, and every princess paid homage to their future predecessor.

Her Majesty the Queen advanced proudly, with her entire retinue, before these young sprouts; then, upon reaching the Fairy's height, she cast her a furtive glance before resuming her walk.

"It astonishes me that this young girl is still alive after all this time…" mused the queen. Although wingless fairies are meant to live until the age of eighteen, it is rare that they reach that age due to various medical or… ideological causes. But even if she were to ascend the throne, what could she possibly accomplish in four years? She would already have had to die at least a dozen times throughout her life because of assassination attempts or the mental pressure imposed on her by other fairies and magical beings. Nonetheless, if she is indeed the Fairy of this vision… it would be quite the windfall, the queen mused with amusement.

Queen Audisélia then seated herself on her golden, summery throne—adorned with glitter, rubies, and sapphires—in the midst of her royal kiosk where she could enjoy the fine weather dispensed by the mages who kept at bay any storm that might arise during such a singular event. At her side, her ministers sat at a table upon which various parchments and documents concerning the tournament and the succession procedure were laid, while the guards encircled the kiosk, armed with their flamboyant halberds, lightning lances, and razor–sharp swords.

Their bearing, posture, and stature were on an entirely different level compared to that of the champions; they were truly worthy of standing by their queen. Coordinated, upright, and brimming with honor and courage, these men were indeed the pride and the crowning glory of the fabulous Kingdom of the Fairy Forest.

They were known as the "Saints of the Queen" – and no pun was intended! Their leader stood in front of the kiosk, his head adorned with a helmet that covered only his face, surmounted by three spikes, the largest of which was golden.

Crossing her legs slightly, she lifted her face, placing her hands before her with fingers interlaced and elbows resting on the table beside her ministers, whose expressions remained both authoritative and impassive.

  "Claimants to the throne of Sylvania… If you, my loyal subjects, are before me, it is because—as you have undoubtedly learned—I must leave the throne vacant so that one among you may claim it and govern the fairy realm justly," she explained, "but your little blonde heads must be teeming with questions that remain insoluble and necessarily demand answers, I imagine?"

The entire assembly expressed its assent with one resounding sound.

  "Of course!" exclaimed Audisélia, "who wouldn't want to know?"

  "But you should know that everything spoken here," interjected one of the ministers, "must in no way leave this room, and…"

  "On second thought," the queen interjected after a moment's reflection, "I shall say nothing."

The assembly was outraged at the change of decision by their sovereign; at a single dark look from her, all fell silent.

  "Then you truly intend to follow what we discussed?" marveled Minister Chabersburry.

The man who spoke—one of the ministers with a most unseemly, frog-like face, slightly protruding eyes, an enormous bald patch serving as a cap, and ears that were red and jutting—spoke next.

  "Indeed!" confirmed Her Majesty, "but turn that hideous face away from me," she whispered, causing her faithful minister to blush furiously, "for if I were to tell you whence comes this idea of abdicating, I could, according to my advisers, alter the course of destiny—right beside me—since to know the future and read between its lines already disrupts the balance of time. The mere fact of explaining it to you surely already affects it."

The queen rose and straightened herself like a pinnacle, puffing out her chest to deliver a solemn speech.

  "What my successor must shoulder will exceed the bounds of our simple realm," warned Audisélia, "the weight upon her shoulders will be unprecedented," she declared theatrically as she descended the steps of the kiosk and walked among the princesses and their champion, "for it is not only the future of our people that is at stake, but that of the world! I know all too well that you are far too young to face this unknown, " conceded Her Majesty of the Fairies in a dejected tone, "both you and many of those valiant boys who are your champions, with whom you have surely grown up. That is why I have made a small exception to the rules… I would have dearly liked to assume this heavy responsibility and confront this danger arm in arm on your behalf… and to plunder the kingdom's coffers even further to ensure you a 'decent' retirement, I suppose."

  "Which is precisely why the succession tournament is being held! Henceforth, I shall entrust the organization of this event to Caemgen Barskersclay, the Minister of Festivities."

After this lengthy declaration, the queen seated herself on her "royal resting chair," yielding her place to a rather slender man. He had long blond hair with golden tips, thick opaque glasses through which one could discern two enormous black circles under his eyes, and a large scar on his forehead dating back to the period when he was one of the greatest commanders of the Kingdom of the Fairy Forest.

During one of the battles in which great nations clashed with the realm, he is said to have lost his right pair of wings—condemning him to walk on the ground like the wingless Fairy and like the isolated criminals in limbo who had been deprived of the right to fly.

In any event, his sullen, tired face was at odds with his office.

He explained to these young people how the tournament would function, outlining the various rules that had been discussed and established: permission to use any type of weapon (except those of human origin) and magic, thirty–minute combats under an appointed arbiter, and no outside interference…

All this drivel was long and tedious; some wondered where the man was who their parents boasted had once touched their shoulder—or had ended up in his bed—the soldier who was once exalted among the other great heroes of this fairy nation…

The sluggishness of the queen's minister, compounded by his monotonous voice, rendered his speech difficult to follow. It was truly hard to imagine that this man could have repelled a threat so dangerous as to have been the cause of the annihilation of the former judicial island of Massilia—an island known not only for its extra–gentle soap but also for its open–air slave market from which nobles of great countries shopped.

This consummate strategist and battle–hardened warrior could not be the very man they had before them. It was even more unthinkable that he had not become the Supreme Commander of the Fairy Armed Forces—many believed that his modest origins had prevented him from attaining that title and that this was why a clown such as Mathgen had been placed in his stead—but nothing of the sort was true.

The queen knew Caemgen well. She was not deaf to the exploits of such a man; she knew what he had accomplished over the course of his career and fully intended to make him become exactly what the people expected of him.

However, upon delving more deeply into his case, she discovered something that this prestigious hero had managed to hide all his life: he was of mixed blood—a child of a fairy and a human. Under what circumstances had he been conceived? She knew not—rape or a marriage of love? Alas, before she could destroy her discovery, Mathgen's father, Don Mathgen, blackmailed the queen so that his son might secure this prestigious post—and he became the first and last person ever to do so. Out of an overabundance of kindness, she relented, but she did execute that scoundrel who had disgraced her.

From that day on, Caemgen was never the same man. That, then, was why he had become the person he was in front of those children.

Then came the moment when he broached the subject of the queen's infamous "sprain." Thus, unlike previous succession tournaments, the combats would be fought in groups of five fighters, for, in view of the events likely to occur, there simply was no time to engage in one–on–one duels of chivalry.

The rowdiest champions rejoiced at such news – the fresh excitement that the arena battles in this tournament would bring was most welcome – whereas the most traditional champions and princesses, those particularly attached to customs (owing to the upbringing imparted by their parents – otherwise, I fail to see what use young folks might have for it), disapproved of this reworking of the ancestral ritual of passing the torch. For them, it was as though the memory of their forebears were being spat upon.

Yeneltig thought to himself that his chances were doomed. Already, he stood no chance in a one-on-one duel; to face four adversaries at once… Unless he could beat them in a cowardly manner, or unless he prayed to the Good Fairy of Fortune, there was no prospect of victory—especially if the bloodthirsty crowd spurred him on to confront them.

The queen raised her hand to impose silence on the unruly throng, and everyone obeyed in no time. She had never imagined that a mere slight alteration of the rules would unleash such passions. "I can't wait to see their reactions when they learn of the second change," she thought with a yellowish smile in her heart.

She signaled to Barskersclay to continue.

"I announce to you that the combats will not be lethal..."

At that moment, everyone rose in anger, shocked by that declaration—except for the champion of the wingless Fairy, who sighed with relief. They vehemently expressed their discontent, declaring that this tournament was a farce, the worst betrayal one could commit against their predecessors who had trodden the sacred ground of the combat arena. Yet among all those present, one princess distinguished herself, having risen before the others to voice her disagreement with everything that had been said up to that point.

She was a young lady whose stature exceeded the average of the assembled princesses. She sported a long brown mane, proportional to her height, possessed a rather slender figure, had perfectly aligned though small teeth that shone with brilliant whiteness, yet she appeared to have been less favored by Nature than the Fairy. She carried herself in an arrogant manner, seemingly self-absorbed, with one hand resting on her hips and her gaze fixed furiously on the queen.

"There is too great a deviation from our succession ritual! For years you have trampled on our customs and traditions, you have been depouiling the citizens' harvests and tithes and…"

"Get to the point," the queen interrupted, already aware of what was being reproached.

I had been mocking the fact that she intended to draw from the treasury, but I must say, in her defense, that she is one of the sovereigns – indeed, perhaps the sovereign who has done the most for the realm – albeit on a modest scale, for certain matters remain undiscussed; and yet, she has many detractors because of her indulgence toward the wingless fairies, certain innovations introduced to the realm, the rendering of magical study into a more academic discipline, and other more or less contentious issues – but most importantly: that she had once been friends with a certain human… and not just any human.

Pointing an accusing finger at the Fairy, the indignant princess declared in a tone full of contempt:

"By what right can that thing dare to stand before you and participate in the tournament to become our new queen? Do you seriously intend to give her the slim chance of harboring the fragile hope of one day ruling over the Sylvania realm and our citizens?"

The Fairy, outraged that she was being attacked so gratuitously in front of everyone—and especially before the queen—rose to defend herself, but Her Majesty ordered her to remain silent, for she must be beyond reproach. Thus, she lowered her head beneath the gaze of her adversaries, who were repulsed merely by her presence; she gritted her teeth, tears welling in her eyes, frustrated at being unable to defend herself against their cruelty.

How can a girl as stupid as Mananélia Diasirée dare judge her? To be so contemptuous toward her? she must have thought.

Yet it was true that she had acquired a poor reputation simply by existing. Abandoning her exemplary conduct would bring her no good and might even further diminish her already slim chances of becoming queen—especially given the inadequacy of her "weapons"…

Queen Audisélia, exasperated by these ceaseless complaints she had endured since deciding to spare the lives of the wingless fairies, while vowing to protect the realm against various "curses" that might befall it and swearing that Sylvania would not fall because of the birth of wingless fairies emerging from royal buds that had not transformed into crêpes of flesh and viscera in hemoglobin sauce, sighed deeply. Over the years, she had come to believe that these two girls had become more of a burden to her than any curse for this blasted realm of brainless illuminati, a realm that should have perished in the mazes of inbreeding if not for la Félonne having initiated the immigration plan of all the fairies populating this world before extending it to other races… even to humans… at one time.

She slumped onto her throne, exasperated, hiding her face for a few seconds before rising again, filled with rage. In a snap of her fingers, a flash of lightning struck before her as the sky glittered in a clear, radiant blue.

"Is she really using it now?" whispered one of the guards, anxious.

"That's not good!" added another guard.

"Quiet!" their chief commanded.

She descended the steps of her kiosk, the wood of which was as pure a white as milk and draped in a red carpet woven with golden threads. She reached the level of the rebellious princess. Diasirée was tall, but Queen Audisélia was gigantic, casting an immense, terrifying shadow over her. Her very presence and bearing should have rendered the entire royal garden silent, yet clearly, she had not earned the respect due to her. The visage obscured by her own shadow accentuated her brilliant pastel eyes which, despite their beauty, appeared terrifying in the queen's orbits – after all, the Hero did not hold a monopoly on eyes that instill fear in the dark!

"Diasirée…" began the queen, elongating her name and cracking her neck, "do you know to whom you are speaking in such a vulgar manner, with that vehement tone toward me and your pathetic childish tantrum?"

Then, shaking her head with a frustrated laugh, she shrugged. The ministers and guards braced themselves for the worst: how would they manage her if she went mad once again?

Audisélia—an altruistic, philanthropic woman of boundless generosity, constrained by her duty as queen and by the rules imposed by her title—had earned the reputation of "the mad queen" – not mad like the fourth queen who adored brawls, war, and violence (like some of her predecessors), but simply mad. That suited her other sobriquet perfectly.

She exhaled deeply to calm herself, placing her hand on her heart.

"But I am good, I am virtuous, and I do not wish to be judged by our gods for having torn the heart from a child barehanded… Therefore, I shall make amends," she complimented herself with a broad smile, "and that kindness which I have shown before all of you – for you, since you are all concerned – came to me as I thought of your youth. I told myself that young buds such as you, who have yet to experience much, cannot afford to die in combat when you have no record of valor other than being future losers for your protégées," she explained, "and for them—since they would not have to risk their lives in the arena as if you were slaves meant to entertain my subjects—and perhaps, for one of you, her future subjects, I thought that having their childhood friends slain before their eyes would be far too cruel, even though for some, it is by no means their childhood friends who will fight…"

Then the queen turned toward the Fairy and declared:

"I owe you an explanation regarding this girl's legitimacy to succeed me… even though I do not recall owing you anything."

The queen slid her royal chair toward her, extended her hand, grasped the Fairy, and sat opposite the claimants and their champions, crossing her legs and launching into a monologue:

"This girl whom you so denigrate, whose name and reputation you delight in tarnishing, the object of your mediocre jeers and the subject of your stupid epithets, has proven throughout her life that she is worthy to stand among you and before me," she exclaimed in defense of her protégé, "she has shown herself to be exceedingly intelligent, capable of executing magic at a complex level – more than acceptable, given the mediocre results of many of you. Yet I concede, it has never been compulsory to master magic at your age; however, this clearly demonstrates what she strives to show you: she has redoubled her efforts to surpass you and prove that she possesses as much worth as all of you, even without wings, and she is not the only wingless fairy who has done so…"

"That is not enough for us to accept her competing on equal footing with us! Otherwise, every mage could claim noble titles. And it is not simply because she has no wings that we cast her aside!" cried a princess from the back of the audience.

"Already, the very survival of a wingless fairy emerging from a royal bud is a scandal, but if, in addition, she bears the features of the Grande Félonne, how could we possibly accept her?" exclaimed another princess.

"If she ever ascends to the throne," interjected Diasirée—though that is unlikely given her champion—it would be a repetition of our ancestors' mistakes! What further misfortune could befall our lives and this kingdom?"

She was not wrong. One might remove every conceivable flaw from her, yet her visage—resembling that of the greatest traitor of the Kingdom of the Fairy Forest—worked decidedly against her. For many, it was no trivial matter that she looked like that; it was seen as a message from the gods, indicating that she must be disposed of. No one could shake that thought, rendering her so detestable in everyone's eyes, even among ordinary citizens. She had perhaps never asked to resemble the woman who had betrayed their kingdom, yet that was unmistakably the most visible trait about her, however well one might know her.

Apparently, this resemblance had not been apparent at her birth, when her mother found her in the Birth Garden on the Java-Aleim tree; it was only when she reached preadolescence, even adolescence proper, that everyone could perceive this uncanny similarity between the two—but they continued to love her with all their hearts despite it.

The Fairy strove with all her strength and courage to dispel this resemblance and prove that she was different, working tirelessly among the kingdom's citizens to aid them in their various needs on a voluntary basis, but it was still not enough. Even the fact that she had fallen in love with Yeneltig did not suffice to prove that she was different… Yet people claimed that it was not a true love, that he was by her side merely for appearances—after all, who would want a coward like that? It was only when she designated him as her champion that they understood she truly loved him, since she was placing her life in the hands of the "last of the apprentice soldiers of the faerie army" – a false nickname indeed! This merely reflected that he was not very strong, though he was second among the last of the genteel gentlemen and gentlewomen! The very last was none other than a certain "Gaëtan," an elf as scrawny as he and just as clumsy; their only difference being Gaëtan's superior height—thanks, one might say, to elven genes.

If the Fairy represented the curse of the current queen, then the memory of la Félonne was her very own curse.

"Indeed. It is impossible to deny that she is the spitting image of la Félonne, and that this proves our legends were not mistaken about wingless fairies, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera… But in view of the efforts she has made throughout her life, I vouch for her," she declared with conviction, "and anyway, if you fear her so much, then fight with all your fervor so as not to give her the chance to become the wingless fairy who will doom our kingdom, and besides, she is not the only wingless fairy participating, so… double your efforts!"

But really, does she truly stand a chance against all those battle-hardened warriors? Audisélia began to doubt, for if she truly wished to prove her worth, her champion must be equal to her ambitions—and that, at that very moment, was clearly not the case. Was not fate itself putting obstacles in her way so that she might never ascend to the throne, for ultimately, the legend does not speak of her? Audisélia wondered, grateful that she had drawn from the kingdom's coffers…

The Fairy began smacking her cheeks with the palms of her hands, shaking her head. She turned toward her beloved and smiled at him, signaling that she had complete trust in him. The queen understood they shared the same thought, yet she was not about to give up: she was determined to become the queen of Sylvania! And it is not by capitulating that she will ever know whether she is capable or not.

Princess Paria wore a broad, radiant grin in the face of her adversaries, feigning full confidence in herself—a gesture that both infuriated them and delighted the queen. Observing that one of her favorites (whom she did not intend to favor) had not been shaken despite the obstacles arrayed before her, the queen's heart was eased.

This renewed confidence was not shared by her hero, who too sported a smile yet could not hide his anxiety and fear of facing the other champions from every race, whose predatory smiles were directed at him. He swallowed hard enough to nearly lose his breath; nonetheless, the announcement that the fights would not be to the death provided him some relief.

"If everything is understood, I ask you to please take your places in the chariots for the parade," the queen declared, pointing toward her famed chariots that had just arrived in the royal garden.

Everyone was dazzled by the beauty and grandeur of these chariots. They were a pale rose, richly adorned with decorations expressing each fairy's convictions. Royal guards, armed with decorative lances encrusted with rubies and gold glitter, stood near the chariots. Atop each chariot there was a seat for the princess and a small balcony for her champion, meant to display the latter's vigor as they stood by her side to signify that they were her right hands.

Each chariot was spaced seven meters apart to avoid any collision. They were all harnessed to mythical horses—true thoroughbreds—that, in fact, exhibited more jewels than properly trained animals. And these beasts were assisted in their task by humans brought from a prison, since the abolition of the enslavement of the other faerie races.

"They looked so tired and frightened, those poor wretched humans," the queen mused, disconcerted. "I do hope the director did not play me for a fool with the merchandise, or bring me the worst troublemakers from his penitentiary, or that the guards haven't yet 'had their fun' with them. I did tell them all that today was an important day…" she fumed, "or they'll end up calling me the 'lax queen' in the history books."

However, she saw one of the Limbo guards talking with a royal guard, claiming that one of the humans was a veritable monster – he had managed to confront the Mexacula spiders armed only with a chain of Ardésium with which they had bound him, and with his bare hands! Such a belligerent creature could not be human; perhaps it was one of their creations they called an android, robot, or something of the sort, but he had never seen any human or faerie capable of facing, with such ease and brutality, some thirty Mexacula spiders.

"Why are there Mexacula spiders in Limbo?" the queen wondered, "and a 'human' capable of defeating them unarmed? I'd very much like to meet him if he is indeed that strong…"

All the children were thrilled at the idea of climbing aboard these majestic chariots of rose quartz, which resembled sumptuous wedding cake creations. Their extravagance evoked the carnival of an ancient land, of another time, of another world. Strangely enough, the princesses had left a seat vacant roughly in the middle of the line of chariots. Under normal circumstances, they would have claimed it, relegating those at the very back, since the public was meant to follow the parade's route. The Fairy, unsuspecting, chose that seat, thinking that, after all, Queen Audisélia's plea must have made the others change their minds about her.

Approaching the empty chariot, she noticed, a few meters behind, a man smaller than the others. She could not discern his face, hidden beneath a filthy hood riddled with holes. It wasn't only his hood that was grubby, but his entire attire; she had never seen anyone so neglected – despite the need for decorum. She could not observe him clearly, for the human kept his head bowed. He truly looked out of place amidst all the preparations intended to make this day memorable. The more she observed him, the more a shiver ran down her spine. She felt nothing good emanated from this individual, yet she sensed something intriguing about him.

Her scrutiny halted abruptly when she realized that the stranger she was studying was looking back at her. She saw only one of his eyes, but it was so terrifying that it made her pale with dread, sending shivers down her arms.

She rushed to her seat, rejoining her hero who was perched on his dais. Out of breath and slumped in her seat, she was distraught by that strange sensation upon meeting his gaze. It was not fear that she felt, but something deeper—something that defied her understanding; she could not fathom what had just happened.

The feeling she experienced was… nostalgia?

"What's wrong with you?" asked Yeneltig, barely intrigued, turning his gaze aside.

"Nothing… Nothing at all…" she replied in a trembling voice.

When she finally calmed down, she noticed that the faerie princess before her was staring at her, appraising her with a fixed glare before looking ahead.

In the end, the queen's speech had changed nothing about her situation, she concluded.