Chapter:12 The Valkyrie And The Princess

The Valkyrie stepped slowly toward Fen, each footfall echoing like a drumbeat in his ears. He could barely move now—only his breath, shallow and ragged, proved he was still alive.

As she neared, she paused—then lifted her hand and pulled back the hood of her cloak.

A cascade of dark hair spilled free, tousled by the breeze. A shining silver helm crowned her head, etched with ancient runes, catching glimmers of daylight. Her face, calm and eerily serene, leaned into the light. Brown eyes—deep, beautiful, and unreadable—met his.

Her lips moved softly.

"You fought well," she said, almost like a whisper carried on the wind.

"Are you ready now... for Valhalla?"

She raised her sword high, glinting, poised for the final blow—

BWAAAAAHHHH.

A booming horn cut through the alley and echoed across the city like thunder.

The Valkyrie froze mid-swing.

From the festival square, voices erupted, music halted, and a fanfare of horns played louder now, rolling like waves over the celebration.

On a raised wooden stage, the Mayor of New Mug City stood tall in her ceremonial robes, arms spread as the townsfolk turned to listen.

Then, she stepped into view. The mayor wore a tailored black tuxedo dress, lined with silver trim and subtle carvings of Norse lineage woven into the fabric—elegant yet powerful. A lightning-pin gleamed on her collar. Her short-cut platinum hair was slicked back, her sharp eyes scanning the crowd with command and charisma.

"Today, on this great day of the Festival of Feast and Thunder, we welcome not just revelers—but royalty!"

The crowd gasped and turned, eyes wide with curiosity.

"Yes," the mayor smiled, "a king and his daughter walk among us now, here to celebrate with you—among heroes!"

Back in the alley, the Valkyrie remained motionless—sword still raised above Fen, yet not falling.

Her head turned slightly, as if listening.

"People of New Mug City!" the mayor's voice rang out, crisp and amplified. "Let's not forget—we celebrate today not just for thunder and meat—but for legacy, for unity… and for the gods that shaped us!"

The crowd roared in response.

The Valkyrie tilted her head slightly, sword still in hand, then… slowly lowered it. Her blade hovered near Fen, as if she weighed the final blow—but instead, she stepped back. The distant sound of festival horns echoed across New Mug City's sunlit streets.

She gazed at Fen with calm, unreadable eyes.

"Heal your wounds. Next time, we'll settle the matter. Be ready… for Valhalla."

she said, her voice like thunder wrapped in silk. With a graceful flick of her cloak, green specks of light shimmered and danced around her. Like mist touched by morning sun, her form dispersed—not vanishing in shadow, but dissolving into glowing fragments of illusion magic. Her hooded cloak fluttered to the cobblestones, the only trace she left behind.

Fen coughed, weak but alive, staring at the cloak as it drifted gently to the ground.

Meanwhile, at the grand stage in the city square, the mayor stepped up to the mic, now.

He raised a hand as the music hushed.

"Ladies and gentlemen of New Mug City! Today, the Festival of Feast and Thunder shines brighter than ever—because we are not alone in celebration!"

The crowd leaned in, murmurs rising.

"We are honored by the presence of not just guests—but royalty. A king and his daughter have arrived to share in our festival!"

The crowd erupted into cheers.

Behind the stage, the royal attendants stood tall in black uniforms trimmed with deep navy and gold. The king turned to a nearby servant, a sharp-eyed nanny wrapped in noble silks.

"Where is my daughter?" he asked, his voice regal but tinged with concern.

The servant bowed. "She was excited for the festival, Your Majesty… She said she wished to walk among the people."

The king's brow furrowed. "Send the guards to find her—"

"No need to send for me, Father."

The crowd turned as the princess appeared from the sunlit crowd, her long dark hair catching the golden rays, brown eyes shining with life and curiosity. She wore a stunning dark dress woven with glints of silver threads, the fabric catching the light like dusk-lit storm clouds. A symbol of both nobility and pride.

She walked with effortless poise toward the stage as the crowd erupted in admiration and applause.