In a frozen expanse, where ice and snow blanketed the land in an ethereal glow, two figures faced each other.
Seated upon a majestic ice throne adorned with intricate designs and emanating a lustrous aura untouched by mortal hands, The purple-haired gorgeous woman stared at the old man who stood before her.
Mortimer Frostblade greeted with a respectful bow of his head.
“Welcome to my humble abode, Your Majesty,” he spoke with a hint of deference in his tone.
The Empress Marisandra Naiadia regarded Mortimer with indifferent yet enchanting purple eyes, her gaze piercing through the icy surroundings as if searching for hidden truths within their depths.
“Humble…?” she murmured, her voice carrying a hint of scepticism.
With a single gesture from her hand, she commanded the ice to yield, and as if responding to her will, fissures spread across its surface with delicate grace,
‘Crack, Crack’
The ice shattered, forming intricate patterns of cracks that dispersed into particles like a fleeting illusion, revealing the room beyond in all its vastness.
With the ice dissipated, the room was finally revealed… a vast expanse, larger than Aether’s current storage room.
In fact, it could fit a hundred of Aether’s storage rooms within its bounds, though it remained empty, devoid of any furnishings.
‘Shhooowwww’
Despite the dispersal of every fragment of ice, the icy throne upon which the Empress sat remained steadfast, as white vapours came out of it.
Mortimer’s brow furrowed in confusion at the Empress’s sudden action, but he refrained from voicing his concerns. Instead, he began to inquire, “What might be the re–”
But before he could finish, the Empress interrupted him with a pointed question.
“What happened to you?” Her indifferent voice reverberated through the silent mansion, its echoes reaching even the ears of Velc and Alfred, who stood trembling outside.
After the chaos had subsided, Velc made the decision to depart, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within him. However, before he could leave, the Empress forc-ahem… politely asked, that she wished to speak with Mortimer.
And of course, bound by duty and respect for their Empress, Velc brought her to his huge mansion.
Velc and Alfred remained, their nerves taut with apprehension.
“Alfred, do you think she intends to harm him?” Velc’s voice quivered with uncertainty, his heart was heavy with conflicting emotions…. He was sad at the same time happy that his father finally leaving.
“Don’t worry, Master. The Empress wouldn’t lay a hand on the Savior of a Million People,” Alfred reassured him, his expression grave and unwavering.
“….”
As they waited anxiously outside the room…. Inside, Mortimer maintained an air of feigned ignorance as he addressed the Empress’s inquiry.
“What do you mean, Your Majesty?” he inquired, his tone carefully crafted to conceal any hint of anxiety.
The Empress regarded Mortimer with an unwavering stare as he simply smiled in return.
“You look weak… What happened to you?” she asked directly, her tone carrying a hint of concern…. but was truly not.
Mortimer hesitated for a moment before responding, “Oh? That’s a little hard to sa–”
“I will listen,” the Empress interjected firmly with a smile.
With a resigned sigh, Mortimer conceded, his smile tinged with sadness as he revealed, “I sought to explore the depths of arcane beyond our comprehension, but my ignorance led to a curse inflicted by our own arcane energy. I am currently in the process of recuperating.”
The Empress scrutinized Mortimer’s expression before pressing further, her tone becoming more insistent, “And you haven’t informed us about this in the past three years?”
Before Mortimer could offer an explanation, the Empress delved deeper, her keen mind piecing together the puzzle,
“When was the last time you appeared?…Hmm… It was soon after the prophecy, correct?”
A subtle twitch flickered across Mortimer’s face, but he maintained his composed demeanour, his smile unwavering as he confirmed,
“Yes, I left to search for the person destined to become the Arcane King… hehehe…. Not realizing it is all alone… my grandson,” he added with a chuckle, a hint of pride colouring his words.
The Empress stared intently at Mortimer, who maintained a proud expression as he mumbled about his grandson.
“So, when you brought that slave? What name is it? E–”
“Ether?” Mortimer interjected, his brow furrowing in confusion at the sudden mention of the slave’s name.
“Hmm,” the Empress nodded thoughtfully before pressing on, “Who is he? And…. what is he?”
Mortimer’s proud demeanour faltered for a moment, but he quickly composed himself, replying, “His name is Ether, and I acquired him from random slave traders. As for what he is?…. He is just a village boy.”
“A village boy?” the Empress repeated, her brow furrowing in contemplation. Leaning forward, she inquired further, “Which village?”
Mortimer hesitated, uncertain why the Empress was suddenly so interested in a mere slave. “I’m not sure, Your Majesty. The slave trader only mentioned that he was from a village,” he admitted.
“Hmm,” the Empress hummed, her expression thoughtful as she considered this information. Then, she shifted her focus to the slave trader. “Tell me about the name of the slave trader,” she commanded.
“His name is Darius Ironfang, from the IronFang Gang,” Mortimer replied without hesitation.
“Hmm,” the Empress murmured, leaning back on her throne and closing her eyes, lost in thought as she pondered the significance of these revelations, her mind drifting to the enigmatic black entities.
The Empress was truly intrigued by the mysterious black entity, something she had never encountered or even heard of before.
“Do you know what he is capable of?” she suddenly asked, her tone serious.
Mortimer flinched at the unexpected question,
“P-Pardon?” he stammered, caught off guard by her inquiry.
“Do you know what he is?” the Empress pressed, her gaze piercing.
“I am not sure what you are hinting at, but he was just a slave I picked for my grandson,” Mortimer replied with a frown, puzzled by the Empress’s line of questioning, ‘Why she is going on about that Slave?’ he wondered.
“So, you picked some random person and bound him not to a temporary contract, but an eternal one?” the Empress asked, her tone tinged with amusement at the absurdity of the situation.
“Yes,” Mortimer nodded hesitantly, sensing the Empress’s scepticism.
The Empress frowned, unconvinced by Mortimer’s response. A tense silence settled between them as they locked eyes, an unspoken tension thickening the air.
“Can you show me your log?” the Empress finally asked, breaking the silence.
“I can’t,” Mortimer refused, his tone firm.
“Why?”
“I have my own rights and I wanted to protect my secrets,” Mortimer replied stubbornly, his expression unwavering.
“Even if I order you?” the Empress raised an eyebrow, her tone challenging.
“I don’t think it’s wise to say, but according to our laws, everyone has the right to safeguard their privacy,” Mortimer explained, his voice tinged with wisdom.
“I am the law, though,” the Empress smirked, a dangerous glint in her eyes.
Mortimer gritted his teeth as he felt the pressure of her authority bearing down on him… compelling him to kneel before her.
His hands flickered with sparks, as if he were on the verge of summoning his Arcane Card.
Before he could act, however, the Empress vanished from her throne, leaving Mortimer stunned. Her parting words echoed in the silence of the room,
“At the end of the month, The engagement shall occur in the Royal Castle!”
Mortimer sighed in relief at the unexpected turn of events. But then, his fury resurfaced with a vengeance,
“MY FUCKING SON, COME HERE!!!”
He bellowed, his voice reverberating throughout the entire mansion, sending Velc and Alfred scrambling into the room with trembling bodies.