But clash there was none. As the final syllable of Shantotto's spell echoed, the world around them seemed to hold its breath. Then, with a sound like a thousand stones shattering, the imposing gates before them shredded. Melting sand, infused with an eerie orange glow, cascaded down, engulfing the knights in an embrace as the gates melt away.
Shantotto, a mischievous glint in her eyes, turned to Adachi, her voice now a low chuckle. "See, Yanas? A little showmanship goes a long way. Now, shall we dance with the king in his own chambers?"
She said as she lead the way towards the throne hall.
Taking a deep breath, Adachi squared his shoulders. He might not understand Shantotto's game, but one thing was clear – he is part of it now, even if it meant playing this charade. With a grim resolve, he followed Shantotto through the doors, stepping into the heart of the lion's den.
Shantotto, staff held tall, and chin held higher, swept into the throne room with Adachi flanking her. The opulent chamber, ablaze with torchlight and shimmering with gilded tapestries, seemed to shrink around her imposing presence. Whispers, like ripples in a pond, emanated from the knots of advisors huddled along the walls. Their silk robes, in hues of royal purple and emerald, rustled with nervous energy.
Shantotto: (voice booming, silencing the whispers) "Is this the grand court of Traut I've arrived in, or a bazaar full of gossiping hens? I, Shantotto the Great, have requested an audience with your commander, and I expect him to grace me with his presence on the double!"
Before she could finish her tirade, a figure emerged from the shadows behind the throne. Tall and regal, with a mane of silver blonde hair flowing down his back, King Traut strode into the room. His piercing yellow honey eyes, glinting with tiredness, met Shantotto's fiery gaze.
A hush fell over the room as the king, with a sardonic smile, bowed slightly. "My apologies, Grand sorceress Belle Shantotto, for keeping you waiting. Your... exuberant announcement did precede you." He gestured towards a plush armchair, its ruby velvet contrasting with the stark lines of his black attire. "Please, do take a seat, and indulge me in my request for your... shall we say, dramatic... arrival."
"So," she drawled, the word dripping with disdain, "the shackles of boredom finally chafe your royal behind, Traut? Couldn't contain your own fear another fortnight, could you?"
The king's face twitched, the amusement from their earlier encounter replaced by a steely glint in his eyes. "Fear, sorceress? I merely recognize the consequences of your... shall we say, 'creative' sealing methods. Or shall i say poor summoning spell", as he turned his gaze towards Adachi.
Shantotto snorted. "Creative? But of course, your majesty wouldn't know genius if it bit you on the royal backside, would you?"
"Genius that, as the tremors clearly indicate, is now beginning to unravel," Traut countered, his voice low and dangerous. "The Gusgen mines hum with unnatural energies, whispers of the Fenrir's fury echoing through the earth. Your 'symphony,' it seems, is about to conduct a rather unpleasant finale."
A smirk flickered across Shantotto's face. "And you expect me to waltz in and fix your little tremor problem? After twenty-one years of enjoying the fruits of my labour, the least you could do is offer a decent dessert, not this stale crumb of blame."
The king looked at her, he had no other option, even though he hated the idea of it, the idea of asking for her help. He gazed upon the sorceress.
Shantotto met his gaze, her expression unyielding. "Blame is precisely what you deserve, TRASH. You unleashed the beast, you sealed it with questionable magic, and now you have the audacity to demand recompense for cleaning up your mess?"
A tense silence blanketed the throne room, thick enough to choke on. Shantotto's laughter, laced with an edge of icy malice, had faded, leaving behind a churning vortex of emotions. Traut, his royal facade cracking under the sorceress's scathing words, felt a flicker of desperation ignite within him.
The sorceress calmed her shoes, as if she was trying to hide what happened.
She threw back her head and laughed, a sound that echoed through the chamber like a peal of thunder. "Oh, Traut," she said, her eyes bright with a dangerous gleam, "don't you know? This is simply another verse in the grand poem of my life. And believe me, my dear fink, this will be a poem you'll never forget."
"So," he finally rasped, "are we to have an opera of insults or will you grace me with your solution, Grand Sorceress?" His voice, though strained, held an undercurrent of steel. He knew he was walking a tightrope, but the tremor tremors emanating from the Gusgen mines were a grim symphony of impending disaster.
Shantotto, eyes narrowed to glittering slits, studied him for a long moment. The air crackled with unspoken power, punctuated only by the nervous coughs of the advisors huddled against the walls. Finally, she uncrossed her arms, a sly smile playing on her lips.
"Very well, your majesty," she drawled, her voice deceptively light. "I may yet deign to weave another verse in the poem of your life, but it won't be a sonnet of charity. This will be a ballad sung in sweat and blood, a concerto of regret."
Thats when she gave the king a look of demand, for him to ask her for her conditions.
Intrigue flickered in Traut's eyes. "What are your terms, Shantotto?"
A cackle ripped the sorceress upright, amethyst robes swirling. She clamped a hand over her lips, her eyes glinting through the beak of her fingers. This wasn't laughter, it was thunder, chuckling at the kings joke. She was demanding the king to show more respect.
Traut swallowed, the bitter taste gnawing at his pride. "Tell me what you require, sorceress. Any price, within reason..."
Shantotto's gaze shifted, locking onto a figure standing stiffly near the doors. Zeid, Traut's royal guard captain, remained a silent sentinel amidst the unfolding drama. His face, etched with stoic loyalty, betrayed a flicker of unease in his eyes.
The sorceress pointed her staff at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "He will accompany me," she declared, her voice ringing through the chamber like a pronouncement.
Traut's face contorted in a mix of anger and resignation. Zeid, ever the dutiful soldier, stepped forward, his expression unreadable. The king, defeated yet defiant, met Shantotto's gaze.
"So be it," he growled, his voice tight with suppressed emotion.
Shantotto, having secured her demand and clearly uninterested in further debate, decided to leave the king with a short poem that conveyed her determination to deal with Fenrir. With a flick of her staff and a graceful twirl, she recited:
"In shadows deep, where monsters prowl, I'll tame the beast with sorcery foul. Fenrir's howls, a symphony dire, Shantotto's wrath, an unquenchable fire."
Leaving the king to ponder the ominous words, Shantotto gathered her staff and grimoire, signaling the end of their royal confrontation. Without another word, she began to walk towards the exit, with Adachi and Zeid obediently following in her wake.