Queen Irene lay on her bed, the dim light barely casting shadows across the room. Her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, her mind a storm of thoughts. Suddenly, a thought struck her, compelling her to rise. With purposeful strides, she crossed the room and approached the ornate table where a polished globe rested.
She placed her hand on the cold surface of the globe and whispered with authority, "Magic globe, magic globe, respond to me."
At her command, the globe erupted in a fiery glow, its light flooding the room with a warm yet eerie illumination. A deep male voice echoed from within. "You called, my queen."
"I have a question," Irene said, her tone sharp. "What is the power status of Ivin's child?"
The globe's fiery glow pulsed as it responded. "My queen, given the years that have passed, I would say the child will be immensely powerful. Based on what you told me, even as an infant, the child exuded a high aura."
Irene's expression darkened at this revelation. Disappointment weighed heavily in her voice as she replied, "So, if the child chooses to challenge me for my throne, it could do so with ease?"
"With ease, my queen," the globe confirmed. "However," it added with a faint chuckle, "considering the nature of Tadio, I doubt he would want the child involved with you or this kingdom."
Irene's eyes narrowed, though her lips curled into a faint smile. "At least you're useful," she said, her voice tinged with sarcasm.
The globe responded earnestly, "I am a magic globe, my queen."
Her expression hardened once more, anger flashing in her eyes. "But what if you're wrong?" she demanded. "What if the child is rebellious like its mother?"
The globe hesitated before speaking. "My queen, I say this with the utmost respect: if the child comes here, your kingdom could be doomed."
Fury surged through Irene. "What do you think will happen to you if my kingdom falls?" she snapped.
"My queen," the globe replied, its voice quivering, "I only speak the truth as you have asked of me."
The glow of the globe dimmed as if retreating from her wrath. Irene leaned closer, her voice rising. "If I hadn't found you eighteen years ago in that dark cave within the Raven Forest, you would have perished. I saved you!"
Her words struck the globe like a whip, and its light turned a fearful blue. "My queen," it stammered, "I am forever indebted to you for saving me."
Irene stepped forward, her voice sharp and commanding. "Then prove your worth," she said. "If you wish to escape the miserable life of being trapped in a globe, show me why you deserve it."
"Yes, my queen," the globe responded, its voice unwavering. "I will not break my pledge to serve you, even if you choose to free me from this prison."
Irene dismissed the words with a wave of her hand. "You may go now," she said coldly. The globe dimmed and faded into darkness, leaving her alone.
With a heavy sigh, Irene groaned in frustration. "Everyone around me is useless," she muttered, throwing herself onto her bed. Her eyes fixed on the ceiling as her thoughts churned. A new idea crossed her mind, and she spoke aloud, her voice laced with doubt yet determination.
"Why am I even worried? There's force field on Elgard. The child has no chance of entering ... right?" Her words wavered as uncertainty crept in. "Could the kid really be that powerful?" she added, nervously biting her finger as unease took hold.
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The next morning in the Palace Chamber, Irene sat on her throne, her gaze detached as she regarded the three advisors standing before her, their heads bowed slightly in deference.
"My Queen," the first advisor began cautiously, "it has been 18 years, and Elgard remains in confinement. We appeal to you to take action. The state of our imported and exported goods has worsened." He paused before adding, "Your people are suffering, my Queen. They yearn for their loved ones trapped on the other side."
The second advisor spoke up. "Inside Elgard, families remain separated," he said gravely.
The third advisor chimed in, his voice heavy with emotion. "Mothers miss their sons, daughters miss their fathers, wives miss their husbands, and children miss their parents—all because of the force field surrounding Elgard. My Queen, we implore you to do something. Please, act for the sake of your people."
The three advisors remained united, their slight bows an unspoken plea. Irene's expression unreadable, regarded them through half-lidded eyes. "So?" she asked, her tone edged with indifference.
The first advisor straightened slightly, his voice tinged with desperation. "My Queen, please address the force field issue .Your people are suffering."
Irene's eyes narrowed as she leaned forward, her voice cold and sharp. "Do you think I haven't tried to find a solution myself? I am equally suffering. Don't you realize that I, too, am in pain?" She gestured toward the advisors, her frustration boiling over. "The people, and the three of you, care nothing for me. To all of you, I am just a tool. Everyone is useless to me."
The advisors, sensing her growing ire, fell to their knees in unison. "My Queen, we beg you to help your people," they pleaded.
The second advisor added, "Your people are your responsibility, my Queen."
Before he could continue, Irene cut him off, rising from her throne with a commanding presence. "You are all dismissed," she declared, her voice ice-cold. "No one is to bring this matter before me again unless they are ready to face the consequences."
With that, she turned and strode out of the chamber, her steps echoing in the silence.
The advisors, still on their knees, exchanged anxious glances before rising, their expressions heavy with defeat. Without another word, they departed, each heading to their respective homes, burdened by the weight of their Queen's wrath.
***************Meanwhile*****************
In the Abstract Clan Chamber Room, seven commanders gathered around a massive table, their presence commanding and their scars visible—a testament to their histories on countless battlefields. Among them sat the Prince of Wales, flanked by his three commanders. The air was heavy with tension, their collective aura almost suffocating.
"Your Majesty," General Calex began, his tone brimming with authority, "it has been eighteen years since we last accessed Elgard. This is not what you promised us."
Lord William the Conqueror leaned forward, his voice laced with disdain. "Eighteen years ago, you assured us authority, honor, power, and acknowledgment if we aided you in battle. Yet for the lives we sacrificed, for the blood spilled, we have received nothing. If this continues, we will have no choice but to take precautionary measures against your clan. Do not underestimate us because of our small number."
King Khan, seated at the head of the table, scowled. "You all know this is not my fault. Who could have foreseen my nephew's power?"
General Frederick III interjected sharply. "And yet, is she not your blood? Do you not share the same power? I find it hard to believe you're frightened of a mere child." His words dripped with mockery.
"Watch your tongue, General Frederick," King Khan warned, his voice low but threatening. "I may appear weak as you claim, but do not mistake that for vulnerability. I will not lose to someone like you in battle."
Prince Cyrus, the Prince of Wales, leaned back in his chair, his annoyance evident. "If you were truly powerful, King Khan, why did you need our help in the first place? You could have handled it yourself instead of dragging us into your greedy ambitions. And now, here we are—your promises unfulfilled."
King Khan's eyes narrowed as he turned toward Cyrus. "With due respect, your highness, Wales holds no value to me or my clan. And neither do you. I advise caution in your words. Look around you—you are far from your little Wales. Should anything happen to you here, I will not be held responsible."
Prince Cyrus glanced around the chamber, feeling the weight of the hostile gazes upon him. Intimidated but unwilling to show it, he rose from his seat. "This is not over," he muttered, before striding out of the room, his commanders following closely behind.
As the door shut behind them, King Khan leaned back in his chair with a smirk. "I thought as much," he said, his voice dripping with contempt. "Weak little pest."