(Archmage Medarda POV)
As soon as Ophelia's voice stopped ringing through the air, I glanced down at my hands. They were covered in goosebumps, prickling as if the intensity of her words had etched themselves into my very skin. The sight startled me, and instinctively, I pulled up my sleeve. More goosebumps. A wave of something—exhilaration? Fear?—washed over me.
Then I realized my jaw had dropped. Worse, I'd scooted to the very edge of my seat like a child entranced by a story. My immediate instinct was to retreat, to gather myself before anyone else noticed, but instead, I found myself standing. My palms came together in a slow clap. At first, it was just me, but then others rose—first one, then another, until everyone in the room was on their feet, clapping in unison except for the Emperor and Stegertath.
We sat back down as quickly as we had stood and Ophelia smiled faintly, an expression that betrayed nothing of her triumph. "Now," she said, her voice firm, "let us actually get to the negotiations about my territory."
The discussion that followed was brutal. She wanted the southernmost tip of the Empire, bordering the Kingdom of Nessigolopt. A barren stretch, vulnerable and strategically unremarkable—or so it seemed. She proposed creating a Dukedom from scratch, insisting she would fortify the region herself. No manpower, no defenses, no resources to speak of. It was madness.
The council and I challenged her repeatedly, bringing up every logistical nightmare we could imagine. Yet, with each objection, she countered. Her arguments were sharp, and precise, dismantling every point we threw at her. The only thing we did manage to get through was assisting in setting up her initial fortress to grow her Dukedom… although she probably planned for that outcome as well.
By the end, she had convinced us. Somehow, she had turned what seemed like a foolish request into an inevitability. Even as I sat there, I tried to dissect her reasoning, searching for hidden motives. Was it truly about the border? Or was there something deeper, a hidden piece of strategy we couldn't see? Ophelia's lust for battle was no secret, but her mind was a labyrinth, and nothing about this request felt random. Yet no matter how much we probed, she left us with no answers.
When the meeting ended, I watched her leave. As soon as the door closed behind her, it was like a spell had broken. My shoulders sagged, and my breath came easier. Everyone else exchanged wary glances, the same question unspoken but heavy in the air: What had just happened? The pressure she exerted could only be compared to the Emperor. It wasn't magic. It wasn't intimidation. It wasn't even the dead souls that had seemingly retreated into her body. It was something more insidious, something that lingered even after her presence had gone.
I left the throne room in a daze, pausing briefly to glance at the Emperor. He sat there, unmoving, his expression as empty as before. Something about him, about all of this, felt pitiful. But I didn't linger. I had work to do. I made my way down the hall, my thoughts circling back to Ophelia's speech. The words replayed themselves over and over, igniting a strange, unwelcome thrill in me. My body still hummed with adrenaline, the goosebumps on my arms refusing to fade.
As I rounded the corner to my office, I stopped cold. I sensed a presence standing before my door, unmistakable even from a distance. Sweat began to gather at the back of my neck as I forced myself forward, each step heavier than the last. There she was… Ophelia von Aubessec.
"Duchess," I greeted.
"Archmage Medarda… I would like to meet with you privately."
…
(Elven Scholar Vilgis POV)
I hunched over my desk, the dim glow of the single lamp casting long shadows over the cluttered surface. Books, scrolls, and loose parchment spilled in every direction, threatening to bury me under their weight. At the center of the chaos lay two distinct groups of runes, each etched with an alien precision that defied the conventions of any language I had studied. Four symbols to a group, perfectly balanced, yet inscrutable.
I tapped the desk absently, the dull thud of my finger filling the silence of the room. My gaze flitted between the runes on the parchment and the aged book propped open beside me, its spine cracked and its pages fragile. Every comparison I made only deepened the ache forming at the base of my skull. They didn't match any of the recorded scripts, yet something about them felt… familiar.
So I brainstormed. Again. And again. And again. Until… my eyes snapped wide. A realization clawed its way through my mind. My hands trembled as I grabbed the parchment, my breath quickening. No… it couldn't be.
Scrambling, I crossed the room, nearly tripping over a discarded tome. The chalkboard loomed ahead, black and untouched, a clean slate for the thoughts now racing through my head.
With one hand, I snatched a stick of chalk while with the other, I clung to the paper as though it were a lifeline. My wind magic stirred instinctively, lifting the parchment to my side, and holding it steady as my focus tunneled to the runes.
The chalk hissed against the board as I began to write. Each stroke was quick, desperate. I scrawled the first rune, cross-referencing it with the book and matching it to a corresponding glyph. My heart hammered as I moved to the second, then the third. Each rune shifted from mystery to clarity, their forms morphing into letters and then into fragments of coherent language.
But the work didn't stop there. Numbers emerged next, unraveling from the phrases like veins branching out from a heart. My chalk hand trembled as I connected the dots, the scattered symbols converging into a pattern that felt almost too deliberate to be a coincidence.
'Coordinates,' I thought to myself.
"Coordinates," I then repeated out loud.
The word echoed in my mind, a realization so sharp it made me stagger. I stared at the board, at the clusters of numbers staring back at me like an accusation. My breath stuck in my throat, the weight of what I'd uncovered crashing down all at once.
"Coordinates," I whispered aloud again
My gaze lingered on the board, the implications slowly settling over me. These weren't just marks or forgotten etchings.
They were a destination.
The door to my room creaked as I stepped into the dimly lit hallway. My hands still trembled from the revelation I'd unearthed, and my breath came quick and shallow, my mind racing with thoughts of what I'd found. I didn't notice the footsteps approaching until a voice called out behind me.
"Vilgis! What's wrong?" a fellow scholar shouted, their expression displaying his concern. I glanced over my shoulder briefly, his silhouette framed by the flickering wall lamps along the hall.
"Give me a second. I need to confirm something," I replied, quickening my pace. The urgency clawed at my chest as I turned sharply down the corridor, ignoring his hurried questions.
My destination loomed ahead: Colonel Kaden's office.
The door was ajar, and the sound of papers rustling and muffled curses drifted out. I pushed it open, revealing Kaden hunched over his desk, his broad shoulders tense as he pored over a stack of reports. His head shot up as I entered.
"Vilgis?" he asked, his voice sharp. "What's going on?"
I didn't answer. My focus zeroed in on the rows of cabinets lining the wall. I strode to them, yanking drawers open and rifling through their contents. Scrolls, maps, and old records spilled out as I searched. Finally, my fingers closed around the edge of a rolled-up map. I pulled it free and spread it across the floor, the parchment crackling as it unfurled.
"Vilgis!" Kaden barked again, standing now, his towering frame casting a shadow over me. "What is this about?"
Still gripping the chalk, I crouched over the map and began marking it. My hands moved instinctively, translating the coordinates onto the grid. Lines, numbers, and calculations flowed together, culminating in a single point. I circled it with precision.
Kaden crouched beside me, his brow furrowed as he followed my movements. "What is that?" he asked, his voice low and wary.
I didn't look up as I spoke. "You know how it was recently announced that Ophelia is setting up her territory on the southern border? But more specifically the southern tip?"
He nodded, his gaze flickering between me and the map. "Yes…"
"Well," I continued, my tone tense, "I was suspicious. Why pick such a barren wasteland? Why not the Selzen Cliffs or another natural fortress? It doesn't make sense. Ophelia might be sadistic, but she isn't stupid. So, I've been trying to figure it out. I cross-referenced the location with some old scriptures I've studied before, and after deciphering a particular passage, I found these coordinates."
Kaden's eyes narrowed. "And they match her chosen territory?"
"Exactly," I said, finally looking at him. "But it's more than that. These coordinates point to something specific—a dungeon. No, more precisely, the ruins of an ancient castle."
Kaden's breath hitched. "A castle?"
I nodded grimly. "Not just any castle. One seemingly tied to the origins of magic as we know it. If there's anything left there—anything at all—it could be what she's after. Some artifact, some knowledge, something powerful."
Kaden stood abruptly, his face pale but determined. He strode to his desk and reached for a small wooden button tucked into the corner. With a firm press, a faint chime echoed through the room. He turned back to me, his jaw tight.
"I'll set up a meeting with the council," he muttered. "They'll need to hear this. If you're right… if there's something in those ruins…" He swallowed hard, his expression grim. "It could decide the fate of the coming war."
And only a few hours later, the meeting began.
The room was dim, illuminated only by the soft glow of lanterns lining the walls. Beyond the glass behind the six high-backed chairs, the city shimmered with the vibrant activity of the night, its streets alive with glowing lights and muted murmurs of life below.
I stood beside Kaden, both of us before the council, the weight of their collective gaze pressing down like a leaden fog. The silence was almost unbearable as Kaden concluded our presentation.
"And with the confirmation from the other scholars," Kaden stated, his voice steady, "we believe this discovery could hold critical implications for the safety and future of the Holy Empire."
For a moment, no one spoke. The council members exchanged glances, their expressions shadowed by the flickering light. Then, Archmage Medarda leaned forward, her sharp eyes boring into me.
"This aligns with Ophelia's plans," she said, her voice calm but tinged with something that felt like suspicion. "Too well."
"Exactly," General Agueric added. "She's orchestrated this. This discovery, this territory—it's all too convenient. She's forcing our hand."
Kaden shifted beside me, his fists clenched at his sides. I felt the tension rising in the room, but my own confusion bubbled to the surface. "Forcing your hand?" I blurted before I could stop myself. "I don't understand. What does this have to do with her intentions?"
Archbishop Igmach's gaze flicked to me, his expression stern. "You weren't part of the previous discussion we had with her," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Ophelia didn't just request that territory on a whim. She laid out her ideals—expansion, unification, growth through conquest."
"And disruption," General Jakaron said, cutting in. "She's not content with the balance we've established. The peace we've maintained. She sees it as stagnation."
"But what choice do we have now?" General Medarda interjected, her voice rising slightly. "If these ruins hold anything of value—power, relics, knowledge—we can't risk ignoring it. Ophelia's made sure of that."
Kaden stepped forward. "So you're saying she's manipulated us into supporting her?"
"Yes," Jakaron replied bluntly. "And it's brilliant. She's backed us into a corner where opposing her would be seen as jeopardizing the Empire's safety. She's made her ambitions our necessity… however…"
All six pairs of their eyes bore into me.
'Fuck. They still don't trust the scholars because of that bastard…'
The room fell silent again, the weight of their words settling heavily. My mind raced to process everything. The meeting I'd been left out of. The ideals she'd apparently shared. The power struggle now about to play out before me as I soon regretted inviting her to interrogate her in front of the council…
Ophelia von Aubessec.
The heavy double doors at the far end of the hall creaked open, breaking the silence like a thunderclap. All eyes snapped to the entrance. A pair of knights entered, their boots striking the polished stone floor.
"Duchess Aubessec has arrived," one of them announced his voice firm but tinged with something I could only describe as unease.
The atmosphere shifted. The council members froze, their conversations cut short, breaths held as if the very air had grown heavier. I felt it too—a pressure that started faint but quickly grew, like an oncoming storm.
And then she appeared. Ophelia von Aubessec. She stepped through the doorway in a stunning white dress, her silver hair catching the faint lantern light. Her gaze swept across the room, sharp and assessing, before she offered a small bow.
My chest tightened, and I could feel Kaden stiffen beside me. Around the table, even the council members, who were usually so composed, seemed uneasy. Their postures stiffened, and their hands shifted on the armrests of their chairs.
"Congratulations on the incredible discovery," Ophelia applauded me with a series of short claps. "I always knew you were a talented one."
My mind raced from her words. Pieces almost seemingly connected in my mind as soon as her voice stopped echoing within my brain. It was a chilling series of thoughts strung together by my own mind, unable to stop thinking.
"You…" I muttered softly. "You planned all of this. I was wondering why you hadn't dismissed us back then in the meeting with the nobles. We were a potential threat to your plans yet you did nothing. If you had placed the same contract on us that you had with the nobles, we wouldn't have been able to conjure a meeting like this. You kept us there… no, more specifically me, just so we wouldn't get suspicious… all for this?" I blurted out the thoughts in my mind.
She wanted me to become infatuated with her intelligence. She wanted me to always have her in the back of my mind so when a situation like this arrived… I did all of the hard work. Is that even humanly possible to calculate? This is so specific that you would have to think layers upon layers of information to come to this result… yet she somehow did it.
"You did well," She eerily smiled.
"You never knew of the ruins, did you? You just knew there was something in that territory and you used me. From the very beginning!" I angrily shouted. "My work is not for your plans! My time spent is for my own knowledge and yet you dare to use me!"
"Yet, you still did it, correct? The information you sent over confirmed my suspicions. So thank you again." She cut me off. I had nothing to say. "Then, I believe this meeting is over. Is there anything you all have to say? Anything to go against the idea of protecting the Empire you all love so much?"
As Ophelia's words hung in the air, the council's unease deepened. Each of the six members shifted in their seats, visibly uncomfortable. Ophelia's calm, controlled demeanor only made the tension more suffocating.
And here they came… the words of people who distrust the brains of the empires.
General Agueric was the first to speak, his voice clipped and measured. "There is no physical evidence, Duchess," he said, his gaze unwavering. "This is all speculative, nothing more than words on paper and theories. Scholars can't be the sole voice in such matters. What exactly are we supposed to support? A territory claimed on faith alone?"
General Jakaron chimed in, rubbing his temples. "We are speaking of ancient ruins, yes, but no one truly knows what lies beneath the soil. Until we have hard proof, we cannot justify sending our troops into a dangerous unknown based purely on conjecture."
Archbishop Igmach nodded in agreement, his tone calm but firm. "The scholars may have their theories, but we are the ones who hold responsibility for the Empire's safety. We cannot afford to gamble with such ambiguity. There is no concrete proof. Only speculation."
"I too, must agree," said General Medarda, her voice cold. "There is no definitive proof to back your claims, Duchess. The scholarly community has agreed on the coordinates, but that does not mean they're correct. How do we know these ruins hold any real significance? What if this is nothing but a barren stretch of land, with no hidden power at all?"
I felt my teeth clench, but I still said nothing. The words of the council members echoed in my mind, and my anger simmered. They were dismissing everything I'd worked for, everything I had discovered—dismissed by nothing more than their skepticism and reluctance to embrace the unknown.
My hands tightened into fists beside me as I cursed them silently. I knew it had nothing to do with facts. They had never respected our opinions anyway.
It was Royal Attendant Stegertath's fault. It was all his fucking fault.
But I still said nothing. I merely clenched my jaw and kept my gaze forward, although avoiding their eyes. The same silence returned from the council's side, punctuated by the occasional click of a chair's armrest or the faint rustle of robes.
Ophelia stood unmoving, her silver hair gleaming under the dim light as the council continued to voice their doubts. Yet, her calmness in the face of their refusal only seemed to deepen their discomfort.
"You've heard their arguments, Ophelia," Kaden spoke, his voice barely masking his frustration. "But you know as well as I do that we're standing on the edge of a precipice. The Empire cannot risk any more uncertainty."
"I don't understand," I muttered under my breath, barely audible. "After everything we've found, after the work we've put in, this is how they respond?"
'No… of course this is how they would respond,' I cursed inwardly.
Then, like a ball of fire exploding in the middle of the room, Ophelia spoke blasphemous words.
"Then…" She began. "I will have to send the coordinates to the Kingdom of Nessigolopt."
Ophelia's calm expression remained the same, however, her eyes looked up at the ceiling and then to Archmage Medarda who had been quiet this entire time.
Boodlust filled the room.