A/n: Please note that whenever I mention Tier, I'm referring specifically to blood—blood determines their Tier. It's important to clarify that while a character's Tier is determined by their blood, they do not automatically have access to all their supernatural capabilities. Each Tier requires individuals to practice spells exclusive to that level, and they must work diligently until they reach the boundary of their respective Tier. Beyond that point, they can no longer progress to the next level. I hope this clarifies much of what I was attempting to convey in the earlier chapters.
–––––––––––—————-
As soon as the barrier dissolved, a squad of enforcers swiftly surrounded them, their weapons held at the ready. With watchful eyes, they scanned the joyful crowd—a sea of mingled laughter and celebration—for any signs of lurking rebels. The rebels, however, were nowhere to be found; they had vanished into thin air with alarming efficiency. Those who had previously been entangled with the hostages seemed to have slipped away like shadows, leaving no trace. A hint of amusement flickered across Engjell's lips as she observed their speedy retreat. It was impressive, really, how fast they could disappear.
The enforcers, now clearly on high alert, fanned out in a disciplined formation, their steps precise as they swept through the entire building with military-like precision. They were searching for any 'fish that slipped through the net,' as they would term it, but unfortunately for them, their efforts yielded no results. Only a handful of frightened pedestrians remained scattered throughout the area, along with one notable figure—the professor's son—who appeared bewildered by the chaos. Engjell paid little mind to the others, her thoughts consumed by the impending excitement of her new 'toy.'
Moments later, they found themselves gathered in the lobby, where they formed a neat line, each individual waiting their turn. Two enforcers flanked the door, their expressions serious as they conducted scans to confirm the identities of all present before allowing them to exit to the outside to answer a few inquiries before they could be released.
Finally, it was Engjell's turn. As the guards initiated the scanning process, their usual demeanor—relaxed and confident—shifted instantly into one of surprise and respect. Upon receiving confirmation of her identity, they immediately straightened, their careless banter evaporating like mist. They bowed deeply before her, their posture now a display of reverence, and quickly called over a fellow enforcer to escort her out, and courteously extricated her from the rest of the formalities, sending her out of the building with utmost respect.
Once Engjell stepped through the door, the weight of their respect momentarily lifted. The guards exchanged glances, ensuring that their brief encounter with her had not veered into disrespect. It was unthinkable; even if a thousand fearless souls stood against her, they would never dare to be anything but polite. After all, this seemingly unassuming young woman was the cherished daughter of Oritdon's revered Aurean wargod. Rumors of her lineage whispered of great potential—who knew if she might one day awaken a high-tier bloodline like her father's, or even surpass it?
As she emerged from the shimmering edifice, a soft smile broke through on Engjell's face, reflecting a fleeting moment of triumph. However, her smile faltered almost instantly as she was immediately engulfed by her retinue. Questions poured in from all sides, each voice vying for her attention, creating a dissonance of inquiry that was nearly overwhelming.
Just as she thought the clamor might drown her, a commanding voice sliced through the tumult, restoring some semblance of calm and quieting the excited murmurs that had begun to fill the air. "Let her breathe!" It was Alexander's voice, cutting through the tense atmosphere like a sharp blade. Engjell turned, pleasantly surprised to see the old butler making his way toward her. His presence was a comforting anchor in the chaos that had just unfolded. She scrutinized him with a skeptical glance, wondering at his sudden unsummoned presence, but he merely smiled faintly, a touch of warmth emanating from him.
"I came as fast as I could upon being informed of the unfortunate circumstances," he said, his voice soft and soothing. His keen eyes traveled down her frame, silently assessing her well-being, before he gave a subtle nod to himself, a silent reassurance that she appeared intact. He then inclined his head in a respectful greeting, maintaining the dignity that his position demanded.
"Thank you, but let's hurry before the crowd grows larger," Engjell said, managing to muster a faint smile despite her earlier distress. Alexander nodded in understanding and bowed again, a gesture of politeness and respect, before he led the way through the growing crowd. Engjell felt the presence of her guards close in around her, creating a protective barrier that shielded her from prying eyes as they navigated through the bustling crowd.
Her eyes scanned the faces of her friends as they finally emerged from the process of verifying their identities. She offered a little wave at them, her heart lifting slightly at the sight of their supportive expressions. Atarah, as always, waved enthusiastically, her joy evident despite the earlier events, whereas Candida and Aeliana's greetings were more subdued, tinged with a hint of jealousy and disappointment at the disparity in treatment.
Engjell turned forward again, resolutely ignoring the glum expressions of Candida and Aeliana lingering in her peripheral vision. She understood their feelings; it was natural to feel imbalanced watching their friend being treated with such privilege while they were made to wait. But her notable lineage made it so. Her father was not just a mere Viscount; he was the wargod of Oritdon. Though his ability was constrained by his blood, his battlefield prowess and resourcefulness were legendary, making him a respected force both in the heat of battle and in the social hierarchy.
His reputation commanded respect, at the very least, on Aurean soil, and by extension, so did Engjell. And she couldn't deny that she felt a thrill of satisfaction in the preferential treatment that came with her father's stature.
With the clamor of the gathering crowd fading behind her, Engjell was swiftly led to the ship. Once aboard, she settled into a plush seat, a soft sigh of relief escaping her lips as the weight of the recent escapade began to lift. Then, she found herself locked in a staring contest with Alexander, the butler's steady gaze a mixture of concern and affection that was both comforting and disarming.
After a moment of silence, during which Engjell refused to break eye contact, Alexander finally acquiesced to her unwillingness to speak first. "Young lady, may I have a seat?" he asked, the politeness embedded in his question undeniably formal in tone.
Engjell rolled her eyes, the gesture imbued with a degree of rudeness that she couldn't help but express, but she responded in kind regardless. "Yes, you may," she replied, her tone curt yet laced with an odd tenderness.
As Alexander settled into his chair, a smile graced his lips at Engjell's graceless attitude. It reassured him that despite the chaos that had transpired, she wasn't deeply traumatized. Instead, she seemed to embody a unique resilience. "I hope you weren't harmed," he inquired, concern shadowing his eyes.
"No, I was not," she replied calmly, her demeanor almost placid as she recounted the events. "I hid as quickly as I could, and when I was discovered, I obeyed their commands without resistance, hoping to avoid provoking them. And it proved successful, so here I am, not a hair on my head harmed" The tranquility in her voice contrasted sharply with the gravity of her words, illustrating her pragmatic approach to a harrowing situation.
Alexander felt a mix of relief and admiration. Her casual admission of surrender could have been humiliating for many, yet she spoke of it as if it were an utterly reasonable decision in that moment. This clear-headed approach in the face of danger reassured him that she was indeed safe, and that was all that truly mattered to him. "That's good to hear," he said, his posture relaxing slightly. "I took the liberty of summoning Dr. Greogo, he'll be meeting us at the manor."
Engjell frowned slightly, a flicker of irritation dancing in her eyes. "You shouldn't have bothered, or at least asked for my permission before making such a decision. My mental state is perfectly fine, and I have no need for his services. What I'd appreciate more is a nice bath infused with a soothing potion, and for you to prepare the Astral platform for a meditation session." Though her words were somewhat curt, they were delivered with a gentleness that elicited not a hint of revulsion from the listener.
Alexander bowed his head in apology, his expression revealing his understanding of his overstep. "My sincerest apologies," he addressed her with genuine repentance.
Engjell offered a soft wave of dismissal, her eyes fluttering closed as she allowed herself a brief moment of respite, hoping to gather the scattered pieces of her thoughts before she got home.