Chapter 210: Plays 2

Hidden behind the snowy mountainous path of stony peaks, a valley blanketed in pristine snow unfolded beneath the celestial canopy.

At the valley's heart stood a towering white tree, its crystal-like leaves catching the passing sunlight and sparkling in an ethereal dance.

Beneath the colossal tree, a city emerged, its fortifications crafted from pure ice, with trees reminiscent of the celestial white tree but possessing a distinct charm of their own.

In the heart of this frozen wonderland lay a castle, a solitary figure standing at its pinnacle.

A lone bot stood at the castle's summit, gazing upon the city sprawled beneath him—a city he would one day rule.

"Rolo..." he spoke, and a small crow alighted on his outstretched hand. Clutched in the bird's feet was a letter, a missive that bore news or perhaps a burden.

The boy's brow furrowed as he examined the contents of the small letter. An exhale of a heavy sigh escaped him, and with a resigned gesture, he released the crow into the crisp mountain air.

"You may rest now...," he uttered, and the crow dissipated into thin air, returning to its ethereal form.

The boy rose slowly, unfolding the letter with a certain anticipation.

However, upon absorbing its contents, his expression shifted. The crumpling sound echoed as he crushed the parchment in his grasp.

"Sova," he called out, summoning a man who promptly appeared by his side, genuflecting before him and awaiting his command.

The atmosphere around the boy had changed, a storm brewing in his eyes as he contemplated the implications of the letter's message.

"Man the gates and prepare the army," the boy commanded, his tone cutting through the frosty air of the snowy citadel.

Sova, a loyal figure by the boy's side, regarded him with a nod, acknowledging the weight carried in the young ruler's words.

"As you wish, your majesty," he replied, understanding that such orders were not given lightly. There was a solemn gravity to the situation—one that demanded immediate action.

The boy, despite his outward appearance of youth, bore a maturity that exceeded his physical years.

The age etched upon his face was not a reflection of the calendar but a testament to the burdens he carried.

Dark circles beneath his eyes spoke of countless sleepless nights, and the deep-rooted darkness within hinted at a soul worn by the weight of responsibilities.

"Is this truly your answer, Mavis?" the boy mumbled to himself as he cast a final gaze upon the city below.

Despite the stoic exterior, an inner conflict raged within him—an emotional turmoil that threatened to consume the innocence that should have flourished within his youthful eyes.

Slowly descending down the roof snowflakes began to cover his body as frost seeped into every step he took.

.....

Inside the opulent chamber, a sense of anticipation hung thick in the air. Duke Tellus and Aria, his daughter, had been waiting for what seemed an eternity.

The grandeur of the room couldn't mask the restlessness that permeated the atmosphere.

The priest, an emissary of the holy nation, had instructed them to remain patient until they received the pope's permission.

Respecting the sacred protocols, the Duke had dutifully complied, and yet the prolonged wait began to test even his patience.

The servants, positioned a cautious distance away from the Duke, felt the waves of his irritability wash over them, leaving them intimidated.

"Are they deliberately prolonging this to provoke him?" Aria pondered, her gaze flickering between the idle servants and her father.

The Pope, ever enigmatic with his benevolent smile, met the Duke's gaze with eyes half-closed, his response veiled in diplomatic ambiguity.

"I believe the notion of what you would call home for a revered hero is up for debate, Duke..."

The exchange, though spoken in measured tones, felt akin to two dragons engaged in a subtle yet fierce confrontation, their words carrying unspoken tensions and the weight of unyielding pride.

Aria, seated between the two influential figures, watched the scene unfold with a mixture of weariness and nervous anticipation.

The question lingered in her mind – why was she even allowed to be present in this crucial discussion?

She couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy towards the servants who had swiftly exited the room upon the Pope's entrance.

The Duke and the Pope, absorbed in their exchange, seemed to overlook her presence.

.....

After our usual dinner together, I promptly retreated to my room for some much-needed rest.

It became apparent that the girls were having a girls' night in their room, with Elena staying behind in Louise and Ana's room.

The teasing throughout dinner, particularly directed at Louise regarding our date, hinted at an imminent grilling session.

Louise's panicked expressions in response to the playful banter managed to bring a chuckle to my lips.

As I opened the door to my room and stepped into the corridor, I peeled off the white coat I had been wearing all day.

Ensuring privacy, I inscribed runes on my door and double-checked that it was securely locked.

My attention turned to my hands, and I decided to test something out.

Slightly opening up my sister's authority, I created a small portal in my hands, from which a white mask emerged.

The golden lighting that seemed to sparkle around the mask caught my eye, but as expected, attempting to summon anything with divinity or unknown origins here proved futile.

The goddess's caution regarding Loki's mana signature became increasingly evident.

It seemed that even within the confines of this space, certain barriers remained in place, restricting the use of powers associated with entities that she considers a threat.

Sighing, I loosened my clothes and sank onto the bed. Thoughts of orchestrating the downfall of this kingdom could wait; my priority was to tidy up the place before my guest arrived.

After pondering strategies, a few hours passed, and then a knock echoed through my door.

Knock...! Knock...!

Observing that the rune I inscribed was still intact, I snapped my fingers, and the door swung open on its own accord.

A tapping sound followed, and there she stood – Isabella, a nun adorned in a gothic black outfit with matching black gloves and a black blindfold.

"I-I came..." she stammered, nervously scanning my room.

"Good job," I said, offering her a reassuring smile. The trembling anxiety and fear evident in her body language were quite a spectacle.

As I walked forward, approaching her, she instinctively took a step back. My arms reached out, closing the door behind her.

"Take a seat... don't worry, I just wish to talk," I said, attempting to reassure her.

However, skepticism lingered in her eyes, and she nervously nodded, unsure about my true intentions.