Chapter 223: White Palace

"In the end, what in the hell was with all that?" Adrian muttered to himself, his thoughts swirling in confusion.

The duke's sudden decision to excommunicate him from the family left Adrian reeling.

As he stared at the ring the duke had given him, he couldn't help but notice the lingering mana signatures—a tangible reminder of the ties that bound him to the Tellus family.

But what did it all mean? Adrian pondered, his brow furrowing with uncertainty.

He couldn't comprehend the exact effects of the binding, nor could he fathom why such a mechanism was necessary.

The ring was supposedly a memento from Siena, but why would she possess something that bound him to the family? And why had she allowed him to leave in the first place?

The duke's abrupt departure only added to Adrian's confusion, leaving him with more questions than answers.

"Adrian?" Aria's voice broke through his reverie, her concern evident in her tone. "Are you okay?" she asked, her eyes searching his face for any sign of distress.

Adrian forced a reassuring smile, though inwardly he was anything but fine. "I'm fine," he replied, his voice lacking conviction.

Aria's skepticism was palpable as she continued to study him, her concern deepening. "Are you sure?" she pressed, unwilling to accept his dismissive answer.

"Yeah," Adrian replied, though the uncertainty gnawed at him from within. For now, he needed to focus on unraveling the mysteries of his past and the implications of the duke's actions.

She seemed like she wanted to ask him more, her lips parting as if to speak, but upon seeing the troubled expression etched across his face, she hesitated, eventually opting for silence.

Adrian appreciated her restraint, knowing that delving into the depths of his turmoil might only exacerbate the weight pressing down on him.

Physically and mentally drained, Adrian could feel the exhaustion seeping into his bones.

After a rigorous training session followed by a tense meeting with the duke, he was beyond tired. Each step felt like a monumental effort, his body protesting with every movement.

For the first time in his life, the burden of existence felt unbearably heavy.

The flood of information that had bombarded him earlier—memories, emotional upheavals, and the duke's enigmatic words—had left him feeling overwhelmed and utterly spent.

All he wanted was to collapse into bed and surrender to the embrace of sleep.

Suddenly, Aria's voice broke through his weariness, drawing him back to the present. She moved closer, gently taking his hands in hers.

Their eyes met, and she offered him a reassuring smile—a small beacon of comfort in the midst of his turmoil.

It warmed Adrian's heart to see her trying to cheer him up in her own awkward, endearing way.

Even in moments of uncertainty, her presence was a source of solace, a reminder that he wasn't alone in navigating the complexities of life and love.

'She's still a bit awkward when it comes to comforting someone, but that what makes her cute though'

As he returned her smile, a flicker of gratitude washed over him, grateful for her unwavering support and unwavering presence by his side.

'In the end was their anything resolved?'

Adrian could only sigh once more in annoyance...

Heads nodded in somber agreement. The catastrophe at Estelle Academy was not one easily forgotten; it served as a haunting reminder of the horrors that could be unleashed by such malevolent forces.

It was only through the heroic efforts of Adrian and the saintess Elena that the demonic invasion had been halted, averting untold chaos and devastation.

"We can confirm one thing now," the duke interjected, his voice low and resolute.

"The demons possess not only the ability to evade our detection but also wield an unconventional form of magic, one that eludes our understanding."

"It would be safe to assume, that no country remains immune to this threat. Even if we were to erect barriers, fortify kingdoms, and muster our defenses, it appears futile if these malevolent entities can bypass our safeguards without detection." the pope's voice carried a weight of concern as he addressed the assembly.

He paused, his fingers tracing the contours of his chin in contemplation. "Our only recourse," he continued, his tone grave, "is to prepare ourselves for the inevitable onslaught."

Turning his gaze to one figure among the assembly, he called out, "Isabella."

She straightened, meeting his gaze slightly surprised as her name was called out. "Supreme Pontiff?"

"Have there been any communications with Queen Mavis?" he inquired, his voice tinged with urgency.

"As of this moment, Your Holiness," Isabella responded, her tone measured, "there have been no further communications with Her Majesty. The last correspondence we received was around the time of yesterday's invasion."

The pope nodded solemnly, his expression betraying a mixture of apprehension and resolve. In the room filled with those affiliated with the Holy Kingdom, the significance of

Queen Mavis was universally understood—a figure revered as both the queen of the frost elves of the northern continent and the last known living high fairy in the world.

Queen Mavis, revered not only for her diplomatic prowess but also for her strategic acumen and unwavering loyalty to the Holy Kingdom, held a position of unparalleled importance in the annals of their shared history.

Her alliance with the Holy Kingdom extended far beyond mere economic ties; she was their staunchest military ally, furnishing them with the invaluable resource of frost steel that fortified their armies and ensured their dominance on the battlefield.

Without her steadfast support, the military might of the Holy Kingdom would have been greatly diminished, and their victories hard-won.

For the Pope, who shared a deep bond forged in childhood with Queen Mavis, her absence felt akin to a personal tragedy, akin to losing a beloved family member.

Their friendship transcended the realm of politics, grounded in mutual respect and shared experiences.

Thus, the news of her kingdom's fall struck him to the core, casting a pall of sorrow over the hearts of all who held her dear.

Although the fate of Queen Mavis remained uncertain, the mere fact that the White Palace, her bastion of power, had fallen sent ominous ripples of apprehension through the hearts of those who knew her best.

The absence of any communication from her only added to the growing sense of unease, fueling concerns for her well-being and the precariousness of her situation.

....

Meanwhile, deep beneath the icy, foreboding walls of a dungeon shrouded in darkness and veiled in crimson mist, Queen Mavis found herself imprisoned, her once regal bearing now diminished as she limped forward under the watchful gaze of her demonic captors.

The heavy footsteps of her captors reverberated through the oppressive silence, mingling with the eerie clanks of metal, as they dragged her along the cold, stone floor.

With a brutal shove, the demon flung open the cell door, sending Queen Mavis sprawling onto the unforgiving ground.

As the demon departed, leaving her alone in the suffocating darkness, Queen Mavis, though battered and weary, refused to surrender to despair.

With a flicker of defiance in her eyes, she resolved to cling to the flickering ember of hope that still burned within her, determined to defy the odds and reclaim her freedom.