...
{3rd Pov}
One could see a handsome Elf standing with his hands neatly folded in front of a woman dressed in a traditional maid uniform.
This young Elf was none other than Ember, a striking figure with mesmerizing blue eyes that seemed to hold both determination and uncertainty, and soft green hair that shimmered faintly under the gentle light.
He was currently standing before Aina Wisteria, his sister's devoted handmaiden, who appeared visibly troubled and conflicted by his request.
"Please, Aina, help me!" Ember said earnestly, his tone filled with both desperation and sincerity.
Seeing him like this—his normally calm expression replaced by one of pleading—Aina didn't know what to do.
She stood frozen, torn between her duty and the emotions stirring within her heart.
As for what was truly happening, Ember was seeking Aina's assistance in executing a plan he had been crafting for days.
His goal was simple yet daring—to escape from Alf's Forest, the homeland of the Elves, which was known for being nearly impossible to leave without permission.
His period of house arrest had just come to an end, and now, at sixteen years of age, he knew his father would never allow him to leave freely.
Ember, however, had no intention of waiting for Finn and Loki to arrive to help him; he wanted to take matters into his own hands.
He had already formulated most of the escape plan in detail—the routes, the timing, and even contingencies in case he was discovered.
Now, all that remained was securing someone's cooperation to arrange certain preparations, ensuring his escape could be carried out smoothly when the opportunity presented itself.
After long consideration, he decided that Aina was the best person to trust with such a dangerous secret.
Escaping from Alf's Forest was no small feat, especially given the boundaries and strict surveillance surrounding it.
If not for the slow and unreliable communication systems typical of this medieval world, Ember doubted that an escape under his current circumstances would even be remotely possible.
"Y-Your Highness! Please do not bow before me!" Aina exclaimed in a panic, her eyes widening as she instinctively took a step back.
The sight of a High Elf prince lowering his head to her—a mere maid of common elven blood—was unthinkable.
Her heart raced, and her hands trembled slightly as she tried to process the situation.
"Aina," Ember replied softly but firmly, his voice carrying both respect and urgency.
"I know my request is extremely selfish. I am asking you to help me escape—to help me run away from my responsibilities. What I'm asking is no different from defying my father's will. Knowing that, how could I not bow before you when I'm placing such a burden on your shoulders?"
Aina was utterly baffled.
Ember had already explained his entire plan to her in detail earlier, and not once had he asserted his royal authority or attempted to command her obedience.
He had simply asked—humbly, sincerely.
If it had been any other kind of request, even something as personal and awkward as asking her to become his lover, she might have agreed, no matter how uncomfortable it made her feel.
But this—this was different.
What he was asking now meant going directly against the will of the High Elf King, her ruler, and Ember's father.
"Your Highness… you can ask me for anything else, truly anything," Aina said hesitantly, her voice trembling as she lowered her head.
"But helping you to escape—t-that is something far too difficult for me to do."
Ember let out a quiet sigh, his expression showing both disappointment and understanding.
He knew very well the kind of danger Aina would face if she were discovered aiding him.
The punishment she would receive could easily be far harsher than anything he might endure himself.
Thankfully, he had already taken precautions to minimize her risk, though that hardly made her decision easier.
Finally, he straightened his posture, his eyes meeting hers with renewed determination.
"T-This time," he said slowly, his voice carrying a mix of sadness and resolve, "I won't make this request as the Prince of Elves… but as your younger brother."
Aina flinched slightly, her shoulders tensing as her eyes met Ember's serious and determined gaze.
For a moment, time seemed to pause between them.
She had practically helped raise him together with Riveria when he was just a small child—spoiling him, scolding him, and comforting him whenever he cried.
To Aina, Ember wasn't just the prince or a noble High Elf; he was like her own younger brother, someone she had cherished deeply since his earliest days.
"Sister Aina," Ember began, his voice trembling slightly but carrying firm resolve, "I am fed up with staying here, trapped inside the same walls and the same forest day after day. I want to explore the world that lies beyond, the world that is still unknown to me. I know there are countless dangers out there waiting, but I have prepared myself for them. I have worked hard—really hard—ever since I was a child. I trained my mind and my body all for the sake of one day being able to see everything that I dream of seeing. And to achieve that dream, I need your help. If you don't wish to help me, I understand—just tell me clearly, and I promise I won't trouble you any further."
As he spoke, genuine emotion glinted in his eyes, revealing a mixture of determination, exhaustion, and longing.
Aina swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry.
She could feel her heartbeat quicken as a storm of thoughts and emotions flooded her mind.
She thought about his childhood, about how often she had seen him smile innocently, and how that same boy was now standing before her as a young man ready to defy everything for his dream.
Finally, after a long moment of silence, she let out a deep sigh, as if releasing all her hesitation.
Reaching forward, she firmly grasped both of his hands.
"Ember!" she said with sudden determination, her tone filled with warmth and resolve.
"Don't worry! Your big sister will help you achieve your dream!"
Those words seemed to echo softly in the quiet room.
In that instant, Aina made her decision.
No matter how dangerous the consequences might be, no matter what punishment she might face, she would stand by him.
The young man before her wasn't just a prince—he was family in all but blood, the little boy she had once held in her arms.
'Even if it is His Majesty himself', she thought fiercely, 'how could I possibly let my younger brother's dream be buried before it even begins? Punishment? Who cares!'
Ember's eyes widened in disbelief for a moment, then brightened with pure joy.
Unable to contain his emotions, he immediately stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her in a heartfelt embrace.
Aina froze for a second, caught off guard, then blushed deeply as she felt his warmth.
She let out a quiet sigh in his embrace, her lips curving into a small, affectionate smile.
'To think that the little boy I once knew has grown into such a lady-killer', she thought to herself, half amused and half flustered.
'If I hadn't known him since his childhood, I probably would have ended up developing a crush on him myself.'
After a short while, the two finally separated, though a gentle fondness lingered in the air between them.
They spent the next while discussing the finer details of Ember's escape plan—what routes to take, what supplies to prepare, and when the best time to act would be.
Only once everything was settled and confirmed did Ember take his leave, gratitude shining in his eyes as he disappeared from view, leaving Aina quietly watching his back with a mix of pride and worry.
...
Five long months had passed since Ember's secret conversation with Aina.
During that time, everything within the royal palace seemed peaceful on the surface, though invisible currents of change were beginning to stir beneath.
Now, a grand and luxurious banquet was being held in the Royal Palace to celebrate the seasonal festival of prosperity.
The vast hall was decorated with elegant crystal chandeliers, banners bearing the crest of the Elven Kingdom, and tables filled with exquisite food and rare wines.
The air was filled with music, laughter, and the soft hum of conversation.
Among the attendees stood Larfal Ljos Alf, the current King of the Elves and the ruler of Alf's Forest.
He could be seen conversing amicably with several ducal heads, all of whom were High Elves like himself.
These men were not just nobles but members of the royal lineage as well—each entrusted with governing different regions of Alf's Forest as dukes under Larfal's rule.
"It would seem Sir Phineas couldn't attend the banquet tonight," one High Elf remarked politely as he lifted his wine glass.
"It can't be helped," another replied, adjusting his silver-trimmed robes.
"A minor beast tide broke out in his domain recently. He needs to be present personally to ensure there are no casualties among his people."
The others nodded in mutual understanding, their expressions showing mild concern but no real alarm.
"Still," a third High Elf interjected, "Sir Phineas has his son, doesn't he? The boy recently turned sixty-seven this year, if I recall correctly. He's said to be an exceptional mage and a competent commander as well. For such a small beast tide—merely a Level One outbreak—surely he could have taken charge instead of his father."
The others murmured in agreement at that point, though none dared to speak ill of Phineas openly.
"He must be worried nonetheless," Larfal said with a calm smile, his tone diplomatic.
"After all, who among us wouldn't be concerned if our territory faced danger, no matter how small? It's only natural."
The dukes nodded respectfully at the King's words, and the conversation continued for a few more moments before Larfal politely excused himself to mingle with other guests.
However, as he moved through the glittering hall filled with nobles, musicians, and laughter, a faint frown formed on his face.
Something was bothering him—he had not seen Ember anywhere since the banquet began.
He first turned his gaze toward his wife, Ada, who was standing across the hall, surrounded by a group of noble Elven ladies.
They were engaged in what seemed like a lively discussion, likely about politics or court fashion.
Larfal, knowing full well that interrupting their conversation would bring him nothing but trouble, decided against approaching her and instead chose to look for his daughter.
After a short while of walking through the grand hall, he finally spotted Riveria.
She was seated elegantly near one of the marble pillars, surrounded by a small circle of young noblemen and two sons of other ducal families.
The two young men were subtly bickering, each trying to gain her attention and favor through polite flattery and carefully chosen compliments.
Riveria, however, remained composed and distant, replying only with short, curt answers and maintaining her cold demeanor.
When Larfal approached, his regal presence immediately silenced the small group.
The young nobles quickly noticed the King's arrival and stood up, bowing gracefully and respectfully before him.
Larfal gave them a brief nod before turning his attention toward his daughter.
"Riveria," he said, his tone even and calm, "where is Ember? I haven't seen him at the banquet."
Riveria brought the glass in her hand to her lips, taking a slow sip of the juice before replying, "Ember should have already finished his training by now, Father. He's probably preparing himself and will arrive soon," she said in her usual concise manner.
Larfal frowned slightly, unsatisfied with the vague answer.
"And what about his maid? Shouldn't she be helping him dress for the occasion?" he asked, his tone slightly sharper.
Riveria set down her glass, her expression unchanged.
"She took leave for this week," she replied calmly.
"And Ember refused to have any other maid tend to his needs during her absence."
"I see," Larfal muttered, nodding thoughtfully as if the answer made sense, though a faint crease remained between his brows.
Without probing further, he turned and walked away, completely unaware of the sly, knowing smile that had appeared on Riveria's face.
From across the hall, Ada had been quietly observing their exchange.
When her eyes met Riveria's, the two women shared a brief but meaningful glance—one that spoke volumes.
Without a single word, both of them understood that the first step of their carefully planned scheme had succeeded perfectly.
Time continued to flow as the banquet carried on, filled with laughter, music, and the clinking of crystal glasses.
Hours passed in seemingly effortless celebration.
However, as the night deepened, several of the dukes began to inquire about Prince Ember, expressing their eagerness to greet the young heir.
It was only then, amid the polite questions and expectant looks, that Larfal suddenly realized something was terribly wrong—his son was still nowhere to be found.
A faint sense of unease began to rise within him.
Trying to stay calm, he quickly ordered one of the nearby maids to go and look for Prince Ember at once.
The maid bowed deeply and hurried out of the banquet hall.
At first, everyone continued to enjoy the evening as if nothing unusual had happened.
But as time went on and the maid failed to return, whispers began to spread throughout the hall.
The music faded, the laughter quieted, and soon an uncomfortable silence settled over the entire banquet.
Even the duchesses and the queen herself fell silent, their expressions turning tense and uncertain.
Larfal's patience began to wear thin.
His calm and composed demeanor started to crack as worry seeped into his eyes.
"What is taking so long?" he muttered under his breath, before turning toward a nearby guard.
"Send a few of your men to search for him as well—now," he ordered sharply.
The guards saluted and rushed off immediately.
Minutes passed that felt like hours.
Then, finally, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the hall.
The guards returned—but their expressions made everyone's heart sink before they even spoke.
"Your Majesty!" one of them said loudly, his voice shaking.
"His Highness—Prince Ember—is not in the castle! We have searched everywhere! His chambers, the training grounds, the library, the kitchen, the gardens—every single place we could think of! But he's nowhere to be found! It's as if he's vanished completely!"
A collective gasp filled the room.
The same maid who had been sent first now stepped forward, her face pale and her hands trembling.
"Y-Your Majesty," she said softly, lowering her head.
"I… I found this letter on His Highness's table…"
Larfal's heart skipped a beat as he took the letter from her hands.
The entire hall held its breath as the King unfolded it and began to read.
As his eyes moved across the neatly written lines, his face gradually lost all color.
His grip on the letter tightened, and his eyes widened in disbelief.
Everyone could tell immediately that the contents were serious.
A concerned duke, unable to contain his curiosity, finally spoke up.
"Your Majesty! What is written in the letter?"
Larfal didn't respond at first.
He stood frozen, staring at the letter as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
His hands began to tremble, and a storm of emotion twisted across his face—disbelief, anger, and fear all at once.
Then, suddenly, he snapped.
"Emberrrrr!!!!!!!!!" Larfal roared, his voice echoing through the great hall like thunder.
The sound stunned everyone present into silence.
His chest heaved with heavy breaths, and his expression was one of pure fury.
Several nobles and attendants rushed to calm him down, urging him to sit and compose himself.
After a moment, he managed to catch his breath enough to speak again.
"Ember… he has run away from here!" he shouted, his voice filled with a mix of rage and disbelief.
"Quickly! Assemble every available guard! Mobilize all the soldiers! Send word to the fortresses and the border watchtowers! Alert every city and every outpost! He must not—under any circumstances—be allowed to leave Alf's Forest!"
His command sent a wave of shock through everyone present.
The guards looked at each other for a moment, confused and uncertain, but quickly saluted and dashed off to carry out his orders.
The air was thick with tension as nobles and attendants scrambled in all directions.
Within minutes, the once-lively palace had turned into chaos.
Messengers were dispatched, horns were blown, and the entire capital was thrown into a sudden uproar.
The dukes, equally shocked by Ember's bold action, quickly decided to leave the banquet with their spouses to begin their own searches across their respective territories.
Larfal, though enraged, still acknowledged their loyalty and nodded in gratitude, even as fury continued to boil inside him.
Then, in the midst of the commotion, Larfal turned sharply and locked eyes with Queen Ada.
His expression darkened.
"It's you, isn't it, Ada?" he said in a cold, accusing tone.
Ada, however, didn't respond immediately.
Instead, a faint smirk formed on her lips, one that only fueled his anger further.
Larfal opened his mouth to speak again, but before he could, Ada stepped closer, her gaze sharp and unwavering.
Without hesitation, she reached out and grabbed him by the collar, forcing him to look directly into her eyes.
"Larfal," she said in a calm yet dangerous voice, "you have truly made me angry this time."
Her tone was steady, but her eyes burned with restrained fury.
"You crushed the dream of our son—the very dream he worked for day and night. You ignored how hard he trained, how many risks he took, and how recklessly he pushed himself just to prove his worth. He even argued with his dear sister because of it."
Her grip tightened slightly as she continued, "Did you really think I would take that lightly? That I would just stand by and watch you bury our son's hopes beneath your rules and pride as a king?"
The entire hall went dead silent.
No one dared to interrupt.
The Queen's words cut through the tension like a blade, and for the first time that night, even Larfal—King of the Elves—was left speechless.
Larfal swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry as he met Ada's intense glare.
Her eyes practically radiated fury and dominance, making even the proud King of the Elves falter.
For a brief moment, a faint blush crept up his otherwise stern face, a sight that completely startled the surrounding maids and attendants—especially Riveria, who could only stare at her father in disbelief.
"Ahem," Riveria coughed deliberately, breaking the awkward silence and snapping Larfal out of his trance-like state.
He immediately turned his head to the side, pretending to adjust his robe while trying to hide his embarrassment.
The maids exchanged puzzled glances, unsure whether to look away or pretend nothing happened.
Everyone in the royal court, from the lowest servant to the highest noble, had always believed that Larfal Ljos Alf was the dominant one in his relationship—the cold, commanding, and strict king who ruled both his kingdom and his household with absolute authority.
On the other hand, Queen Ada was seen as the cheerful, carefree, and occasionally mischievous counterpart—the one who laughed easily, played small pranks, and kept the royal family's atmosphere light-hearted.
How utterly wrong they all were.
Only Riveria, who had grown up witnessing the true dynamic between her parents, knew the truth all too well.
The reality was entirely opposite to what everyone imagined.
Outside the throne room, away from the eyes of nobles and courtiers, Ada was the one who truly held the reins.
Unless she dared to touch one of Larfal's deeply rooted sore spots, their relationship was nothing like the intimidating image people assumed.
It was a strange, complicated balance that nobody else could understand—one filled with playful teasing, occasional chaos, and more than a few… private power struggles.
Especially in the bed—ahemahem.
Riveria felt her face heat up the moment that thought crossed her mind, and she instantly cursed under her breath.
'Freaking perverts', she thought, glaring sharply at her parents who, despite the current situation, were still exchanging charged looks like a pair of teenagers testing each other's patience.
Finally, Larfal straightened his posture, regaining a bit of his composure.
His voice, now steady and filled with royal authority, broke the silence.
"Ada," he said firmly, "I will bring him back. I won't let my son break the taboo, no matter what it takes."
Determination flickered in his eyes as he spoke those words, the tone of a king who would move mountains for his royal duty and his race.
Ada, however, only chuckled softly.
Her anger seemed to melt into amusement as she tilted her head slightly, a sweet yet teasing smile spreading across her lips.
"~Oh, honey, is that so?~" she said in a sing-song tone.
"Then by all means—why don't you try it? Go on, do your best, honey~."
Her playful words, laced with mock affection, sent visible shivers down the spines of nearly everyone present.
Even Riveria, who had long grown accustomed to her parents' antics, couldn't help but wince slightly.
The sight of her usually dignified father and seemingly gentle mother glaring at each other with those unsettlingly calm yet dangerous smiles was enough to make anyone in the room rethink their life choices.
The atmosphere turned heavy and awkward.
The nobles, guards, and servants who remained all felt an indescribable chill crawl down their backs.
No one dared to speak.
Everyone could sense, with painful clarity, that they were witnessing something far beyond a simple family disagreement.
Riveria sighed inwardly, covering her face with her hand.
Great, she thought miserably.
'Now the entire palace knows just how terrifying my parents can be when they're like this. And, of course, they just had to do this in front of everyone.'
The standoff between Larfal and Ada continued for several long, tense moments.
Their smiles remained polite, their tones calm, but the air around them crackled with invisible energy.
It was clear to everyone present that when it came to this royal couple, love and war weren't two separate things—they were the same.
...
"Neigh!" the horse released a sharp grunt as its master pulled firmly on the reins, urging it to move faster.
The sound of hooves striking against the rough dirt road echoed through the vast forest path as the beast galloped with incredible speed.
The rider's entire body was covered from head to toe in thick travel garments and a dark cloak, making it nearly impossible to discern his identity.
Only his eyes—beautiful, deep blue, and brimming with fierce determination—could be seen through the narrow opening of his hood.
The wind whipped against his face as he leaned forward, guiding the horse with steady hands.
Every movement of his body showed control, urgency, and experience, as though he had been riding tirelessly for hours.
His breathing was steady but deep, a clear indication that he was pushing both himself and his mount to their limits.
After some time, the towering walls of a large city finally came into view in the distance.
As he approached the entrance, he gradually eased his grip on the reins, allowing the horse to slow its pace.
The sound of galloping softened into a rhythmic trot until they finally came to a halt near the end of a long line leading into the city.
The rider lifted his gaze, taking in the scene before him.
The city gates were massive, made of reinforced wood and iron, guarded by numerous Elf soldiers clad in shining armor.
Around him, a mixed crowd had formed—Elves, humans, and even a few demi-humans—all waiting for inspection before being allowed to enter.
The atmosphere was tense and filled with murmurs, as people whispered amongst themselves about the unusually heavy security presence.
Curious and cautious, the cloaked figure turned his head toward a passing Demi-human, a cat-man with pointed ears and a furry tail who was walking nearby.
Politely raising his hand, he stopped the man and spoke in a calm but firm tone.
"Sir, pardon me for stopping you," the rider said.
"But may I ask… why are there so many soldiers here? It seems far more guarded than usual."
The cat-man gave him a puzzled look, his tail twitching slightly in irritation, though his tone remained civil.
"You don't know?" he asked with mild surprise.
"You must be from one of the smaller towns, huh? Well, they should have sent soldiers there by now too. Anyway, there's been some big news."
He leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret.
"The Prince of the Royal Alf family, Ember Ljos Alf himself, has run away from home. They say he's trying to leave Alf's Forest entirely. Because of that, a royal decree has been issued—everything's been temporarily halted until he's found. The soldiers have orders to search everyone who passes through. Even adventurers can't get proper work right now. Things are going to be chaotic for a few days at least."
The cloaked figure's eyes narrowed slightly, though his tone remained neutral.
"I see… thank you for telling me," he said, nodding once. Inside, however, his thoughts were racing.
'So, you reacted fast, Larfal', he thought, a faint smirk forming beneath the fabric of his mask.
'But it's useless in front of me.'
He gave the demi-human a polite nod of thanks before gently pulling on the reins once more, steering his horse away from the crowded line and heading in a completely different direction, disappearing into the forest path at the side of the main road.
The demi-human, watching him go, couldn't help but feel a flicker of suspicion.
Something about the traveler's eyes and voice seemed odd—refined, commanding, and out of place for a simple wanderer.
But after a few moments of thought, he shrugged it off.
"Nah, can't be," he muttered under his breath.
"No way a High Elf would be wandering around like that."
After all, everyone knew that High Elves were considered the most noble and prideful of all the Elven races.
They rarely left Alf's Forest, let alone mingled casually with other races.
Even among ordinary Elves, the High Elves were so deeply respected that their very presence could make others instinctively speak more humbly.
It was part of their nature, a kind of superiority ingrained in their very being—haughty, proud, and distant, even when they didn't intend to be.
And so, completely unaware of the truth, the demi-human simply shook his head and carried on with his business, never realizing that the mysterious traveler he had just spoken to was none other than one of the esteemed High Elf.
The person quickly positioned himself at a pre-determined spot, the place they had agreed upon long before.
From the shadows, he could see the approaching figure, his movements precise and controlled.
"Your Highness!" the person called out as he snapped into a proper salute.
The prince gave a brief nod in acknowledgment.
"Is everything ready?" he asked, his voice calm but tinged with urgency.
The man at the post nodded back without hesitation, a small spark of excitement in his eyes betraying his composed exterior.
Slowly, the prince removed the heavy covering that had concealed him, revealing his long green hair that shimmered slightly in the sunlight and his piercing blue eyes, eyes that seemed to reflect both determination and calculation.
The person, whose name was Klause, frowned slightly at the sight.
"Is something the matter?" the prince asked, noticing the hesitation.
"Well… you look a little different than what was shown in the painting," Klause admitted, his tone careful, as though choosing each word deliberately.
The prince smirked faintly, brushing a strand of green hair from his face.
"I've done a bit of make-up," he explained.
"If it weren't for the fact that the hair dye I have has run out, I would have dyed my hair blonde as well."
Klause's frown softened slightly, but he remained silent for a moment, clearly processing the transformation.
"Are you… scared of having me assist you?" the prince asked after a pause, his voice calm but probing.
Klause exhaled slowly, his chest rising and falling as he steadied himself.
"Honestly… I was shocked when my friend Aina showed me Her Majesty's letter, instructing me to help you escape Alf's Forest," he said, his voice steady but carrying a weight of surprise.
"But I've already made my decision. I will help you." His tone was firm, leaving no room for doubt.
With that, Klause moved quickly, assisting the prince in donning a set of soldier's armor that had been prepared in advance.
The armor was slightly too large, but with careful adjustments, it fit well enough to pass as a uniform of a city guard.
Each piece clicked into place with practiced precision: the chestplate, gauntlets, and boots, until the prince was fully disguised.
Once dressed, Klause led him carefully into the city, moving along back alleys and less-traveled streets so that they would remain unrecognized.
The plan had been painstakingly thought out: the prince was to pretend to be someone Klause had researched and observed for days, a person with enough reputation to move without drawing suspicion.
As they entered, the plan worked perfectly—the people they passed acknowledged them briefly but never questioned their presence.
Afterward, Klause stepped back and melted into the crowd on his own.
The disguise and preparation ensured that, even if anyone grew suspicious, their attention would naturally fall on the person the prince was impersonating, someone Klause had studied in detail.
This careful preparation was the key to their plan's success: suspicion, if it arose, would be misdirected entirely.
As the two separated within the bustling city streets, a sense of tension mixed with exhilaration hung in the air.
They had taken the first step of their carefully orchestrated escape, and though many dangers lay ahead, both felt the thrill of freedom just within reach.
To be continued…
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