An enormous black cumulonimbus filled with lightning covered the entire ceiling. The thunder's rumble was deafening, and the guards had a lightning rod next to them to deflect the many stray strikes their electrically conductive armor might attract.
All that electrical energy came from the queen's anger as she faced Yeneltig. Her face was impassive—gone was the amusing, lively queen who was both tough and gentle and used to crack immature jokes. In her place stood a woman with the air of a tyrant. She was filled with hatred for the young champion—his cowardice and weakness made her want to vomit. Yet she had said nothing when the Fairy proposed him as her champion. She had even explained that it didn't mean she was obliged to choose her lover as her champion to help her in her struggle for power. But he had done as he pleased, and now she would have to severely reprimand the one she held dear so that he would etch into his mind—like a soaked, trembling chicken—that he wasn't fighting merely for himself or for his princess, but as a representative of the Fairy Kingdom's army.
Sometimes, she regretted having become queen instead of following her friend to fight evil across the world. She wouldn't have had to grovel before those people she scarcely cared for, nor suffer the oppressive weight of clothing that compressed her chest, stomach, and crushed her back. Destined to be a valiant warrior of the Kingdom of Sylvania, she had been born in a Royal Bud—well, she was born in a Royal Bud, while the other was born in a cocoon of Java-Aleim roots. She had to win the tournament and the election for the new queen and, moreover, when she was inaugurated, she wasn't truly queen; and once she had asserted herself, there was no more war. She could no longer demonstrate her battlefield prowess—except by participating in other nations' wars as she had just days ago.
And it was "improper for a queen to fight in the arena with savages," the winged or big-eared old men had told her. All she could do now—if only to entertain herself—was check the harvests, chat with her attendants, and take inventory of the army. So imagine how bored she was of having to scold a child who couldn't properly defend his little sweetheart and who simply let danger take its course. If I could beat him up once and for all, I would have already done it, she thought. It was vulgar, but that was the honest truth running through her mind.
She had done everything to toughen him up, but unable to stick to a diet and with muscles like papier-mâché, he couldn't even use his head to make up for his lack of strength—he was that stupid. How could a girl be attracted to such an idiot? the queen wondered. Because besides being stupid, he was a ladies' man. He hadn't cheated on her yet, but his attitude toward other girls showed that his jaw deserved a good talking-to. It was the only time she saw his testosterone in action—so dumb as not to understand how lucky he was (everything is relative).
He might have been another champion; she would have already struck lightning on his house to set him straight, but since he came from the family that had helped her come to power about twenty-five years ago, she couldn't afford to break his ankles, that filthy coward.
Audisélia would have to show diplomacy and pedagogy—something she hated above all when it came to desperate cases—but Sawyer had made the effort, so she could do it for others. Sawyer watched her closely to ensure she didn't unleash "extravagant" violence on a child. It was a pity Globox wasn't there to distract him with his absurdities. One day, she would tell Morvian—another Saint of the Queen—to replace him on his days off.
Now, after all that, let's return to the current situation with the cumulonimbus forming above their heads.
Yeneltig stepped forward and asked the queen why he was there with her. "And what about deference?" the queen reminded him. Immediately, the champion complied, recalling the proper behavior in the presence of Her Majesty, and he apologized profusely for his rudeness.
"Do you know why I summoned you?" Audisélia asked.
"No idea, my queen," he replied with his head bowed.
"I'm sure you have at least a little idea—even with that chickpea for a brain," she retorted.
Sawyer banged on the throne to remind the queen to remain calm. She sighed in exasperation.
"I'll get straight to the point. You left your protégée unsupervised while a great danger manifested itself in the Colosseum."
"She didn't want to leave! What did you expect me to do?"
"That you stay with her!" she snapped. "Let me remind you that you are one of the few with a dual status—being both the lover and the protector of a princess—and you have failed at both. And this isn't the first time you've been incapable of doing your job. Even when that lizard attacked her, you couldn't protect her; you fled… cowardly," she added with a trace of contempt. "It took that human to come and save her—and that happened twice because you couldn't even use your own body to ensure her safety! He had to intervene again."
"What are you talking about?" the champion objected indignantly. "This guy has nothing of a human; humans are far weaker than I am. This guy is something else entirely! No human could have faced Triface and prevailed—indeed, no one here could."
"That's true," the queen agreed, "and we are in the process of identifying the source of his immeasurable strength. Nevertheless, that isn't what I told you. I told you to protect her—I never asked you to defeat monsters or assassins. You can't even follow a simple conversation. You idiot!"
The queen was then sharply rebuked by her bodyguard. "I won't allow it! I'm doing the best I can to serve her!" defended Yeneltig, "as if I had ever wanted to be her champion when…"
"And yet, that is exactly the case!" she interrupted. "You have her because she placed all her trust in you, regardless of whether you're weak or not! She trusts you because she believes in you like no one else does. So at least deserve that trust. Or step aside when I find someone worthy of her."
Yeneltig gritted his teeth, though he was somewhat relieved not to have to fight anymore. He felt humiliated and could sense all the resentment the queen held toward him. He had never wanted to be on the battlefield leading to the throne, but that vile seer had predicted out of nowhere and upended his entire life, and still, others demanded accountability from him.
And now, this "human" who had shown up in their sacred abode—where their ancestors had always found refuge—was adding to his humiliation. He would have loved it if the Mad Judge had had his way with him. He couldn't understand why there was such a gathering around a fairy born without wings. Why did so many people hate him and prevent him from living a peaceful life? It was as if the whole world wanted to end his life, yet some higher force always spared him from every murder attempt.
Already, why did the queen take such good care of her? Was she not showing favoritism by overprotecting her? He wouldn't have all this pressure if she weren't hovering over his every move. He would have already completed his mission. He only mumbled words inaudible to the queen.
"Stop mumbling. It's irritating. Speak from your guts instead of hiding your words in your beard. I'm not going to use my powers to coddle you, even when you speak."
He rose and bared his fangs. "I don't see why you favor the wingless fairy so much when she isn't the only one born without wings. Besides, every fairy princess in such a case should be helped."
The queen placed a finger on his chin, made a questioning pout, and gazed at the cloud formed by her anger. "Well, how am I going to get rid of that?" she wondered, then turned her gaze toward the champion.
"I'm not saying you're against your protégée's success, but let's talk about this favoritism you mention. This 'favoritism' toward your lover is nothing but assistance, because as you know, she receives no help from the nobles. Like the other nobles, I have the right to have my favorite, and she is among those I have chosen. But I understand you; the fact that I protect her and grant her the kingdom—as all fairies from the Royal Buds do—makes you ride me, as you feel I demand you make her win. But that is completely false. I only want her to lose not because of your cowardice, but because she faces foes stronger than her, so that in the end, she will have given everything she had despite the difficulties. Understood?"
It was quite a long sentence—she probably could have punctuated it better. "Why did she repeat the word 'fait' so many times?" wondered the royal bodyguard Sawyer. At any rate, she now seemed less angry. Yeneltig nodded, somewhat relieved that the queen did not have such high expectations of him regarding the wingless fairy.
"Regarding the other wingless fairy, those aren't your concerns; she is subject to an entirely different regime than you lot," she said coldly.
The atmosphere grew heavy again as the queen's anger resonated in the rumbling clouds, which became increasingly noisy. "Let this be the last time you doubt my actions," warned Her Sovereignty. "Next time, lightning will strike you, and you'll have less chance of survival than the human. You may leave."
Yeneltig thanked her and fled the room. Sawyer then asked, "Now, how are you going to get rid of that cumulonimbus?"
"Don't worry, I already know what to do."
"A bomb?"
"Spare me your nonsense; I'm not as crazy as my predecessors," she reprimanded him. "It will serve for our dear guest if he isn't the Nemesis."
Sawyer raised an eyebrow. "Have you changed your mind about his case?"
"No. I only hope he isn't."
"Why?"
"Because it's obvious that if he is the Nemesis and we're mistaken, we would be contributing to the end of the world."
"And to the non-arrival of the Heroine..." Sawyer added.
He rested his arm on the back of the queen's royal chair. He looked as though he hadn't slept much lately—surely due to issues with Defense, which demanded more information about the arrival of such an individual. After all, they were in charge of security outside the sylvan territory so that no intruder could infiltrate. What disgrace would have befallen them and their families if this human had attacked the queen or their fellow citizens?
"Among other things."
"I hope you'll apologize."
"It's not up to me—it's up to her!" she snapped.
"Yeah… maybe… actually, I don't know," he retracted, "but remember one thing: here, peace reigns—but in the outside world, every square inch could kill you."
"Don't take her for a weakling," she warned coldly.
"Even if she's strong in magic, she isn't invincible—and besides, she's just a child. I think you overestimate her. I've already told you that, but fine—I'll omit the possibility that she might be assassinated, and I'll remind you that a human's lifespan is as fleeting as the wind's breath."
"It's barely been six years…" she said with a sulky look.
"Remember the shock you felt when you saw her again ten years later…"
Audisélia fell silent, conceding defeat to her guardian's argument.
Sawyer wondered if she had too quickly dismissed the possibility that he might be the Legendary Hero. That suited him well, but was it good for Audisélia's psyche? After all, before her stood a real time bomb that might explode the kingdom if mishandled.
Meanwhile, Audisélia was considering whether to reconcile with her friend if she returned, or even sending a delegation to search for her, but it was extremely arduous to leave the country of Larsano without losing men along the way—and there wouldn't be even a handful left when they returned empty-handed.
"Weren't you supposed to summon spies and informants to give you their report?" Sawyer asked, trying to change the subject.
"Oh yes, that's right."
She snapped her fingers, and men in black from every race appeared through hidden doors and hatches. They knelt before their queen.
A short old dwarf—smaller than the average dwarf—stepped up beside the sovereign. It was the great counselor Igniasté, a former general whose wisdom was matched only by the length of his beard, which he had sworn never to cut until his death. (I have absolutely no idea who would cut it on the day of his funeral; I was never let in on the secret—I think the queen herself didn't know; she merely hoped it wouldn't be her.)
He was in charge of secret operations conducted abroad to spy on neighboring countries—outside Larsano, since there was no nation other than the Kingdom of the Fairy Forest in this hostile land—that traded, communicated, or forged alliances with them to determine if they had betrayed the location of that Fairy reserve. In any case, they always found a way to evade their opponents.
Nevertheless, her true counselor was none other than Sawyer. It was with him that she made her final decisions about thirty percent of the time—if he knew, he'd rather lose a testicle than his beard!
"Helmir, get up and reveal to us the information you've obtained about this human boy," demanded the head of espionage.
She complied and produced from a glass capsule a series of sheets—her report. At first glance, one might think that this night elf could be a man, given his rather pronounced musculature, his shaved head from which one could guess his blond hair, his piercing eyes and cold gaze, and especially his almost non-existent chest—don't comment on that if you don't want to end up one day surrounded by crowned alligators, a particularly wild and belligerent species descended from the original alligators that have acquired an incredibly prodigious speed (some even surpassing a cheetah) and, above all, possessing golden, crown-shaped teeth that allow them to tear the flesh from their prey with dreadful ease—and they even digest the bones and hair of their victims; they truly deserve their nickname "new pigs of the underworld."
This woman had seen many of the kingdom's rulers come and go, thanks to the long lifespan of the dark elves—which far exceeded that of the realm's regents—but for national security reasons, she had been aged for the good of the kingdom.
"Contrary to what one might think, Tadzi did a good job investigating," she announced.
Even her voice was manly—deeper than that of some of the males in this kingdom. She was truly an asset when sent to places exclusively for men or exclusively for women—especially in human areas or regions with a predominantly humanoid population—because her pointed ears had been trimmed fifty years ago. A rare pearl whose importance must not be neglected.
"You mean Tadzi has become more than a gossip columnist?" said the queen-fairy, feigning surprise.
"It's more complicated than that. He is an individual who is both 'popular' and mysterious; most of the information we have gathered about the various places he's been is more rumor than verified fact."
"What do you mean by that?" asked Counselor Igniasté.
"What I mean is that Tadzi's tall tales can be as true as they are false because this boy is an enigma," she explained. "He appeared five years ago and has often found himself in situations that are improbable for a child his age…"
"His age?"
"Yes. This boy is only fifteen," revealed Helmir.
The queen looked wary.
"Why are you surprised, Sélia?" whispered Sawyer. "How old did you think he was?"
"Thirty-six!"
"Are you kidding me? He's an adult human—stop confusing the life expectancy of fairies with that of humans."
"In any case, he didn't seem that young to me… So you mean he began his adventure at ten?"
"Exactly," she replied. "He was taken in by a man you all know, who goes by the gentle nickname 'Angel of Arms,' a human warlord."
"Seriously?" the queen and her bodyguard whistled under their breath.
"Huh?" said Igniasté.
"No, nothing," replied Audisélia and Sawyer.
Helmir raised an eyebrow and realized that these rogues hadn't been informed of the true, high-ranking counselor of this land. They were playing a very dangerous game—even though the queen's popularity was among the highest compared to her predecessors, she must know, with the Great Fire and the Félonne, that engaging in clandestine scheming without alerting those best able to rescue her in times of crisis or unforeseen events was the norm—especially for "that." She kept that in mind and said no more so that the queen's and her confidant's machinations wouldn't be discovered.
But she couldn't keep her tongue either! they thought in unison.
"To answer you, sir, he is an individual with whom we've had some issues during our various operations," the spy half-lied. "This human is truly of the worst kind—calculating, lying, deceitful—yet talented in his chosen field."
"I've never seen him mentioned in your reports, though," said the short, white-browed dwarf, astonished.
That wasn't redundant! He was very small.
The two childhood friends swallowed violently, nearly choking, and they had every reason to fear the worst given their secret.
Except that Helmir was a professional at lying and improvisation. Unforeseen events were her daily life—even though her greatest fantasy was to have a mission go smoothly. I could tell you that at that moment she was fuming, but in a way, I wouldn't want to be her bloodstream.
"It's a rather minor inconvenience in our operations; we didn't think it was significant."
"Will it pass?"
"No, don't worry," reassured the dwarf counselor. "If he isn't an enemy of the nation or a direct danger to our people, then we needn't worry."
The queen and her bodyguard discreetly raised their thumbs in approval. Frankly… she thought.
"Now, resume your report, dear Helmir," said the queen with a smile.
That was it—she was now in the royal favor. Perhaps from now on, Audisélia would stop mocking the invisible chest of one of her most loyal agents.
"To summarize, many legends circulate about him, and it wasn't an easy task to disentangle the truth from all the data we collected. To many, he is a despicable wild beast—a monstrosity from the most remote times of Fayiera Terra—and the Oranas surveillance cameras do not contradict these accounts. But what appeared most frequently in the testimonies was that he was an unnamed abomination."
"So, is he the Nemesis?" asked the impatient queen.
"I don't believe so," replied Helmir, "even though we have been told of all his abominable deeds—some so outrageous they defy comprehension and are utterly absurd—I cannot deny that this young man, human or not, has accomplished things that demonstrate the goodness of his soul."
"What do you mean?"
"For example," began the night elf as she rifled through her report, "he helped repair the Utenro dam even as the rapids crashed over him and the men assigned to do it; he saved the occupants of a high-speed train by holding the overturned cars with his bare strength until help arrived; he overpowered the tyrant Albedo Abuzela Wata, who had imposed terror on the Fallen Capital—Paris; he helped the firefighters of Déon-Macon stop the raging fire in their fields and diverted the flames from the furrows of Dusten-Balt; and he also fought off the 'werewolves' that were devouring the villagers of Thiercelieux… That is only a small part of the good deeds he has done."
"And what is the conclusion of your investigation?" asked Igniasté.
Helmir rubbed her chin with her gloved hand, pensive; she hadn't concretely decided what to say to the queen upon returning from her two-and-a-half-week investigation. As she enumerated the human's deeds, her gaze softened and her voice brightened compared to when she recounted his atrocities. For the first time, she couldn't be as categorical as usual.
"I must admit he is not a choirboy, even though he once was…"
"How do you mean—a 'child of the heart'?" asked the sovereign, puzzled. "What do you mean? He isn't a 'child of the heart'?"
"No, but…" Helmir began.
"Then he isn't part of the 'cult of the heart'?" interrupted the counselor. "Is that a good thing?"
Helmir smacked her cheek.
"Forget it…" she spat.
She coughed and regained her composure.
"In all sincerity, I'm not one hundred percent sure, but to me, he does not give the impression of being the Nemesis—even though he possesses Ymir… I have come to understand, through the accounts my team and I have gathered, that it is the force of events that has led him into these improbable situations for a child his age—situations that even an adult should not face. However, ultimately, this human is a person with a good heart; indeed, he is a man of grand altruism whose destiny repeatedly blocks his path. But I am certain that spending time with the wingless fairy will be more beneficial to him than being by Astéron's side."
The queen crossed her arms, closed her eyes, and thought for a moment before reopening them.
"That's a good plea, Helmir," the queen praised. "I never knew you were capable of pity for someone—let alone for a human."
"Because that little man is treated far worse than we fairies are by our own and by his own kind, and life has mistreated him so much that I cannot help but be moved by his journey."
"You have always been so honest with yourself, Helmir," complimented Counselor Igniasté, "even when the person was despised by everyone. You should be the judge instead of Triface."
"That would be an honor," the spy said, "but the life I have in intelligence would be dearly missed if I left—especially since I owe that life to our queen. But I'll think about it in due time."
"I will reflect on the many elements you have provided. However, I cannot ignore one of her requests regarding whether he is truly the Harbinger of Evil. Although that is incomprehensible to me, I can accept it… but he'd better have a genuine reason."
"Stop your pseudo-religious extremism," Sawyer whispered, "just because you think she's the Legendary Heroine."
"Yes, yes…" the queen dismissed her.
"Finally, my Lady," interjected the second intelligence officer, "only he can tell you the truth—not only about his true nature but also about his real intentions and the details of his past."
"Very well. I will take your report into account in my final decision."
Helmir curtsied and told her men they could disperse, and they vanished in an instant. Soon, only the queen remained in the throne room.
"Anything else, Helmir?" Audisélia asked.
"Yes. Two things, my queen."
"Alright. Speak."
The chief spy's face turned bright red.
"For the matter I asked of you three months ago, will it be ready soon?" she asked timidly.
"Don't be so impatient, my little Helmir," smiled the royal fairy. "Don't worry—it will be delivered to you as soon as possible."
"Thank you very much," she said in a high-pitched voice.
She sighed in relief, regained her composure, and then spoke normally about the second matter she wished to address with the queen.
"The second matter I would like to discuss is the need to better regulate the teleporters. I'm tired of landing in heaps of garbage and then having to wash myself off. Fortunately, this time my mission was in Vicenti; otherwise, I don't know how it would have gone elsewhere."
"Huh? But I'm not the one who manages the teleporters!" protested the great fairy. "Don't blame me—blame Seb'is, that lazy fellow."
"I know, but he's absent, which is why I'm coming to complain to you."
"Then wait for his return, because I can do nothing for you."
"Where has that idiot gone now?" Audisélia wondered. "Don't tell me he's off wandering outside again! I swear."
"Very well," Helmir agreed.
The special agent turned the dial on her watch and disappeared.
"What did you promise him?" asked Igniasté.
"That's none of your business," replied Audisélia. "These are women's affairs."
"I'm certain it's something noble, given the lady's stature."
"Yes, yes—that's it. A 'truly noble thing,'" mocked the monarch with disdain.
Just how highly could she possibly hold him? the queen wondered.
Audisélia's thoughts returned to the case of the human. After what the head of the kingdom's intelligence service had discovered, many of the reported elements indicated his innocence. Yet, deep inside, she hoped that this boy would truly be the enemy of Fayiera Terra and that she and her old friend would defeat him together—so that they wouldn't need words to forgive each other, and on that occasion she would finally confess her feelings, no longer bound by the racist rules of this kingdom.
Outside the throne room, Yeneltig was confronted by hooded men wearing long red cloaks and pointed hoods adorned with a cross circled in red, like a scarlet halo. The champion clenched his teeth, his fingers trembling. He didn't dare turn around to face them.
"What do you want from me?" he asked, voice tight with fear.
"All the assassins we've sent to take care of this thing have been stopped—by the queen, her guards, or outside interference," they said in an eerie unison. "Since we can't kill her, you're going to defeat her in the tournament. It has to be so decisive that we can dispose of her without any questions."
"What?"
"Don't act surprised. It's your duty! No wingless fairy must ever ascend the throne. It would be the downfall of the kingdom—especially if she becomes the vessel of our benefactor."
"When was the kingdom ever destroyed? That's not in the history books," Yeneltig said mockingly.
He felt the cold tip of a dagger against his neck.
"Do you want us to stab you and leave you paralyzed for life from the poison?" the red-cloaked men warned.
He shook his head frantically in protest.
"Then stop mocking us while your piss is already running down your leg," they sneered. "We're talking about the cursed day when that human girl and the Stockholm-syndrome victim fought Drakniar, the ash-breath dragon. They showed the people a false image of human goodness and proved that some of them could surpass our finest warriors. It was a disgrace! We lost Triface, a staunch defender of our cause and justice. And now, the queen wants to spare his killer—another human, of course. Always them."
Yeneltig's voice trembled as he sought a more peaceful solution.
"Why not have me lose in the first round or just forfeit? That way, she won't reach the throne, and I won't have to kill her."
The hooded men exhaled before bursting into low, sinister laughter.
"You really don't get it, do you?" they said. "We seek purity of ideas and bodies in this kingdom. We'll kill anyone who goes against the philosophy of the first kings and our benefactor. Especially those wingless ones who stain the beauty of our realm."
"When you say wingless, you mean...?"
"Anyone who isn't a fairy."
"But the first kings didn't believe in such ideals!"
"Stop spouting that nonsense they teach in school!" they snapped. "We're talking about the revelations from our great protector and true sovereign! And as for your dumb idea—do you really think you have any chance of winning this tournament? Just do what we demand. Your fate is already sealed."
The hooded figures gathered into a single compact group. The one holding Yeneltig's arm sheathed his dagger and released him. By the time Yeneltig turned around, they had vanished into the shadows.
The lights came back on. Yeneltig collapsed to his knees, sweat dripping down his face. He sobbed loudly, violet mucus running from his nose. He punched the ground in despair, unable to see a way out of this nightmare.
Nearby, just a few steps away, stood a man on crutches, watching him.
How long had he been there?
Without a word, the man turned and disappeared into the shadows.