Prince Fenris swept his gaze across the landscape from this high vantage point with a relaxed air. As the evening breeze brushed past his face, he couldn't help but let a faint smile escape.
In the past, this place had once rung with laughter. In his youth, he used to run and play tag joyfully with siblings of his own age. That was until the day the clouds of death descended... His mother passed away suddenly from a mysterious illness, and from that day on, the door to this heavenly balcony was sealed shut to him.
The life of the little prince plummeted from the sky to the abyss. Fenris was sent to live in the dank, sunless dungeon district under the care of his "Uncle," a man who was once a mighty Elven warlord but had fallen from grace and was transferred to serve merely as the head warden of the royal prison.
In that royal prison, though Fenris was not incarcerated, he did not live the life of a typical prince. He did not even have the fortune to practice the graceful Elven art of archery. The only thing he could do was grip a sword... obsessively practicing swordsmanship to vent the resentment piling up in his chest. Because sometimes, when his uncle was drunk, he would complain about his own wretched life...
"Your mother didn't die of sickness, Fenris... She was poisoned! Poisoned by those highborn ladies!"
His uncle's voice still echoed in his ears. The reason for the murder was simple yet cruel... merely because Fenris was born with shimmering silver hair—the hallmark of pure-blooded High Elves—which posed a threat to the stability of the other princes.
Although he held the title of Prince, Fenris's life was lowlier than a common soldier. That remained true until the wheel of fate began to turn... The clan of the former Queen plotted treason, hoping to overthrow King Alfsesfern, but they failed. The result was a massive bloodbath.
King Alfsesfern ordered the complete extermination of the rebel clan, including the execution of many relatives, princes, and princesses associated with the former Queen. Only four princes remained who could be called unrelated to the old power faction... and Fenris, the worthless prince in the dungeon, was undoubtedly one of those survivors.
And now... with the war at Luna-Grad claiming the lives of the remaining three princes, Fenris had become the sole Grand Prince.
Suddenly, the heavy tread of armored footsteps approached from behind.
Fenris turned around immediately to find the most famous female warrior among the Elves, Alvissa, walking straight toward him with a stoic, serious expression.
"So, here you are... I have been looking all over for you," Alvissa greeted in a flat tone.
"On what matter does Lady Alvissa seek me?" Fenris asked. Even though he was now the most senior prince in the lineage, due to his birth and past life, he never had the chance to act grand or imposing.
"I heard the Prince was injured from the battle with the God Modi and had to recuperate. I didn't expect you to be out here taking in the breeze and the view."
"I have been cooped up in my bedroom for days... Today, the sky of Alfheimr looks especially beautiful, so I came out to breathe some air," Fenris explained his presence.
"The sky of Alfheimr is especially beautiful, is it? Heh..." Alvissa chuckled in her throat, as if amused that Fenris misread the atmosphere, or perhaps that he was getting too carried away. "I came to inform you of bad news... 'Lady Enya has died on the battlefield.'"
Fenris froze, his smile vanishing instantly. "Lady Enya led the army to fight whom? In this war, Queen Embla ordered it to be a conflict between two gods, with the Elven army acting merely as observers, did she not?" He asked with a tone of irritation that the plan had gone awry.
"Who killed her is not the important issue right now, because Lady Embla will surely handle that matter... The important issue is that now, without Lady Enya, the assassin group needs a leader. Lady Embla intends to appoint you as the leader in her stead."
Receiving a new position should have been a joyous occasion, but Fenris frowned. What he wanted was to be officially appointed as the Crown Prince, not the leader of an assassin group. And in reality, he was already the leader of the 'Star' assassin faction.
"What did you say...? Have me accept the position in Lady Enya's stead?" Fenris asked probingly.
"Correct," Alvissa replied coldly. "And from now on... you are requested to dissolve your 'Star' assassin group. You are to become the leader of the 'Moon' assassin group as the sole commander... Queen Embla sees no benefit in having redundant assassin factions."
That order was like a slap in the face to Fenris. It meant he had to destroy his own power base and bow his head to accept the role the Queen had drawn for him without any choice.
Fenris remained silent, his expression showing deep contemplation. His hands clenched into tight fists. The position of Crown Prince had not yet been granted, and now there was an order to disband his own forces. From here on... what did he have left?
"This concludes my duty. Whatever the Prince decides, you can inform the Queen directly in the end." Alvissa turned to look at the evening sky, which was turning a deep orange. "Personally, I don't think the sky this evening is beautiful at all. This orange hue... it feels strangely melancholic."
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Finishing this sentence, Alvissa walked away.
Fenris waited until Alvissa was far away, then punched the air with full force. He took a deep breath, looked out at the distant scenery, and thought:
'Muninn, if you were here, what do you think I should do?'
Far away in the land of Svartalfheim, at the border village of Litrfagrbyr.
For several nights now, there had been no news of further attacks from the army of the Dvergar's Holdfast kingdom. This unusual silence led a number of drunkard dwarves in the village to start spreading rumors for fun that the Wolf King Stálmar must have died of malaria. Then, they found an excuse to throw a big drinking celebration, typical of dwarves who were unreliable about everything.
However, inside a quiet room, Cynthia remained stressed, gathering and analyzing data regarding the massive explosion at the underground capital Grnnstjarna of the Sterkburin kingdom.
It was true that the explosion caused heavy damage to the Sterkburin forces, to the point that the Afbarahants clan had to bring in a distant relative to lead the clan and govern the kingdom.
But... the damage inflicted on the invading side, Dvergar's Holdfast, was no less severe.
From Cynthia's notes and comparisons, she concluded that the Dvergar's Holdfast army also lost no less than half its troops from that explosion.
This made evaluating the capability of the Wolf King Stálmar in the eyes of the mage girl confusing... Is this man a genius willing to sacrifice pawns for a checkmate? Or is he simply a madman leading soldiers to their deaths?
Cynthia felt so frustrated she raised both fists and spun them over her head like a tantrum-throwing child to vent her suppression, because she hated it when she couldn't evaluate a target's level.
Suddenly, a knock on the door was heard. Knock! Knock!
Before the knocking sound even ended, the door was pushed open immediately. Mikilllfr walked in gloomily, looking as if he were carrying the weight of the world.
"Mikilllfr! You crazy dwarf! I've told you so many times—knock, wait for me to answer, then open the door!" Cynthia snapped immediately with irritation. The memory of the last time she was changing clothes and this dwarf just walked in still haunted her.
"Ah!" Mikilllfr seemed to realize, then walked backward out of the room, closed the door, and knocked again.
Knock! Knock!
Cynthia stood with her arms crossed, refusing to answer.
A moment later, the door swung open again, and Mikilllfr stuck his head in, saying with an innocent face, "Cynthia... I was waiting outside. I knocked."
Cynthia could only rub her face with both hands to regain her composure before sighing heavily and replying, "Mikilllfr... what do you want?"
Mikilllfr walked into the room, cupping his hand to whisper, "I have something to consult with you... about Vanessa."
"Sigh... You only ever have issues about Vanessa. What is it today?" Cynthia asked back irritably, throwing herself onto a chair like she was exhausted.
Mikilllfr frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. "Vanessa is crying!"
"Hah! Vanessa is crying about what?" Cynthia asked back immediately.
"She won't tell me," Mikilllfr said with a withered voice.
"She won't tell you, or you haven't asked yet!?" Cynthia raised her voice. Day in and day out, she had to solve problems for these two until she felt more like a babysitter.
"I asked her..." Mikilllfr looked like he was about to cry too. "But she told me to go die."
"You didn't do anything to make her sad, did you?"
"I... I would never... ever think of making her sad!" Mikilllfr stammered, arranging his sentence barely coherently in his panic.
"Meaning what?" Cynthia asked again to clarify what he just said.
"I mean... someone like me, Mikilllfr, never has any thought of making Vanessa sad!" The dwarf insisted firmly.
"But I see you two arguing every day," Cynthia countered from her constant observation.
"It's not like this. Vanessa never cries."
Cynthia realized this as well. Vanessa would never cry because of Mikilllfr. Even if this crazy dwarf died right in front of her eyes, Cynthia believed Vanessa wouldn't shed a single tear.
"Vanessa is crying? I'll go check on her myself."
Cynthia said this and hurriedly walked out of the room, leaving Mikilllfr sitting absentmindedly on the chair with a sorrowful face alone.
A moment later, the door swung open again.
Cynthia stuck only her head in and shouted, "I said I'm going to see Vanessa... As for you, get out of my bedroom!"
This time, Mikilllfr startled and bounced up immediately. Cynthia stood with her arms crossed, leaning on the doorframe, waiting until the dwarf walked dejectedly out of her room.
But before leaving, Mikilllfr turned back to say with concern, "Vanessa is in her room."
"I know! I'm going to her room now," Cynthia snapped back.
Mikilllfr stood scratching his head, looking lost. "Then where... should I go?"
Cynthia sighed deeply, thinking of the noisy commotion coming from the village tavern. "Sigh... You go drink with those dwarves in the village. Didn't you say they are celebrating the rumor of the Wolf King's death? Go gather some inside news too." Cynthia, who had an answer for everything, offered this proposal.
Mikilllfr nodded once, then walked toward the exit of the house.
Cynthia walked to Vanessa's room and knocked. Knock! Knock!
"Vanessa, it's me, Cynthia."
Time passed for a while, and there was still no answer from Vanessa. This forced Cynthia to take the liberty of opening the door and peeking her head in.
Cynthia found that Vanessa was indeed sitting hugging her knees, crying. She didn't wait any longer, walked into the room, and sat down in front of the other.
"What happened?" Cynthia asked calmly.
"Lady Enya is dead," Vanessa replied through tears.
"Is this true?" Cynthia lived up to her prudent nature; she didn't jump to conclusions immediately.
"Vaness told me," Vanessa said, reaching out to grab Cynthia's shoulder.
Vaness was the name of the giant wolf, Vanessa's personal magical mount. The name Vaness was given by Vanessa, implying that Vaness was a part of her.
"Really? How did Vaness know?" Cynthia was still skeptical. Someone of Enya's level—the sister of the Elf Queen—had unmatched combat skills and guards. Moreover, Enya was in Alfheimr, while they were in the distant Svartalfheim, separated by Midgard. How could this news reach here?
"Vaness said... he secretly overheard the Wyverns talking." Vanessa's answer overcame all obstacles, for Wyverns could travel anywhere they pleased.
"......"
Cynthia was stunned as well.
Enya's death was not just the end of a great assassin, but a catastrophe for the entire power structure. The relationship between the assassins and the royal court was intertwined deeper than tree roots. Without a pillar like Enya, chaos was inevitable.
Not only that, Cynthia knew how special Enya was to Vanessa. Their relationship was more than master and subordinate, or teacher and student... because it was "Hope."
From their conversations, Vanessa had once let slip a certain promise... A promise Enya gave that if all missions were successful, the Forest Elves, who were driven out and despised, would be granted the right to return to live with dignity in their motherland, Alfheimr, once again.
Enya's death, therefore, meant the extinction of the hope and dream Vanessa had strived for all along.
Realizing this, Cynthia could not find any words of comfort. All she could do was move closer and extend both arms to embrace Vanessa's trembling body tightly, letting the other release her pain through tears.
However, deep down in Cynthia's thoughts, she pondered about another Elf...
'Lord Fenris... from now on, what should Muninn do?'