The Parliamentary Chamber was a beautiful room with dark wood and golden decorations. The ceiling had a large round skylight window in the middle, which had colorful stained glass around it. In the middle of the room, there was a large round table with many seats. Behind the table, there was a raised platform with ten cushioned seats for the advisors or guests to sit with whatever Major Noble House was presenting to the King and his Council.


    The last two nobles of note were Count Sebastian Ingham and Earl Nathaniel Valerian. Ingham''s face was stoic and uninteresting, and Valerian looked uneasy—for what reason? Rya wondered to herself as she took her seat.


    Hilda stretched her arms overhead, causing her large bosoms to push outward and giving Quinus a good view of them. His cheeks flushed, and he struggled to tear his eyes away from the beautiful sight.


    ''Goddess be damned!... Focus, Quin! Focus!... This fucking world has too many beautiful women... These stupid instincts are killing me!''


    Quinus cleared his throat and redirected his attention to the Prime Minister. However, he noticed a dark elf glaring at him with an annoyed expression.


    "I know, babe. Don''t worry. No matter what happens, I''ll always be on your side," Quinus said softly.


    Rya smiled and gave her boyfriend a look. "I love you... But if you ever stare at her chest again... I''ll rip out your eyes and then heal you back to normal before I do it again. Do I make myself clear?" She grinned menacingly to emphasize her point.


    Yuliana straightened her posture and gave him a curtsy, "My name is Princess Yuliana I am the daughter of the former King, Faelindor Sylvanor, and his wife, the former Queen, Ceara Sylvanor.


    A collective gasp echoed throughout the room, a sharp intake of breath that sliced through the tense atmosphere. Whispers of disbelief rippled among the gathered individuals, for it had long been believed that the Royal Line of the Wood Elves had been extinguished decades prior, lost to the annals of history. Yet here stood a living testament to that storied lineage—a surviving member, her presence a revelation that had been hidden in plain sight all along.


    Amidst the murmurs of astonishment, one figure remained strikingly quiet: Terenthiel. His brow furrowed in concentration, distant thoughts flickering behind his eyes like shadows in the fading light. While others were caught up in the unfolding drama, he stayed poised and contemplative, his silence a mystery amid the chaos around him.


    ''This can’t be happening! If she truly is who she claims to be, she’ll give this Dark Elf the legitimacy needed to wed the Crown Prince! I have to act fast and sabotage her—you can’t let this happen!'' Duval fixated on the Wood Elf, studying her intently. “So, you’re telling me you hail from the Royal lineage of the Wood Elf Kingdom?”


    "Indeed, I am a Princess," Yuliana proclaimed, her voice steady yet laced with emotion. "I took in Lady Rya as my own after she tragically lost her parents during the brutal raids on the Dark Elf territory—no thanks to you," she added, her finger accusingly directed at Terenthiel.


    Terenthiel met her gaze, his expression a mixture of defiance and disdain. He refused to back down under the weight of her accusation. The air crackled with tension as the Divine Three were in the middle of purging the Dark Elves.


    d an“If you dare to make accusations, you better come armed with proof, Princess. How can we believe your claims of royal blood from the fallen kingdom of the Wood Elves? If you truly are the daughter of the former king, where is your crown? Your royal garments? Your father’s sword?” A cruel smirk twisted Duval’s lips as he leveled his gaze at Yuliana, challenging her to respond.


    Yuliana paused for a moment, the weight of the occasion settling on her shoulders like a heavy cloak. With a graceful wave of her hand, she signaled to Nieren, who promptly brought forth an ornately designed box and a long, slender bag that draped elegantly over her arm.


    As she opened the lavish box, a soft gasp escaped her lips. Inside lay her brother''s crown, a stunning piece that shimmered with an ethereal glow. With careful deliberation, she lifted the crown from its velvet resting place and placed it upon her head. The golden filigree, artfully crafted to resemble entwined tree branches, seemed to come alive as she adorned herself as if nature itself crowned her with its beauty.


    Next, she turned her attention to the slender bag. With a practiced motion, she unveiled their family sword, pulling it from its sheath. The blade was an exquisite creation forged from enchanted wood, its surface glistening under the ambient light. Its hilt shone with a luxurious gold hue, set with an emerald gemstone that sparkled with an inner fire. As Yuliana drew upon her mana, a warm glow enveloped the crown and sword, illuminating the space with an almost otherworldly light.


    Before her, the air shimmered, and her family''s sigil—a delicate white leaf—materialized before the crown, a testament to her lineage and heritage. Stepping forward with purpose, she set the enchanted blade in the center of the table with reverence. A collective gasp filled the room as everyone’s eyes widened at the sight, drawn to the display of power and legacy that radiated from her presence.


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    King keep this from me? He''s openly trying to sabotage the peace treaty, isn''t he?! Well, he can''t stop me! It''s going to happen whether he likes it or not! I need to investigate further. But if the Black Roses are gone, does that mean the Kings Slayer is dead? No, there''s no way a Dark Elf could take down the most dangerous assassin on the continent. But this Wood Elf possesses the Crown and the Sword of her Ancestors... If she is who she claims to be, then this Dark Elf is a Princess, eligible to marry the Crown Prince,'' Duval thought as he looked at the Wood Elf, who glared back at him.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    The Prime Minister''s mind raced as he tried to understand how the King could conceal something as significant as the death of the Black Rose Mercenaries and the fall of their leader from him. He suspected it was related to the King''s efforts to derail the Peace Treaty. However, he would need to confront him later, as he had a more urgent matter to address.


    , he  the ou


    Yuliana''s anger flared, but Nieren and Rya quickly sprang into action, grasping her hands with reassuring warmth.


    "Are we finally done interrupting this session? Excellent! Now, where was I? Ah, yes..." Duval''s voice rose, resonating with authority. "For the safety of our Kingdom, I propose we expel Lady Rya Vellanax from our lands! We cannot allow her presence to threaten the delicate peace between our people and the Alliance. It’s time for her to seek her fate elsewhere!"


    A ripple of murmurs surged through the gathering, voices swirling with speculation and concern.


    Quinus narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the Major Nobles assembled in the grand hall. He could feel the tension in the air, each noble''s reaction a potential clue to the shifting tides of loyalty and dissent.


    “I second that notion!” Sebastian exclaimed, his voice rising above the murmurs of the room.


    With a decisive bang, Duval struck the gavel against the polished wood of the table, the sound echoing through the assembly hall. “The motion has received secondary approval,” he announced, his tone firm and authoritative. “We will now enter into deliberation before proceeding to a vote.”


    He lifted his gaze, scanning the expectant faces around the room. “Earl Nathaniel Valerian, the floor is yours,” Duval declared, gesturing with a nod toward the dignified figure seated at the front.


    Murmurs of approval spread through the assembly like a gentle wave, but Duval''s expression turned stern. The corners of his mouth tightened in an unmistakable show of discontent. He had never anticipated that Nathaniel would stand by his side, yet the unexpected solidarity only deepened his disappointment.


    The Earl, a figure of both authority and charisma, spoke up with a measured tone that carried across the chamber, “What if we grant her a month or two? After all, she is his betrothed. Let her prove herself to the court,” he proposed, his gaze sweeping over the gathered nobles.


    Quinus felt a swell of gratitude and relief settle in his chest. Earl Nathaniel, King Cyndre''s steadfast confidant and best friend, had come to his aid without a word of warning, a gesture that reflected the unbreakable bond of brotherhood forged over the years. Their growing friendship served as a sanctuary amidst the turbulence of court politics, a lifeline in moments of uncertainty.


    Meanwhile, Duval''s jaw clenched, the tension in his body radiating like a coiled spring. He masked his frustration with a veneer of stoicism, refusing to reveal even a hint of vulnerability before the Council. In this game of power and influence, showing weakness was not an option.


    Sebastian nodded with a composed confidence.


    "My esteemed Council members and Lords," he began, his voice resonating through the chamber, "before us stands a Lady of a particularly perilous race—especially the female dark elves. They are infamous for their enchanting prowess, charming men to bend to their will. I propose we return her to her homeland, where she can reign as a Queen of the forest, far from our Prince’s influence.”


    As his words hung in the air, a wave of support surged from Duval’s aides, clapping and cheering with fervor. Duval felt a surge of satisfaction. It felt like the tide was turning in his favor.


    "Lord Eamon Stirling, the floor is yours," Duval announced, his voice echoing through the tense council chamber.


    Eamon rubbed his chin thoughtfully, hesitation flickering across his face. The weight of the moment pressed down on him. After a brief pause, he spoke up, “Honestly, I struggle to know what more to say. I find myself in agreement with the Prime Minister. There remains uncertainty surrounding the prince''s relationship with this Dark Elf. Is he merely enchanted, or perhaps even cursed?”


    He turned to Crown Prince Quinus, a hint of regret in his eyes. “Forgive me, your Highness, but as a Lord in this House, I cannot cast my vote in favor of her—especially considering our promise to unite you with Princess Hilda Stoneworthh. It’s nothing personal, I assure you.”


    Quinus’s hands clenched into fists, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. It felt as if he was fighting an uphill battle.


    "It’s alright... I see your point,” he replied, his voice surprisingly calm despite the storm within. “But I swear she''s done nothing to me. What if she proves herself? One day, I will wear the crown. Don’t you trust my judgment to make the right choice?” Quinus asked, a note of desperation creeping into his tone. The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging in the air as the council considered the future of their kingdom.


    His voice carried the weight of determination, and the council chamber fell silent. The stakes were higher than ever.


    “It’s not just about trust, Your Highness,” Eamon replied, his voice steady but laced with urgency. “The safety of our Kingdom hangs in the balance. She’s not one of us; she’s a being beyond our understanding. Why would she care for a race that views her as nothing more than a threat?”


    Quinus inhaled deeply, stealing a glance at his fiancée, Rya. She sat with an air of calm confidence as though she had anticipated this moment all along.


    ''How can she be so composed? Quinus wondered, feeling a rush of uncertainty wash over him as he turned to his council for support. They exchanged uneasy glances, clearly lacking the resolve he had hoped for. He had believed he could sway Baron Eamon, but it seemed the baron remained staunchly opposed to Rya, with Baron Thaddeus poised to follow suit.


    “Lord Thaddeus Windermere, the floor is yours,” Duval announced, his voice cutting through the tension.


    Thaddeus, a man in his late thirties, was the youngest member of the House of Lords yet lacked a formal ministry position. His brow furrowed as he addressed the assembly. “I''ve never been fond of dark elves,” he declared, glancing pointedly at Rya. “I’m not sure what brings this Lady here today, but I cannot ignore the potential threat she poses. If there’s even a whisper of a secret plot among the dark elves, we must act swiftly.


    “And as betrothed to our future king, she wields considerable influence—an influence we cannot afford to be undermined.”


    “You aren’t even a member of this Council, Lady Rya,” he retorted, his voice laced with irritation. “You shouldn’t be here.”


    “Avoiding the question, are we?” Rya shot back, her tone sharp.


    Quinus exchanged a glance with Thaddeus, a silent warning etched in his expression: don’t say anything foolish. The Baron understood the unspoken message—Rya wasn''t leaving anytime soon.


    Thaddeus let out a weary sigh, his gaze piercing into Rya.


    "We can''t trust you," the Baron declared, his voice steady as a rock. "You''re a dark elf."


    Rya leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with determination. "Listen, I know I have my flaws, but everywhere I go, people love to blame me for things I haven’t done. Take this so-called Charm spell, for instance. If I really had it, wouldn''t I have used it on you by now? It would certainly make my life a lot simpler," she asserted, her voice steady.


    The Baron opened his mouth to retort, but the words faltered. He had no valid counterargument.


    “Perhaps you have a point,” he admitted after a moment, his brow knitting with concern. “But I can’t rely solely on your words; I need concrete proof of your trustworthiness.”


    Rya tilted her head, curiosity glimmering in her expression. “And what exactly would convince you, Baron Thaddeus?”


    A smirk played at the corners of Thaddeus''s lips as he shook his head, a hint of admiration breaking through his guarded demeanor. “That’s the million-gold-piece question, isn’t it? Honestly, I’m not sure what you could do to change my mind... But when you do, I’ll be certain to let you know, Lady Rya.”


    “Then I accept the challenge,” she replied, her confidence radiating like a torch in the darkness.


    Rya''s gaze drifted to William before settling on the intricate map at the center of the round table. The detailed carving depicted the Fiafyr Kingdom and its neighboring realms, bringing the territories to life. Her eyes fell upon the Viscount''s domain, a slender stretch of land labeled the Silverhaven Coast Domain. It evoked thoughts of the country of Chile back on Earth, with its elongated shape stretching precariously across the map. However, Silverhaven Coast was far smaller and comparable in size to the state of Vermont. Rya frowned slightly, grappling with the challenge of visualizing the geography without her usual points of reference. Yet, at that moment, exact measurements and comparisons faded in importance. All that mattered was her hope that the two Barons would recognize the merit of her plan to disrupt William’s deep control over the Kingdom’s maritime trade.


    Rya turned sharply to face the Viscount, her expression challenging. "I don’t see the appeal here. You boast about two port cities, yet I’ve heard they’re languishing in neglect. If those ports can’t even support the kingdom''s trade, what else do you bring to the table? And let’s be honest—aren’t your farmers seething over those exorbitant tariffs just for the privilege of using your ports?"


    “How dare you!” The Viscount sputtered, indignation spilling from his lips. “I am a Major Noble—”


    “Earl Nathaniel,” Rya interjected smoothly, locking her gaze onto him. “What do you and your farmers actually pay for shipping your goods out of your lands?”


    Nathaniel''s lips curved into a knowing smile as he replied, “Trade with the northern kingdoms is beneficial… tariffs there hover around ten to fifteen percent. Yet here, we’re slapped with fifty to sixty percent just to access the Viscount’s ports.”


    Duval, taken aback by the shift in the conversation, glanced around the room, desperate to regain control. He needed to steer the discussion back on track and dismiss the Dark Elf, preferably sooner rather than later. “William… How do you vo—”


    “Baron Eamon?” Rya’s voice rang out, interrupting the Prime Minister. “I believe I heard from my fiance that you hold the title of Minister of Trade and Commerce.”


    The nobleman lifted his gaze from the cluttered table, a skeptical eyebrow arching at the Dark Elf before him.


    "I am... Why do you inquire?" he asked, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice.


    "What are the import costs flowing through William''s ports? And what volume of goods and resources are coming in from the other kingdoms?" Rya pressed, her tone sharp yet measured.


    "I’d need to scour the reports for that," he replied, exasperation seeping through. "But mark my words, the Viscount has a knack for renegotiating agreements right as the ships dock. We’re talking tariffs that can jump by thirty to forty percent overnight! It’s utterly maddening when he pulls these stunts. Not to mention there’s often a backlog of essential goods just waiting off the coast, all because he refuses to budge."


    "That''s absurd! I’m merely adjusting for the market!" William shot back, his tone sharp. "As the minister of trade, you should recognize that we must adapt! If we slash tariffs and taxes, how do you expect me to keep the ports running?"


    "And if the market refuses to bend to your whims, you''ll be left with a restless populace, yearning for goods they can''t obtain," Rya countered, her patience wearing thin.


    "Pfft! As if I care what the commoners think! They should just do their jobs—or return to the hovels they crawled out of."


    Rya felt a wave of disdain wash over her; William’s sense of entitlement grated on her nerves. Yet she sensed that the conversation was veering precisely where she''d intended.


    Duval shifted uneasily, sensing the tension in the air. He needed to get things back on track.


    “Whose territory is this?” Rya interrupted, her finger poised over a kingdom on the southeastern border of Fiafyr. It sprawled alongside the Azure Sea, its landmass comparable to one of Fiafyr''s own Domains. The map beneath them teemed with details—roads, cities, and villages.


    Lord Gawain interjected, his voice steady, “That’s the kingdom of Kartoll. A matriarchal society ruled by a powerful royal line of water mages—Queens, to be precise—who wield great strength.”


    Gawain nodded and said, "They have a peace treaty with us from when the Alliance formed all those years ago. Queen Nefer Aquarius the 5th is said to be as powerful as her late grandmother, who made the alliance with our great Kingdom. We would come to their aid if the Divine Three invaded their territory, and they would come to our aid if the Divine Three attacked ours."


    Alaric, enshrouded in a heavy silence that felt like an eternity, locked his piercing gaze onto his nephew, Quinus. It was as if his eyes burned with an intense fire, ready to ignite under the weight of his frustration. His jaw was set tight, and a turbulent storm brewed in the depths of his stormy gray irises. But then, just as the tension reached its peak, he turned his attention to the Dark Elf. At that moment, the realization struck him like a lightning bolt—she was poised to harm one of his most invaluable sources of income. A surge of determination coursed through him; he had to intervene before it was too late.