Theudifara: The Adventurer's Ambition is to Become the Empress

Knock Knock.

"Enter."

The Guild office door creaked open, revealing Claudia behind her polished desk. Her sapphire eyes pinned me like a butterfly to corkboard. "Ah, the reckless hero returns. Three days unconscious in Nothhelm? You've outdone yourself, Adele."

I winced. "It wasn't that bad—"

Her boots struck the floor like gunshots as she rounded the desk. For a heartbeat, her shadow seemed to stretch too long—a trick of the afternoon light. Then her hand clamped onto my shoulder, her grip firm. "Reckless!" She ruffled my hair roughly, her lavender perfume clashing with the faintest whiff of iron. "Next time, I'll let Kasparian knock sense into that skull of yours."

Marcia smirked from the doorway. "With pleasure, ma'am."

"Traitors," I muttered, though Claudia's scolding carried an undercurrent of pride.

She tossed six clinking pouches onto the desk. "1,000 Gulden each. Spend it wisely—or don't. I'm not your mother."

Grigore snatched his share, jingling the coins. "Tavern's calling! Drinks on the rookie!"

Kasparian lingered by the door, talons tapping a restless rhythm. "The troll's carcass dissolved unusually fast. Guild researchers should—"

"Later," Claudia cut him off. "Tonight, you celebrate. Dismissed."

***

Today, 16Eris 287 Zea, Claudia's mansion buzzed with laughter. Firelight danced across vaulted ceilings as we sprawled in the dining hall—Leofric regaling the twins with tales of his youth, Manfred sneaking mashed potatoes onto Amelie's plate when she wasn't looking, Fleda and Alruna debating spices like scholars.

"To surviving Sis's theatrics!" Fleda roared, ale sloshing over her tankard.

Glasses clinked. The Weizenbier's crisp tang flooded my senses—golden, bitter, perfect. Fleda's curry, rich with saffron and smoked paprika, warmed my chest. For a moment, the world felt whole.

Fleda slid into the seat beside me, her golden braid catching the light. "You've been quiet. Regretting the hero act?"

"Just savoring the peace," I lied.

Amelie giggled, her cheeks flushed with cider. "Big Sis Adele, your face is all red!"

"That's the Weizenbier," Fleda teased, piling more curry onto my plate. "Or maybe Claudia's scolding finally sunk in."

Claudia herself presided at the head of the table, sipping wine with a smirk. "Remember, Adele—next stunt like Nothhelm, and I'll assign you to stable duty for a month."

"Yes, Mom," I drawled, earning a bread roll to the face.

"Um... I have something serious to discuss."

All was well. That is, until the clatter of forks froze as Alruna's voice trembled into the silence. "In two days... I must travel to Gaede. With the two of you." She pointed at me and Fleda.

Fleda choked on her cider. "What? Since when?!"

"I... forgot to mention it earlier," Alruna whispered, her fingers knotting the tablecloth. "When we first arrived in Aureo, Father sent a letter. He... demands my return."

"Demands?" My stomach soured. Gaede—a city cloaked in politics, a two-week trek through snowbound forests. "Why drag us into this?"

Alruna's gaze dropped. "Because I'm Alruna Gustav Gaede. First heir of House Gustav, leaders of the Progressive Faction in Ingvaeon's Parliament."

The name hung like a blade. House Gustav. Even I knew their reputation—reformists who opposed the royalists. Their top figure include big names like the prime minister and several veteran lords.

Claudia sighed, breaking the silence. "Eat first. Politics can wait."

We obeyed, chewing mechanically. The roasted potatoes tasted like ash.

After the others left, the four of us lingered—Alruna shrinking into her chair, Fleda clearing the table, Manfred uncharacteristically still.

"...So... Alruna, are you okay with this?" I asked.

"...This is my fate."

"Why now?"

"Father's enemies grow bold. He wants me visible. A pawn... yes, a pawn. To secure alliances."

Manfred nudged her untouched bread. "Eat. Crying on an empty stomach hurts."

Alruna laughed wetly. "Since when are you the wise one?"

"Since always." He patted her hand, gruff but gentle. "You're family. We don't leave family."

We all went silent. There's truth on Manfred's words.

"I don't want to go!" Alruna's honesty revealed as her tears splashed onto the table. "They'll cage me. Marry me off. Erase everything I—"

"Enough." I stood, rounding the table to kneel beside her. Her hair slipped through my fingers—silken, fragile. "We'll go."

Fleda groaned. "Sis—"

"We'll go," I repeated, meeting her glare.

"...If you insist."

Alruna gripped my sleeve. "You... you'd really...?"

"Try stopping us." I flicked her forehead lightly. "But you're buying the travel cloaks. Nobles can afford it, right?"

Her laugh was shaky but real. "I'll bankrupt Father's treasury if I must."

Fleda sighed, leaning back in her chair. "This isn't going to be easy. Traveling to Gaede in this weather, not to mention the Great Forest... it's a risk."

"We know," I said, looking at each of them in turn. "But we're already a family. We face these risks together."

Alruna's tears flowed with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "Thank you... I don't deserve this..."

"You deserve everything," Fleda said, her tough exterior softening. "We've got your back, Alruna. Always."

***

The frigid northern winds howled outside, but the real storm brewed within me.

Gaede, its distance from Aureo mirrored Ercangaud Village's, yet the path there was a death sentence. The Ferderuchus Great Forest—a sacred realm teeming with monsters—split Ingvaeon's northern territories.

Normally, ships bypassed it, but the endless winter had frozen the northern seas solid, stranding us. The only alternative? A suicidal trek through that cursed woods. Even Guild expeditions, armed with temporary roads and outposts, warned of monsters driven mad by starvation.

Yet here I stood, debating with someone I couldn't reason with.

"Why hesitate? You've got me! Fufufu~"

Anastasia's voice chimed in my mind, sugary and sly. Trusting her felt like holding a blade to my own throat. From the moment she'd latched onto me, I'd questioned her motives.

"I truly want to help this time!" she insisted, her tone shifting to faux sincerity. "Let me teach you something useful. That spatial Law you saw when we met? Too dangerous-your mortal body would crumble using it even once. But Word Law... that I can share."

"Word Law?" I muttered, leaning against the frost-kissed window of the hallway. Moonlight bathed the courtyard below, too bright for stealth. Yet Anastasia had promised a barrier to cloak our training.

"Yes! It's the Fairia's ancient art. Every living being communicates—through sound, scent, gestures, even chemical reactions. Word Law lets you command those languages. At its peak, my mother could warp reality itself with a whisper."

My pulse quickened. High Elves like me were rare, and I'd never met another, not even in Aureo.

Could I, like them, wield multiple Laws?

"Teach me," I said, curiosity overriding caution.

Midnight. The others—Fleda, Alruna, Manfred—slept soundly as I slipped into the courtyard. Anastasia's voice guided me: "Izmeneniye. Izmeneniye. Izmeneniye."

A shimmering poof echoed, and there she stood: ethereal, her moth-like wings iridescent under the moon. Corrupting beauty, as always.

"Prefer this form?" she teased, twirling. "Good. Now, let's ensure privacy."

"Vse, ostavaysya na meste."

The air thickened, a faint hum sealing us in silence. She clasped my hands—cold, lifeless, yet humming with alien mana.

"O bog nashikh materey very, ya daruyu tebe svoyu silu."

Light erupted from our joined palms. My veins burned as foreign energy surged—not heat or chill, but a flood of knowledge. Words, Scripts, sensations crammed into my skull. I gagged, doubling over.

"Ugh—bleh! What... was that?!"

"Your first taste of my mana." She smirked. "Now, focus. Let's start with pravda ili lozh'—Truth or Lie. Channel the mana I gave you and recite it."

My tongue stumbled over the alien syllables. Ten minutes of humiliation later, I managed: "Pravda ili lozh'!"

Nothing.

"Test it," she urged. "Ask me anything."

"You... like delicious food?"

A tingle shot through my mind. Truth.

"True," I said.

"Correct! Next: I have no gender."

Another tingle. Truth.

"You're... serious?!"

"Fairia are genderless. I could manifest as a burly man if I wanted to~"

"Pass," I grimaced.

"One more: 'I have a father,'" she said

The tingle twisted sharply. Lie.

"False. But how were you born, then?"

Her smile froze. "...Best you don't know."

By dawn, my skull throbbed, but progress was made. Truth—detection worked, albeit clumsily. Yet Anastasia's evasions gnawed at me.

What was she hiding?

"Why help me?" I finally asked.

Her wings fluttered, casting prismatic shadows. "Let's call it... investment. Your potential amuses me."

Potential. A High Elf orphan, raised by common wood elves, now dabbling in unknown arts. If Fleda discovered this...

"Relax," Anastasia purred. "Master Word Law, and no forest monster—or icy sea—will stop you. Gaede will be yours."

I stared at the horizon, where Ferderuchus' tree tines clawed the sky. Mad monsters, elven sanctums, frozen seas—all obstacles. But with this power...

Maybe I'd survive.

Maybe I'd even find others like me.

And maybe, just maybe, I'd uncover why a Fairia chose to chain herself to a nobody.

***

Two days. Forty-eight hours of Anastasia's relentless drills. Sleep became a myth; my reflection sported twin shadows beneath bloodshot eyes. Yet, through the haze, progress flickered: two basic Word Law scripts. Truth-Lie Detection and Ambient Sense.

The former tingled like a lie detector implanted to my brain. The latter painted a blurry image of lifeforms within 350 pedes—enough to dodge ambushes, if barely.

"Three weeks here... felt longer than I thought," I muttered, watching Fleda kneel before the twins, Amalia and Amelie. Their tiny hands clung to her sleeves, tears streaking cherubic faces.

"We'll be apart for a while, but I hope you two continue to get along as usual!"

"Mmhmm! Amalia promises! We'll miss you so much!" Amalia hiccuped.

"Amelie promises too! So don't go, Big Sis Fleda! " Amelie wailed, burying her face in Fleda's tunic.

My chest tightened. Claudia's mansion had unwittingly become our sanctuary. Their mother, ever absent; their father, Leofric, kind but sometimes clueless. Fleda—gentle and patient—had filled that void. Whenever she came to play with the twins, their faces lit up with joy. Now, her departure carved fresh wounds.

"I'll bring sweets from Gaede." Fleda whispered, hugging them tighter.

Leofric cleared his throat. "Safe travels. And... thank you. The house will feel empty again without your presence."

"Where's Lady Claudia?" I asked.

"Sudden business in Lausanne," he shrugged. "Left yesterday."

A pang of disappointment. No farewell for the woman who'd sheltered us.

The goodbye stretched roughly. The twins' sobs echoed through the halls until Fleda pried herself free, their tears staining her tunic.

I envy that, I thought bitterly. Who would weep for me?

We rode out at dawn—Alruna, Fleda, and I—our saddlebags light. The Aureo-Tiel route, familiar as old scars, blurred beneath hooves. By dusk, Tiel's gates loomed, its cobbled streets eerily quiet. We should thank Otto, Helmo and Stan for this.

Jingle. The inn's bell announced our arrival.

"Welcome back—Oh!" Adrianne, the centuria innkeeper, grinned behind her counter. "Regulars already? One night, three beds?"

"As usual," I nodded.

She pouted. "Stay longer sometime! Three nights, maybe? I'll even give a discount. It's lonely here without folks my age to chat with."

"Maybe... next time," I lied, the newly acquired Word Script prickling my conscience. "We are in a hurry."

"It's okay! I won't force you."

Dinner passed in stifling silence. Alruna picked at her stew; Fleda stared at the twins' handmade bracelet on her wrist. Only I spoke, words dissolving into the creak of floorboards and crackling hearth.

That night, as frost gnawed the window panes, I traced the Word Mana humming beneath my skin. A mere 350 pedes. A flimsy shield against Ferderuchus' horrors. But it was something.

And in the quiet, I wondered: Who'd mourn me if I vanished into that forest?

***