Several hours had passed since the royal physician took her samples. Vincent, slumped in a corner on the unforgiving floor, felt boredom curdling into a dangerous restlessness. The urge to simply burn his way out of the World Tree was a tempting fantasy, but a sliver of patience remained.

  He had made a decision: he would wait until nightfall. Tonight's the night, he thought, and I won't be giving them a moment more.

  To his relief, he didn't have to wait that long.

  The sound of heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed down the hall. Two knight elves, clad in ornate armor inlaid with shimmering stones and polished metals, stopped before their cell. Their voices were resonant and formal.

  "Faelan of House Fallsworf and Rivore of House Sandmìz, the two surviving guards of the princess. Despite your recent acts of defiance, your service in returning her safely has been noted. Your sentence is one month of suspended duty."

  Their helmed heads then turned in unison toward Vincent. "Vincent Vinter."

  Hearing his full name spoken with such gravity sent a jolt of surprise through him, though his expression remained carefully neutral.

  "You have been granted an audience with His Majesty. He awaits you."

  Sensing this audience was not optional he decided not to joke, Vincent then rose to his feet. "Alright," he said, his voice even. "Let's not keep him waiting."

  ***

  Their footsteps fell in near-silence—not from any attempt at stealth, but because the seamless wooden floor refused to creak and the lush carpet beneath their feet swallowed all sound.

  "The savior of the princess, Vincent Vinter, makes his entrance!"

  A herald standing below the dais to the twin thrones made the announcement. The audience chamber was packed with elves of every affiliation, origin, and status. Every one of them was silently scrutinizing the human, searching for any pretext for public complaint.

  When Vincent came within twenty paces of the throne, he offered a slow, deliberate bow. After a perfunctory gesture from the king, he straightened himself, he then was given his weapons back.

  "Human who bears the name Vincent," the king began, his voice echoing. "I have heard of your endeavors in correcting the mistakes of your fellow kin and have recognized your efforts."

  Vincent's composure tightened. The wording was a deliberate insult, reframing his heroism as mere housekeeping for his race and blatantly ignoring the princess's pledged reward. Still, he waited.

  "Therefore, in reward," the king declared with hollow grandeur, "I grant you permission to rest this day within the World Tree and depart on the morrow."

  *Pfft.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  Fuck.*

  ...

  ...

  ...

  The barely suppressed laugh drew immediate, glaring gazes from across the room. The hall instantly erupted in scandalized murmurs of ridicule and scorn.

  The king raised his right hand, and silence fell. He fixed a venomous glare on Vincent. "You seem to think me a jester, to laugh at me in my own court."

  "And can you blame me?" Vincent met the king's gaze without flinching. "I rescued the princess—your daughter," he declared, turning to the crowd, "your princess—from bandits that had nothing to do with me." His eyes snapped back to the king. "I then safely returned her to this kingdom in return for a reward she promised me—a reward you wish not to give."

  "You then imprison me—"

  "You were gracefully allowed residence within the World Tree, boy," the king interrupted, his voice dripping with annoyance.

  "Everyone with eyes knows that place was a dungeon," Vincent shot back, his voice cutting through the king's pretense.

  The continued disrespect sent waves of shock through the crowd and the king alike.

  "And to rub salt in the wound," Vincent pressed, "you describe my actions—my goodwill—as if it was my duty? And you tell me I can stay in that prison one more night as if it's a reward?"

  But as he looked at the king's face, now a mask of blotchy, crimson rage, Vincent knew his hope for a peaceful resolution was gone. He would have to fight his way out.

  "GUARDS!"

  The king's scream made it perfectly, violently obvious.

  Vincent sprinted for the entrance, blowing the massive doors open with a surge of sorcery. But as he reached the gates, a chilling thought froze him in his tracks. *They know my name. It's not a stretch to say they also know I'm a noble. This could lead to a war.*

  He couldn't run. He had to end this, now and here.

  He turned to face the tide of heavily armed royal guards. Those from the court charged from behind, while reinforcements flooded in from side entrances, surrounding him completely.

  Seeing Vincent halt, the guards formed a tight circle. The king sneered, "It seems you've realized that running is meaningless."

  "No. I realized that even if you send every man, woman, and child after me, you still wouldn't be able to scratch me." Vincent's gaze swept over the trained knights. "You're just pathetic man-children who need to be taught a lesson."

  The king couldn't help but let out a short, mocking laugh. "I cannot believe you truly believe these grandiose claims." He then barked his order. "Kill him for his insolence!"

  The knights attacked as one, a whirlwind of steel. Vincent met them not with lethal force, but with a dazzling display of controlled, creative magic. A dull icicle slammed into one knight's breastplate, staggering him. A stone, ripped from the floor, knocked the legs out from under another. He flash-froze the boots of a third, rooting him to the spot, while a fourth was catapulted into a wall by a concussive blast of wind. When they got too close, he resorted to close-quarters combat, his strikes precise and powerful—a punch that dented a helmet, a chop to the neck that dropped another in his tracks.

  It didn't take long before only three remained.

  One charged with a longsword,only for Vincent to slap the blade with such force that the knight's wrist snapped, sending the weapon clattering against the far wall.

  Another rushed from behind with a rapier,but found himself flipped onto his back and knocked unconscious by a swift, precise stomp.

  The last,a mage who had been chanting since the fight began, finally unleashed her spell: a massive, churning ball of lava and obsidian. With a contemptuous flick of his wrist, Vincent redirected the projectile safely out of a nearby window.

  As the last guard fell, a panicked exodus began among the nobles.

  "Every one of you disgraceful bastards will be stripped of their title if they leave!"the king screamed, his voice mad with fury.

  "Your best were no match for me, Your Majesty," Vincent yelled over the chaos. "You stand no chance."

  "What do you wish to gain from this, you madman?" the king roared.

  "Madman? Me?" Vincent put on a theatrically incredulous face. "You're the one who took me for a fool, insulted me, and, most importantly, refused to honor your own daughter's promise of a reward."

  "YOU INSOLENT LITTLE—"

  *BAM!*

  The doors to the royal residence were flung open. The princess stood there, her expression stern.

  "you were not given permission to exi—" the king was yelling at his daughter, only to be cut off.

  "Enough!" the princess cut him off, her voice ringing with authority. "Can you not see that the only reason you are still alive is that he is showing you mercy?" She turned to Vincent, her demeanor shifting to one of profound regret. "I apologize for the way you have been treated. To show my sincerity, I have prepared a wagon with two of our finest horses and a substantial amount of gold as compensation for both my request and this... disgrace." She met his obsidian eyes, her own pleading. "I—we—are deeply grateful for all you have done. But I must shamelessly beg you, please leave, though I know you are weary from your journey."

  Vincent looked at the defeated guards, the furious king, and finally, the earnest princess. "This is all I ever wanted, Your Majesty," he said, his voice calm. He raised his hands in a placating gesture and slowly walked backward toward the exit.

  Outside, an attendant waited. "Let me show you to the wagon."

  When they reached it, Vincent did not inspect the gold, the wagon, or the horses. He simply took the reins, urged the horses forward, and hurried out of the elven

  kingdom, his mind consumed by a single, desperate prayer—that his actions had not just ignited a war.