I was in Seclusion for so long that everyone forgot about me

Marika was getting ready to go to the embassy, whilst I sat here doing nothing but brooding over things I couldn’t fix. Cynthia was already with the first customers.

I sighed. I had no idea what I should think about her constant flirting. Of course, I was allowed a relationship of my own as a paladin—even same-sex—but the humans didn’t like this kind of thing so much, especially if it was an elf and a beast-kin that was supposed to be a slave. And I wasn’t even sure if she wanted any kind of relationship at all.

I’d liked her for a long time. Every time we came to King’s Garden and I saw her working, flirting with customers she didn’t even like, it felt like my heart cracked a little more. She smiled for strangers, laughed for fools, and all I could do was watch from the side like it meant nothing. Those fucking humans. Those damned wars.

But if I had to be honest... even if everything were different, I didn’t think Cynthia would want to be with me. Sure, she liked to flirt with me, and we spent a lot of time together—cuddling, laughing, calling me cute, saying she felt safe around me—but I thought it was more because we had a lot in common. Or maybe that’s just what I told myself so it wouldn’t hurt as much.

I gritted my teeth when I remembered what Kazari did—how she used her ability on us. I never really liked her. I’d only tolerated staying here because of Cynthia, and because the Elder and that fox were old friends. Marika forgave her way too quickly, as if it had been some childish prank. But I couldn’t pretend that easily.

Our people were kidnapped, and Kazari used the chaos to pry information from what she believed to be the Jaeger Matriarch. I couldn’t remember much about that night—only bits and pieces. Her charm nearly broke a few times.

I should have been more careful. Less trustful. I should’ve been stronger. My desire for worldly things had made me vulnerable. What if that monster hadn’t liked the game Kazari was playing? What if the information we needed to find our kin had been lost in that haze? What that vixen had done wasn’t a prank. It was something I couldn’t forgive. Not easily. Maybe not ever.

And Cynthia defending her decision afterward hadn’t helped. When she tried to explain, it felt like being cut by a knife dipped in honey—sweet on the surface, but it still went deep. Trying to justify the means because the outcome was good in the end. But the end doesn’t justify the means. Especially not when dealing with a being that exists outside our power.

I stood up and went outside, trying to ignore the look Cynthia gave me from a corner where she was tending to a guest. It hurt too much. I simply couldn’t meet her eyes.

The street was already quite busy, the air filled with the countless smells of food. I hoped the Elder wouldn’t take too long, but she was probably still talking to the other elves in the area behind the Dancing Tails. A long time ago, she and Kazari had made a deal—a certain potion she would always bring whenever we came to the Capital, in exchange for a safe place where the caravan could stay.

I sighed again. It had already been so long since I first joined the caravan. Longer than my mission was ever meant to last. Whatever happened to my original task—supervising Marika and reporting back to the temple about her connection to the witches?

Sure, some of the things she did were shady. But in the end, it was all for the good of the moon elves. In time, the caravan became my family. Not by order, but by choice. But I knew the day would come when the high priest ordered me back, to fulfill other duties elsewhere. And when that day arrived, the struggle I’d feel would just be another trial to overcome. Another chance to prove myself to the goddesses.

I frowned. Normally, I would have received some kind of answer by now. A whisper. A sign. A dream. But ever since that trickster came, it was like they’d been avoiding me. Or something was blocking them out.

Whatever it was, it made me feel... wrong. Off. Like I was walking in the dark without a torch.

Maybe this was just another hurdle. A personal quest, meant to test my resolve—to see if I could find the truth on my own. Either way, I should take some preparatory measures in case the worst came to pass.

“We can go,” said Marika, who had just stepped out of the inn. She looked tired. Not just physically—there was something in her eyes, like the weight of too many memories had caught up with her in a matter of minutes.

I didn’t pry. I just nodded and quietly followed her to the main street.

I always wondered why they called it the main street when the true western district dug so much deeper into the northwest than this road ever did. It was probably because of the sheer number of shops and vendors crammed along it, most of them affiliated with guilds of this district. Only a few stood truly on their own—the rare few whose craftsmanship could defy the monopolies of guild control or were simply skilled enough to get away with it.

Most shops sold things sourced from many different places. You’d see dwarven alloys traded next to imported tea leaves.

And if you went deeper into the heart of the district, you’d eventually reach the wall that encircled the entire inner city. We were still on the outskirts of what the humans called the western district. In my opinion, anything beyond the Dancing Tails still belonged to the tangled mechanism of the eastern side. Not that any of it truly mattered.

The true rulers weren’t the district guilds or even most of the nobles. It was the Grey Lords.

I had no actual idea who they were—or even if they were truly human—but they were the ones pulling most of the strings behind the scenes. The only places they didn’t control were the Church of the Divines, the Metropolitan, Void’s Origin, the Poison Fairy, the Academy, and the Witches’ Embassy.

At least, that was what I believed. I had no hard proof. But when you looked at who ruled those places—you could feel it. The Embassy was obvious. No one would be insane enough to move against the witches, especially not when the one in charge here was a War Witch.

The Poison Fairy… well. I had no idea. It wasn’t open to the public, and even nobles weren’t allowed inside. It was a place steeped in mystery. When Marika and Kazari both told me it was better not to know what went on there, I listened. Some places weren’t meant to be questioned. Not because they were sacred—but because the answers would rot your mind. No one could change the cruelty in that place anyway.

The Academy stood apart from the Empire’s law. Too powerful. Too protected. The Church and the Metropolitan were very much the same. No one would dare challenge either—not with the endless layers of divine blessings woven through their walls.

And Void’s Origin… no one talked about them. And it was better that way.

“Zary, are you even listening to me?” asked Marika beside me.

“H-huh? Oh. I’m sorry. I got caught in my own thoughts,” I said.

“You’re still angry at them for what they did?”

“Mhm? Ah—Kazari and Cynthia? Yes. I am.” I didn’t even try to hide it. “I just think the way they handled things was wrong.”

The Elder sighed. “You have to forgive them for this. It’s in their nature.”

I furrowed my brow. “That’s not an excuse. They can think and act on their own accord. They’re not wild beasts without a moral codex.”

“What do you think they have to do day by day to survive in this place?” Marika murmured, more to herself than to me. “They’re not here by choice. And they can’t leave when they wish.”

“What do you mean by that?”

A sad glimmer appeared in her eyes. “I’m not the one to tell you their story, and I’m rather surprised that Cynthia doesn’t know the reasons by now. But you... you still might not be ready to hear it.”

I opened my mouth—but nothing came out. The words felt stuck in my chest, as if admitting anything would just prove her right.

My mood darkened.

What did she mean by ‘not ready’? Wasn’t I trustful enough? What could possibly be the reason? Was she afraid I wouldn’t understand? That I’d judge her… or push her away?

“Dear,” said Marika, and I hated how gentle her voice became, “I can see on your face that you’re overthinking everything again. Maybe when we’re back, you should talk to Cynthia. Really talk to her. And maybe… finally tell her how you actually feel.”

I felt my face grow warm. “I-I have no idea what you are t-talking about!”

To my horror, the Elder only laughed.

Walking through the city was never pleasant—especially with all those hungry humans looking at us like water in the desert. They knew we were moon elves. They knew what they could do to us if they ever managed to overwhelm us. And yet, none of them dared.

They saw the insignia on my armor and recognized it: a paladin of the Sanctuary of the Silver Sisters—or, as the humans called them, the Shrine of the Pale Mothers.

They knew I was high-level. A threat to most humans in this city. Without shady tactics—like that damn slaver pig—they knew they wouldn’t stand a chance in a fair fight. But humans didn’t like fair fights, even though they so often claimed to value honor and justice. Their privileges were ingrained in their blood so deeply, they didn’t even notice them anymore.

We were in the southern part of the city now, close to King’s Gate—probably the most crime-infested place in the entire empire. Just outside the gate sprawled the slums. People who weren’t allowed inside the ‘true city’, yet still became a part of its ecosystem over time. More lived beyond the gates than behind them, though the humans liked to pretend otherwise.

Ruled by countless crime lords, backroom cults, and worse.

I’d heard rumors of secret human experiments being run there—flesh alchemy, rune grafting with human bone, even mind-manipulation. The illegal trade thrived in the shadows too quiet, constant, and utterly brutal. Fae wings, elemental dust, demon horns—nothing sacred, nothing spared. The Gilded Maw definitely had a hand in all of it.

The embassy itself was located near the river, the one humans relied on for both their water supply and sea trade. It ran from deep inside the human empire all the way out to the ocean. A lot of the major cities were built around or along it. Dozens of smaller rivers joined its flow, connecting the empire’s southern territories like veins. Of course, in the grand scale of the empire, those were only a few cities. But in the south, they were the beating heart.

When the Taniwha began aligning with the Ninki Nanka a few years back, the humans took a heavy blow. Their arrogance had blinded them, and now they were paying the price. They still struggled to protect their inland trade routes. Most of the time, adventurers were hired to escort merchant vessels.

But in areas where the river widened into massive, lake-like spans, defense became much harder. After a certain depth, human magic simply didn’t reach—it was basically rendered useless. And no land-folk would dare to follow the threats that lived that deep.

The situation only improved thanks to that royal mage and her powerful wards. Once, ten royal trading ships would be destroyed each month. Now, only two returned needing repairs. That was still considered a miracle.

As for the open sea… well. If they strayed even a little too far from the coast, the Ninki Nanka would devour them. Even those vaunted wards couldn't protect them from what slept in the dark ocean trenches. And after what happened in Eldenreach, no one dared test those waters again.

It was refreshing, in a way, to watch human greed finally meet something it couldn’t outbuy, outfight, or outwit. The only thing they could do was watch how everything went into the deep abyss, into her realm.

Eventually, we reached the part of the city that had grown from the desert-born human cultures of the empire. The buildings here rose like prayers carved in stone—every arch a crescent, every tile a hymn to balance and beauty. I didn’t see the usual idols, but the walls spoke for themselves. Their patterns mirrored the stars, as if the architects had sought to honor the Goddess of Light through symmetry alone.

I was always amazed at how human society could be so fractured and yet still function. How they could accept most of each other’s differences within their own kind while hating everyone outside of it. It always made me wonder—what would happen if the world held only humans?

I got my answer soon enough.

A pair of gate guards were harassing a girl for wearing the garments of her culture—shouting at her, grabbing at her sleeves, mocking her language. The situation might have escalated further if not for the local guards from this district who stepped in and put a stop to it.

Marika, who had witnessed it all beside me, only shook her head. “No matter where you go, it’s always a fight for superiority. Of whose values matter more. Of whose voices are louder.”

I nodded. “It reminds me of how the high elves treated us... back when we first met.” I took a deep breath and shoved the memory aside. Some ghosts weren’t worth recalling twice.

We continued onward, deeper into this part of the city. Eventually, we reached the building we were looking for—the embassy.

It looked like a strange blend of two worlds—desert-born grace woven together with the ritual-heavy architecture of the eastern district. Tall towers with pointed roofs, colored glass windows catching the light like gemstones, and narrow arches wrapped in creeping mana vines. Brass lanterns hung beside carved stone doorways. The air smelled faintly of woody incense and old magic.

I was always surprised how well they’d hidden it in plain sight. It was too beautiful to ignore, too quiet to question. A stronghold of silent sovereignty.

Especially with a War Witch stationed inside. Having one in the capital was nothing short of a threat, a blade dangling in plain view, just inches from the Emperor’s throat.

As we approached, two female guards stepped forward from the vines.

One was tall—statuesque. The other was a cait sith, barely three feet high. Many humans confused them with beast-kin, but they were their own race entirely. Created by Ithi, their matron, by accident. Naturally attuned to nature magic, every cait sith was considered a witch by birth—even those who never formally joined the path.

Their armor was a blend of witch’s garb and reinforced plating. Their hats were trimmed and fitted to stay out of the way in combat—not ceremonial, but functional. They were part of a branch within the Sisterhood of Judgment.

Judging by their posture, it seemed the news hadn’t reached them yet—that someone other than Marika had appeared in the capital, claiming the title of honorary witch.

When they noticed that one of the approaching figures was the Elder, both witches’ faces lit up.

“Marika! I’m happy to see you! It’s been too long already!” said the tall one—Sarah, I think, though I’d forgotten her name until now.

“It has been too long, Sarah. What happened with Cathrine? She’s back at the Witchdom?” the Elder asked, smiling.

Sarah nodded. “Her wife gave birth to their daughter, so she’s on leave for a while. Instead, Iris here took her place.”

Iris, the black-furred cait sith with sharp amber eyes and a voice that purred even when she spoke plainly, greeted Marika with a nod and a warm grin. “Didn’t think I’d see you again in a lifetime,” she drawled. “What’s it been—two hundred years since you last dropped by Walpurgia?”

“Two hundred and ten,” corrected Marika with a quiet laugh.

“How’s Ithi?” asked Marika, smiling.

Iris tilted her head with feline curiosity. “You know her—always buried in her next experiment. I swear she’s about to whip up another race any day now.

Marika laughed. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Sarah cleared her throat, pulling them gently back to the present. “Anyway. What business brings you here this time?”

“I need to speak with Neris,” Marika said slowly. “It’s about an honorary witch I’ve encountered. Older than her—and an old friend of Ithi.”

Both witches blinked, exchanging a glance. The shift in their expressions was immediate and serious. They clearly hadn’t heard of any such person.

Iris was the first to speak. “A-are you sure?”

Marika nodded. “I’ve seen the hat. Nothing outside the High Council could’ve made it, not with that style. That was unmistakably Walpurgis’ work.”

“I didn’t know the first Queen—” Sarah started, but Marika gently cut her off.

“No. Not the first Queen. The first Walpurgis.”

Iris’s face darkened instantly, the mirth gone from her tone. “Come inside and tell Neris the details. I’ll bring you to her.”

With those words, Marika followed Iris—directly through the door, as if it were made of mist instead of wood. One moment she was beside me, the next she had passed through what now shimmered like an illusion.

Sarah and I were left outside, alone. I wasn’t invited to follow.

Sarah’s face had already hardened as her eyes shifted to me. “Paladin.”

“Witch.”

We paladins and witches weren’t exactly on the best of terms. And I wasn’t just talking about our temple—I meant every paladin order. Ever since the last Great Witch Hunt, we’d kept our distance. Not allies. Not enemies. Just two sides that knew better than to trust each other.

The quiet settled for a moment between me and Sarah. Not quite comfortable, but bearable. Marika shouldn’t take too long, after all.

Suddenly, I heard a voice behind me curse under its breath.

I gritted my teeth and turned.

“Hello, Father,” I said, toneless.

“It’s Lord Elmaris to you, bloodblight,” he spat, voice dripping with venom.

Bloodblight—the humanized elven term for those seen as a stain on the family’s bloodline. A curse. A disease.

I drew my sword with measured precision. “Are you, Caelir Elmaris, son of the Elmaris Patriarch, insulting a paladin of the Sanctuary of the Silver Sisters?”

His face went pale. So did the faces of the two elven goons flanking him. Their hands hovered over their hilts, shaking slightly.

“Tsk,” was all the bastard I never wanted as a father muttered. “You won’t always be there to protect that bitch. I’ll be watching.”

Then he turned and stalked away, leaving a trail of silence and flabbergasted onlookers in his wake.

A small grin tugged at my lips. I wouldn’t have said no to a fight. Especially not after what he did to my mother. Or to me. Killing him might’ve even been enough to push me to the class level cap—maybe even offer me the chance to ascend to High Paladin.

“That was rather anticlimactic,” said Sarah, her tone almost disappointed. “Wouldn’t have minded lending a hand if he’d attacked you so close to the embassy. That bastard should drop dead if you ask me. He’s infamous for how much he despises other elven races. And if you ask me… he’s also one of the biggest contributors to the slave trade in the capital.”

A hollow laugh escaped my mouth. “Of course he is.”

Then another thought crept into my mind. If he really was that involved, he’d definitely show up at the auction house.

And knowing his nature, he wouldn’t just be watching.

“That’s a rather creepy grin you’ve got there,” noted Sarah, narrowing her eyes slightly.

“Yeah,” I said. “I just had a wonderful thought.”