A Journey Unwanted

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Heart Kingdom]

[Pulchritudo]

[Banquet]

Ella stood alone near one of the lavish dessert tables, seemingly detached from the grandeur surrounding her.

The crystal chandeliers still casted light across the marble floors. Elegant music drifted through the hall while nobles laughed into glasses of expensive wine. Servants moved between clusters of aristocrats, balancing silver trays covered in delicacies.

None of it interested her.

("Tch, what are those idiots doing?")

The thought passed idly through Ella’s mind as she calmly stuffed another chocolate cone into her mouth.

The pastry disappeared in a single bite. Rich chocolate melted pleasantly across her tongue. She reached for another without so much as blinking.

Naturally, the stares never stopped.

People continued pretending not to look while looking anyway. Men paused mid-conversation. Noblewomen whispered behind fans. Even passing servants found themselves stealing glances toward the breathtakingly beautiful girl standing beside the dessert display while eating expensive sweets with indifference.

Ella ignored every last one of them.

("Why’re those dumbasses fighting?") she wondered flatly, eyes focused somewhere no one else could perceive. ("Are they stupid?")

Her gaze remained unfocused for another moment, she could feel it far away.

("Guess the snake finally decided to stop pretending.")

She hummed quietly to herself before taking another chocolate cone, another disappeared. Her expression never changed as she merely chewed thoughtfully.

After swallowing, she gave the smallest shrug imaginable.

Her dainty shoulders rose and fell.

("Whatever. Shuten can handle her.")

There wasn’t the slightest concern in that conclusion as she slowly swept her red eyes across the banquet hall once more.

The countless people staring at her were filtered out almost immediately.

None of them mattered.

("I’ve been leaking little pieces of my altered mana the whole time...") Her thoughts remained calm. ("So I guess he finally took the bait.")

Her gaze settled upon a single figure moving through the sea of nobles.

He stood apart almost immediately, he was tall and seemed composed.

Long dark hair flowed freely past his shoulders, immaculate despite the crowded hall. Covering his face entirely rested a striking golden mask sculpted into sharp, almost avian features. A pronounced beak-like ridge extended down its center while winged patterns decorated its surface. Narrow eye slits emitted a dim white glow that made it impossible to discern where he was truly looking.

A dark, high-collared garment concealed his neck, decorated with purplish-blue pinstripes. Over it rested a pristine black suit tailored to perfection. Across his chest gleamed a golden emblem shaped like outstretched wings. His waistcoat matched the rest of his attire, two gold buttons sat atop it. Even his boots appeared crafted specifically for someone of his station.

He neither hurried nor lingered, yet the banquet shifted around him.

People instinctively stepped aside.

Conversations falting for just a heartbeat before resuming in quieter voices.

Whispers followed in his wake.

"By Iofiel..."

"Is that really...?"

"A Royal Guard..."

"Here?"

"One of Her Majesty’s personal retainers..."

"No wonder security is so overwhelming."

"So the rumors were true..."

"The Duke truly is connected to the Royal Guard."

Ella watched him in silence.

("Yeah. That’s one of the mana signatures I noticed earlier.")

Unlike the nobles surrounding him, she wasn’t studying his appearance, she was studying his mana. It was dense and remarkably refined. There was almost no waste, each strand remained perfect, layered beneath countless suppressions only another exceptional mage would ever notice.

("Pretty clean.") She tilted her head ever so slightly. ("Using this world’s magic rankings...") Her eyes narrowed a fraction. ("He should be capable of Chorda-tier spells.") That alone placed him among the stronger mages. ("High-tier. He’s definitely responsible for the city’s ward network.")

Her gaze drifted briefly toward the distant windows overlooking Pulchritudo.

("And the barriers surrounding this estate.")

She finished the final chocolate cone.

After dusting the crumbs from her fingertips, she placed the empty plate upon the nearest passing servant’s tray without asking permission.

The servant blinked.

Ella had already stopped paying attention.

Across the hall the masked man’s head turned, toward her.

Their eyes—or rather, his glowing lenses and her gaze—met across the crowded ballroom. No hesitation followed as he altered course immediately straight toward her.

("There we go.") Ella folded her arms with elegance, she simply waited.

Around them, nobles quietly noticed, small conversations faded. Curious eyes drifted between the mysterious Royal Guard and the impossibly beautiful young woman he had approached.

Neither appeared bothered by the growing audience.

The distance between them steadily vanished.

A few paces away, the Royal Guard finally stopped. Even standing still, he towered over Ella’s petite frame.

For several silent moments, neither spoke.

The Royal Guard studied her.

Ella studied him.

"You possess remarkably refined mana," the man observed, his aged voice softened beneath the golden mask. "It’s rare to encounter someone who maintains such precise control over it. I imagine you must be an exceptionally accomplished mage."

Ella stared at him blankly.

"You really need to work on your pick-up lines."

There was a brief silence before a quiet chuckle escaped behind the mask. He did not seem offended.

"I assure you," he replied evenly, folding his hands behind his back, "you’re far younger than my tastes would ever allow. That wasn’t my intention."

"Huh." Ella looked genuinely, if only slightly, surprised. "So someone here actually has standards." Her gaze lazily swept across the ballroom. "I was beginning to think everyone in this place forgot what shame was."

Several nearby nobles stiffened, uncertain whether they had just been insulted, most had.

Ella looked back toward the Royal Guard.

"They’ve been staring since I walked through the doors." She spoke matter-of-factly. "Most of them don’t even bother pretending otherwise." She smiled, it was breathtaking and radiant.

Beautiful enough that several nearby conversations stopped entirely. One woman nearly dropped her wine glass. Another gentleman forgot the sentence he’d been speaking.

Yet despite how dazzling the smile appeared it never reached Ella’s eyes, those red eyes remained cold.

"So..." she continued lightly, tilting her head ever so slightly. "A Royal Guard doesn’t abandon his duties just to compliment a stranger’s mana."

Her smile remained.

Though it had become almost impossible to mistake it for genuine.

"What exactly would someone in your position want with me?"

"You ask that despite making your presence so conspicuously obvious," the Royal Guard mused, his voice calm beneath the golden mask. "From the moment you entered this hall you carried yourself as though you wished to be noticed. Not by the nobles, nor by the sycophants crowding this estate..." He paused, the dim glow behind his mask remaining fixed upon her. "But by someone capable of recognizing what you truly are."

Ella offered no denial.

She merely regarded him with that same expression, arms folded comfortably beneath her chest, making no effort to either confirm or reject his conclusion.

The silence itself was answer enough.

He gave a small nod.

"So my assumption was correct." His tone remained the same. "Still, formalities have their place." He rested one gloved hand lightly against his chest. "Even if I suspect you already know precisely who I am."

His posture remained composed.

"I am Hermes Trismegistus, Royal Guard to Her Majesty, the Queen." He neither bowed nor extended a hand. "You may address me as Trismegistus."

Ella stared at him for another second.

Her eyes wandered over the elaborate mask, the tailoring of his suit and the polished emblem resting against his chest.

("Huh.")

She had honestly expected something far more theatrical, some sweeping bow. Perhaps taking her hand, maybe even kissing it, like every self-important noble apparently believed was sophisticated.

Instead, the man simply introduced himself.

"Hermes then," Ella answered flatly. "Because there isn’t a chance I’m pronouncing Trismegistus every time."

Not even the slightest hint of embarrassment accompanied her words.

Before he could respond, she continued just as casually.

"Ella. "A tiny shrug followed. "Just Ella."

Another quiet chuckle escaped the Royal Guard.

"I see." He rolled the name around thoughtfully before something seemed to click within his memory. "...Ah." His head tilted ever so slightly. "Now I understand why you appeared familiar the moment I sensed your mana."

Ella’s red eyes narrowed by a fraction.

"You were Koschei’s apprentice."

For the first time since their conversation began, her expression changed. Only slightly, enough for someone observant to notice.

"Hm." The single sounded dismissive. "You know that scumbag." There was no hesitation in the insult.

Trismegistus didn’t appear offended.

"One inevitably becomes acquainted with fellow researchers," he answered calmly. "The magical community is considerably smaller than most imagine. Mages of sufficient skill occasionally exchange theories, discoveries..." He paused briefly. "...and research."

His masked gaze lingered upon her.

"Koschei was..." he chose his wording carefully. "...an extraordinarily difficult man."

Ella snorted.

"Difficult. That’s certainly one way of putting it." Her voice remained dry. "I’d call him a narcissistic parasite with an ego the size of a star."

Several nearby guests glanced towards them before quickly pretending not to listen.

Trismegistus ignored them entirely.

"Even so," he continued with remarkable composure, "his intellect was undeniable."

Ella clicked her tongue.

"Yeah, it usually is when you’ve got centuries to keep throwing yourself at the same problem." Her expression remained thoroughly unimpressed. "That dogshit immortality of his helped." She leant ever so slightly to one side. "And using a Goddess’s body as a replacement host to bring forth a Deseruit Beast Progenitor probably saved him a few decades too."

Not even the horrifying implications behind those words caused her tone to shift. She spoke of them with the same indifference.

Nearby conversations continued, music played and servants walked between tables. Yet around the pair an odd silence settled.

Trismegistus merely hummed.

The sensitive nature of the information didn’t seem to surprise him in the slightest.

Instead, he sounded thoughtful.

"Hm. To possess knowledge that specific..." he murmured. "...and yet react with such complete indifference." He studied her carefully. "There isn’t even a trace of surprise or admiration." Only then did he ask quietly, "Why?"

Ella released a slow breath through her nose.

"Because it’s obvious." Her answer came immediately. She lifted one hand, lazily counting upon slender fingers. "Repair the vessel. The Sanctorum branch. Sub-branches—Soulknitting and Fleshmending. They restore damaged flesh while reconstructing fragmented portions of the soul just enough for the body to remain stable."

Her explanation flowed, and not once did she pause to think.

"You don’t restore the original owner completely; you only reinforce the shell. Strong enough to house something else." She lowered one finger before raising another. "After that, the Mentus branch. The Mentarch sub-branch forces the original consciousness into perpetual dormancy. Then there’s no inconvenient personality getting in the way."

Another finger lowered.

"There." She shrugged. "You’ve got yourself a perfectly usable vessel." Her red eyes met the glowing slits of his mask. "It’s just layered spellwork, fundamentally simple." She tilted her head. "I never understood why everyone acted like it was revolutionary. It’s just competent magic, nothing more."

Silence followed as Trismegistus watched her for several long moments.

Then he chuckled in genuine amusement.

"Ordinarily..." he admitted, "...I would accuse someone speaking so dismissively of arrogance." His head inclined ever so slightly. "But your eyes tell an entirely different story. They’re not the eyes of someone exaggerating. They belong to someone who genuinely believes Koschei’s greatest accomplishment was ordinary."

Ella’s expression remained unchanged.

"I’ve seen better." The answer came without hesitation or pride.

Trismegistus slowly nodded.

"I believe you." That response finally drew the smallest flicker of interest across Ella’s face. It was odd how he simply accepted it.

"I find myself increasingly curious," the Royal Guard admitted. "Not merely about your magic. But about you."

He glanced towards the far side of the banquet hall where nobles continued laughing over expensive wine, entirely unaware of the conversation unfolding only a short distance away.

Then he looked back to her.

"Would you indulge an old scholar for a little while?" His hands folded neatly behind his back. "There is considerably more to discuss than can comfortably be said while standing in the middle of a banquet. A polite pause followed. "Would you care to walk with me?"

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