He dusted his hands, as if done with the only thing that mattered. “Now…” His voice cut sharper, no longer bored. “Tell me what is so urgent you decided to be rude.”

  I gave him a small bow, the kind that said I respect you, but I’m not kneeling. “I want to conquer this city.”

  For a long, unsettling moment, he just stared. His gaze flicked once to my tiara, then back to my eyes, as if measuring whether the crown was costume jewelry or a real burden.

  Finally, his lips curved into a faint smile. “I see. Then let’s take this to my study.” He gestured toward a side door with the grace of someone dismissing gnats. “Unpleasant matters should be discussed in a civilized manner. And far, far away from my babies.”

  The vines around us rustled as if agreeing.

  “As you wish,” I said, pivoting on my heel and striding ahead of him. Pretending I wasn’t aware that if he wanted me dead, I’d already be fertilizer. But pretending was my specialty.

  We climbed several floors through a stairwell lined with ivy and pale flowers that gave off a faint citrusy scent. Eventually, we reached what looked less like a war-room and more like an eccentric noble’s parlor.

  The reception chamber was alive. Ferns in tall ceramic pots leaned against the walls, orchids spilled color from hanging baskets, and even the table in the center had moss creeping around its legs like it belonged to the furniture as much as the forest. A circle of cushioned chairs surrounded it, their upholstery a rich green that matched his robe. The air was warm and damp, only a definition away from being an actual greenhouse.

  “I think introductions are in order,” he said in a voice so calm it nearly blended with the leaves rustling. “My name is Shad. But most now call me Master of the Green Dragon.”

  I snorted. Couldn’t help it.

  Charlie, BAD diplomacy!

  One of his eyebrows arched. “Something amusing about my name?”

  I shook my head, still smiling. “My name’s Charlie, but nearly everyone insists on calling me queen.” I tilted my head, imagining. “And I just thought… what would a not-a-dragon think about your title? Picture him in his big cave of fire, hearing there’s a ‘Green Dragon’ running around with a garden.”

  Shad’s mouth twitched, a flicker between annoyance and amusement. Then he inclined his head and laughed at my perfect joke. “I… see. Let’s hope some foolish queen won’t tell him then? Sit. If you intend to speak of conquest, we may as well have refreshments. What would you like to drink? Something alcoholic perhaps?”

  I wanted to nod and agree to the drink, but Adam’s concerned face flickered in my head like a guilty conscience.

  So I shook my head, forcing a neutral smile. “No, but I like tea. Your city has a lot of them.”

  “Oho! Of course,” Shad said, stroking his short green-flecked beard. “I have the most premium… some from my own care.” He gave himself a satisfied nod, then called for a maid with precise orders before finally sinking into his chair.

  The moment he sat, vines stirred around me like obedient serpents. In seconds they’d coiled my arms and legs to the chair… snug and unyielding. I wriggled against them, and they only tightened.

  “You speak of being a queen and of conquest,” he said, voice calm but sharp enough to cut bark. “Barging into my home. Tell me one reason not to dispose of you as if you were a bug.”

  My plan, if you could call it that, wasn’t exactly… elaborate. “Because my mother would squash you.” The words tumbled out, and heat rushed to my cheeks. That was it? My grand persuasive pitch?

  My mom’s scarier than you.

  Amazing work, Charlie. Ten out of ten.

  He barked a laugh. “You would not believe how many fools have tried to impress me with their heritage. I don’t care who your mother is. I can defend myself just fine. If you want to lean on her title’s weight, then use it. Properly. Convince me.”

  The vines squeezed tighter. My mind spun, and then, like diving into a pool, I slipped into our ancestral home.

  The princess bed greeted me first, ridiculous canopy and all. I bit my lip, staring at the carved door until it opened. And there was Irwen, sweeping inside like a storm contained in silk. Her scorn landed on me before she even spoke.

  “Charlie,” she said flatly. “I told you not to use our pocket dimension unless it was an emergency.” Her gaze sharpened as she saw my expression crumple. The anger softened into something heavier. “…This isn’t an emergency, is it?”

  I turned my head away, cheeks burning. Then nodded.

  “Charlie.” Her voice shifted deeper… Queen Irwen now. She stepped closer, caught my chin with cool fingers, and gently forced my gaze to hers. “What did you do? Did you use the scroll too early?”

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  I tried to shake my head, but her grip was iron. “I… right now, I’m sitting in a grandmaster’s study. He’s got me tied up with vines. And he asked me to use the weight of your title.”

  Her eyes closed slowly, a sigh leaking through clenched teeth. Her shoulders rose, fell. She looked like she wanted to shout, but instead pressed her palm to her forehead, squeezing a strand of her hair. “You didn’t meditate, did you?”

  “But mom—” I tried, half-pleading.

  “No but mom!” Her voice cracked sharp like a whip. “Charlie, you are an elf now. Not human. Our emotions aren’t the same. They push, they pull… you don’t even see how they are nudging you the wrong way. Do you feel pride? Pride in what you’ve done? That you are a queen?”

  I swallowed, cheeks still hot, and nodded slightly.

  “Every young elf must meditate and learn their emotions, to explore and restrain them. It is a rite of growing up, Charlie. You may have been human, but this… this is alien to you.” Her voice wavered, just a little, like a storm breaking at its edges. “If you don’t learn how to quiet yourself, how to think—you…” She didn’t finish. Just looked at me, searching. “Promise me. Every day. Meditate.”

  “But mom—”

  She seized my shoulders. “Every. Day. This wouldn’t have happened. Think, Charlie! What led you here? Did you truly believe everyone would simply yield to you? That you were superior, that your plans couldn’t fail? Is that it?”

  I blinked at her, replaying everything. Walking up to Shad without hesitation. Ordering his guards. Expecting compliance. No doubt, no second option. No plan C, because why would I need one? It all felt so… obvious at the time. Of course it’d work. Except reality wasn’t a game, and I wasn’t playing a safe test run. “…Yes,” I whispered.

  “Admitting it is the first step,” she whispered, releasing me. “Meditate. Think about what you do. What you think. Don’t let emotions pull you down the path of self-destruction.”

  Her hand brushed toward my cheek, trying to nip me affectionately, and I swatted it away with a muttered, “Yea, mooom.”

  She allowed it, but her stare pierced. “You had no backup if this failed?”

  “Uhm…” I scratched my cheek. “…Gatei? They still owe me. Saving me and ruining one city isn’t that much to ask, right?”

  Irwen froze. Then groaned into her palm, facepalmed loudly enough to echo. “Of course you’d think of the Twirs. Of course.” She shook her head, muttering under her breath, then sighed. “Use my title’s weight. I can’t stop you. Just… Ancestors help me, I hope one day you’ll stand on your own merits.”

  I forced a grin. “Trust me, if this weren’t the optimal play…”

  But Irwen’s presence was ripped away, like a rug pulled under me, and I was staring once again at one slightly annoyed grandmaster.

  I searched for the strange pressure of title… yeah, there it was, like standing on a cliff edge with power humming under my skin. I’d seen NPCs use it plenty. It should work for me too… right?

  “My mother is Queen Irwen. She—”

  The words cut off in my throat as a crushing weight pressed down on me. My lungs screamed, my bones felt like they were being squeezed hollow. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. The title force I’d been grasping onto was snuffed out like a candle under a storm.

  Then, just as suddenly, the pressure vanished. I stumbled in my chair, gasping.

  Shad’s eyes widened, fear flashed there, but he smothered it beneath a mask of calm. His hand trembled only slightly as he poured himself a cup of something. “Oh, the rebel herself,” he said, almost too casually. “She wants this city? She has so much land already!” He raised the cup, drank deeply, and then narrowed his gaze. “Or is this… your solo project?”

  “My elites will arrive,” I said firmly, straightening despite the ache in my chest. “Not only them, but a lot of us. And we will take the city and destroy slavery.” I watched him carefully, searching for anger, mockery, defiance.

  But Shad only swirled his drink. “The city’s economy runs on slavery. It was built on it. If you rip it out, tens of thousands will starve.”

  It wasn’t a refusal. Not even a defense of slavery. Just… a cold statement of logistics.

  Before I could answer, the old maid returned. She entered silently, balancing a lacquered wooden tray on her hands. Shad lifted his palm… permission granted.

  She bowed deeply, then moved with elegant precision. A clay pot, glossy and round, exhaled curls of fragrant steam. Two porcelain cups followed, white and delicate, each with a painted not-a-dragon spiraling around its rim.

  She rinsed both cups with the first pour, emptied them, then filled them again with a steady, thin stream, letting the steam rise like incense smoke. A practiced flick of her wrist sent the last droplets spiraling into the air before she set the pot down.

  Without a word, she bowed once more and slipped out, closing the door behind her.

  I stared at the cup. The porcelain radiated heat into my fingers… too hot to drink without searing my tongue. “I’m aware of that,” I said finally, forcing my eyes back to Shad. “Taking the city will be chaos. People will die. My plan… is brute. But with your help, less blood will be spilled.”

  In truth, I wanted to burn the city to ash. Let the wolves choke on their own smoke.

  Shad leaned forward, gaze locked on mine, probing like roots digging into soil. “I see. Our defenses aren’t strong. My colleagues… squabble endlessly, like children fighting over scraps. They forget the world has teeth. They were lulled by easy trade, by borders without enemies.” His brow furrowed. “Tell me. Where is this kingdom of yours?”

  I smiled thinly. “Call me foolish, but not yet standing. But we have land. And a strong claim.”

  “Where?” he pressed. His tone softened, but the insistence was iron.

  “…Gefahr-lander.”

  “Oh!” His face lit up with sudden recognition. “Our southern border. How convenient.” He even smiled. “Once you conquer this city, you’ll control the natural choke point to the sea. You could sail anywhere, trade easily between… What a genius move.”

  He reached for his cup, nodding to mine. “To more pleasant things, let us drink. Ideally, we would cool it quickly, before bitterness settles…”

  I didn’t hesitate. With a small flick of mana, I cooled both cups at once. Steam died instantly, leaving them comfortably warm. Shad chuckled. “Aren’t you a special queen?” He lifted his cup in salute.

  I raised the porcelain cup to my lips, bracing myself.

  The tea hit my tongue like silk. Sweet… unexpectedly sweet, without a trace of bitterness. Honeyed, floral and sooo smooth. I set the cup down carefully, hiding the goofy grin tugging at my lips.

  Yeah. I really liked sweet things now.

  Shad also placed his drink down and glanced at me. “And here I thought today’s gossip would remain about two of my colleagues squabbling over one slave with magic. The talk of the city these days.”

  I stiffened, the words landing like a thrown knife. His smile told me he saw it.

  “Don’t worry,” he said smoothly. “We are now conspirators in an uprising. Your secrets are safe with me. For now.” He sipped again. “Tell me instead… how do you plan to deal with the God of War giving you debuff?”

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