Nahwu and Shorof had been escorted out, while Man, oher hand, retaihe human boy in attendah the queen and the elders.

  “He dared bring in the traption of outsiders into the sacred prects of the Great Forest. This transgression is intolerable,” the Dark Elf chief decred.

  “What if our words be overheard?” inquired the Moon Elf chief.

  "Fear not, for in the forthing loop shall I rectify this matter," said Man. "The d preheh not our discourse sans this artifice; hence, let him don it."

  “Thy Holiness…” began the High Elf chief, though then he fell silent, perceiving Man's pn.

  "Dost thou prehend our words?" Man asked after she let the boy wear the transtion device again.

  Lo raised his face, his tenance pale but his eyes determined, “Yes, Your Holiness.”

  It was his debut in unc the existence of a holy entity within the realm of myths—a divine figure capable of even humbling the esteemed elves' queen and elders.

  "I have heard thou art the premier prince of Inkia, Prince Lo Inkor?" inquired Man once more.

  "Yes," replied Lo.

  Man fixed her gaze upon him. "What art thou doing amidst the turmoil of the Inkia war?"

  Lo paled. He was here because of the war...

  "Thou didst flee from thy troubles, didst thou?" Man remarked. "Whilst thine fa cshed with the prime minister's, whilst thy people's army battled against Soulnaught's attack, thou didst frolic with thy panion and seek so the tranquil Elven encve."

  Lo found himself in a rather peculiar predit. Despite being associated with the "first prince fa," he couldn't muster up any cim to power within it.

  It was more like his dear mother ying a game of thrones using his name as a pawn, while he sat idly by with no say iter—a priripped of authority over his own title.

  A prih no power over his own name.

  "Art thou aware of the toll thy as hast wrought in lives lost?" inquired Man.

  Man then delved into the juicy details extracted from Burn's memories of the war's fateful day. Finn Wilderwood had his family snatched and held hostage by the kingdom, leading him to allow a massacre at the hands of Soulnaught.

  The chaos unfolded in the blink of ahough the repercussions still lingered fresh in their minds, poised to reakia soon with impending doom awaiting Wintersin's forces.

  Inkia’s army sughter was still yesterday. And now, Wintersin’s army would soon be sughtered under Burn’s hands.

  Ah, the cssic case of uimating the threat. But it was uandable. Inkia's forte y not in its military might but iricate dance of politics. Leveraging their king's vast work of es, some might be less substantial than they appeared, yet Inkia had successfully maniputed the mythical unity to their adva least in previous loops.

  Still, that wouldn’t be the end of it. What befell Finn Wilderwood could very well befall another unsuspeg soul, all while they puppeteered individuals like him with callous indifference—using them as mere tools in their grand maations.

  And in this grand charade, poor Lo found himself reduced to a mere bystander, plicit in allowing his o be wielded as a on by unseen forces. Oh, the tangled webs we weave in the game of power and manipution.

  “I just… want to save my sister…” Lo whispered.

  It was the Inkia Kingdom, after all, where princes and princesses sprouted faster than weeds in a garden. Old daddy dearest, Rafaye Inkor, seemed to have a pent for siring offspri, right, aer, whether they were legitimate, illegitimate, or dht bastards.

  And naturally, most of them were swept uhe royal rug without a sed thought.

  But lo and behold, in waltzes Lo, lucky chap that he is. His mother happeo be one of the favored queens, and he even had the audacity to be the firstborn among all the other royal progeny.

  What a stroke of luck! Yet, despite swimming in a sea of royal drama, he couldn't quite shake off that pesky thing called a sce.

  Ehe princess from a less prestigious line. Lo's newfound sibling project.

  "My dear mother has a rather peculiar hobby: plotting the demise of every child fathered by the king, with the exception of yours truly, of course," Lo whispered. “At least now, with her attention elsewhere, I ensure my dear sister's safety."

  All of this politid power struggle, he didn’t care about any of it. One of the reasons he was close with Nahwu was because they had ohing in on: their love for their sibling.

  "Hmm," Man sighed. "Though this world be ed by corruption, and riddled with war aru, whilst the outsiders do reap what they sow, thou wilt simply permit thy o be thus used?"

  Lo cried out, “What I do? I don’t have any power and I’m not smart! I’m barely fifteen—”

  "What if thou dost possess the power to enact ge?" Man inquired.

  In the loop, she would find a way.

  "Mine husband hath designs to uhis realm. None shall impede his path. her thou, nor Inkia, nor the outsiders. Forsooth, there exists no superior means to establish order than through might," Man decred.

  She turo the queen and the elders. "I had not purposed to embroil thee in the affairs of humankind, my dearest panions. Yet, witnessing the enta of thy youth, I am left with no choice but to give warning."

  "Unlike me, my lord husband doth eschew speech. He doth not expin his iions. Instead, he quers. For as he deems it, that path doth prove the simplest, indeed."

  ***

  Junior Fleet Admiral Rudolf.

  In that desote expaween the Soulnaught and Wintersin empires, where the cold wind whispered of impending flict, the Junior Fleet Admiral of the Outsiders stood with a brash demeanor that barely cealed his curiosity.

  His youthful features were marred by a haughty air, a face of fiden the presence of the infamous Emperor Burn of Soulnaught.

  Emperor Burn, a figure of legend and dread, stood before him with an aura of power that made the very air thrum with tension.

  Tales of his singlehanded defiance of the Outsider's first wave of attack upohermere three years past painted him as a force of nature, crushing starships with but a flick of his fingers and a sneer upon his lips.

  The semi-open space crackled with an undercurrent of hostility, the csh of two opposing forces ready to collide like titans in the midst of a storm.

  As their eyes met across the makeshift tent that marked the boundary between their domains, the Junior Fleet Admiral felt aing chill run down his spine.

  Emperor Burn's gaze was a cold fme that seemed to pierce through his very soul, sizing him up with a mix of disdain and curiosity.

  Ahh, Apex Two.

  They finally met.

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  If you don't know already, political drama is my favorite genre :'v I 't get enough of it. Please reend me anything political because, man, after this fight, it's gons and stones, figuratively.