I hadn’t slept well. Again. The night before had offered only a few ragged hours of rest, and instead of catching up, I’d spent the night tossing, fretting over Ju. Was she safe? What if something had happened to her? What could I do? I didn’t even know where she’d gone, let alone how to reach her if she needed help.


    By morning, I was stewing in my own sour thoughts, trailing a little personal raincloud of fatigue and worry. Yolanda, quite perceptive, didn’t try to make conversation. She just walked beside me in silence. Somehow, she seemed to know when to speak and when to simply let me be.


    The fatigue did have one upside: I didn’t give the maids any trouble during the morning toilette. My only request was that they make it quick and smooth.


    Once I was wrapped in a fresh Kargath’s celebration outfit, I made my way down the now-familiar marble corridors, heading for the same large room with its charming terrace and generous view—my spot for breakfast.


    Baron Esterghom and Archwizard Godain, the only familiar faces in the sea of nobles, were nowhere to be seen. Either they were still asleep, or already on their way to the stadium. It was from them I’d learned about the curious fate of the Viscount of Genevais. He had opened a portal—supposedly a simple one to Uldaman—but stepped through and vanished. Since that day, there was no news from him. The royal mages had officially declared him lost.


    His son, left behind in uncertainty, could call himself only a viscount-to-be until the King named him successor or confirmed his father’s death. For reasons I couldn’t quite fathom, the boy had convinced himself I was somehow to blame for his father’s disappearance. Upon hearing I’d arrived at Fiona’s residence, he had made a swift and silent exit.


    I would’ve gladly continued my conversations with the baron and the archwizard. The baron, with his knowledge of harvesters—their costs, quirks, and which models might best suit the barony—had been an invaluable source of practical advice. And the archwizard had sparked some ideas of his own, particularly about magical education. There was, it turned out, a well-regarded institution not too far from my barony, still within our governorate. A place where I might send not only Jane, but Tina and Michael as well.


    The thought was still tumbling around in my head, not quite settled, but he had a point. And now that I considered it... even Sid might benefit from such a school. That is, if he ever managed to wake up on time—and felt like going in the first place.


    Thanks to Julietta’s royal status—the role Yolanda was now playing—I was mercifully spared from having to engage in the exhausting dance of noble small talk.


    Fiona had arranged everything in an innovative way—these sprawling common rooms for breakfast, where guests could choose their own seats rather than being bound to assigned places. It was a clever setup, encouraging nobles to mingle and strike up conversation more freely.


    Of course, etiquette still reigned. Those of lower rank couldn’t simply stroll over and strike up a chat with someone above their station. But they could join their peers—or even sit among those of lesser rank without scandal.


    Sure, I could brushed off any eager baron, count, or viscount who came sniffing around for a chat—but it’s hard to make progress in courtly circles when you''re busy antagonizing people by the dozen.


    With Yolanda seated beside me, cloaked in her borrowed royalty, we were left in peace. No one dared join us uninvited. That is, until Therella entered, flanked by her ever-present lady-in-waiting.


    I couldn’t help the snort of irritation that slipped out. There was no avoiding her.


    “Julietta! Lores!” she squealed the moment she spotted us. Then her gaze shifted to Yolanda, head tilting in that subtle way of hers.


    Oh, drats. —I sighed— Therella and those cursed eyes of hers. She was close enough now to see through the transformation—to glimpse not just Julietta, but the truth beneath: Yolanda. Even though the two already shared a natural resemblance, there were still differences… and with her strange gift, Therella had no trouble spotting them.


    She now approached us with a little nasty smile on her lips, while Yolanda turned a worried face towards me. I shrugged, tapping her hand to ease her. There was no need to panic however some splaining may be necessarily.


    Before joining us, Therella turned towards her lady in waiting and sent her towards the line where the dishes with food stood as exposition, to order breakfast. The procedure was simple: all options were displayed, one could walk around and decide what one wanted to have for breakfast, then waiters would bring everything at the table in the order it was requested.


    As Therella settled herself at our table—her seat promptly arranged by an attentive waiter—I realized we’d have only a short window to speak without her lady-in-waiting overhearing. That was likely the whole point of sending her off in the first place, rather than going to choose the food herself.


    “Activate the privacy field,” I murmured to Yolanda, who complied without hesitation.


    Once greetings were exchanged and the waiter discreetly retreated, Therella wasted no time.


    “Care to explain what’s going on?” she asked, eyes fixed on Yolanda—on Julietta.


    She was clearly referring to the deception.


    I gave a small shrug, unsure how much Ju would want her to know. Still, Therella was an elf too, and that probably counted for something. Enough, at least, to offer a breadcrumb.


    “Something about a stranded group of elves,” I said, keeping it vague.


    Therella’s face lit up.


    “Oh!” she exclaimed. “I saw the signs too!”


    Then, with effortless grace, she slipped something across the table toward me, as if it were the most natural gesture in the world.


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    “I know Ju doesn’t have any portals to our kingdom,” she said quietly. “This is one she can use—if an evacuation becomes necessary.”


    My eyes widened in surprise. First of all, I had no idea what signs she was referring to, though it was clear she’d read the same messages Ju had. More importantly, she’d just handed over something we sorely lacked: a portal scroll leading straight to elven lands. An incredibly rare and costly gift… and almost certainly the best solution for the elves Ju had supposedly found.


    I slipped the scroll into my inventory without fanfare. When I looked back up and saw the flicker of concern in Therella’s eyes, I gave her a nod.


    “I’ll make sure Ju gets it.”


    She turned slightly, casting a quick glance toward her lady-in-waiting, who was still lingering by the food displays, then looked back at me.


    “I overheard a conversation between Kotu and his paladin,” she said in a low voice. “You need to be careful. You’re making some very powerful entities angry. Maybe it’s time to strike a deal with the Xsoha. It would be cheaper—and far less dangerous.”


    I blinked, caught off guard. “I don’t think the King would go to war just to please a bunch of bureaucrats.”


    She shot another glance at her companion, who was now making her way back.


    “Oh, you don’t know?” Therella leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. “I wasn’t talking about him, but—”


    Her conspiratorial tone startled me, but whatever she’d meant to say was swallowed by timing. The lady-in-waiting returned, and just like that, the conversation shifted.


    Therella launched into a cheerful commentary about the bull-leaping session, praising our performance with a bright smile. She mentioned that she’d wanted to participate herself, but had been talked out of it—apparently, everyone insisted it was far too dangerous.


    After that, she asked about Sid—but even this subject seemed to be under subtle supervision. Her lady-in-waiting suddenly developed a suspicious cough, and Therella quickly reined herself in. She limited her inquiry to a polite “How is he doing?” and sent her best regards, though I could see in her eyes she had wanted to say more.


    *


    Meeting Therella had delayed us. Breakfast took longer than I would’ve liked, but it would’ve been far too impolite—even for me—to leave before she was done. So once we wrapped things up, I made a swift exit and headed for the nearest teleport to town.


    Credit where credit is due: Fiona had gotten a lot right with her feast arrangements, and one thing I genuinely appreciated was the network of installed gateways. There was a warlock-maintained portal leading straight to the arena’s back rooms, and another that opened into the heart of the city’s commercial district. A dedicated team of warlocks was working nonstop to keep them stable. Of course, these gateways were only available to the nobility and their retinues, but even so, the warlocks were clearly sweating to keep the magic flowing.


    As I strode quickly toward the gateway leading into the city, my ''slave-princess'' was struggling to keep up. Despite her huffing pace, she seemed to have decided that my mood had improved—or perhaps she simply thought I’d be more forgiving on a full stomach—because she suddenly launched into commentary about yesterday’s games.


    “You cheated yesterday,” she said bluntly, “and Therella seems to know it.”


    She’d activated the privacy bubble, thankfully, but I still flinched. Those bubbles weren’t perfect, and there were always people who could read lips.


    I gave a small shrug. “Therella won’t betray us. How else were you supposed to succeed?”


    She snorted. “That’s not the point. If Therella saw it, someone else might’ve too. You took too big a risk—for that girl. They might excuse cheating for a princess, but for a commoner?”


    Her voice dropped slightly, but the edge remained. “You think you have to do good for everyone. But sometimes it’s better to let things take their course.”


    I slowed, letting her catch up, and glanced sideways with a raised brow. What exactly did she mean by that?


    “Look,” she said, “about that peasant girl…”


    She paused, watching me carefully before continuing.


    “She told you she’s going to war. So, all you really achieved was pushing a peasant girl into the army, where she’ll probably get killed—instead of living out her life with a family. Unless, of course, you take her into your own troops and let her die fighting for you.”


    She held my gaze. “Sure, she would’ve been disappointed if she lost. But that’s all it would’ve been—disappointment. Not a death sentence.”


    “Not a death sentence? She almost died! Should I have just left her to die?” I shot back. “Besides, I don’t believe Therella would betray me.”


    She shook her head unconvinced.


    “If you truly wanted to help, healing her only at the end would’ve been smarter. If you’d left her injuries alone, she’d have gone into the arena limping, taken a hit from the bull before it got truly mad—after we stuck those flags in its back—and it would’ve ended there. Painful, yes, but survivable. Now she thinks Kargath himself favors her, and she’ll do something reckless.”


    I let out a sigh. That was certainly one way to look at it. Maybe I had overreached.


    “She’s a peasant,” I said quietly, “but she’s level fourteen. That’s rare. Most humans don’t even reach level ten in their lifetime—only one in twenty ever do. She has potential. A future. I just gave her a chance to chase it.”


    Yolanda huffed.


    “Chase her future? She’s stupid and reckless. That image of her dangling upside down from the bull’s horn, legs flailing—that’s probably the peak of her entertainment value. That’s what the crowd will remember. How do you even top that? She’ll find a way, I’m sure... especially if you keep handing her rope!”


    I couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking my head. Yolanda certainly had a way with words. She was no longer playing the timid slave—she’d slipped into the ''princess'' role with surprising ease and confidence.


    Earlier this morning, Miranda had been waiting right outside my door, and the moment we stepped out, she asked to be accepted into my army. She’d been granted access to the castle as part of our team, and when she looked up at me with those big, hopeful eyes, I couldn’t bring myself to turn her down outright. So I told her to wait while I considered it. Now, she was probably pacing circles in my room, anxiously waiting for my answer.


    Yolanda clearly wasn’t in favor of taking her along. And maybe she was right.


    Yesterday, even though we had qualified for the final round, we chose to forfeit. A few boos had followed the announcement, but most of the crowd seemed to understand—and even applauded the decision. There was no need to risk it all. Even Yolanda, despite her higher level, would’ve struggled with the next stage’s bull.


    Events proved me right soon enough—one marquis’ daughter died during the final round and had to be resurrected. That incident quickly dampened the enthusiasm of several teams, and in the end, only three managed to finish. Each received a gold medallion and earned the honor of participating onstage in today’s bull sacrifice. Personally, I was more than happy to have missed out on that privilege. Spending hours covered in bull blood while the priestesses performed their lengthy rites—for a medallion, even if it was worth several gold coins—was not my idea of a good time.


    As we neared the entry hall where the two gates were set up, I was surprised to find a queue. One of the warlocks maintaining the portals had collapsed from mana exhaustion, and the others were too drained to take another potion. They needed time to recover. Fortunately for us, it was the gate to the stadium that had stalled—our destination was the city, and the portal to town still had just enough power left for the two of us to slip through.


    The small but lovely city center was almost deserted. Most people had already made their way to the stadium, where the festivities were about to begin. There were performances scheduled throughout the day, and of course, the grand sacrifice at noon. I was hoping to squeeze in a bit of shopping before then.


    More importantly, I had an appointment at the chemist—for Yolanda’s treatment. I needed to collect the medicine and pay off the remaining fifty gold. A heavy burden, and at precisely the worst possible time… but what choice did I have?