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A World Unwritten

Stuck in the worst dream possible – the reality of my own creation. Here I am, not the all-powerful author, but an unsuspecting character, woken up in a beggar's body in the world of my own novel. How? Why? I don't know, but what I do know is that I need to survive. My memories of the story's plot are sketchy at best, but I remember enough to know I've got to stick to the main storyline. Life-or-death decisions, cryptic mysteries, formidable enemies, I wrote them all. Now I must face them firsthand. The irony would be delicious if it weren't so deadly. Am I stuck in my worst nightmare or have I been given a chance to rewrite my destiny? Only time will tell. Until then, I’ve got to survive in this Insane world, a plot to follow, and one hell of a story to write... by living it.

QTV · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
309 Chs

Stroll

The grandeur of the imperial chamber was palpable, a vast space bedecked with tall marble columns and intricate tapestries depicting the empire's glory days. The room's center was dominated by an imposing obsidian table, polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the room's golden undertones. Its size was symbolic of the vast territories Queen Celeste controlled. The atmosphere in the chamber was electric, the weight of pending decisions pressing down on all present.

Queen Celeste sat regally, her posture a testament to her strength and grace. Her eyes, sharp and calculative, observed her two primary advisors: Alaric and Elise, both kneeling respectfully, their heads bowed.

Alaric, a man with a strong jaw and piercing blue eyes, always wore attire that indicated his esteemed position in the court. Elise, a slightly younger woman, had raven-black hair, tied in an intricate updo, showcasing the pale skin of her nape. Their responsibility was to present the information gathered on the empire's neighboring countries, a task of utmost importance. And now, with the mysterious national-grade weapon auction looming overhead, their mission had taken on a sense of urgency.

Taking a deep breath, Alaric began, his voice firm yet deferential, "Your Majesty, our spies in the Kingdom of Veronia report that they are amassing troops near the border. Although they claim it to be a mere training exercise, our informants believe otherwise."

Before Celeste could interject, Elise added, "Additionally, the Duchy of Elmdor has signed a significant trade agreement with the Republic of Lyr, bypassing us completely. It's clear they are seeking to form an alliance."

Queen Celeste's face remained inscrutable, but the advisors could sense a growing storm beneath the calm surface. They exchanged anxious glances.

"What's more concerning, Your Majesty," Alaric said, "is that we have confirmation that Darius is hosting the auction for this... weapon."

The name 'Darius' was like a spark in a tinderbox. The tension grew thicker, nearly suffocating.

Elise's voice trembled slightly, but she continued, "Darius, as you know, is unpredictable. His influence spreads like wildfire, and with him hosting this auction, many nations will vie for his favor."

Queen Celeste's voice, when it came, was colder than the iciest winter. "Darius may think himself untouchable, hiding behind his power and his underground auction houses. But he forgets that he operates within MY lands. His audacity knows no bounds."

Alaric, trying to steer the conversation back on track, hastily said, "We've also been informed that the Confederation of Tarin has reached out to Darius, possibly to procure this weapon for themselves."

The room went silent. The Confederation of Tarin was a known adversary, and them possessing a national-grade weapon would severely tip the balance of power.

Queen Celeste leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. "Darius is walking a thin line. His little auction could plunge our world into chaos. I will not stand by and watch."

Alaric's mind raced. It was essential to keep the queen informed, but also critical not to incite further wrath. "Your Majesty, we are keeping a close watch on all developments. Whatever Darius plans, we will be ready."

Elise nodded in agreement, "Indeed. We will ensure that our great empire remains unmatched."

Queen Celeste's gaze softened ever so slightly, but her voice retained its steel edge. "I expect nothing less. Now, leave me. Continue gathering information. And remember, Darius may be strong, but he's only a man. He will have his reckoning."

As Alaric and Elise left the chamber, the weight of their responsibility pressing down on them.

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-Queen Celeste's POV

Darius. That man always has a way of complicating matters. Even without a direct confrontation, his mere presence sends ripples through the intricate web of politics and power. The tales of his exploits, as shared by my late father, paint a portrait of a man who thrives in chaos and unpredictability. He's a wild card, and in the grand game of kingdoms, wild cards are dangerous.

A show. It has to be. Darius would never part with such a weapon without making a grand spectacle. The invitation alone was proof enough of his intentions. And with Lilith present, undoubtedly showcasing the weapon's power, the demonstration would be a sight to behold. But why now? And what does he hope to gain?

I rise, letting the rich fabric of my gown sweep the floor as I stride towards my chambers. The shimmering reflection from the obsidian table fades behind me. The significance of this auction is clear; it's the attendees that complicate the matter. Elves, known for their haughtiness, wouldn't bother unless the item truly piqued their interest. Demons, ever opportunistic, would seize any chance for power. Angels? Their presence would be unprecedented. And the dwarves... well, their lust for craftsmanship might tempt them to attend.

Gold will be irrelevant. Such a weapon can't be priced. Power, promises, alliances, and perhaps even treachery would be the currency for this deal.

Reaching my bedroom, the sanctum where I find rare moments of solace, my gaze sweeps the space. The shadows, no matter how well concealed, are a telltale sign. "Out," I command, my voice resolute.

The subtle rustling that follows is the only indication of my personal guards making their discreet exit. Always watching, always waiting. But in moments like this, solitude is a necessity.

-

The weight of impending decisions pressed down on Celeste, the quiet of her chambers amplifying the magnitude of her thoughts. As her eyes scanned the room, a determined resolution settled within her. "A visit is necessary," she murmured to herself.

Approaching her vast wardrobe, she bypassed the regal gowns and intricate dresses that signified her status, opting instead for an ensemble most wouldn't associate with the formidable Queen of the Great Empire. She pulled out a pair of baggy pants and a simple sweater, both reflecting the current, affordable trends popular amongst the common folk. It was the perfect disguise, allowing her to blend in, yet remain comfortable.

Slipping into the clothes, their loose fit felt unfamiliar but oddly freeing. Celeste glanced at her reflection, pausing momentarily to admire the transformation. The clothing's simplicity combined with her natural beauty created an enchanting image. However, the most striking change was her hair, which now cascaded down in waves of dark purple. Despite her position and the burdens of rule, she still bore the radiant glow of youth, looking more like a vibrant eighteen-year-old than the thirty-year-old monarch she was.

She reached out, grasping a seemingly ordinary sword that hung on the wall. To the untrained eye, it appeared plain, almost unremarkable. But Celeste knew better. It was a top-tier magic weapon, its exterior belying the immense power it held within.

With her disguise complete and weapon in hand, Celeste moved with purpose to her chamber window. The sun hung low, casting golden rays that played across the room's grandeur. Without hesitation, she leapt out, her figure vanishing instantly, leaving only the sun's glow to mark her departure.

The capital city unfolds before me, a vast expanse of bustling streets and grand structures, each telling tales of the empire's prosperity and prowess. Cobbled pathways hum with the activity of merchants haggling, children playing, and scholars deep in debate. I see grand bazaars standing tall, displaying exotic goods from far-off lands. Right next to them, state-of-the-art buildings glow with holographic screens, harmoniously blending tradition with the modern.

-

I wander among them, lost in the vibrant tapestry of life, enjoying the anonymity my disguise grants me. Memories of my mischievous youth come flooding back, of days when I'd dart through these very streets, a trouble-making princess in disguise. A smile tugs at my lips. But as thoughts of my father encroach, my smile fades, replaced by the all too familiar mask of stoicism. 

Drawing a deep breath, the present comes rushing back. The atmosphere around me is thick with activity and hope. I know of the wealth disparities that plague parts of my empire, and it's why I've initiated measures, such as funded schools across the capital. It's a small step, but every journey begins with one.

Suddenly, a commotion from a nearby alleyway catches my attention. A boy, perhaps twelve, is squaring off against a burly man. The man, holding a bag of tools aloft with a taunting smirk, challenges, "Hey hey, don't make a scene now. Why would a kid like you need this?"

From my vantage point, I watch, unnoticed. The boy's retort is swift and fiery. "Give me that back or I'll beat your ass!" Despite the obvious size difference, the boy moves with agility and skill that belies his age. He darts around the man, landing swift punches, all while laughing and shouting, "Is that all you got, you weak bastard?"

I move towards the boy who now has the man sprawled at his feet, unconscious. A grin, light and mischievous, dances across the boy's face as he eagerly collects all of the man's possessions. I find myself taken aback by his agility and his demeanor. He's just a child but has the audacity and skill of a seasoned rogue.

As I approach him, I catch myself, my piercing gaze softening, reshaping into a congenial expression so as not to frighten him away. I fabricate a smile, extending a hand towards him, "Don't worry, I totally saw that, well done dude."

I struggle to suppress the grimace that threatens to surface. Is this how the youth converse nowadays? It feels unnatural, almost absurd, but I persist, questioning him gently, "Um, where is your mom?"

However, the boy recoils, suspicion lighting his eyes before he abruptly turns, darting away with astonishing speed. I watch, my head tilting slightly, the displeasure evident in my gaze as I shadow him from above, concealing my presence. His rapid movements would outpace any regular person.

He finds refuge in an alleyway, peering out cautiously to assure himself of his solitude. Despite his actions, a small part of me wishes to ensure his safe return home. He seems satisfied with his inspection and moves towards a store entrance, pulling on the door, eyes still wary.

Seizing the opportunity, I descend silently next to him, initiating a casual conversation while he's distracted, "Are you hiding from someone?"

"Yeah, some crazy lady," he replies absentmindedly, not yet realizing my proximity. His realization is abrupt, and his body reacts before his mind, leaping backward in surprise. But before he can tumble, my hand is there, gripping him securely.

The boy squirms, struggling to break free from my grasp. "Let me go! I didn't even do anything to you!"

His determination is admirable, but as I gaze into his eyes, a realization hits me. The blessing of one of the four great winds is present within him. How could such a young boy harbor such a gift and yet be unaware of its significance?

Shifting my demeanor, I offer him a kind smile. "Yo, come on, I'm not trying to hurt you." Releasing him, I continue, "I just wanted to make sure some other man didn't bother you."

Extending my hand to him, I introduce myself with a pseudonym, "My name's Lila. You're pretty fast for a kid. What's your name?"

Before the boy can muster an answer, the door of the store he had been attempting to enter is thrown open with force. A girl, roughly his age, emerges. With a cascade of dark red hair and cheeks flaring in anger, she zeroes in on the boy. Before he can dart away, she grabs his ear and proceeds to give him a sound thrashing, much to my astonishment.

"Ash, you FRICKING bastard! Are you harassing more people?" she scolds, leaving the boy, whom I now know as Ash, wincing on the ground.

The girl then turns her attention to me, her demeanor shifting from anger to concern. Bowing her head, she says, "I-I'm sorry. T-this guy is nothing but trouble. Please don't report him. He'll return whatever he took."

I can't help but chuckle, "Ah, don't worry about it. He didn't take anything. I just wanted to make sure he got home properly after a man harassed him."

Just to clarify, the queen has multiple thrones.

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