Distinct Path

Amarta's eyes widened, her mouth half-opened, and she remained bowed, becoming the center of attention at the dinner event. Even the waitstaff halted in their movements, showing their shock at the difficult-to-accept revelation.

The elegant woman, clad in a pristine white dress, lifted her head with an air of refinement, her emotions surging as she endured the harsh accusations from her brother-in-law. Her voice trembled with a mixture of anger and hurt. "How dare you, Herich! The false accusations you're hurling are not only baseless but utterly vile!"

Herich, however, couldn't hide his satisfaction as he reveled in Amarta's visible anger. With a smug grin, he continued to stoke the flames. "False accusations? Just take a look at your own family. Do they appear to disagree with what I'm saying?"

Amarta turned to her sisters, hoping for support, but they remained silent. Their expressions didn't display disgust, but rather a stifled fear, particularly Maretta, whose profound sadness was unmistakable, leaving her feeling powerless.

"It's time you returned to your supposed den, Amarta," Herich added, his words dripping with spite as he attempted to further humiliate her. However, the tension in the room escalated when a high-pitched voice lanced the air.

"Father! What are you saying?" Fiona's voice rang out, her tone filled with disbelief and defiance, the sound echoing through the room. "Aunt Amarta couldn't possibly be involved in such a thing!"

"Be quiet, sister!" Erdant interrupted with equal force, instantly silencing Fiona, who choked in surprise, her eyes wide with shock. "You don't know anything about your aunt! She might have already experienced that ritual with Alorian! Judging from her original work, she's indeed driven by her hidden desires."

Herich couldn't contain his laughter, which reverberated through the room, further intensifying the already chaotic and awkward atmosphere. Some of Amarta's nieces and nephews began to whisper among themselves and spread rumors.

"Right, how does that feel, Amarta?" Herich now averted his watch to the frozen Amarta, who's her eyes were reddened and swallowed. "Does Alorian can make you satisfied?"

A chuckle continued to fill the air as Amarta looked around herself. Almost all of the kids laughed and some of the high ranks of the caster felt uncomfortable and sick to hear about it. But some of them do not believe what Herich said, that man is a lunatic who influences his own son. Degenerates his manner.

As she looked at Fiona who sat across from her mother, that lassie cried as she tried so hard to support her and fight her other siblings to defend her beloved auntie. Even when she moaned to her mother, Maretta, she did nothing to utter. Aware that when she is against her husband, she earns fierce consequences.

This humiliation crushed Amarta's heart to the core. It was difficult to breathe as her tears began to break out. She has no more dignity left on this banquet, all of them will think the same that she is a waste between them. A shame that defiled the status of the elite.

"Take her now to the slave's cages!" Herich's command had a terror effect on the room, causing the once-crowded conversations to fall silent. "You are free to inspect the slave and do as you want."

As the weight of his words settled in, Herich scanned the room and realized that none of the Royal Guardians making any move to enforce his order upon Amarta. The unspoken devotion they held for both Artonius and Amarta confirmed stronger than Herich's command could issue.

"Brendant! Why aren't you carrying out my instructions?" Herich turned to the seat beside him, fixing his gaze on Brendant, who hadn't shifted in his chair.

With a steady voice, Brendant replied, "I don't believe I can go through with it, Your Grace."

"What? You dare to defy my command, Brendant?" Herich's anger flared suddenly, and the veins on his forehead stood out prominently. "Are you daring to disregard the decree of the Caeloria King, huh!"

Herich's questioning of Brendant's loyalty stung like an accusation, and Brendant hesitated, visibly uncomfortable.

Amid the tense silence, the white-haired Brendant lowered his head momentarily and then locked eyes with Amarta. He stood up, his imposing figure drawing attention as he walked purposefully around the dining table. Eventually, he halted right behind Amarta's chair, their stares meeting for a fleeting moment amidst her teary-eyed distress.

Amarta's orbs held a mix of fear and appreciation as she met Brendant's watch, silently communicating her appreciation for his hesitation to follow Herich's cruel command. The woman knew that Brendant didn't have an option left, he wouldn't risk fighting the entire castle knight of his own.

"Excuse me, Your Highness," his voice like a murmur. "Allow me to take you to the under-castle."

Amarta's reluctant footsteps echoed along the cold stone floors as she followed Brendant, the imposing figure clad in steel armor that glinted in the soft, ethereal glow of the surroundings.

Among those present, the disbelief over Queen Caeloria's abrupt departure still hung heavily in the air, none more evident than in Fiona's wide-eyed stare. Deep sorrow radiated from Fiona's tear-filled eyes as she stood there, helpless, watching Amarta vanish behind the grand door adorned with intricate designs that whispered of opulence.

Their journey led them through winding corridors and a descending staircase, where the warm radiance of lanterns gradually gave way to the gentle, flickering illumination of candlelight. The passageway narrowed, and the number of people they encountered dwindled, creating an eerie sense of isolation.

"How is my child, Brendant?" Amarta's voice broke the silence as they continued to walk.

"He is well, Your Majesty," Brendant's response came swiftly, his tone filled with remorse. "Forgive me for being part of this."

"I understand your dilemma, Brendant," Amarta replied, her head slightly bowed. "You don't need to fight this battle for me."

"Forgive me, Your Higness, but I cannot remain silent," Brendant declared, his voice carrying the weight of his convictions. "Herich has gone too far. I will find a way to stop him."

Amarta was momentarily taken aback by Brendant's fervent defense, her concern for escalating tensions palpable. "For now, let us try to keep our composure. There's little we can do about Herich at this moment."

The underground route grew damper and colder, the stone floor now moist to the touch. The air was thick with a noxious odor, unmistakably the stench of filth, a stark contrast to the upper castle's brilliance.

"We must await Alorian's return," Amarta asserted as they entered a torch-lit chamber, their flames casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. "He's the beacon of hope our people are longing for."

"But, Brendant," Amarta halted abruptly, and Brendant, sensing her urgency, turned around.

"I will reveal a truth about Artonius's death," Amarta began, her gaze initially lowered, but she raised it to meet Brendant's eyes. "Afterward, I have a task for you. I need you to travel to Unitedland and deliver a message."

***

In the spacious library, the warm afternoon sunlight filtered through the large windows, casting patterns of dappled light on the polished wooden tables and plush reading chairs.

The serene atmosphere was only broken by the quiet rustling of pages as students and scholars pursued knowledge in the hallowed halls of academia.

Alorian and Althea were seated at a table tucked away in a cozy alcove, surrounded by towering bookshelves that seemed to reach for the sky. The scent of aged paper and leather-bound volumes wafted through the air, creating an ambiance of intellectual curiosity.

The architectural details of the library were a marvel to behold. Intricate moldings adorned the high ceilings, and stained glass windows depicting scenes from the history of the school.

The combination of traditional and industrial elements seamlessly blended into a harmonious design, making it a sanctuary for both scholars and lovers of aesthetics.

Alorian's eyes sparkled with excitement as he shared his visions. Althea, absorbed in the discussion, listened intently, her quill poised to capture every detail. They shared an air of intellectual camaraderie, united by their shared experiences.

However, despite their diligent efforts, there was an undeniable sense of frustration in their search for correlations in their visions. Each vision seemed to unfold along a distinct path, leaving them with more questions than answers.

As Alorian's eyelids grew heavy, Althea couldn't help but feel a sense of concern. She watched him struggle to stay awake, his head slowly descending onto the open book in front of him.

"Maybe you should get some rest," Althea suggested, her voice soft with genuine concern.

Alorian's response was a weary nod as he continued to scribble notes from her with diminishing focus. The allure of sleep was undeniable, and Althea recognized that he needed it.

"You've been at this for a while," Althea continued, her empathy shining through. "Take my notebook; you can return it tomorrow. Besides, you need your rest."

But he soldiered on, determined to complete the task at hand. "Don't worry, it's almost done," he assured Althea, mustering a faint but sincere smile.

Althea's brow furrowed with concentration as she investigated their combined visions, the lines of her delicate face reflecting her deep thought. "Don't push yourself, okay?" she cautioned him, her voice filled with apprehension.

Amid their shared intellectual journey, Althea couldn't help but consider the necklace she had concealed in the palace. Perhaps its mystical properties could help unlock the mystery that surrounded their visions. Her mind wandered briefly, contemplating the possibilities.

With a sidelong glance, Althea checked on Alorian who sat beside her, only to find him sound asleep. His quill hung suspended in the air, frozen mid-stroke. Despite the haphazard arrangement of his disheveled hair, he remained a picture of attractive charm.

Her gaze lingered on him, and her heart quickened, beating at an unusually swift pace. It was a rhythm both rapid and oddly comforting, like a soothing lullaby. Unconsciously, a beautiful smile graced Althea's lips, and a soft blush painted her cheeks in delicate shades of rose as she admired the serene sight before her.