Vol. 2 Chapter 82: The Queen

As we silently advance through the eerie corridors of the dark elf palace, escorted by the elf knight and his subordinates, a familiar voice that had been silent until now echoes in my mind. 

"Be careful, her beloved Strauss," she warns with a tone that bodes nothing good. 

"Raqahela senses a familiar and unpleasant presence that she hoped you would not have to encounter, but certain misfortunes in life are often as inevitable as death itself." The succubus breaks the radio silence to telepathically warn me of a concrete danger. 

"What are you referring to?" I ask through my thoughts. 

Her response is initially evasive, full of circumlocutions and superfluous comments. 

"How to explain it in simple words without Raqahela getting lost in ornate explanations?" she wonders, as if performing on an invisible stage. 

"Cut to the chase," I urge, impatient to understand the situation.

"You see, her beloved bishop, the Church wants to show the world as a contrast between two fronts: on one side the demons, and on the other the gods. For simplification, Raqahela also explained your purpose using this trope," as is her usual way, the demon delves into appendices, but I let her speaks because I am curious to know more about this world.

"But reality is, let's say... more chaotic and uncertain. It's a perpetual war where every player is a faction, an all-against-all. Demons are not united among themselves, and they ally only in the case of a common enemy and only temporarily. What unites us is our hatred for the gods. The same can be said for the gods, but in reverse." 

Raqahela reveals a truth that takes me by surprise. Reality is more chaotic and complex than I thought. 

"Just as demons are not united, there is no such thing as 'Righteous Gods' united against evil. Each deity pursues its own goals and its own hunger for souls."

"All this to explain to you and to say that Raqahela senses the presence of another demon, and it's a problem because she is not allied with this demon. He has always been a rival to Raqahela. He is a mortal enemy. She feels his magic and she smells his stench." 

This revelation chills my blood. 

Then she utters the name of her enemy, and I can feel all the unusual contempt for her in her tone. 

"Barthomefolus."

This means that the queen probably knows of my bond with Raqahela as I suspected. 

If the queen is bound to a demon as I am, it is likely that she has access to demonic magic and very likely to contracts. 

She might even use curses.

"I guess you didn't just notice it now," I ask her, already knowing the answer. 

She doesn't respond. 

"You should have told me earlier." I insist. 

She still doesn't respond. She's gone back to radio silence, leaving me alone with my thoughts and concerns as I get closer and closer to meeting the queen of the dark elves, a meeting that could prove more dangerous than I had imagined.

The enormous corridor we traverse seems endless. 

The walls are flanked by rows of statues depicting elves and spiders, whose eyes made of bright precious gems seem to follow our every step. Numerous doors are opened for us by our elven escort.

Finally, a much larger door than the others is opened, and passing through it, we find ourselves in a gigantic great hall dominated by an imposing crystal chandelier that emits a strong light, casting shadows that dance on the walls adorned with intricate bas-reliefs of spiders and elves. Luxury and splendor wherever I lay my eyes. 

Precious gems, silk, tapestries, and works of art. The room is an emblem of wealth. 

More than a throne room, it resembles the den of a dragon as described in legends.

The table in the center of the hall is something I have never seen before. 

Or rather, I have seen something similar: this banquet competes with the one I saw in Raqahela's lair when she took me there when we first met. Long and wide, covered with a spider silk tablecloth that shimmers as if woven with silver filaments. The banquet is a true culinary triumph: exotic and refined dishes, some of which I have never seen or imagined, follow one another in a riot of colors and scents. Trays of exotic fruit, large mushrooms decorated and cooked as if they were cakes, meats coated in dark and mysterious sauces, fine pastries and sweets in artistic shapes, and drinks in crystal goblets that sparkle like gems.

Deedee, always ready with her bow, observes with distrust but cannot hide a certain curiosity about the dishes. 

Rero almost drools at the sight of so much bounty. I'm sure her only thought is to dive right into it. 

Luysia, more focused on potential danger, scrutinizes every corner of the room. 

Kanna, with her professorial habit, seems to analyze every detail with critical but interested eyes. 

Welze, the ever-curious, is clearly fascinated, her brown eyes sparkling with wonder. 

Gallo and Bicrista exchange glances, almost wondering if they should surrender to the temptation to taste the offered delicacies. 

Franz Dadref, as irritating as he can be, remains vigilant, his guard high despite the opulence surrounding us. 

Jarica looks famished, having been recently cured from a deep poisoning that severely weakened her. 

Some of us in the group have nourished ourselves with spider meat, but for the latest arrivals, it's been quite a while since they had something to eat. The display of excess is unclear whether it's to show benevolence towards guests or to boast of one's opulence.

But what really draws attention is the raised throne at the end of the immense hall. 

A massive throne carved in hard stone, shaped as if it were clay, in the form of a spider's abdomen with all its legs. Cushions of soft, fine spider silk cover the seat, and on it sits a figure that draws the concentration of gazes more than anything else in the room. 

My gaze is drawn to the queen, I fight against that attraction and try to maintain focus, analyzing the situation in the royal hall. 

On the sides of the throne, there are eight chairs made of wood from the strange plants of the Underealm, simpler in make than the throne but equally decorated. They are arranged in a semicircle as if to symbolize the eight legs of a spider. 

Four are on the right and the other four on the left. 

Seven of these are occupied by strange figures in armor with their faces covered by helmet-masks that prevent recognizing their features. The last one on the right is unoccupied.

Not far away, kneeling in front of the steps leading to the throne, is the recognizable silhouette of the Elfrider Sylthrenn. 

The spider-elf notices our presence and rises on its eight legs, moving towards us. 

Twisting like a madman, he shows us his best smile, which to our eyes appears disturbing and unpleasant.

"Dos ulu'inbal nindol, l'elg pholor dosst ussta e natha dosst xundus," he says, addressing our escort. 

"Ilhar'ess Azharie vel'uss natha ulu'neitar," replies the dark elf knight without hesitation. 

He turns without even deigning to look at us and, followed by his soldiers, exits the hall, closing the massive door behind him. 

Probably, he's not deemed worthy of meeting the queen, an honor that has been granted to us instead.

"Welcome, guests. Come, the queen awaits you," says the Elfrider, inviting us to proceed. 

We walk towards the throne, passing the banquet. 

About ten meters from the throne, Sylthrenn stops us.

"You must stop here. Only Strauss Wagner can approach," he says with finality. 

I see agitation in my companions, but I reassure them with a glance. 

Concern remains in their eyes, but I feel their trust in me. 

"What?" Dadref is about to explode, wanting to argue and cause his usual fuss. 

"Dadref, this is neither the place nor the time. Let's do as they say to avoid problems," I tell him, trying to convey some common sense with a calm and confident tone. He huffs but knows I'm right.

I continue towards the queen. 

The Elfrider stops me a few meters away, next to the steps leading to the raised platform. 

The half-elf, half-spider creature immediately kneels in front of the queen. 

I remain somewhat bewildered, unsure what to say or how to behave. 

I feel the heavy gaze of the seven mysterious figures sitting on either side of the throne.

But she is the one who leaves speechless, completely astonished, utterly amazed. 

I am captivated by this vision that takes my breath away. 

Divine beauty that almost blinds me and magical power that can almost be seen with the eyes.

The Dark Elf Queen stands with a majestic presence. Her skin has a unique shade of dark gray-violet, highlighting her elvish nature and her bond with the darkness of the underground world. Her eyes constantly change color: now pure and luminous white, they shine with an ethereal light, now turning into a violet that tends towards blue, sparkling with magical light. 

Her iridescent eyes further add to her supernatural aura.

Dressed in silver armor, the queen embodies both elegance and strength. The armor is finely crafted, with intricate motifs reminiscent of spiders, a direct nod to the heritage and culture of the dark elves. Every detail of the armor is carefully finished, reflecting the craftsmanship of the Underealm elves in forging beautiful objects of power.

A distinctive element of her attire is a veil chain of silver, decorated with rhinestones, acting as a mask. This accessory adds a touch of mystery and nobility, partially concealing her face but allowing her penetrating eyes to shine through. It reminds me of the facial jewelry worn by women in the culture of India in my previous life.

The queen's long white hair flows like a waterfall, in stark contrast to her dark skin. These strands seem to radiate a light of their own, adding another layer of enigmatic beauty to her figure.

Surrounded by beauties in my harem, and having seen the beauty of an archdemon like Raqahela, the beauty of Queen Azharie Loree'Nahil is something completely different and incomparable to anything else.

Her expression is inscrutable, her face and body resemble a Greek statue as if carved from marble. 

The pressure exerted by her presence forces me to lower my gaze, wounding my pride. 

I did not anticipate such a commanding presence and the effect it would have on me, thinking about this encounter. 

I feel almost defeated.

The queen looks at me and then utters a single word.

"Kneel."

An unnatural and overwhelming force pushes me against my will to obey. 

Despite my resistance, I cannot oppose it. 

I find myself kneeling at her feet, and my companions too are forced by what I believe to be a spell to kneel. 

It's humiliating.

In this moment, feeling utterly defeated, I realize that I will do everything in my power to enslave this woman.

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Picture Queen Azharie Loree'Nahil *Non-final illustration*