Bro, I'm not an Undead!

The late morning sun burst through the window, providing a vibrant shade of orange over the furniture set neatly inside the expansive guestroom where a certain Sif was seated over her bed, reading a book.

She wore a loose dress, the designs over its beige, soft entirety looking to have been made with patient strokes of green colouring that depicted a forest, one that was dense from the base of the dress, thinning out as it reached her shoulders.

Her cherry coloured hair was tied into a side pony that rested over her shoulder, bits of the strands reaching down to tickle the corner of the page she was reading.

The silence in the room was music to Darwel’s ears, even though it was engineered through magical means.

There was no way the noise and clamour coming from the masses waddling from the distance would fail to reach even the Governor’s Manor where she was currently being hosted. Thus, one of her guards had used a spell to block out the noise.

Darwel had enjoyed the stretch of peace for over three hours when one of her guards, from the silky veil that draped over her face, voiced.

“Should I still not contact your father and mother, Your Highness Darwel? They must be worried sick.”

Darwel exhaustedly dropped her book to her thighs and gave the female guard an exasperated look.

“Nomatter how differently you phrase it everyday, my answer will remain the same. I think the question you should be asking is, what kind of parents don’t even send a dove with a note to their daughter who is in a foreign land for their sake. That… is true crime,” Darwel said as she raised her book, continuing to read again.

The female guard grimaced.

“Besides, I’m tired of seeing those crusty trees all day. They should have known I would take my time here once I was given to rare chance to ‘leave’. Hmph. And if I get assassinated somehow, they’ll probably learn a bit of a lesson.”

The light within the room faded as the guard sitting opposite Darwel flared with a malicious fury.

“WHO WOULD DARE?!” the guard growled in an inhuman voice, her figure cancelling out even the direct sunlight from the window.

“Relax, you idiot. It was a hypothetical scenario,” Darwel said with the casual wave of her fair hand.

The light was restored as the guard calmed down, looking a bit embarrassed with herself.

“You know what? I could send a letter home with the false news that I have been killed and see how they react! That would be hilarious!” Darwel said with a giggle.

The guard turned pale under her veil.

“That would be… very unwise, Your Highness,” the guard discouraged with a shaky voice.

“It’s a joke, Viccil. You’re too stiff for you own good.”

“Oh…” the guard said with a sigh of relief.

Her heart was too vigilant for the princess’ playful nature.

Darwel was always so… cheeky when she wasn’t in the presence of dignified company. That was a testament to how expectations pushed aside her true character.

Suddenly, the doors to Darwel’s room were opened, another one of her two veiled guards coming in.

“Your Highness, the man you sent for the other day has come to see you,” she reported.

Darwel promptly closed her book and shot up from her seat.

“Finally! I thought he wouldn’t show!” she said with an expectant smile.

“HE WOULDN’T DARE!” the guard seated opposite Darwel flared again.

“Stop that!”

*

Skullius whistled.

He hadn’t thought he had seen all the beauty in the world but the Governor’s mansion was far and above what he thought was the limit for grandiose settings.

Be it the various pieces of architecture employed in the compound, or the exquisitely maintained greenery that existed before and around the mansion…

All of it was inspiring to say the least.

‘I should build something like this,’ Skullius thought.

As far as security went, Skullius was happy to say it fit what he expected.

The amount of questioning he had to go through just from setting foot in this different area that was detached from the norm of the wide city was staggering, as was the procedure to relay the information and have it verified as to if he truly was invited by Her Highness Darwel.

From there, Skullius was escorted by two powerful and well equipped Capital Order Knights to the grand manor that outscaled the Bryne Family mansion in size.

Even the six surrounding buildings had better designs than Stylla’s home and were all surrounded by sophisticatedly sculpted bushes.

The security was heavy.

Patrols. Patrols. Patrols.

There were no blinds spots to allow any shady activity at all.

There were super powerful Knights everywhere.

Upon entering the Grand Manor, Skullius was met with a formal space devoid of chatter or casual displays.

Everything here needed to be here.

Sadly, there was no chance meeting with anyone important as he was led directly to Lady Darwel’s quarters.

Up a clean and carpeted flight of stairs that led into absurdly wide halls that split into four paths, one of which leading to another more absurd hall with no other furniture or accompanying rooms save for one distant set double doors – that was the way.

Who would forget that?

After these twists and turns to this place, Skullius was finally left off by the two Capital Order Knights fifteen meters away from the golden red double doors.

A single guard stood in front of the doors, her face unseen because of a silky veil.

Somehow, this turned more serious than it needed to be.

‘Is all this necessary?’ Skullius thought as the shadow of a droplet of sweat ran down his temple.

For a solid five minutes, he remained still. As someone in tune with the slightest shift in the air because of his physique, he could hear its ‘voice’ as it swam from the guard he faced, telling him…

‘Don’t move a muscle.’

And so he didn’t.

It was abundantly clear that if he did not adhere to this… he might die right there.

Or worse… have to be imprisoned or something.

“Move forward.”

The guard finally spoke to him.

Skullius obliged.

He took careful steps forward until he reached the doors.

The guard drew close to him and leaned in, reaching her lips to his ear.

“Tread carefully and mind how you speak. Your life can be just as fragile as glass to me if Her Highness wills it,” she said.

Skullius gave a light smile.

“Sure.”

Intimidation antics like this wouldn’t work on him anymore. He’d met a hostile god rather recently and lived to tell the tale!

This sort of thing was a bargain sale type of tactic to him.

The guard narrowed her eyes and opened the doors, revealing the massive space within.

Skullius held back the desire to marvel in awe at the beauty.

This place was large enough to be the setting for a large house!

‘Oh boy.’

Skullius’ wandering senses were detected and met with a hostile blockade of what felt like Aura from another of the guards who was stationed inside this room.

She gestured to the right where a large table could be seen, set grandly so as to give the person sitting on its lengthy end an imposing presence.

‘This is the part where I give a respectful greeting right?’ Skullius thought and gave a short bow.

He was about to speak when…

“Cut the useless niceties. Your name is Festos, right? I’d rather we get straight to the point of all this,’ Darwel who sat with a dignified posture, lazily resting on her chair said before making a demand.

“Lets see it from your back.”

…

“Uh, what?” Skullius asked, alarmed at this request.

“Don’t play dumb with me. I want to see it. I want to see your Wing of Embrace.”