A Journey Unwanted

Chapter 526 - 514: Drama

[Realm: Uhorus]

[Location: Verdantis]

[Capital City]

They had all stopped walking now.

The two groups met roughly halfway down the corridor, the distance between them gradually disappearing until neither side had any reason to continue forward, and for a brief moment, nobody spoke.

Percival stood at the forefront of the side, his hands folded neatly behind his back. His expression remained as composed as ever, something Alyssia had grown increasingly suspicious of. Across from him stood Lyra and Guinevere.

Lyra offered little more than a lazy nod of acknowledgement.

Guinevere, meanwhile, stared at Percival with all the warmth of a would-be executioner staring at their latest victim.

The difference in reaction was so severe that Alyssia almost laughed.

Beside her, Lucinda had clearly noticed it as well.

The two spawns exchanged a brief glance; there was definitely some drama to unpack here. Alyssia had reached that conclusion immediately, and Lucinda reached it a second later. And judging by the complete lack of surprise on Percival’s face, whatever history existed between him and Guinevere was neither recent nor particularly subtle.

"Percival." Lyra was the first to break the silence. Her red eyes drifted briefly toward Lucinda and Alyssia, studying them for a moment before returning to the archbishop. "Not twisting young minds, I hope."

The words could have sounded accusatory coming from almost anyone else. From Lyra, however, they emerged with a casual tone.

Percival smiled slightly.

"I would not dream of it." The answer came immediately, with no defensiveness or irritation. "But it is good to see you again, Lyra." His gaze shifted, only briefly and for an instant.

Alyssia caught the slightest pause. So small that she almost wondered if she imagined it as his attention settled upon Guinevere.

"You as well, Guinevere."

The silence that followed was almost impressive, then Guinevere spoke.

"I would say, ’I wish I could say the same.’" Her expression did not change, not even slightly. "But truly, I do not even hope for that much."

Alyssia and Lucinda blinked; the response had been delivered with such sincerity that neither was entirely certain how to react. There had not been an attempt to soften the insult. Merely a direct declaration that she disliked him enough to consider even basic courtesy unnecessary.

Alyssia slowly looked toward Percival; the Archbishop remained completely unfazed. Her gaze shifted as she looked toward Lyra. And the Court Mage seemed equally unsurprised. It was as though this was normal for them.

"If you’ll excuse me, Lyra, I would rather be elsewhere." Guinevere spoke before anyone else could; the words were directed at Lyra, but her eyes never left Percival. Without waiting for permission or acknowledgement from anyone present, she walked past him.

She passed Percival and Lucinda and then passed Alyssia.

For a brief moment, Guinevere’s gaze shifted sideways; their eyes met.

The woman slowed only slightly.

"Watch out for this one." She gestured vaguely toward Percival with a thumb. "A real bastard." She did not lower her voice in any attempt at discretion; she did not care who heard.

Then she continued walking.

Alyssia stared after her; the Court Mage of Galadriel disappeared further down the corridor without another glance back. For several moments Alyssia simply stood there, trying to process the interaction she had just witnessed.

Eventually she turned toward Lyra.

Her expression carried a questioning gaze, and Lyra noticed immediately.

The Ancestor merely shrugged. "They have a history." Her answer was simple. "A history that is not any of our business." The statement sounded casual, yet the meaning behind it was obvious.

They were not to pry and involve themselves.

Naturally, that accomplished the exact opposite of its intended purpose.

The spawn’s curiosity doubled. Lyra saw both reactions immediately.

The small amusement that touched her features suggested she had expected precisely that outcome. Still, she chose not to comment; instead, her attention shifted back toward Percival.

Her red eyes settled on him thoughtfully. "I gather you wish to employ their help with your sealing problem."

Lucinda felt herself straighten slightly; the realization wasn’t particularly surprising, yet hearing Lyra reference it so casually still caught her attention.

Her gaze moved between the two older figures, between Percival and Lyra.

("So she is really aware of it.") Lucinda remained silent. ("And she seems... comfortable around him.") Not comfortable in the way Lyra behaved around Alyssia; that was different. The Court Mage had shown a strange degree of familiarity with Alyssia; this wasn’t that.

Yet there was still something noticeable.

Lucinda watched Lyra’s posture, watched the complete absence of tension. She possessed no guarded stance or readiness for conflict. She looked entirely at ease standing before him.

("She’s not on guard at all...") The observation lingered in her thoughts.

Across from them, Percival nodded.

"Yes." His answer was straightforward. "With the help of the spawns of Octavia, it may be a success."

Lyra hummed softly, a sound of consideration. For several moments she said nothing, only speaking after a few seconds passed.

"Well." Her gaze shifted briefly toward Lucinda and Alyssia. "It is their choice. And I expect you to leave them be if they blatantly refuse."

The Archbishop nodded immediately.

"Of course."

Alyssia narrowed her eyes slightly.

("Well, he’s surprisingly docile.") The thought emerged almost immediately. She had expected resistance, at least a little. Perhaps an argument or some attempt to convince Lyra. Instead, there had been none, not even the smallest trace. ("And Lyra isn’t guarded around him at all.")

That bothered her more than she cared to admit; every instinct she possessed continued warning her that Percival was hiding something.

Yet Lyra clearly did not share that concern; she looked entirely relaxed and unconcerned. As though standing before a trusted colleague rather than a man Alyssia had spent most of the day scrutinizing.

Her gaze lingered on both of them, trying to find something she had missed.

("Has this man truly earned her trust?") The possibility sat uncomfortably within her mind.

Alyssia folded her arms across her chest, her gaze settling on Percival once more. The Archbishop still stood exactly as he always seemed to stand: calm and somehow entirely unbothered by the suspicion directed at him.

It was irritating.

The more she watched him, the less she understood him.

("But then what could he have possibly done to earn that kind of trust?") The question lingered.

Lyra was not foolish, that much Alyssia knew with absolute certainty. Nor was she the type to lower her guard simply because someone spoke kindly or carried themselves well. If anything, Lyra was usually annoyingly difficult to deceive.

Which only made the situation stranger.

What exactly had Percival done?

What conversation had they shared?

What had he shown her?

Alyssia found herself studying the two of them again, trying to find some answer hidden in their expressions and finding none. However, her thoughts were cut short when Lyra spoke.

"I will not ask you to trust this man, Alyssia." The Ancestor’s voice remained calm. There was no attempt to pressure her or dismiss her concerns. Her red eyes met Alyssia’s directly. "But be at ease. He will mean you no harm."

Alyssia immediately frowned. "That is easy for you to say." She said in a low murmur before she shifted her weight slightly. "So you say, Lyra, but the two of you seem awfully close." Her eyes narrowed. "Perhaps bias is at play."

The words were accompanied by a small huff as she turned her nose upward. It was not quite childish or mature either, but somewhere in between.

Lyra smiled immediately.

It was one that usually appeared whenever Alyssia unknowingly walked directly into a conversation she was destined to lose. And Alyssia noticed it far too late.

"You know well enough, dear, that I do not get biased." The amusement in her voice deepened. "Unless, of course, the discussion involves determining who was the cutest child in the whole wide world."

Alyssia froze, and Lucinda watched the transformation occur almost instantly.

One moment Alyssia had been attempting to make a serious point, the next she looked as though she’d stepped on a trap.

"Oh, for the love of—" Color immediately threatened to rise to her face. "Ugh, can you not?" She turned away so quickly it was almost impressive. "Do you really have to bring something like that up every single time?"

Lyra’s smile widened. "You were quite adorable."

"I was not." Alyssia pressed with a frown that did not quite reach her eyes.

"You absolutely were," the Court Mage pressed back.

"I was not."

Lyra’s smile merely persisted as she lightly folded her arms. "You used to follow me around everywhere."

"That is so untrue!" Alyssia exclaimed as she pointed accusingly at the woman. "You are merely lying at this point."

"No, no, it is a documented historical fact." Lyra pointed out.

At that Alyssia actually seemed befuddled. "By whom?"

"Me," Lyra proudly stated.

"That hardly counts," the spawn of Octavia deadpanned.

"It counts to me."

Alyssia groaned; the sound was one of pure suffering.

Lucinda found herself staring, then blinking and then staring again.

The entire exchange was bizarre.

Alyssia was sarcastic and sometimes cynical and could be intimidating when she wanted to be. And yet whenever Lyra chose to tease her, all of that seemed to collapse almost instantly.

It was oddly endearing.

And strangely comforting.

For all of Alyssia’s sharp edges and guarded behavior, moments like these certainly stood out.

Lucinda found herself smiling slightly before another thought reclaimed her attention. There was still one thing bothering her; her gaze moved between the group.

Then she finally spoke.

"Excuse me, Lady Lyra." The armored spawn straightened slightly. "Where are Fiona and Victoria?"

Lyra’s attention shifted toward her. "Still within Alyssia’s chambers." The answer came easily. "Guinevere and I merely stepped out to fetch the two of you." She folded her arms loosely. "There is something final we need to discuss."

The lightness that had been present moments ago faded somewhat.

Lucinda noticed the change almost immediately; Alyssia did as well.

Percival spoke up next. "Then I shall not keep you." The Archbishop lightly interjected; he gave a small bow of his head. "Lyra." His gaze shifted. "Lucinda." Then Alyssia. "Alyssia."

Each name received equal courtesy.

Then he turned and began walking away, passing directly beside the two Spawns of Octavia.

Both of them looked mildly bewildered.

("He’s leaving?") Alyssia blinked. ("Just like that?") She had expected something. An attempt at persuasion or at least a carefully crafted argument. Perhaps one final appeal regarding the seal. Instead, he simply accepted the situation and departed. ("Without pushing the issue?") Her confusion only deepened. ("Without trying to convince us?")

The sound of his footsteps gradually faded further down the corridor.

Lyra noticed both expressions immediately; the corners of her mouth twitched slightly.

"He’s quite peculiar."

There was no better word for it.

Alyssia looked at Lucinda.

Lucinda looked at Alyssia.

For perhaps the first time since meeting one another, neither needed to think before responding.

"That’s an understatement."

They spoke in unison.