Anomaly of Fate
Chapter 99: An Audience With Her Majesty

Chapter 99: An Audience With Her Majesty

Another weekend had come.

Velren stood before the mirror in his dorm room, fingers lingering at the knot of his tie. He wasn’t sure if he should tighten it properly for once, or just leave it as it always was—loose, slightly undone, as if he couldn’t be bothered to care.

Solenne hadn’t given many details about the summit’s content. Only that his presence alone would be enough to put her at ease. When he had asked about the dress code, she had simply said:

"The academy uniform will do just fine."

He sighed. If she didn’t care, then there was no point fussing over it. With that thought, he released his grip, letting the tie remain in its usual, slightly slack state.

Stepping away from the mirror, his eyes inevitably landed on the object resting atop his desk.

His wakizashi.

It had remained untouched in his room since that day. He hadn’t dared to keep it close, let alone wield it. Just the thought of wrapping his fingers around the hilt sent an echo of pain through his mind, a memory of that unbearable sensation seared into his body. And yet, as he stared at it now, a different thought crept in.

He never knew what kind of trouble might be waiting for him at the summit. The world of politics was more than just words and formalities—it was an arena where bloodshed didn’t always come with a drawn blade. Assassins, spies, hidden plots... even if Solenne hadn’t said it outright, the possibility was there.

Would he really leave himself defenseless?

His fingers twitched at his side.

No.

If something were to happen, he needed to be ready. He would take all the help he could get—even if that help came in the form of a blade that might leave its mark on him, in more ways than one.

Exhaling, Velren reached forward and grabbed the wakizashi. The cold weight of it pressed against his palm. But this time, nothing happened.

No pain. No whispers. Just silence.

He wasn’t sure if that was a comfort or a warning.

Either way, he slid it into the scabbard on his waist.

’Time to go...’

***

The Northern District. A place Velren once thought he’d never have any reason to step foot in—yet here he was.

The streets were quiet under the pale glow of lamplights, the air carrying a crispness that set it apart from the livelier parts of the kingdom. Gramps had told him about this place before. Reserved for aristocrats, high-ranking officials, and the old-money families that had shaped Elyndra for generations.

Coincidentally, it was also where the royal family resided.

Velren exhaled, adjusting his collar as he walked past carriages and well-dressed figures whose gazes barely acknowledged his presence. It was a different world, one built on etiquette, status, and a weight of history he neither cared for nor belonged to. But tonight, none of that mattered.

Tonight, he had a job to do.

***

Velren soon found himself standing before the Royal Estate—a place that exuded both elegance and authority. The estate was a masterpiece of an architecture, with tall spires, intricate ironwork balconies, and towering stained-glass windows that shimmered under the moonlight. Ornate gas lamps lined the cobblestone path leading to the entrance, their warm glow casting long shadows over the meticulously kept gardens. The grand double doors, gilded and carved with the royal insignia, stood beneath an archway of engraved stone, an unspoken barrier between nobility and outsiders.

As he approached, two royal guards stood at attention near the entrance, their uniforms were pristine, with rifles strapped to their backs. One of them stepped forward, his expression impassive.

"Halt. State your identity."

Velren stopped just short of the threshold, briefly glancing between the two before reaching into his pocket.

"Velren," he said, retrieving the academy crest Solenne had told him to bring. He held it up, letting the dim light catch its polished surface.

The guard’s eyes flicked down to the emblem, but his stance remained firm.

’...She did tell them about my arrival beforehand, right?’

Because if not, this was going to be a very awkward conversation. Or worse, what if someone mistook him for an intruder? He wasn’t exactly dressed like the usual noble guests—and if one of these trigger-happy guards decided he looked suspicious enough...

Before Velren could dwell further on the possibility of being riddled with bullets, the grand double doors creaked open. One of the guards straightened, then gave him a curt nod.

"Follow me."

’Guess I won’t be getting shot... yet.’

The guard led him through the estate’s sprawling grounds, away from the towering halls and into the carefully cultivated royal garden. Despite the cool night air, the scent of roses, jasmine, and lavender lingered—an intentional blend, no doubt. Marble pathways wove between neatly trimmed hedges, stone fountains trickled softly in the background, and glass lanterns cast a dim golden glow, creating an almost ethereal atmosphere. The estate’s influence extended even to nature itself, shaping it into a display of elegance and control.

Eventually, they reached a gazebo, a delicate yet refined structure, with vines curling around the white-painted pillars. The guard came to a stop just before it, turning slightly to glance at Velren.

"Her Majesty awaits you."

Velren blinked.

’Wait—did he just say ’Her Majesty’?’

As in... the queen?

Or had he misspoken? Maybe he meant ’Her Highness’—as in Solenne, right? Right?

Either way, Velren suddenly felt the weight of the situation settle in his chest. He swallowed, stepping forward cautiously.

Seated within the gazebo was a woman of regal bearing, dressed in a gown of deep sapphire blue. Her golden hair was styled with effortless grace, cascading over her shoulders like spun moonlight. Even seated, there was a quiet authority in the way she held herself. A porcelain teapot and two delicate cups sat atop the table before her.

As she noticed him, there was a brief flicker of surprise in her violet eyes, before her lips curved into a warm smile.

Velren, clueless on the proper etiquette, simply bowed his upper half.

"Good evening... Your... Majesty."

The queen regarded him for a moment. Then, with a graceful motion, she gestured toward the seat across from her.

"Please, sit."

Velren hesitated before awkwardly complying, lowering himself onto the cushioned chair. He sat stiffly, his posture tense—his usual relaxed demeanor was nowhere to be found.

A heavy silence settled between them.

’This is worse than the awkward silence between me and Eterna...’

Just as he was about to clear his throat, the queen spoke:

"It is wonderful to finally meet the person who saved my daughter’s life."

A flicker of surprise crossed Velren’s face, quickly followed by a twinge of awkwardness. He wasn’t used to receiving gratitude, let alone from royalty.

Before he could think of a proper response, the queen continued, her voice carrying a quiet certainty.

"That makes it the second time, correct?"

Velren blinked. "...Yes?"

The queen merely gave him a warm, knowing smile.

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