Eldonia.
I naturally refused to talk in that tower, amid the rumpled bed, the clothes scattered around it, and the naked man wet with sweat, so I moved myself and Mistiora to another room in the castle, which was furnished like a small living room.
After setting up a closed field, making a cup of coffee with a tea set, and settling down on the soft sofa there, I looked at the elf sitting opposite me.
She was now "dressed" in her concubine-prostitute outfit, consisting of semi-transparent black silk held in place by gold-embroidered threads and covering basically nothing but her private parts. Although I should have been used to the local "clothing" by now, I was still finding it relatively difficult to get used to.
I smiled sweetly at Mistiora, to which she responded with a searching and expectant look.
However, given our upcoming conversation, this feeling was overshadowed by my interest in Olga's sister.
- "Well, let's begin," I said and took a sip of coffee. "I came here because you seemed interesting to me."
- "Interesting, sir? I am merely an outcast of my own people, whose body is tainted by male desires," she asked in surprise.
- "You know my name, my curse, and my fate, so I am genuinely puzzled as to what could possibly interest you."
I raised an eyebrow at her straightforward tone and implication.
- "So you've come to terms with your fate, huh?" I smirked.
- "Yes," Mistiora replied evenly. "It's my punishment, and I deserve it."
- "Hmm... You're not lying," I muttered thoughtfully. "Tell me more about how exactly you deserved this punishment."
- "Why do you want to know?" she asked, her tone unchanged.
- "I've only heard the 'official' version, not the one from someone who was directly involved and suffered," I began, leaning back on the sofa. "The original choice to be queen of Nidavellir, Mistiora Arte, somehow fell into the hands of goblins and gave herself over to debauchery at a moment of weakness? And without any witnesses or guards? Too many coincidences."
Yeah. Her story was murky and impossible, for dark elves, of course, not for me. When Olga left Nidavellir three hundred years ago, she took the golems with her, who built her a fortress, the Dark Citadel, where she was raped, but she did not leave the city alone. Mistiora also left Nidavellir not alone, but with a small group of dark elves led by that funny elf. "Zask", I think.
The betrayal was as clear as day, but for some reason, the dark elves themselves, and even Olga, didn't think it was a big deal and just punished Mistiora to the fullest.
However, there was an explanation for this. Dark elves are a proud people, even too proud for their own good, and therefore none of them would have allowed themselves to think of putting a spoke in Mistiora's wheel, the most suitable figure for the position of queen at that time.
Of course, I could have just gotten inside the head of that elf or Mistiora, but that would have been too easy and boring. After all, two months would pass quickly, and I needed something to do. Or maybe I was wrong, and someone else was to blame? Heh.
- "How do you know about this?" Mistiora suddenly became serious. "Only…"
- "Only the elders and Olga Discordia could know such details? You're right, I learned your story from them," I continued for her, and when she wanted to ask an obvious question, I decided to answer it in advance. "How did I get out of the city if I was there?"
A few words and some good acquaintances can go a long way. But don't get distracted, I'm listening to you carefully.
- "Human... Human have taken over Nidavellir?" Mistiora asked, her pupils narrowed and her voice tinged with anxiety and menace. Seeing this, I made a mental note.
Well, even despite all the... "trouble" her homeland had brought her, Mistiora still cherished her home and was ready for revenge. Commendable patriotism, I give her credit for that.
- "No, they haven't taken it," I shook my head. "Nidavellir is still the same as it was when you were there. I was just lucky, and everything turned out the way it did."
- "I don't believe you."
- "Nevertheless, there's nothing you can do about it," I shrugged. "Although, if you answer my questions honestly, and I know how to recognize a lie, you might even get a chance to see Nidavellir again. Sounds good, doesn't it?"
For a few seconds, Mistiora looked at me in silence, as if considering my offer, and then she made up her mind.
- "The elders' version is correct," she said finally, causing me to raise an eyebrow. "I was careless and left the camp without telling anyone. That evening, I felt weak, so I wanted to be alone, surrounded by the sounds of the forest and the breeze, hoping to find peace and comfort, but then I fell into a trap set by goblins, who tied me up and carried me to their lair."
She paused, and sadness, resentment, and humility flashed in her eyes, but not a single tear, only bitterness in her voice.
- "I tried to fight, to restrain the urges of my own body. I hoped that Zask and the others would find and rescue me, but... after long hours that seemed like an eternity... I broke down," continued Mistiora. "I stopped screaming and begging for mercy, and instead began to want more. More, more, and more, even when every goblin in their lair..."
- "Okay, stop, I get it," I interrupted, rubbing my temples as I heard a typical hentai plot. "And why did you feel weak? Didn't that seem strange to you?"
- "I don't know, it doesn't matter. The fault lies solely with me and no one else. I deserved the punishment and accepted it, and she suffered because of my actions," Mistiora replied and looked me in the eyes. "Now you know everything, and that's why I'm asking you to leave."
- "Huh?" I was surprised. "But what about seeing the home again?"
So, I got nothing, even if every word she said was true. All I managed to do was make her remember what she didn't want to, and because of that, I'm a bad guy by all accounts. Hmm...
- "I'm not worthy of it anymore."
- "Then why did you tell me everything?" I raised an eyebrow. "You could have just refused or kept quiet."
- "Over the centuries I've lived with this curse, I've realized that I can only get a piece of freedom by satisfying a man's desires, whatever they may be. And I have satisfied yours," she said indifferently, with the wisdom of experience. "I would offer you my body, but I don't feel a shred of desire or lust for you, strange as that may seem to me."
I thought about it.
Summing up, Mistiora accepted her current life. She was firmly convinced that she was now unworthy of seeing Nidavellir again, and that her only destiny was to continue moving from one man to another until the end.
In theory, I could have left everything as it was. After all, Mistiora had lost almost all interest in me. She simply had no desires whatsoever and was just drifting along, completely surrendering herself to fate and accepting all its whims.
Mistiora Arte was just a puppet with her strings cut, and that was it, well, almost. However, I had something to hold on to. She mentioned "her", obviously referring to Olga. She felt guilty towards her sister, who, in turn, felt nothing but hatred and resentment towards her.
And given the obvious murky situation, something could come of it, say, a touching and harsh reunion and clarification of the true circumstances. And if that's the case, then...
I smiled.
I wonder when I started thinking like Gil, huh?
- "In essence, you have no hope of returning or being forgiven, and you will simply submit to the next man, whoever he may be, and do whatever he commands, is that not so?"
- "Yes," Mistioura nodded. "After all, that is all a concubine is capable of."
- "Oh?" I grinned. "Now you're lying."
- "What?" She only had time to say before Gae Bolg stabbed her in the stomach, pinning her to the couch. Blood slowly began to flow from the wound, and Mistiora herself began to pale and weaken.
- "When we first met, for a moment, I saw hope in your eyes. You WANT to return to Nidavellir and see it again, and most importantly, you want forgiveness. Her forgiveness," I began, looking her straight in the eyes. "I told you I could detect lies, didn't I? And it's not nice to lie, young lady."
Her clothes and the sofa were slowly soaked with her blood, and the light in her eyes slowly faded. But despite all this, Mistiora remained silent, not rejecting my words. And waiting until life had almost left her body, I spoke again.
- "Ah, yes. I mentioned that Nidavellir is completely loyal to Olga, who now serves me, and that it was she who told me your story? My memory is failing me, oh dear," I said, and her eyes widened in surprise. "What does that mean? It means that I could not only have returned you to your homeland, but also arranged a conversation with Olga, had you told me the truth, hmm?"
What I was doing now was, of course, a bit harsh compared to my previous methods, but it was the most effective way to achieve what I wanted.
- "That... That..." Mistiora muttered, unable to believe what she had heard. "How is that possible..."
- "Possible? I'll surprise you, it's quite possible. And here's why. You could ask her yourself, you know," I smiled. "Any last words, Mistiora Arte? Because you have very little time left."
A few moments later, her eyes returned to normal, and a faint, regretful smile appeared on her pale, bloodless face, from which a scarlet trickle flowed.
- "If that's the case... Please... Tell her... that I'm sorry... That I didn't want... things to turn out this way..." she said haltingly, almost in a whisper. "And if I had... one more chance... I would..."
With that, Mistiora breathed her last breath, and I nodded to the deceased elf.
- "Oh, don't worry. You'll have it..." I said, putting away my spear and activating my third spell. "You're not as hopeless as I thought you were..."
...and I didn't come all this way for nothing.
I took a sip of coffee and looked out the window.
I wonder how Shield and Celestine are doing? If Mistiora wakes up in about an hour, I suppose I have time to visit Eostia, don't I?
-0-
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