After what happened yesterday, Morris understood very clearly now—Queen Elvira was far from the only dangerous one here.
He had to reconsider his plans for the future.
At first, he’d let himself be caught on purpose, trading his body and dignity for a place to hide, so the upper echelons of Fastal wouldn’t descend into chaos because of him.
His original plan was to wait until Fastal had all but forgotten about him, then figure out a way to escape from Elvira’s grasp.
But now that unpredictable variables had entered the equation, Morris knew he had to revise his plans.
Luckily, dealing with Elvira was something he was quite good at. Even now, he could openly look around as much as he wanted—Elvira would only look at him with that mocking smile of hers.
Like a cat toying with a mouse.
That was the confidence of someone who knew she was the absolute strongest.
In her eyes, no matter what Morris did, there was simply no way for him to escape.
So she let Morris look as much as he liked—let him properly see for himself that Dratnia’s royal palace was in no way inferior to Fastal’s.
“How is it, Morris? This is my palace. Not any worse than that woman’s, is it?”
After walking side by side for several minutes, finally arriving at the main hall of the palace, Elvira suddenly flashed to the center of the hall with a teleportation spell, her back against the resplendent golden palace. Smiling, she asked Morris, who had come along with her, for his opinion.
That was exactly how a queen who ruled the world should act—she had absolute confidence in her residence.
“…No matter how splendid the palace is, it’s the people inside that matter.”
Objectively speaking, Dratnia’s palace really was more luxurious and noble-looking than Fastal’s. It might even be a little larger.
But the feeling it gave was completely different. The main body of this palace had a cold, oppressive weight to it—like a majestic dragon—making all who entered feel an intense pressure, leaving them more reserved and cautious.
Fastal’s palace, by contrast, felt open and bright, like a noble pegasus or unicorn. It lifted your spirits, making it easy to walk through its halls and admire the artistic atmosphere.
The difference between the two palaces likely came down to the preferences of their monarchs.
Dratnia’s throne had always been passed down to the strongest successor.
But in Fastal, a successor’s character and virtue mattered as well.
That’s why Dratnia’s kings tended to be hardline and autocratic, while Fastal’s rulers were more enlightened and approachable.
As far as Morris was concerned, each method of succession had its pros and cons.
But thinking of Elvira’s trusted subordinates—all of them extraordinary talents—he felt that the people mattered more than the palace itself.
“So you admit my palace is more magnificent, don’t you? Well, that’s only natural.”
Elvira clearly didn’t take his words seriously. In her eyes, Morris just didn’t want to admit her palace was grander and more imposing than Fastal’s. That’s why he’d changed the subject to the people instead.
And besides, she didn’t think her nation lacked talent compared to Fastal.
Sure, there were some foolish nobles, but the clever ones far outnumbered them.
“All right, you’ve seen enough of the hall. Follow me. Our destination isn’t here, but deeper inside.”
Seeing Morris still eyeing the hall and the people in it, Elvira grinned with satisfaction, then gave her order in front of everyone for Morris to continue following her.
Right now, with several pairs of vigilant and curious eyes running over him, Morris had no choice but to comply, following obediently.
As a knight, he could sense the hostility from the guards.
They must have already received Elvira’s orders: keep a close watch on Morris’s movements.
But it didn’t matter. Morris had never intended to escape from the main hall in the first place.
Stripped of his magic, weapons, and armor, he didn’t have the combat power anymore—at most, he could take on a few dozen men.
Practical as ever, Morris said nothing and walked after Elvira.
Even as Elvira looked at him with eyes full of satisfaction—like she was watching a well-trained pet—he endured it.
The two of them passed through the hall and continued onward, finally arriving at a room that was unmistakably the throne room.
There was no one else inside. Elvira strode confidently up the steps, heading for the golden throne.
At last, magic staff in hand and crown on her head, she sat naturally upon the throne, crossed her legs, and looked down playfully at Morris, who had stayed where he was since entering.
“Though it’s a little late, welcome to Dratnia, Morris the Debauched Knight. So, have you still not decided to swear loyalty to me?”
On the throne, Elvira was little different from before—neither more imposing nor colder.
Her attitude was easygoing and carefree. Her beautiful face was full of satisfaction with the present situation—she was making no effort to put on the airs of a queen.
Still, since she sat on the throne, Morris, as a knight, knew he should show at least some decorum.
“If Your Majesty truly wishes for me to be your knight, it’s not impossible. But only if you stop harassing me—then I’ll pledge myself to you.”
Morris gave Elvira a textbook-perfect knight’s salute, his tone just a little more formal.
But only just a little—after all, Elvira herself wasn’t being particularly serious.
“In that case, never mind. I’m hardly some frail queen in need of a protector, nor do I need you to act as my knight. You can stay my prisoner. I’m very much looking forward to your future, Mr. Prisoner~?”
Elvira, sitting on the throne, waved her hand with a nonchalant air. Then, resting her cheek on her right hand and tilting her head, she looked down at Morris with a mischievous, mocking smile.
In this moment, Elvira had none of the majesty of a queen—but the willful arrogance of a witch came through loud and clear.
To the Witch Queen’s teasing, Morris lowered his saluting hand and, returning to his earlier attitude, replied rather impudently:
“…Then you just wait, Elvira. You’ll be the disappointed one in the end.”
With that, Morris no longer looked at the throne or its charming, eccentric, tyrannical queen, but focused his attention on the throne room itself.
Elvira didn’t use magic to force Morris to look at her, either. She just watched him with great interest, allowing his rudeness and ease.
Because this was the only moment Morris would be allowed to relax!
Once her three trusted aides arrived, let’s see how relaxed Morris would be then!
Not that she was playing favorites—those three were a handful even for her. Aside from her secretary Roselia, who was easier to get along with, the other two were notoriously difficult.
And disappointment? Impossible.
After all, just seeing Morris suffer would make her incredibly excited!
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