After carefully reviewing the reports, Elvia’s face suddenly blossomed with a bright smile.
It was as if a thousand-jin weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
“Good! That’s wonderful!”
She even gave a soft clap, her voice carrying a lightheartedness she hadn’t felt in a long time.
“Rewards! There shall be rewards for everyone!”
She turned to her attendants and gave the orders with brisk authority.
“Double the remuneration for all the scholars who participated in the demonstration today.”
“And for all servants in the mansion, their monthly allowance for this month will be increased by thirty percent.”
Soon, a temporary but by no means simple celebration banquet was held in the banquet hall of the Seventh Princess's Mansion.
Crystal lamps blazed, and silverware sparkled.
Elvia sat at the head of the table, raising her glass to acknowledge the scholars invited below.
She was all smiles, her words graceful and appropriate, as if she were truly celebrating a “major breakthrough” in academic research.
The scholars below were equally red-faced with delight.
Advancing their academic status while receiving generous rewards meant that both host and guests were thoroughly enjoying themselves.
The atmosphere grew heated as the wine flowed freely. After three rounds of drinks, Elvia seemed to ask casually, a hint of tipsiness in her voice:
“Speaking of which, I really must thank you gentlemen for helping me clear my thoughts and debunk those alarmist rumors.”
An old scholar hurried to respond with humility, “Your Highness overpraises us.”
“In truth, we were merely deducing based on common sense.”
“After all, the prophecies of the past Saintesses have never been wrong…”
The smile on Elvia’s face froze instantly.
The Saintess's prophecy???
The fingers holding her wine glass tightened slightly.
“…The Saintess's prophecy?”
Her voice remained steady, carrying just the right amount of confusion.
“The conclusions you gentlemen reached…”
“Weren’t they derived from a comprehensive analysis comparing the activity patterns of demon nests and abnormal data before previous Dark Tides?”
She looked around at the scholars, her smile fading slightly.
“I recall that the Saintess's prophecy was not mentioned in the materials I provided or in your reports.”
The air went still for a moment.
The redness on the old scholar’s face faded a bit, and a flash of awkward realization darted through his eyes.
Having spent years navigating both academia and the court, he immediately understood where the problem lay.
“Er… what Your Highness says is exactly right!”
He quickly adjusted his expression and explained with a sincere tone.
“The analysis of demon activity and abnormal climate is, of course, the main body and foundation of the argument.”
“The Saintess's prophecy was… merely used as a very minor, auxiliary reference point.”
He gave a light cough, trying to make his words sound more believable.
“After all, prophecies themselves are quite… abstract, making them difficult to use as the core basis for a rigorous demonstration.”
He didn’t know why this princess was so sensitive—even somewhat resistant—to the Saintess's prophecy.
He certainly didn’t dare say that for this group of scholars hired for heavy rewards, they all shared a tacit consensus in their hearts:
A Dark Tide could not possibly be born in the borderlands.
And the core basis for that judgment was precisely the Saintess's prophecy.
As for the two pieces of intelligence Princess Elvia had privately provided—the “evacuation of the banshees from Eagle Fortress” and the “abnormal migration of the Brain-Digger Demons”...
In the scholars’ eyes, those didn’t prove a thing.
The Akara Continent was far too vast.
Demon migrations and ethnic upheavals happened in some corner or another almost every moment.
It could be to find food, it could be a territorial dispute, or perhaps a powerful demon had simply sneezed.
To assert that a Dark Tide would be born in the borderlands and affect the Royal Capital based solely on those two isolated reports?
To them, that seemed more like excessive worry lacking evidence.
Of course, those words would never be written in the report, nor would they be spoken at the banquet.
Elvia looked at the sincere yet slightly guilty expressions of the scholars, but a drum beat incessantly in her heart.
No one understood why Elvia was so resistant to the Saintess's prophecy.
Only she knew for sure.
That “eerie feeling” had long been like a thorn in her side.
After the banquet ended, she dismissed everyone and retreated to her study alone to pull up sealed Church records.
They were archives of the prophecies left by the past Saintesses before the arrival of Dark Tides in various regions.
The more she looked through them, the deeper the chill in her heart grew.
The style of the past Saintesses' prophecies was shockingly consistent—short, direct, and even cruel.
Facing a city-state about to be destroyed, the prophecy often consisted of just one sentence: “The end.” Or more simply: “None remains.”
If the city-state could survive, the prophecy was usually: “Stands secure.” Or: “Defensible.”
They were like cold sentences of judgment, without ornamentation or metaphor.
But when it came to the Carter Royal Capital, when it came to Eve…
“I saw a silent mist, shrouding broken towers and collapsing palaces.”
“But I also saw… new sprouts, growing stubbornly through the cracks in the ruins.”
“The golden sunlight shall finally pierce the haze, shining upon… a new kingdom.”
What did “broken towers” mean?
What did “collapsing palaces” mean?
What were these “new sprouts growing in the ruins”?
Almost everyone had been blinded by the final sentence of the prophecy—the part implying that the Carter Royal Capital would still be there.
They ignored the unsettling series of detailed “descriptions” that came before it.
Since the founding of the Carter Kingdom, the Royal Capital had never been truly affected by any war.
Even when a Dark Tide branch grazed the border ten years ago, it hadn’t been able to shake this mighty city in the slightest.
Yet Eve’s description sounded as if she were witnessing an siege battle so tragic it reached the absolute limit.
Tragic enough to cause Stellar Mountain, the symbol of royal power and faith, to crumble.
Tragic enough to cause the majestic palace complex to collapse and turn this city into… a wasteland of ruins.
Elvia rubbed her aching forehead.
Could it be the western crusade? Because Caesar’s Saintess Assassination Plan was exposed?
But the Saintess herself should currently be following Lin Gui. And she had left with the tacit permission of that Disciplinary Knight of hers.
The logic didn’t add up.
She thought it over again and again, but still couldn't find an answer that convinced her.
A voice inside her was becoming clearer and clearer. Leave this place, take shelter temporarily, and come back after the Dark Tide passes.
But a more realistic voice immediately suppressed it.
You cannot leave.
The struggle for the throne has reached its final stage.
Her father the King, whom she had only wanted to hold in her hand as a puppet… happened to die of illness at this exact juncture.
The kind of death that even an Umbral Tree Flower couldn’t fix.
This instead pushed her to the center of the storm. Eldest Princess Diana and Third Prince Charles—countless pairs of eyes were fixed on her.
If she dared to step away now, even for just a few days, it would be equivalent to handing over everything she had worked for until now.
She would be completely marginalized and lose all hope for the throne.
So, she could not leave.
Elvia leaned back against her chair, closing her eyes in exhaustion.
For some reason, the thing that emerged in her mind was the brief period of time she had spent traveling across the wasteland with Lin Gui and Theia.
It was dangerous, crude, and even uncertain from day to day. But strangely, it held a certain… simplicity that she missed.
No endless banquets, schemes, or hypocritical pleasantries. Only traveling, moving forward, and good food. And the elf who always bickered with her.
Recalling Lin Gui’s calm warning before he left, Elvia opened her eyes and clicked her tongue.
Forget it, I’ll take out some insurance first.
She summoned a trusted attendant.
“I recall a dwarven transport team heading for Shield City is set to depart in a few days?”
“Yes, Your Highness, they set out the day after tomorrow at dawn.”
Elvia spoke in a steady voice.
“Help me arrange something for them to deliver to Shield City.”
“Deliver it to…”
“In Shield City…”
“To the 7-Copper Post Office.”
“Deliver it into the hands of its owner.”
Rate on N.U.
