But Maria looked at the queen and said, "Wait a minute.

Before you go, first let's stay for the night. We deserve a banquet."

Her voice carried both insistence and a certain stubborn pride.

The kind that comes from fighting hard and surviving even harder.

The flicker of candlelight reflected in her determined eyes.

Giving her an almost regal glow despite the exhaustion lining her features.

Aria, standing a few steps away, pumped her fist in agreement.

A broad grin lighting up her face.

"Wise words, Maria! I'm feeling famished after the fight.

My stomach hasn't forgiven me yet for all that running around and swinging swords."

She slapped her own belly dramatically.

Eliciting a small chuckle even from the usually reserved members of our party.

Sarah, however, only deadpanned at her, one eyebrow arched in quiet accusation.

"What do you mean, you didn't fight at all," she said, her tone flat, almost bored.

But…the undercurrent of humor didn't escape anyone.

Her arms were crossed, leaning against the ornate pillar of the throne room.

Yet, her eyes sparkled with an undeniable sharpness.

Aria barked back at her without hesitation, eyes narrowing, "And you slept all the time!

Don't act like you didn't take a nap while the rest of us were out there breaking our backs."

Her voice had just the right mixture of irritation and jest, a playful spark dancing in the corners of her mouth.

I raised my hands slowly, placing myself between the two of them.

Careful to stop the brewing argument before it escalated.

"Alright, don't fight now," I said, my voice steady but firm.

There was an ease in my tone, a subtle command that somehow coaxed them both to pause.

Finally, Kalia clapped her hands together,

The sound echoing through the high-ceilinged throne room like a herald announcing the next act of a play.

"Today, I'm gonna show my full potential of cooking!"

Her grin was infectious, and even the tension between Aria and Sarah seemed to melt into anticipation.

The way her eyes sparkled with excitement made it clear this was no ordinary cooking session.

It was a declaration of her skill, her art, and her joy.

Then she turned sharply to Maria and grabbed her hands, tugging her gently but firmly toward the kitchen.

Maria stumbled forward slightly, laughing, but didn't resist.

Kalia's grip was determined, not aggressive, but unyielding.

Almost like a gentle force of nature insisting that Maria come along.

Her steps were quick but careful, weaving through the crowded hallways of the palace.

And Maria's laughter rang behind her, echoing against the marble walls.

"Come on, Maria, let's see if you can handle my spices!" Kalia called over her shoulder.

Maria squealed in mock protest, her feet barely keeping up with Kalia's energetic pace.

the clatter of their shoes mingling with the distant murmur of the servants tidying the palace for the night.

Meanwhile, I stopped for a moment and looked back at Lucy, who was lingering near the edge of the hall, her expression thoughtful.

"Now that things are done," I said, my voice calm but carrying a weight of curiosity,

"what are you gonna do now?"

She looked back at me, her eyes soft and unreadable, a flicker of hesitation passing over her features.

Then, slowly, almost deliberately, she began to walk toward me.

Each step was measured, her posture graceful, her movements deliberate as if drawing the world around her into focus.

There was an unspoken tension in the air as she drew closer.

The subtle sound of her shoes against the polished floor echoing slightly in the quiet hall.

Finally, she reached me and poked my cheek gently with her finger.

A teasing yet intimate gesture that broke the formal air between us.

Her touch was light, almost playful, but there was a quiet strength behind it.

A reminder of her presence and her importance.

"If you, the king, manage to give me a job here, like royal mage or something,

I think I may stay," she said, a small, hopeful smile tugging at her lips.

The faint warmth in her voice made the proposition feel less like a request and more like a negotiation of trust.

I nodded, feeling the simplicity of the decision in the midst of the complexity surrounding us.

"Okay," I said, "you have that."

There was a certainty in my tone, a reassurance that the offer was sincere.

And Lucy's expression softened in response.

Her shoulders relaxed as though a small weight had been lifted from them.

Then my eyes fell on Rebecca.

She had been standing quietly, observing the interactions from a distance.

Our gazes met, and an awkward silence fell over the space between us.

The air seemed charged, a subtle tension woven into the quiet elegance of the throne room.

I cleared my throat, finally breaking the silence with a careful, measured tone.

"So how about it, finally leaving the empress' control?"

Rebecca's lips curved into a gentle smile, a mixture of relief and tentative happiness shining in her eyes.

"I feel good," she said softly, almost to herself.

"For the first time since my childhood, I feel… myself."

Her words hung in the air, delicate yet powerful.

As though each syllable carried years of restraint finally released.

I returned her smile, nodding with quiet approval.

"Good to hear that," I replied, the simplicity of the phrase carrying a depth of understanding.

There was a shared acknowledgment, a silent agreement that this moment was significant.

Not just for us but for the paths we were all about to take.

Then, without a word, we both began to walk out of the throne room, Lucy trailing alongside us.

The vast space of the hall stretched out before us.

The high ceilings adorned with intricate carvings and golden embellishments catching the last glimmers of evening light.

Each step echoed softly, the sound mingling with the distant murmurs of servants finishing their duties.

And the soft rustle of silk dresses brushing against polished floors.

As we walked, the air seemed lighter, less constrained by the expectations and tensions of the palace.

Lucy stayed close, her presence both reassuring and quiet.

As if she were content simply to be part of the movement rather than commanding it.

The rhythmic sound of our steps created a gentle cadence, and the walls of the throne room.

It was lined with ancient tapestries and portraits of long-forgotten kings and queens.

And seemed to recede into the background.

Leaving only the immediate moment and the people moving through it.

"Let's head towards the treasury room," I said, my voice steady but carrying a subtle excitement.

"I want to check something." The idea of entering that secluded space.

It was filled with secrets and untold treasures, which sparked a curious thrill in me.

Both girls nodded in agreement, their expressions a mixture of anticipation and mild curiosity.

Though neither could hide the subtle undertones of excitement twining through their posture and gestures.

And so, the three of us, myself, Rebecca, and Lucy, made our way toward the treasury room.

The corridors leading there were dimly lit.

The soft glow of wall-mounted lanterns casting long shadows that danced across the stone walls.

The air felt cooler here, heavier with the scent of polished metal and old parchment.

The quiet hum of the palace around us fading into a nearly imperceptible background.

With each step, the anticipation grew.

None of us knew exactly what awaited us in the treasury room.

Would it be treasure, or secrets, or something entirely unexpected?

The uncertainty wrapped around us like a tangible thread.

Weaving tension and curiosity into every movement.

We moved cautiously but deliberately, our steps in sync with one another.

A silent understanding passed between us that whatever we were about to face, we would face together.

The hallway stretched on, twisting and turning, leading us deeper into the heart of the palace.

Occasionally, a distant echo of voices or the faint clinking of metal reminded us that life in the palace continued around us.

oblivious to our quiet procession.

The anticipation was palpable, each step heavier with curiosity and a hint of apprehension.

The unknown waiting just beyond the final door.

As we approached the treasury room, the massive wooden doors loomed before us.

Adorned with intricate carvings and gilded handles that glinted faintly in the dim light.

The air seemed to thrum with anticipation.

The quiet space around the doors is almost reverent.

As if warning us of the mysteries held within.

We paused for a moment, exchanging glances, a shared mixture of excitement and nervousness reflected in our eyes.

Then, with a shared resolve, I reached for the handle, feeling the cold metal under my fingers.

The weight of the door, both literal and metaphorical, seemed to press against me,

a reminder that whatever lay beyond this threshold could change everything.

With a steady breath, I pushed it open, and the room revealed itself in all its grandeur.

Gold and silver gleamed under the faint light.

Chests overflowing with treasures both mundane and magnificent.

Scrolls stacked in careful piles.

And mysterious artifacts that hinted at power beyond imagination.

The room smelled of aged wood, polished metal, and secrets long kept.

An intoxicating mixture that made the heart race with wonder.

We stepped inside cautiously, our eyes widening as the reality of the treasury room settled in.

The room seemed alive, not with people but with the weight of history.

Of countless hands having touched these items, each carrying a story untold.

We moved slowly, reverently.

As though aware that our presence here was both a privilege and a responsibility.

And yet, even in the midst of awe, a faint sense of foreboding lingered.

None of us could have predicted what lay in wait within these walls.

The secrets that the treasury room had been keeping for generations.

And quietly biding their time until someone like us arrived to uncover them.

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