Chapter 108: The Damsel Named Leornars
The morning sun over the kingdom was deceptive. It looked peaceful, painting the stone walkways of the castle in hues of honey and amber, but Stacian knew better. Where there were children—especially demi-human children—there was no such thing as "peace."
Stacian walked with a measured, graceful stride, her wooden sandals clicking softly against the floor. Tugging gently at her side was Lyra, whose small hand was buried deep in the silk of Stacian's lavender-colored kimono. Lyra's fox ears were pinned back, twitching at every distant shout.
"Are we almost there, Lady Stacian?" Lyra whispered, her voice trembling like a leaf in the wind.
"Almost," Stacian replied, her expression neutral. "The nursery is just ahead. You'll be with the others today."
As they rounded the corner to the large, open-air playroom, a wall of noise hit them. It wasn't the sound of playing; it was the sound of a revolution.
In the center of the room, standing atop a low wooden desk like a general on a battlefield, was Shullah. The young demi-human was brandishing a wooden spoon in one hand and a bowl of green legumes in the other.
"NO MORE! WE HAVE HAD ENOUGH!" Shullah screamed, her face flushed red. "WE DEMAND AN UPGRADE! THE AGE OF THE BEAN IS OVER!"
Stacian stopped at the threshold, staring at the chaos with a bored, half-lidded expression. Several other children were chanting rhythmic, nonsensical slogans in the background. Stacian sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of a thousand years of patience she didn't actually possess.
Without a word, Stacian walked into the fray. The children parted like the Red Sea. She reached the desk, extended a hand, and pinched the back of Shullah's collar between two fingers.
"Hey! Put me down! I am a political prisoner!" Shullah shouted, her legs kicking uselessly in the air as Stacian lifted her off the desk.
"You are a toddler with a vegetable fixation," Stacian said, her voice a flat monotone. She looked at the girl with a tired gaze. "What is it this time?"
"We want more beans!" Shullah pivoted her protest instantly, realizing her previous stance was losing ground. "Wait, no! Better beans! Beans with sugar! Beans that don't taste like dirt!"
Lyra, who had been peeking out from behind Stacian's hip, watched the scene with wide, watery eyes. Her bushy fox tail gave a nervous wag, then tucked between her legs.
"They... they are weird," Lyra whimpered, her voice barely audible over Shullah's continued shouting.
Shullah stopped kicking for a moment, hanging limply from Stacian's grip as she squinted at Lyra. "Hey! We aren't weird! We're just stupid!" she declared, puffing out her chest with an alarming amount of pride.
Lyra blinked, looking genuinely confused by the logic. "That... that isn't something you should be proud of, Shullah," she said in a soft, calm tone that stood in stark contrast to the screaming.
"It means we don't have to worry about things like 'consequences' or 'math'!" Shullah countered, waving her spoon.
Stacian let out another long, weary sigh. She set Shullah down on the floor, but before Lyra could retreat, Shullah had already lunged forward, grabbing Lyra's hand with surprising strength.
"Come on, Fox-girl! We're planning a coup against the kitchen staff! You can be the lookout!"
"Yeah, I'm not standing here for this," Stacian said, already turning on her heel.
"Wait! Lady Stacian! Don't leave me with her!" Lyra cried out, but it was too late. Shullah was already dragging her toward a circle of children who were currently trying to see how many beans they could fit in their nostrils.
"Have fun, kids," Stacian called back over her shoulder, her voice disappearing into the hallway. "Try not to burn the wing down before noon."
Scene 2: The Blue-Eyed Stranger
The transition from the noisy nursery to the quiet halls of the inner sanctum was a relief. Stacian made her way toward the main keep, passing through the massive arched gateway. Two knights clad in silver plate armor stood at attention. As she approached, they lowered their heads in a synchronized bow, the metal of their suits clinking.
"Lady Stacian," they murmured in unison.
She didn't stop to chat. Her throat felt like it was filled with dust after dealing with Shullah. She headed straight for the kitchens, bypassed the busy cooks, and snatched a chilled glass of fruit-infused water.
As she walked toward the residential wing, sipping the drink, her mind wandered. It had been a long few days of scouting and administrative work.
I wonder if Lord Leornars has finally crawled out of bed, she thought. The man sleeps like the dead when he's been working on his spells.
She reached the heavy, ornate oak doors of Leornars's private chambers. Without knocking—a privilege only she really took—she pushed the door open.
"Lord Leornars, the children are revolting again, and I think—"
Stacian froze.
The room was bathed in the soft glow of magical lanterns. Standing by the large vanity mirror was a woman. She was breathtaking. Her hair was a cascading waterfall of shimmering silver, catching the light like polished moonlight. She wore a simple under-robe, struggling to pull a heavy, silk-embroidered kimono over her shoulders. When the woman turned, Stacian saw eyes the color of a clear tropical lagoon—a piercing, intelligent cyan.
But what stopped Stacian's heart wasn't just the beauty. It was the physical presence.
"Who are you?" Stacian's voice dropped, her hand instinctively moving toward the concealed dagger at her waist. "And what exactly are you doing in the Lord's private quarters?"
The woman didn't answer immediately. She struggled with a sash, her movements slightly clumsy. Stacian walked closer, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the stranger for a weapon. However, her gaze involuntarily drifted.
Damn... those are huge melons! Stacian thought, her brain momentarily short-circuiting. Did she seduce him? Did he bring a concubine home without telling me?
Stacian looked down at her own chest, then back at the stranger's. She stood a bit straighter, puffing herself out.
Wait... actually... Stacian squinted, doing some quick mental geometry. I think mine are still slightly bigger. Yes. Victory is mine.
"Oh, Stacian. Good timing," a voice said.
Stacian jumped. It wasn't the voice of a delicate lady. It was the deep, resonant, and slightly annoyed baritone of Lord Leornars. It came directly out of the silver-haired woman's mouth.
"How do I wear this thing? The layers are a nightmare," the woman said, gesturing to the silk.
Stacian's glass hit the floor with a dull thud.
"YOU ATE HIM!?" Stacian screamed, pointing a trembling finger. "You're a doppelganger! You devoured Lord Leornars and stole his voice!"
The woman rolled her eyes—a gesture that was perfectly Leornars. "Don't be stupid, dummy. I haven't eaten anyone."
"YOU ARE A WOMAN?!" Stacian bellowed, her voice cracking. She stumbled back, collapsing onto the velvet couch near the door. She covered her face with her hands, letting out a theatrical groan. "Such a cruel, cruel world... First the beans, now this..."
"Are you okay, Stacian?" The woman—Leornars—walked over, the hem of the kimono trailing behind him. "You do realize this is just a phantom illusion, right? I've layered a high-level light refraction spell over my physical form. I intentionally adjusted the parameters to be... feminine."
He paused, catching his reflection in a mirror and tilting his head. "I must admit, I'm a good-looking woman. My facial symmetry is excellent in this form."
Stacian peeked through her fingers. "So... it's not real? You didn't get hit by a curse?"
"No."
"Thank the gods." Stacian stood up instantly, her shock replaced by a burning, tactical curiosity. She marched right up to him, getting into his personal space. "Okay, then explain one thing: How the hell do you have boobs this big?!"
Leornars looked down at his chest with a clinical indifference. "As I said, it's an illusion. I used your physical proportions as a base template, though I think I might have over-calculated the displacement. They aren't perfect, but they'll do for the mission."
He began fumbling with the kimono again. "Now, stop staring at my 'melons' and help me. Why am I a woman? Because I need to infiltrate the slave-trading rigs in the south. Going as 'The Great Lord Leornars' is a one-way ticket to a diplomatic nightmare. Going as a high-class lady looking to buy? That gets me through the front door."
Stacian nodded slowly, the logic finally sinking in. "So you're playing a role. The 'Damsel in Distress' or the 'Ice Queen'?"
"The latter," Leornars said. "Now, fix this. The back is all tangled."
He turned around, letting the heavy silk drop slightly so she could reach the ties.
"Aaah!" Stacian squealed, covering her eyes. "Warn me before you strip!"
"I'm wearing a slip, you idiot!" Leornars shouted back. "Just tie the damn sash!"
After fifteen minutes of Stacian grumbling and Leornars complaining about "unnecessary restrictive garments," the transformation was complete. Leornars stood before the full-length mirror, a vision of icy elegance.
His—or rather her—silver hair was pinned up in an intricate style, held by a single obsidian hairpin. The kimono was a deep midnight blue, cinched with a silver obi that accentuated the "borrowed" curves perfectly. Even his gait had changed; the illusion spell adjusted the sound of his footsteps to be lighter, more rhythmic.
"Perfect," Leornars said, checking his reflection one last time. "Let us head to the laboratory. I need to check the status of the interrogation."
As they stepped out into the grand hallway, the air was still and quiet—until a familiar, confident whistle echoed off the stone walls.
Walking toward them was Zaryter. He was adjusting his cuffs, looking every bit the proud subordinate, until his eyes landed on the woman walking next to Stacian. He stopped dead in his tracks. His jaw didn't just drop; it practically hit the floor.
"My, my..." Zaryter murmured, his shock quickly melting into a slick, predatory grin. He smoothed back his hair and straightened his posture, shifting into "charmer" mode. "Aren't you a beautiful bird to find wandering these cold halls?"
He began to walk toward Leornars with a swagger that made Stacian want to gag.
"Zaryter, I really think you should leave. Right now," Stacian warned, her voice tight with suppressed laughter.
"Calm down, Stacian, I've got this," Zaryter said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. He stepped directly into Leornars's path, flashing a winning smile. "Hey there, gorgeous. I'm Zaryter Daternmum, Lord Leornars's most trusted and—I might add—most handsome subordinate. Are you lost? Perhaps I could show you the... private gardens?"
Leornars stopped. He looked Zaryter up and down with an expression of pure, unadulterated disgust.
"Move, Zaryter," the woman said. The voice was cold, sharp, and unmistakably Leornars. "Move, or I'll throw you through the roof and leave you there until the rainy season."
The color drained from Zaryter's face so fast it was as if a plug had been pulled. His grin froze, then twitched. His eyes darted from the beautiful woman to Stacian, then back again. His brain was clearly misfiring, trying to reconcile the gorgeous feminine form with the terrifying aura of his master.
"Oh... ha... haha..." Zaryter laughed, a high-pitched, nervous sound. "I... I must be imagining things. Hallucinating from overwork. Yes. That's it."
He took a shaky step backward, his eyes wide with pure terror.
"Lord Leornars is no woman," he whispered to himself, his voice trembling. "Lord Leornars is a man. A scary, very masculine man. This is a dream. I am sleeping."
He turned and bolted down the hallway, nearly tripping over his own feet as he fled.
"I think you just broke him," Stacian said, watching Zaryter disappear around a corner.
"He's an idiot," Leornars replied, resuming his walk toward the lab. "He'll recover quickly. Or he won't. Either way, it's one less distraction."
The heavy iron-reinforced doors of the laboratory creaked open, releasing a scent of ozone, old parchment, and a faint, metallic tang that made Stacian's nose wrinkle.
Salene emerged from behind a heavy curtain in the corner. Her sleeves were rolled up, and there was a fresh splatter of blood across her cheek. She looked exhausted but wore a small, dark smile. She looked at Stacian first, then shifted her gaze to the silver-haired woman standing beside her.
"Who's she?" Salene asked, wiping her hands on a rag. "A new test subject? She looks... expensive."
"This is Lord Leornars," Stacian said calmly, crossing her arms.
Salene paused. She walked a slow circle around the "woman," leaning in close to sniff the air. She squinted at the illusion, her eyes glowing with a faint magical light.
"Oh, yeah," Salene whispered, a shiver running down her spine. "She does look like him. And she smells like him, too... that calm yet dangerously suffocating aura. It's definitely the Boss."
She stood back up, seemingly unfazed by the gender swap. In Salene's world, body parts were just biological Lego pieces anyway.
"So, what can I do for you, My Lord? Or... My Lady?" Salene asked with a mock curtsy.
Before Leornars could answer, a side door swung open and Ayesha stepped out. She was carrying a glass jar filled with small, green discs.
"Oh, Stacian! And... oh?" Ayesha stopped, her sniper-sharp eyes scanning Leornars instantly. "Lord Leornars is a woman today? Well, that's a new look. Very chic."
Leornars raised an eyebrow. "You can tell? Most people's brains are too fooled by the visual light refraction to process the truth."
"You forget who I am," Ayesha said, popping a mint into her mouth. "I am a sniper and a doctor. My job is literally to detect auras and see through camouflage. I can see the 'real' you underneath the layers of light, though I have to say, the hips you gave yourself are a nice touch."
She checked a pocket watch and started heading for the exit. "Gotta go. I have mints to take to the hospital. The wounded are getting cranky."
"Wait," Leornars called out. "I'll drop by later for the perfume."
Ayesha stopped at the door, her eyes widening. "Perfume?" she exclaimed, a grin spreading across her face. "The Great Lord Leornars wants a custom scent? No problem! I'll make one that'll make the slave traders weep with desire, Boss!"
She disappeared into the hall, her laughter echoing behind her.
With Ayesha gone, the atmosphere in the lab returned to a cold, professional stillness. Leornars turned his cyan eyes back to Salene, his expression hardening.
"Business, then," Leornars said. "The prisoners. How much have they revealed about their trading rigs and the southern routes?"
Salene's smile grew wider, and much more sadistic. She gestured toward the closed door of the interrogation room.
"Pretty much everything," she said airily. "They were stubborn at first. Very 'loyal' to their coin. But after I made one of them look like a jigsaw puzzle, the others became quite talkative. They're very eager to please now."
Stacian felt a cold sweat break out on the back of her neck. "A... a jigsaw puzzle?"
Salene started to open her mouth to explain, her eyes glinting with the memory of the "procedure," but Leornars raised a hand to stop her.
"It's best you don't know, Stacian," Leornars said calmly, his feminine face looking eerily beautiful despite the grim subject matter. "Some things are better left to the imagination—and Salene's imagination is a place no sane person should visit."
He turned toward the interrogation room, the silk of his kimono whispering against the stone floor.
"Let's see what our 'puzzles' have to say. We have a slave ring to burn to the ground."