Edel's Soap Opera (5)
She had never properly met Owen.
She had only glimpsed him from afar a few times.
But it was a face impossible to forget.
How is that bastard here!
Brasiana desperately stifled the scream rising in her throat.
Owen was a plague to her.
The one who had suddenly appeared and shattered everything she had so carefully built.
Her eyes refused to leave him.
But everyone else was staring at the great archmage Bellatel.
"No, Bellatel. What do you mean by saving the Albert family?"
Barom was utterly confused, having no idea what the man wanted.
If he'd just demanded gold, he could've paid him off and sent him packing!
He sighed inwardly.
"Exactly what I said."
Several people itched to demand an explanation out of sheer frustration.
But snapping at him? Bellatel was far too big a figure for that.
As they all hesitated, glancing around awkwardly, one man spoke up.
"What's with the cart you're dragging behind you?"
Everyone looked and saw a large cart behind Bellatel, roughly covered with cloth and stained with blood.
A foul stench wafted from it, making them finally pinch their noses.
"What is that smell? Rotten fish?"
"No, that's the stench of corpses!"
"What? Corpses?!"
Realization dawned, and they paled in shock.
What kind of ominous visitor was this?
Even knowing it was Bellatel, they couldn't hold back their outrage now.
"What is the meaning of this insolence?!"
"Lord Barom! Er, I mean, sir. We must chase this man out at once."
Voices rose in a clamor, but silence fell the instant Bellatel raised a hand.
Mages were mysterious and terrifying beings by nature.
And one called a great archmage? Their hearts shrank at the thought.
"There are indeed corpses here. But they aren't human, and they relate to why I've come today. By all means, condemn me if you wish—but hear this old man out first before you judge. Rash actions only invite disaster."
His words carried a chilling weight as he scanned the room, sending everyone scrambling to avert their eyes.
Owen couldn't help thinking he'd been right to come with Bellatel.
The man's authority was even greater than expected.
"Now, behold what I've brought."
Bellatel extended his staff, and the cart lurched forward on its own.
The crowd gasped in fear, stumbling back—only to shriek in horror as dark elf corpses spilled from the cart.
"What the hell?!"
"Kyaaah!"
Several noblewomen covered their faces, screaming bloody murder.
The dark elf bodies, crumpled haphazardly in the cart before tumbling out, were grotesquely mangled.
"You must wonder why I'd do something so gruesome. But every deed has its reasons. Listen well."
With the room fully under his thumb, Bellatel began his tale.
It started with the raid on his herb garden.
Tracking the attackers led him to Edel, where he uncovered dark elf schemes everywhere.
He'd come today to expose it all—only to repel a predawn assault from these very foes.
The unexpected story left the crowd stunned.
"No way, something like that?!"
"So the dark elves really were plotting?!"
But Brasiana was the most shocked of all.
She gripped a nearby table to stifle the curses bubbling up.
These insane fools!
The mercenaries she'd summoned from the capital had botched everything in the most unforeseen way.
Instead of staying put, they'd raided a formidable mage's herb garden!
And failed to clean up the mess.
'A single mage is nothing,' they said—yet here they were, rolling back as corpses?
Brasiana wanted to spit on their remains.
Her bungled subordinates had put her in dire straits.
They must have come targeting me specifically.
She didn't know how much they knew, but enough to ruin her presentation.
The situation was grim.
Yet Brasiana was no ordinary figure—she oversaw operations across the East.
She quickly regained her composure.
They plan to expose my identity and sabotage everything. But it won't be easy.
Handled right, she could turn the tables and pin the blame on them.
As she schemed swiftly, the crowd's confusion only grew.
"What exactly were the dark elves doing in Edel?"
"Can we even believe this?"
Voices of concern rose, one catching Owen's ear.
"With the eastern orcs on the move, what madness is this?!"
Owen's eyes widened in surprise.
Orcs moving?
He hadn't heard that before leaving Bris.
Something must have happened in the interim.
Curiosity burned, but catching Brasiana came first.
Yet glancing her way, she seemed far too calm.
Disguised as the noble widow Hanna via transformation magic, no one would guess she was a dark elf from her appearance alone.
Their eyes met briefly, sending a chill through him.
It wasn't the gaze of cornered panic—it was the look of someone plotting.
Soon, Brasiana spoke.
"Could you explain what plots you mean, mage?"
Her calm, refined voice cut through the uproar like a blade.
All eyes turned to her.
"And how will you prove it?"
She should have been flustered, yet her confident poise narrowed Bellatel's eyes.
"Think I can't prove it?"
"If you can, that would be fortunate. But I'll hold you accountable for today's rudeness."
Her declaration sparked fresh chaos.
Even Barom tried to intervene.
"Hanna, if it's a misunderstanding, an apology suffices. No need for accountability..."
But Brasiana dropped the gentle widow act, drawing a firm line unlike her usual performance.
"Leave this to me."
Barom flinched involuntarily at her commanding presence and backed off.
Watching this, Owen's suspicions deepened.
What's going on? She should be squirming—yet she's this brazen?
Wondering if he'd missed something, Owen scrutinized Brasiana closely.
Then he spotted it and widened his eyes.
Damn!
Her low-cut dress revealed part of a tattoo on her chest.
And that pattern—it matched one etched in Owen's memory.
To see that here of all places.
Tattoos were common in the East, regardless of gender—a local custom derived from the orcs, their eternal foes who favored them heavily.
The influence had seeped into human culture.
Her tattoo might seem ordinary, but not to Owen.
That's unmistakably like the dark elf queen's. A powerful anti-magic ward. Of course—she had countermeasures.
In his past life, he'd been mortal enemies with the dark elf queen.
When betrayed by the emperor, he'd nearly slain her with a magic sword's power.
But at the last moment, he'd failed—blocked by that very tattoo.
Impossible to forget.
And in return, I got stabbed.
Even now, reincarnated, the icy blade piercing his flesh felt vivid.
Pain seared into his soul.
Of course, the queen had paid dearly.
Breaking her pact with Owen had triggered the curse.
Having that tattoo means she's directly under the queen? Bigger fish than I thought.
Owen hurriedly called out to Bellatel, who was trading barbs with Brasiana.
"What is it? We're rather busy."
"Something important."
As Bellatel paused, Brasiana seized the moment to lambast him.
While she poured venom on them, Owen whispered urgently.
"That woman has a dark elf magic tattoo."
"What?"
"A high-level one."
"Even if so, I can dispel it."
Bellatel was confident, but Owen shook his head.
"Looks just like the dark elf queen's."
He might face questions on how he knew, but now wasn't the time.
"What?"
Bellatel's face grew grave. He subtly stroked his magic ring, and his eyes gleamed briefly.
Undoubtedly casting a spell.
"Hmmm..."
Soon, he looked troubled.
He'd sensed immense magic resistance.
As a self-proclaimed great archmage, it was hard to accept.
"Unbelievable. I thought my skills could handle mere dark elves."
"Not if it's the dark elf queen's handiwork, far surpassing human magic. I can dispel it, but not here and now."
"Why?"
"Strip her, damage the tattoo with special reagents—or pin her down for hours casting spells. Can you?"
"Grr..."
Both impossible.
Bellatel realized they'd be cornered at this rate.
After such a stunt, they couldn't prove their claims.
"Pity, but let's withdraw for today? We've raised suspicions and ruined the announcement. Excuse the proof for later. Meanwhile, find a way to counter that tattoo."
Time for whispers was running out anyway.
Brasiana was painting them as villains to the crowd.
"...This insults not just the Albert family, but His Imperial Majesty himself!"
Even dragging the emperor into it.
Bellatel's plan might be best.
But Owen refused.
Orcs were moving, he'd just heard.
Abandoning the East—and Edel—in such times was no small matter.
He had to stop it somehow.
"Once the sword is drawn, see it through. Giving that sly creature time? Who knows what she'll do next."
"Then what? No method."
"I'll negotiate."
"Really?"
"Yes. Leave it to me from here."
The silent Owen stepped forward.
"Madam. Could you spare me a moment?"
Brasiana, mid-persuasion, fell quiet.
She glared at him wordlessly for a beat.
Suppressing her boiling rage.
But Owen pressed on with a sly grin.
"Just a moment. It'll be good news for the wearer of the Ice Thorn Crown."
Her eyes widened at "Ice Thorn Crown"—a title unknown to humans, the dark elf queen's moniker.
How does that bastard know that?!
She knew he was certain she was a dark elf.
He'd heard about the mercenaries already.
But why bring up the queen now?
In the end, Brasiana agreed to talk.
"Fine. I don't know what nonsense this is, but I'll give you time. Explain today's farce."
"Somewhere the others can't hear."
The crowd murmured in confusion, but she nodded.
She crossed to stand before Owen, fanning her mouth with her fan as she whispered.
"Out with it. If it's drivel, you won't get away with it."
Now Owen tensed.
Her reaction was unpredictable.
"Madam. I know the wearer of the Ice Thorn Crown has long suffered under a curse."
Brasiana was glad for the fan—it hid her fluster.
She was genuinely rattled.
What? How does this human brat know the queen suffers a curse?
The dark elf queen had incurred a curse by breaking a powerful pact magic.
Forced into seclusion.
Her retainers scoured for a cure, to no avail.
Only Duke Owen Glendower, the pact's other party, could lift it.
With the queen in hiding, dark elf society stagnated.
Only high elites knew of the curse—and breaking it was their top priority.
For Brasiana too, it overshadowed her grand eastern schemes.
Steadying her trembling voice, she asked.
"And? Do you know something about the curse?"
Owen knew she'd bitten.
Lifting the curse.
An unparalleled feat in dark elf society.
Of course, he had no intention of helping the queen outright.
But he could leverage it to his advantage.