Andras glowered, not appreciating young Fenrik's tone. "Are you mocking my ancestor?"
This time, he was all set to drop a harsh knuckle on the useless lump of his head when Azarael pulled him back. "Chef Andras, please control yourself. Young lord Fenrik is our esteemed guest!"
"W-Well…" Azarael's intervention tamed him immediately.
"Calm down," Zerath sighed, then glanced at Fenrik. "Mind your tone, Fenrik."
He simply grumbled at that. Zerath urged Andras to continue - which he did after several laborious breaths.
"I never claimed he succeeded, otherwise wouldn't we have become self-sufficient? My ancestor was simply too straight-forward and hard-headed to give up without a fight. If there were no crops coming from the Human Realm, he took it upon himself to try to grow some here. At least, that's the story that has been passed down."
Slavien took a sip and asked, "So was he truly not able to grow crops here?"
"My great-uncle claims he did achieve this feat, but that's where it gets hazy. I don't believe my ancestor found any miracle to grow crops even though he supposedly spent more than sixteen years towards this since the war began. But the stories passed down through generations eventually took a very flamboyant shape well…to make our ancestry look more valiant."
Fenrik harrumphed. "Just like I thought - he couldn't grow crops. But how does this connect to the cave?"
"Midway through his research, my ancestor was taken in by a faction, who had noticed his determined efforts to find a solution to the famine. You see, the era of war had naturally caused unrest within the realm. Violence grew tenfold. Groups of bandits had formed, stealing whatever provisions they could their hands on. The stranded and displayed families sought refuge and so my ancestor found himself in this camp, specifically built underground to protect themselves from the violent bandits above."
Zerath blinked.
Refuge camps? There are prison cells down there with chains and shackles. How could it have been a refuge camp?
"Over there, supposedly, my ancestor was given his own space to experiment while also preparing meals for the refugees with whatever provisions they managed to gather"
"Underground?" Fenrik frowned. "Where there'd be no sunlight?"
"The surface was dangerous with bandits roaming all around, so there wasn't much point in creating a space in the open. They could loot it at any time - if the efforts proved to be successful. Underground was safer. Also, there are many kinds of crops that need little to no sunlight to grow like leafy, root vegetables and mushrooms."
Zerath's heart raced. He combed back through his memory of the cave but was quite certain that they never came across such a chamber that seemed to be used for growing vegetation.
Did we perhaps miss a room during our search?
Zerath found that thought to be plausible. There could have been similar chambers like the cavern on the third floor, hidden with secret mechanisms.
He asked, slow and cautious, "Did he never meet the refugees there? Or served them food in person?"
"Umm…I think he might have? It's a little uncertain, my lord. But from my great-uncle's chronicles, it seemed he invested most of his time cooking and experimenting."
No wonder he didn't know that the people he was preparing meals for weren't any refugees but slaves. This faction, whoever they were…had kept it hidden from him.
—
Emberlain.
"The Demon Realm's convoy arrived for a crucial diplomatic meeting - one that could hopefully end the strife between our realms. Though it was for political reasons, our people still despised their visit, except for my family."
Melissa's measured voice trembled. "As someone with gifted hearing, Lady Autumn wasn't prone to bias and discrimination."
Madam Drisennia came to Vivia's mind. The elderly demoness held an air of mystery, but Vivia had never once sensed any scorn or contempt against her because of her race.
"Nobody knew what took over Lady Autumn but for the first time in her life, she sneaked out of the mansion to enter the royal palace, where the Convoy would meet the Emberlain King. It was truly very uncharacteristic of her."
Truly uncharacteristic huh…Was that really so?
Judith flung herself back against the couch, her arm spread wide behind Melissa's neck.
"I'd have dropped in for a sneak peak too had I been in her place~ It's not everyday you get to see demons."
Vivia's brow twitched.
She's talking like demons are some rare artifacts on display.
But she did understand Judith's sentiment. Only the royal family and the Senate would meet the demons. Very rarely, the Great Three.
"Please don't say such blasphemous things, Lady Judith. This is an invitation to one's own execution," Sierra rebuked her, albeit with a hint of softness in her voice.
Judith chuckled. "Oh my and who will deliver the final blow~ Your dear husband? Or would he ask his younger brother to do it, so as to not sully his hands? That reminds me. I'm still conflicted between seducing Aeren or snatching your husband. Either way, I'll enter this palace. Hmm, snatching your husband feels more thrilling and invigorating~"
"Surely you jest, Lady Judith. After I became Elvin's wife, it's impossible for a woman of another Blessed family to become the royal family's daughter-in-law. That would be far too great a concentration of power."
That's true actually…Vivia had always wondered how Sierra was able to marry Elvin?
Even with Elvin's ambitions to forge a strong alliance with one of the Blessed families, such a match wasn't something simply allowed. Marrying into the royal family could disturb the power balance between the Great Three Families themselves.
It was why King Rosrell decided on Clairette's marriage with Duke Valemont's family. Judith had a younger brother, equally fit to become her husband, but that match was never considered simply because he belonged to the Great Three - and Sierra was already their daughter-in-law. Had it been considered, Melissa's family would have been left in a precarious position.
Vivia asked, "Did Lady Autumn meet the demon she fled with?"
Melissa gave a slow nod. "The details of how they met are unclear, but that didn't matter to anybody. What mattered the most was that demon landing at our doorstep one day, asking for Lady Autumn's hand in marriage."
Isn't that so reckless? Especially when they were at such a cusp of war…
"One might think of it as reckless, but it seemed they were left with no other choice. Lady Autumn's marriage had already been arranged with a man of another noble family. If nothing was done, she would become another man's bride. Reckless as it appeared, that demon had crafted his proposal carefully - that he would personally appeal to the Demon King and secure a resolution."
She blinked. "Did he have that much influence over the King?"
Melissa glanced at her. "He was a member of one of the Great Three like Lady Autumn was here."
Vivia sweated.
Don't tell me that it was Astaroth's ancestor?
She had never encountered anyone from the other two families during her stay, so she had no way of knowing how they were.
"The families naturally wouldn't have agreed, which was why they had to resort to escape."
Melissa lowered her eyelids. "They believed their marriage could serve as a political bridge between the two realms."
Just like how Zerath and I had planned, but we failed, her shoulders dropped.
"Yet hatred outranked even politics. They simply couldn't imagine such a unification and bear to see veil-born being born in the future. Purity of bloodline mattered more than ending the suffering of thousands."
Vivia's hands clenched.
"Lady Autumn and that demon ran. With that, whatever hope remained of establishing peace between the realms was also destroyed," her gaze dimmed within her veil. "It only aggravated the situation where each party blamed the other. The Emberlain King blamed the demon for seducing Lady Autumn while the Rudaheim King accused her of manipulating him. That was the last straw, and their escape officially ignited the war."
"...Was that the last time your family heard from her?" She asked.
"Yes. Though Lady Autumn had sent one letter, just one letter to her sisters, who had loved her dearly. She wanted them to know how deeply she regretted what had followed. How our family was being ostracized. She wrote that in secrecy, she and her husband were doing everything they could to help the displaced citizens."
Melissa trembled as her gaze clouded. "She also wrote…they had a healthy daughter of eight years old. A veil-born."