The towering gates of Veylith stood before them, gleaming under the morning light. Massive intertwining roots formed intricate patterns along the walls, their surfaces etched with ancient runes that pulsed faintly with Etherion.
The elven capital was unlike anything Evolis had ever seen, where human cities relied on stone and steel, Veylith was a masterpiece of nature and magic, seamlessly blending into the colossal trees that housed its structures. High above, bridges of woven branches and glowing crystal lanterns connected towering spires, their shimmering light casting a serene glow over the city.
Evolis took in the sight with a measured gaze. It was beautiful, but beneath its elegance, he could already sense the unspoken rules, the veiled politics, the weight of a kingdom built on hierarchy and tradition.
"Welcome to Veylith," the princess announced, her voice laced with something unreadable.
"Quite the sight," Evolis mused, his golden eyes flickering with curiosity. "Let me guess... outsiders aren't exactly welcome?"
"You're not just an outsider," she said coolly. "You're human."
Evolis smirked but said nothing. He had already guessed as much. From the moment they had stepped into the city's outer district, he had felt it, the lingering gazes, the hushed whispers, the barely restrained contempt hidden behind polite smiles. He was an anomaly, a disruption to their carefully maintained order.
The princess led him through the city with her guards flanking them. They moved swiftly, avoiding unnecessary attention, though it was clear that word of his presence was spreading. By the time they reached the royal palace, the tension in the air had thickened.
The palace itself was an architectural marvel, an enormous structure of silverwood and glowing blue vines that spiraled upward, connecting with the city's great tree at its core. At the entrance, elven sentinels clad in flowing armor stood at attention, their sharp gazes appraising Evolis as if he were a threat.
Without hesitation, the princess strode forward. "We have returned. I request an audience with His Majesty."
One of the sentinels nodded before stepping aside. "The king has already been informed. He awaits you in the Grand Hall."
Evolis glanced at the princess, arching a brow. "He's fast."
"He expected you," she replied, leading the way inside.
The Grand Hall was exactly what Evolis had anticipated. Vast, regal, and suffocatingly formal. Tall, elegant pillars lined the chamber, carved with ancient elven script that shimmered faintly. A raised throne sat at the far end, where King Aldorien awaited them, his expression unreadable. Seated beside him were several high-ranking officials, their gazes sharp and calculating.
The air was heavy with expectation.
Evolis strode forward, stopping a respectable distance from the throne. He met the king's gaze directly, unflinching. The silence stretched before Aldorien finally spoke, his voice even but layered with meaning.
"You are an unusual guest in my kingdom, human."
Evolis inclined his head slightly. "It seems that way."
The faintest flicker of amusement crossed the king's face before vanishing. "You entered an ancient ruin meant to remain undisturbed, claimed an inheritance not of your world, and now stand before me in possession of powers that defy reason. You must understand why this concerns me."
"I do," Evolis admitted, his voice calm. "But you wouldn't have summoned me just to state something so obvious."
A few murmurs rippled through the gathered nobles, clearly displeased with his tone. The princess tensed slightly beside him, but Aldorien merely studied him for a moment before leaning forward.
"You are correct," the king said smoothly. "I summoned you because I need to determine what manner of man you are."
The chamber shifted. A quiet tension filled the space.
One of the council members, an elder elf with cold silver eyes, folded his hands together. "A human who has walked among our ruins should be put to the sword before he disrupts the balance of our realm."
Evolis turned his gaze to the elder, unfazed. "A bit extreme, don't you think?"
Another noble sneered. "You do not belong here. Your very existence is an insult."
Evolis let out a slow breath, his narrowing. "You people really need better conversation openers."
A few gasps sounded at his blatant irreverence, but Aldorien merely raised a hand, silencing the room.
"Enough," the king commanded. His piercing eyes settled on Evolis, and this time, there was an edge to them. "If you are to remain in my kingdom, you must prove that you are not a fool."
Evolis met his gaze evenly. "And how would you like me to do that?"
A small smile touched the king's lips. "A battle of wit and words."
Murmurs spread again, some intrigued, others clearly displeased.
The princess, standing beside Evolis, turned slightly toward her father. "You mean a verbal duel?"
Aldorien nodded. "If he is as dangerous as some of you fear, then he should be able to navigate our world with more than just brute strength. Let us see if his mind matches his power."
Evolis exhaled sharply, as his mind raced. "Sounds fun. Who am I up against?"
One of the nobles stepped forward, a sharp-featured elf with icy blue eyes and a smirk that held no warmth. He wore the insignia of one of the royal houses, his posture exuding confidence and disdain.
"Lord Sylvas of House Vaenor," the princess murmured beside him, her voice barely above a whisper. "A master of politics and manipulation."
Evolis's smirk deepened. "Sounds like my kind of opponent."
The noble inclined his head mockingly. "A mere human dares to challenge me? This will be brief."
Evolis cracked his neck. "Let's see if you're right."
Aldorien raised a hand. "Then let the duel begin."
The gathered audience fell silent as the battle of wit and words commenced. Evolis knew this wasn't just a test of intelligence—it was a game of survival. Every word, every response, every shift in tone would determine not just his fate, but his standing in this world.
And he had no intention of losing.
A ripple of hushed murmurs spread through the grand hall as Evolis stepped into the center of the chamber. The polished marble beneath his feet gleamed under the golden glow of Etherion-lit chandeliers, reflecting his lone figure standing among an assembly of elven nobility. The high-domed ceiling, adorned with intricate carvings of elven history, seemed to loom over him like silent judges.
At the head of the hall, seated on an elevated throne, King Aldorien watched with an unreadable gaze. His regal presence was a force of its own, his silver hair cascading over his elaborate emerald robes. Around him, high-ranking nobles and advisors whispered amongst themselves, their expressions ranging from curiosity to outright disdain.
Among them, standing with his usual arrogance, Elandor smirked, his arms folded across his chest. His golden eyes gleamed with amusement, a chuckle escaping his lips as he surveyed Evolis like one would an amusing pet.
"A human, standing in the royal court of the elven king... how far our standards have fallen," Elandor muttered, making no effort to conceal his condescension. "I wonder... will he humiliate himself before he opens his mouth, or after?"
A few nobles chuckled, their amusement evident. Evolis, catching the remark, merely smirked. He turned his golden gaze toward Elandor, offering a small tilt of his head, as if accepting the challenge.
Then, one of the nobles, the Grand Orator, an elderly elf draped in flowing ceremonial robes, stepped forward, his voice crisp as it carried across the chamber. "Before we begin, tradition demands that a challenger be named. I will not battle someone I do not know, human. State your name and where you are from."
A silence fell over the court.
Evolis barely hesitated, but inwardly, he cursed. 'I don't know if I should claim Aurelion or not. If I say my name, will it mean anything here?'
For a brief moment, he considered lying. But deception here, in a court of nobles whose entire existence revolved around detecting weakness, would be the first step toward disaster. He made his decision.
Straightening, he met the noble's gaze evenly and spoke with unwavering confidence.
"My name is Evolis. As for where I am from..." he let the words hang for a moment before smirking, "Let's just say... not from here."
The room stirred.
Elandor scoffed loudly. "Not from here? How delightfully vague. How fitting for a stray without a home."
Evolis ignored him, his gaze remaining on the Grand Orator. The older elf's eyes narrowed slightly, assessing him, but he gave a slow nod. "Very well, Evolis. Let it be known that you stand before the elven court as an unknown, a nameless wanderer. Your words alone will determine whether you leave here with dignity... or in disgrace."
King Aldorien finally spoke then, his deep voice silencing the chamber.
"You walk with power beyond human limitations, yet carry no allegiance to any kingdom. Your presence here is… unexpected. Before judgment is passed, we will determine whether you are a threat, or something more useful."
Another ripple of murmurs spread through the hall.
Evolis raised an eyebrow, masking his intrigue. 'He's implying he knows something about me. But how?'
Then it struck him.
The barrier.
When Evolis had stepped through the doors of the ruin, the elves had been repelled by an ancient force, but he had walked in effortlessly. That wasn't something a normal human should be capable of. To the king, to any elf attuned to magic, it would have been proof that Evolis was an anomaly.
The king continued, his gaze steady. "You will be tested. Not with blade nor magic, but with something greater... your wit."
Elandor's smirk widened. "Ah, this should be entertaining," he murmured. "A brute playing at intelligence."
The Grand Orator raised a hand, and all discussion ceased. "This is a Battle of Wit & Words, a sacred tradition of the elven court. You will stand before all present and engage in a duel of rhetoric and reason. Your opponent will attempt to discredit you, to expose your ignorance or flaws in argument. Should you falter, should you fail to respond effectively, you will be dismissed as unworthy."
Evolis slowly exhaled, then with a confident look on his face he asked, "And who will I be facing?"
The Grand Orator's lips curled in something akin to amusement. "You will face three opponents, each more skilled than the last. The first, a scholar of our court. The second, a noble well-versed in politics. And the third… if you make it that far… will be Prince Vaerion, heir to the elven throne."
The reaction was immediate.
The court stiffened.
Even Evolis, who had been expecting a challenge, raised an eyebrow. 'The prince? They're throwing their heir at me?'
A flash of something flickered across Elandor's face, momentary surprise, quickly masked by amusement. "Oh, this will be grand. To watch a human be dismantled by our crown prince? A rare honor indeed."
The first opponent stepped forward, an elven scholar with neatly bound scrolls tucked beneath one arm. He adjusted his glasses, eyes gleaming with quiet confidence.
Evolis exhaled, stretching his fingers. 'Alright then… let's get this over with.'
The scholar bowed politely before speaking. "A test of logic, then." His voice was smooth, rehearsed, filled with the confidence of someone who lived in books.
"Human, answer me this: If a king rules wisely, yet his people still suffer, where does the fault lie? Upon the king, who governs with fairness? Or upon the people, who fail to thrive despite his wisdom?"
A classic trap—a question designed to force Evolis into a contradiction. If he said the king was at fault, he insulted rulers. If he blamed the people, he insulted the elven society itself.
Evolis smirked. 'Cute.'
"The answer," Evolis said easily, "depends on whether the king understands his people at all."
The scholar's brow furrowed. "Explain."
Evolis took a slow step forward, his voice carrying smoothly through the chamber. "Wisdom alone does not rule a kingdom. A ruler who governs 'fairly' but fails to see the true needs of his people is not wise—he is blind. If suffering exists, then there is a flaw in his rule, no matter how noble his intent."
He tilted his head slightly. "So, tell me, scholar... if a kingdom suffers under a 'wise' king, is he truly wise?"
The scholar hesitated. He had walked into his own logic trap. If he said yes, he contradicted his argument. If he said no, he implied that wisdom alone was not enough for a ruler.
A small murmur of approval rippled through the court.
The scholar bowed his head. "You are… not incorrect."
Evolis smirked. 'One down.'
The scholar gave a stiff bow before stepping back, conceding his defeat. Evolis watched him retreat, keeping his smirk subdued, his posture loose yet confident.
The court murmured in hushed tones. While few would openly acknowledge it, the human had outmaneuvered a scholar of elven academia. That alone was an achievement.
But his next opponent would not be so easily shaken.
Stepping forward from the ranks of nobles, a tall elf draped in emerald and silver robes took his place before Evolis. His features were sharp, aristocratic, his expression one of thinly veiled disdain. His hair, a deep shade of ash-blond, was bound elegantly at the back, and the insignia on his sleeve marked him as a member of one of Veylith's most influential families.
Lord Sylvar Ael'Varyn.
Unlike the scholar, Sylvar did not bother with a bow. He merely tilted his head ever so slightly, as if inspecting something unworthy of his time.
Elandor, watching from the sidelines, chuckled. "Ah, now the real challenge begins."
Sylvar's lips curled into an insincere smile. "You are skilled in words, human, but words are tools. Without influence, without power, they are nothing more than wind in the trees."
His gaze flickered over Evolis like one would assess a servant. "Let us see if you understand the nature of power itself."
He gestured toward the king's throne. "Power is not merely strength. Nor is it wisdom. It is authority. It is the ability to act upon your will and have the world bend in response."
His expression turned sharp. "Tell me then, human: If a ruler possesses absolute power, is it not their right to shape the world as they see fit?"
Evolis exhaled through his nose, a quiet smirk playing at his lips. 'Ah, so that's the game he's playing…'
This was not just a debate, it was a trap.
If Evolis agreed, he would be validating the idea that the strongest deserve to rule unchecked, a concept that could be twisted to justify tyranny.
If he disagreed, he would challenge the authority of the king himself, an act of political suicide in a royal court.
A lesser opponent would hesitate here.
Evolis?
He stepped forward, golden eyes glinting in the torchlight.
"Power," he began, his voice smooth, calculated, "is neither a right nor a privilege. It is a responsibility."
Sylvar's eyes narrowed, but Evolis wasn't finished.
"A ruler may shape the world, but should they?" He gestured to the gathered nobles. "If absolute power means the right to rule unchecked, then tell me, Lord Sylvar, why does your king not eliminate those who plot against him? Why does he allow the court to bicker, to scheme, to hold influence?"
A ripple of tension spread through the room.
Sylvar's jaw tightened just slightly.
Evolis smiled, sharp as a blade. "I'll tell you why."
"Because true power is not imposing your will upon the world. It is the ability to control it without ever needing to raise a blade."
He took a slow step forward, his voice quieter now, just enough that only the nearby nobles could hear.
"And if a ruler's power is so absolute," Evolis continued, "then tell me, why does he tolerate the ambitions of those who would see him fall?"
Sylvar's eyes flashed.
The implication was clear.
Everyone in the room knew there were factions in the court that sought to undermine the king's rule, Elandor's family being one of them.
By turning the question back on Sylvar, Evolis had forced him into a losing position.
If Sylvar argued that absolute rulers should crush all opposition, then he was implying the king should be more ruthless in eliminating his rivals—including his own allies.
If he argued that allowing scheming nobles to exist was necessary, then he undermined his own stance on absolute power.
A moment of silence passed.
Sylvar's lips pressed into a thin line.
Elandor's smirk had vanished.
The king, however, watched with great interest.
The court was waiting.
Then, finally, Sylvar inclined his head, slow and measured. "An interesting perspective," he said coolly, masking his irritation behind perfect composure.
He stepped back.
The duel was over.
A few nobles exchanged glances. Some, clearly aligned with Sylvar, looked displeased. Others, intrigued.
But most importantly... Evolis had not only won.
He had sent a message.
This human, this unknown outsider, had just proven that he could outmaneuver a noble in his own court.
And the king was watching carefully.
A small wave of applause rippled through the hall. Faint, restrained, but present.
Evolis barely resisted the urge to grin.
Then, the Grand Orator stepped forward once more.
"And now, the final challenge."
A slow hush fell over the court.
The atmosphere shifted.
From the far side of the throne room, a new presence approached.
His steps were measured, graceful, yet carried an undeniable weight.
The heir to the throne.
Prince Vaerion.
Evolis exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders.
'Alright… let's see how a prince plays this game.'