Living in a Fairytale (Completed)

chapter 8

The sun was high up in the sky as I made my way into the throne room. Orange light escaped from the colossal glass, casting grotesque shadows on the massive redwood table placed on the far left side, where the queen receives tidings from the chief of each clans.

The frown on their faces suggested how glad they are, now that I have arrived. Autumn Bellamy Morgan, chief of the Morgan clan, sported her usual scowling face, an ugly sight in a such beautiful morning. Maxfield Ripley has that sly smile on his face, as if he's half amused and at the same time plotting for my death. Orson Laird Diez seemed to have been shaken from sleep, he got up when his fellow chiefs muttered their complaints. They glared at him, unimpressed by his courtesy.

Hadleigh Ellis Vesper along with Harkin Aster Cyril whispered something under their breaths and remained in their seats with their lips protruded in an ugly scowl. Paisley Rodx Hirsch, however, rose and curtsied by kissing the back of my hand, his lips rough against my soft skin. They have lived long enough to witness almost the entire history of La Belleza, but their faces and structures remained strong and well defined. The thought irks me. It'll be better to have enemies frail and old than these kinds of witches.

"My apologies for making you all wait. I assume that all of you have broken your fast here in the castle walls. I heard the cook served grilled turkey and pies stuffed with cherries for such a fine morning." I faked a smile, waiting for a violent reaction.

Morgan didn't disappoint, she muttered curses hidden in the Ancient Tongue, a growl of words that dated from the reign of King Acel, the language of the elves. "I have not. I do not eat mortal courses, if that is what you intend to know." she complained, still using the Ancient Tongue. I giggled, playing the little girl in the midst of all these aged beings.

I answered her in English, the only language that they believe I speak. They think I can understand some words of the Ancient Tongue, but I cannot speak it. Fools. "That is quite unfortunate. Although I dread to say that our supplies for meat and wines have dwindled by, I presume that this would gladden our high chief Morgan." I made sure to drop the sarcasm lightly, so only the wise ones would take the hint. Hirsch gave out a mischievous smile whereas Cyril smirked.

Vesper and Diez were mumbling amongst themselves now, their attention not on the session taking place at the very moment. Ripley inhaled, gathering up enough air on his cheeks, puffing it up that I almost swore his face would blow up. "That's a dreadful tiding indeed! We need to send out witches at once! I will send some of mine own, pixies help us all if by chance-"

I leaned back on the chair and let out dramatic sigh, the chiefs stopped whatever they were doing. "You have my gratitude, Ripley. But I fear that I cannot let witches from your clan to join those who are about to depart the kingdom. I am sure that you'd be distressed if any harm should befall your grandsons. I, myself, would weep." 

Maxfield Ripley is a man of honour but, he is oft to make mistakes than create wise choices. His sons, daughters, and grandchildren are gluttons. Though the women are slim of frame and men are heavily built, the Ripley clan consume too much meat. They're carnivorous and greedy when it come to supplies.

La Belleza provides our bountiful harvests and fine wines and rums, but no such edible creatures dwells within the land. I have heard of the human world quite enough to guarantee that they are much fortunate when it comes to this matter. Hell, that place is swarming with meat. Elves are originally herbivores, until humans influenced them and began to trade goods in exchange for their financial needs. They provide meat of all kinds and the elves dig up gems and gold. Of course all of this happened before the first war against humans. A time wherein witches did not exist and neither does their children.