Pilgrimage [Western Fantasy] - Chapter 24

The crown prince’s birthday celebration was approaching quickly, but Abel Stoker, still lurking in the shadows, was growing impatient for the girl’s next move at the manor.

“Could it be that she plans to wait until after the banquet?” he wondered aloud.

He shook his head, letting go of his earlier respect for her.

“She’s just a magician with no real power—hesitant and indecisive when truly threatened,” he thought.

Closing the book in his hands, he decided that once the banquet was over, everything would be settled.

[It seems the Crown Prince and the Earl of Stoke have a scheme underway.]

“I’m aware,” Estelle replied quietly, keeping her gaze downcast. “They’re just waiting for the perfect moment to crush me completely.”

She even smiled faintly. “I’m actually looking forward to it.”

When someone is at their peak, disappointment stings the most. She wanted to witness the expression on the face of those who expected her to fall apart in desperation.

Finally, the much-anticipated birthday party arrived as scheduled.

Luxury cars rolled in, their occupants dressed impeccably. A float bearing an elven family emblem arrived and parked outside the palace. Orlando was the first to step down, dressed in the traditional silk robes of Elf royalty, wearing a delicate laurel-style crown. He extended his hand to Estelle.

Her blue eyes met his as she stepped down.

Today, she wore a ceremonial dress steeped in elven style—adorned with motifs of vines and green leaves. The fabric, woven from moonlight flowers, shimmered softly beneath layers of sheer gauze, as if she were floating. A single earring hung on one side, with ribbons wrapping delicately around her calves. Even the attendants watching seemed momentarily captivated before regaining their composure.

When Estelle appeared at the palace, arm-in-arm with Orlando, the surroundings fell silent for a brief moment.

“May I have the honor of the first dance with you?” Orlando asked.

Estelle half-hid her face behind a fan. “If given the chance?” she replied ambiguously.

Lowering the fan, she added, “Someone is coming.”

To heighten the atmosphere, hundreds of candles flickered to life around them.

Estelle wrinkled her nose. “Are these fish oil candles?”

An elf nearby frowned. “That smell…”

She shook her head. “Before magical lamps existed, these were the best lighting civilians could afford.”

Nowadays, they were merely extravagant displays of wealth.

“Nice to meet you, future ruler of the great forest,” she said, noticing the double-headed eagle emblem on the man’s chest as she turned to Orlando. “I’ll wait over there.”

Knowing Estelle wished to avoid political chatter, Orlando nodded and led her away. Standing before him was a man with honey-colored hair and eyes, slender and seemingly delicate, who glanced at Estelle as she left without a word.

“Eureka,” a refined noblewoman with red hair and eyes greeted warmly.

Estelle stepped forward. “Clarisse, good evening.”

“You look stunning tonight,” Clarisse said, blushing. “I almost forgot I still had wine in my hand when you arrived.”

Estelle smiled, but soon another greeting interrupted: “Long time no see, Your Excellency Stoker.”

Clarisse sneered, “I thought only Wilder Stoker was coming, but he’s here too?”

Two men, similar in appearance with matching hair and eye color, entered. Clarisse’s eyes flicked between Estelle and the men, then slowly unfolded her fan with a few sharp, subtle movements.

Across the room, Wilder and Estelle exchanged a look devoid of emotion. His face was somber, and a fleeting expression passed between them before they both averted their gaze.

Abel Stoker noticed Estelle’s attire and was slightly taken aback. Elf? Does she really have such a close connection with the Elf Prince? That can’t be right!

While keeping up appearances during the social exchanges, Abel quietly weighed his options but maintained a poker face.

“Miss Adelaide.”

Wimborne Primo, the green-eyed young man, approached briskly, abandoning his usual composed demeanor. “How did you get here?”

You shouldn’t be here, he thought.

Estelle’s eyes drifted upward, admiring the palace. “It’s beautiful. I remember it was designed by the late queen herself.”

Queen Okaisi Ivendeline, from a noble lineage, was renowned for her talents—not only in music and literature but also in architecture. Sadly, her health waned after bearing the crown prince, and she passed away a few years later.

Her words calmed the restless Wimborne, who exhaled in relief. “What do you want to do here?”

Turning her head like the goddess Mori, Estelle replied, “What I want depends on what I refuse.”

Wimborne frowned, his expression sour. At that moment, someone interrupted.

“Miss? Are you engaged in conversation?”

A tall elf rested a hand lightly on her shoulder, and a handsome young man with pale blond hair leaned in with familiarity. “And this is…?”

Wimborne quickly regained his social poise. “First meeting: His Royal Highness Prince Orlando, and I am Wimborne Primo.”

Orlando recognized the name—the closest attendant to the previously unassuming crown prince. His lips tightened, and his eyes darkened. “So you’re His Excellency Primo,” he said tersely.

Lowering his gaze, Orlando turned to Estelle. “Would you like some refreshments? The pastries were just served.”

Seizing the chance to whisk her away, he ignored the others.

Estelle rubbed her temple, about to respond when Wimborne stepped forward. “Your Excellency Orlando, I was discussing something important with Miss Adelaide. Wouldn’t it be better if you left us to talk?”

The smile on Orlando’s face vanished. “Mr. Primo, as Crown Prince Edwin’s squire, do you have something important to say to this lady?” His tone sharpened, hinting at the weight of the matter.

Wimborne’s forehead twitched, but he was silent.

He looked at Estelle pleadingly. “Miss Adelaide, I…”

“I understand,” she interrupted, feeling all eyes upon them. She squeezed Orlando’s arm and softened her voice. “I get your meaning, Primo.”

Wimborne, expecting to say much more, was caught off guard and burst out laughing, while Orlando’s expression shifted uneasily.

At that moment, the flickering candlelight dimmed as a waiter announced the arrival of the crown prince and his fiancée descending the grand staircase.

The crown prince’s face was peculiar—no longer arrogantly proud, but tinged with frustration and pain. The three people seated nearby watched intently.

Meanwhile, Abel Stoker fixed his gaze on Estelle with a predatory intensity.

Feeling the weight of his stare, Estelle tugged at her neckline uncomfortably. Orlando glanced at the guests, frowning. “Why are several great priests here?”

Orlando soon discovered why.

Wilder Stoker suddenly stood up. “Your Highness, I request to speak!”

Estelle, casually twirling her fan, replied, “My sister’s body has been possessed by an unknown entity.”

An uproar erupted.

Abel Stock was the first to scold, “This is the Crown Prince’s birthday party! What nonsense is this?”

The crown prince raised a hand to silence him and addressed Abel Stock, “Baron Stoker, on what grounds do you make this claim?”

Wilder explained that his sister had died mysteriously and her body vanished. He went to the place where she disappeared and saw a woman identical to him—now calling herself Eureka—emerging from the forest. He searched for his sister’s body but found nothing.

How could this be mere coincidence?

Estelle smiled faintly as she listened to Wilder’s accusation.

The young man stated firmly, “If Miss Adelaide is not my sister, why would I seek verification publicly today? There are several great priests here prepared to perform bl00d magic.”

All eyes turned to Estelle, who closed her fan.

“Bl00d magic?” she replied calmly. “It’s no longer allowed casually, and why should I explain?”

She revealed the truth: the practice is too easily manipulated, and fairness cannot be guaranteed.

Many illegitimate children have bribed priests to forge evidence to displace rightful heirs. Because of this, His Majesty banned bl00d magic rites commonly performed when noble children come of age. Those caught committing fraud face execution.

“I’m willing to agree, but only if a contract is signed.”

“That’s acceptable,” Wilder nodded. “But beyond bl00d magic, we must also test the source of magic.”

Testing one’s magic source is actually a way of examining the soul, since each person’s magic source is unique, like fingerprints.

Finally, the silent crown prince spoke. “If so, it’s best to start with the magic source test. If it differs from Estelle’s, then she truly isn’t the same person, and bl00d magic can follow. If the bl00d magic test is different, they are two distinct people. But if they’re the same…”

He left the sentence hanging, but everyone understood.

If they are identical, Wilder’s claim that she is a body-snatching monster would be confirmed.

The entire crowd focused on the storm’s center. Estelle spread her hands and said, “Fine.”

She readily agreed, but with a cold gleam in her eyes, she added, “However, I have one condition. If in both tests I am found to bear no resemblance to Miss Stoker…”

She pointed at the floor in front of her, much to everyone’s disbelief, and smiled lightly. “You will have to kneel here and apologize to me. Then, and only then, will I agree.”