The Original Realm

The slums of Sylvera stretched out like a festering wound, far removed from the lively market streets Luke had left behind. The air was damp and heavy, laced with the sharp tang of mildew and the acrid smoke from makeshift fires. The cobblestones were more dirt than stone, cracked and worn down to jagged edges, with fetid puddles pooling in uneven grooves.

Buildings here were skeletal remnants of their former selves, their wooden frames sagging and patched with rusted sheets of metal and scraps of fabric. Ragged clothes hung on frayed lines, swaying like silent sentinels in the faint breeze. The smell of rot and unwashed bodies seeped into every crevice, making Luke's stomach churn as he slipped deeper into the labyrinth of despair.

Figures lurked in the shadows, their hollowed faces and sunken eyes tracking him warily. A child with skeletal limbs sat on a crumbling doorstep, clutching a scrap of bread like it was treasure. Nearby, a man with matted hair leaned against a wall, one leg ending in a crude wooden stump wrapped in dirty bandages.

Further ahead, a group of men crouched in a circle, the faint click of dice echoing through the narrow alley.

"The Relic War ruined us all," one muttered, his voice rough like gravel.

"Ruined? They gutted us," another growled, spitting onto the ground. "We bled for relics we couldn't even touch. My brother died holding a line for some royal's bauble."

Luke tried to block out their words as he pressed forward, his eyes locked on the golden-haired girl moving just ahead. She slipped through the chaos like a shadow, quick and deliberate. He kept close, careful not to lose sight of her, but she never glanced back, unaware of the pursuit trailing her through the crowded streets.

Finally, she stopped in a small courtyard, a clearing surrounded by crumbling walls and broken barrels. Luke ducked behind a dilapidated post, keeping himself hidden as he watched her.

The girl reached into the pouch she'd stolen from him and pulled out a handful of coins. She stepped forward and handed them to an older elf woman, her face lined with years of hardship.

"Use this to get real food," the girl said, her voice light but firm. "No scraps this time. And don't argue—I'll know if you didn't spend it right."

The elf woman's hands trembled as she took the coins. "You can't keep doing this," she whispered, her voice breaking.

The girl waved her off with a mischievous grin. "What, and miss out on the thrill of getting chased through the streets? It's fun!"

A young elf boy tugged at her tattered cloak. "Thank you, Eleanor!"

Luke stiffened. Eleanor. The name didn't fit the impish thief he'd been chasing through the market.

"It's nothing," Eleanor said, brushing the boy's hair with a quick hand. "Just don't waste it, alright?"

Luke's fists clenched as he watched the small community gather around her, murmuring thanks. He felt a pang of guilt—how could he demand his money back from people so desperate?

Before he could decide what to do, a sharp, commanding voice shattered the moment.

"Eleanor."

The name rang out like a bell, and the small crowd froze. Luke turned, his heart sinking as he recognized the figure stepping into the clearing. Queen Sylveria Mirrorblade.

Her silver hair caught what little light filtered through the gloom, and her piercing gaze swept over the group, locking onto Eleanor.

Eleanor's grin faltered for only a moment before she cocked her head, her expression turning flippant. "Your Majesty," she said, her tone mocking. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"I've heard reports of a thief causing trouble in the marketplace," Sylveria said, her voice as cold and unyielding as steel. "Hand over the stolen money, and this will go easier for everyone."

Luke stepped forward, trying to defuse the situation. "It's fine. I don't need the money—it's already being used for something good."

Sylveria ignored him, her attention fixed solely on the girl. Desperation flared in Luke's chest as he stepped forward and seized her arm. "They only steal because they're starving!" he burst out, his voice raw with anger. "Isn't it your responsibility as queen to save them?"

Her reaction was immediate. With a fluid, practiced motion, she struck him sharply in the diaphragm, leaving him doubled over, gasping for breath as he crumpled to his knees.

The community's shocked murmurs rose to frantic protests as they saw Luke try to defend them, despite Eleanor having robbed him.

"It's not her fault!" one man shouted, stepping forward with a pleading look in his eyes.

"We made her do it!" a woman cried, her voice shaking. "She only wanted to protect us!"

"She's just trying to help us survive!" another added, desperation pooling in her voice. "Please, she's not to blame!"

Sylveria's expression didn't change as she addressed them, her tone calm but unyielding. "It is my duty as queen to help my people, and I will. But justice cannot be selective. Exceptions create cracks in the foundation of order, and through those cracks, cruelty and selfishness creep."

Reaching into a pouch at her side, she tossed a bigger bag of coins at the feet of the gathered crowd. "Use this. But know that a crime is still a crime, regardless of intent."

Eleanor's defiance wavered as she glanced between the community and Sylveria. She opened her mouth to protest but stopped when she saw the pouch land in front of those around her. Instead, she rolled her eyes dramatically and smirked. "You really know how to kill a vibe, don't you?"

Sylveria's lips curved ever so slightly. "Responsibility often does."

As she turned to leave, dragging Eleanor behind her, she whispered to Luke, "If you wish to save her, you'll have to break her out yourself. A queen must enforce justice, but mercy allows for second chances."

Luke, still struggling to catch his breath, growled, "I'll make you regret saying that."

Eleanor, glancing back, quipped, "Looks like I've got fans. I guess that makes me a princess now, huh?"

Sylveria said nothing, but her faint smile lingered as they disappeared into the shadows, leaving Luke behind to seethe in the dirt.