In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

The Capital of the Kingdom of Pasha

Regent Dowager Guinevere paced the gilded reception room with a face pale as a sheet. Her restless footsteps and anxious sighs filled the luxurious chamber, adorned with golden silk and deep crimson rugs. But the splendor of her surroundings did little to calm her nerves.

In the adjoining bedroom, her beloved son, King Alphonse II, slept soundly. The room reflected Guinevere's refined tastes—ivory-colored walls trimmed with gold leaf, a ceiling fresco of clouds and angels, and sunlight filtering through the kingdom's finest stained-glass windows, casting gentle hues across the room.

Clutching the hem of her elegant dress, Guinevere stopped abruptly as her elder brother, Chancellor Guinness, tried to console her. Twirling his meticulously groomed mustache with an air of affected calm, he said, "You mustn't worry so much. Good news is sure to come soon."

Guinevere seized on the opportunity to vent her frustrations, glaring at him as though he were to blame. She gripped her ornate fan so tightly that the gold detailing cracked audibly.

"Good news? What good news could there possibly be?" she snapped in a shrill voice. "That wretched Grand Duke Maximilian refused to march despite Alphonse's earnest appeal. How could such a thing happen?"

Her voice quivered with outrage, her crimson-painted lips contorted with fury. The fan cracked again in her hand, and Chancellor Guinness flinched visibly, his shoulders hunched despite his lavish attire.

The memory of Grand Duke Maximilian storming out of the council chamber, adamantly refusing to join the war effort, loomed in Guinness's mind. He felt a pang of guilt for not having informed his sister of the duke's reaction sooner. But his natural shamelessness quickly took over, and he resolved to weather the storm with feigned composure.

"Preposterous!" he exclaimed, his tone overly righteous. "A man who eats from the nation's coffers—"

"Eats from the coffers?" Guinevere cut him off, yanking open a desk drawer to retrieve Maximilian's letter. Waving it furiously, she sneered, "Look at this! He claims to have saved every coin of his royal stipend in the treasury since I became regent. He even suggests I take it back if I wish. Can you believe the audacity?"

The rustling of the letter in her hands punctuated the room like a scornful echo. Guinness was at a loss for words. Admitting that Maximilian had already refused to participate would only further enrage his sister, and he could easily become the target of her ire.

What a disaster, he thought grimly. In a hurried attempt to deflect, he adopted a pleading tone. "Your Majesty, now is not the time for this. You must evacuate immediately. The ignorant horde of the Pamir Empire is nearing the capital. Why our forefathers chose to build the capital so close to the border, I'll never understand…"

Guinevere froze, realization dawning on her. The border was alarmingly close. The first king of Pasha had selected the location with the resolve to always live on the edge, but now that decision threatened her and her son directly.

Summoning her chief lady-in-waiting, Guinevere barked, "Yes, yes, I've been careless. Quickly, prepare for our evacuation. The luggage must already be packed."

Despite the urgency, the lady-in-waiting stepped forward with practiced grace, lifting the hem of her silk dress as she curtsied. "Indeed, Your Majesty. Shall I give the order to depart immediately?"

Guinevere nodded hurriedly. "Yes, and wake Alphonse. If we wake him now, he can at least eat before we leave."

As she gave the order, her emotions overwhelmed her, and tears began to fall. In another life, she would have been lounging comfortably on a velvet sofa. Instead, she was fleeing for her life. The injustice of it all broke her composure entirely.

"Ah, the world is so cruel. I spent my youth tending to an aging king, only to finally see the prospect of brighter days snatched away like this. And that cursed Maximilian! Does he care for this country at all?"

Her outburst caught Guinness off guard, and he waved his hands in a desperate attempt to quiet her. "Your Majesty, please! Others might hear you."

But Guinevere was too distraught to stop. "How am I supposed to calm down? Look at the state of things!"

Throwing her now-broken fan aside, she stormed across the room, the rich silk of her gown trailing behind her. "Is there not a single capable man left in this kingdom? How can this land be so full of incompetents?"

Her shrill voice reverberated off the ornate walls, leaving Guinness mopping sweat from his brow as he struggled to maintain his composure.

In the adjacent bedroom, Alphonse II had woken and was peeking nervously through the doorway, his young face pale with fear. But Guinevere, consumed by her fury, didn't notice her son's frightened gaze.

"Your Majesty, please calm yourself. Look, Alphonse has woken up. Perhaps you could address him instead?" Chancellor Guinness gestured toward the adjoining bedroom, where the young king stood hesitantly, peeking out with wide, frightened eyes.

Guinevere froze mid-stride, wiping her tears with a sharp exhale. Though her anger abated slightly, the embers still smoldered beneath the surface.

"Look at the neighboring kingdom," she muttered bitterly. "They were on the brink of ruin, yet some boy barely twenty years old swooped in to turn their fate around. Why doesn't our kingdom have someone like that?"

Guinness's eyes brightened with sudden inspiration. "Exactly! Why haven't we thought of this sooner? Your Majesty, have you heard the latest news?"

Still wiping her face, Guinevere shot him an icy glare. "What news? Speak plainly for once."

Unfazed by her sharp tone, Guinness leaned closer, his voice dripping with excitement. "You just mentioned him—Count Michael of Lania. Isn't he an extraordinary talent?"

Guinevere sighed in exasperation. "Yes, I mentioned him. Whether it's just envy or admiration, I'll admit he's impressive. Why bring this up now?"

Glancing around conspiratorially, Guinness whispered, "It's rumored that he commands two Class-1 magical beasts who are exceptionally fond of gold."

This tidbit piqued Guinevere's interest. She unfolded a fresh fan handed to her by the lady-in-waiting and leaned in slightly. "Oh? And what does that imply?"