The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

"No, father," Elizabeth declared, her voice tinged with determination, "if I remain at home, I won't be able to keep my promise. You once said that as a royal family, we must fulfill our commitments. However, if a promise harms others, it can be canceled.

But the promise I made with Clark doesn't bring harm; it benefits those in need of financial assistance." As the king's daughter, Elizabeth had delved into the intricacies of kingdom laws since her early years.

Edward sighed, a mixture of resignation and concern etched on his face. "Very well, if that is your final decision, I will accept it. But I insist that Uncle Vesta accompanies you to the academy," he replied with a serious tone. The protective father within him wanted to ensure his daughter's safety during her journey.

"Thank you, father!" Elizabeth's gratitude overflowed as she wrapped her arms around her father in an affectionate embrace, nuzzling her cheek against his chest and humming with sheer joy.

Edward, taken aback by the sudden display of affection, couldn't help but smile, his eyes filled with fatherly warmth. He gently caressed her hair, his voice tender, as he replied, "You're most welcome, my dear."

In the palace garden, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, father and daughter savored their precious moments of familial love and closeness.

Meanwhile, in a secluded chamber of the palace, candles in every room had been extinguished to conserve the limited supply of magic crystals. Only one room remained illuminated, casting flickering shadows on the walls.

slip * * slip *

The sound of parchment being turned filled the room, resembling the rhythmic flipping of pages in a book. A middle-aged man sat at a sturdy wooden table, engrossed in studying a report that detailed the pleas for protection from various villages.

Within this chamber, lined with bookshelves brimming with knowledge, a large board dominated one wall. It displayed a meticulously crafted map depicting the sprawling expanse of the entire North Kingdom, adorned with circles of different hues, denoting various regions of significance.

Having perused the reports thoroughly, the middle-aged man approached the board, his finger tracing the path to a village nestled perilously close to the treacherous beast-inhabited territory. Seating himself once more, he delved into the information held within his grasp. "Multiple sightings of beasts in the forest near the village of Mirefield have been reported.

Witnesses describe an enormous wolf... a colossal presence," he mumbled, his mind grappling to recall the precise details. Reaching for a book from the shelves, he meticulously flipped through its pages.

"Pitch black... twice the size of an ordinary wolf... operating in packs akin to their smaller counterparts..." The middle-aged man continued to pore over the text, standing in an eager stance, avidly scanning its contents. "These wolves prowl both day and night, bearing no distinctive markings upon their sleek fur...

Ah!" Exhaling with satisfaction, having found a suitable description, the man swiftly cross-referenced the findings with the reports strewn across the table, his eyes darting back and forth in an urgent search for patterns and connections.

"E Rank - Dire Wolf..." the middle-aged man muttered, his eyes fixated on the number of reported wolf sightings. He ran a hand through his graying hair, a troubled expression etched across his face. "Thank the gods it hasn't spread much farther..." Though he tried to reassure himself, a hint of worry lingered in his gaze.

"Guard!" he called out, his voice commanding.

The door to the middle-aged man's chamber swung open with a resounding slam as the guard stationed outside swiftly responded. "Yes, Prime Minister Sanders," the guard replied, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"Tomorrow, ensure that Mr. Vesta joins me for a meeting. We must discuss the recent attacks orchestrated by the Beast Race, as per the king's orders." In the absence of nobles, the titles of "Lord" and "Lady" now exclusively belonged to members of the royal family.

Although the titles had lost their former significance, breaking old habits proved to be an arduous task, requiring time and patience. The common folk still clung to the tradition, using the honorifics to address those of wealth or elevated status within the kingdom.

"Yes, Prime Minister Sanders," the guard acknowledged, his posture unwavering. Yet, he remained rooted in place, awaiting further instructions.

Observing the guard's unwarranted enthusiasm, Sanders couldn't help but feel a twitch of annoyance. "You may return to your duties," he dismissed, his voice tinged with mild exasperation.

"Yes, Prime Minister Sanders," the guard replied promptly, before exiting the room.

As Sanders settled back into his chair, he heaved a weary sigh. "This guard is far too excitable. Perhaps the impending war with the Beast Race has stirred up a restless energy, or maybe he is simply new to his post." His eyes then fell upon a letter resting on his desk.

Reluctant to summon the guard once more, Sanders furrowed his brow. "Guard!"

SLAM

The guard burst back into the room, his zeal unabated. "Yes, Prime M--"

"-Cease!" Sanders interjected firmly, his discomfort with the honorifics evident. He continued, "Who delivered this letter to my chamber?" His finger pointed towards the unopened missive lying on the table.

"My apologies, Prime Minister. I took the liberty of delivering it myself," the guard responded cheerfully, devoid of any guilt. Believing that owning up to his mistake was preferable to shifting blame or concealing it, he displayed a refreshing honesty.

Sanders took a deep breath, his patience wearing thin. "So, where did you procure this letter?" He had hoped another guard might provide an explanation, but fate seemed determined to thwart him.

"According to the reports from the soldiers on duty at the camp, after Witch Leona and Soldier Bastian diverted the attention of the Beast Race Sky Hunter, a Pegasus descended from the heavens, placing the letter in front of Witch Leona's tent," the guard explained with unabashed enthusiasm.

"Given that a Pegasus was used to deliver the letter, the soldier in charge hesitated to open it. They held onto the letter for several days, fearing its significance, before finally deciding to send it to the kingdom," the guard explained, taking a deep breath and eagerly awaiting his superior's response.

Sanders' countenance grew stern as he absorbed all the details. He took hold of the letter, scrutinizing it carefully. Could this be a clue left by them?

"Very well, you may return to your duties," Sanders said, feeling a weight lift as the guard left, his infectious enthusiasm no longer disrupting the atmosphere.

...

After much contemplation, Sanders finally opened the letter and began to read its contents.

"..." Sanders pondered, his mind delving into the words on the page.

To his disappointment, the letter contained no hidden indications of the Master Witch's location or any veiled messages of import. Instead, it was a heartfelt missive from the Master Witch's child, a simple and sincere expression of familial connection.

"Sigh, enough of these mind games," Sanders sighed, perusing the letter once more to ensure he hadn't missed any concealed meanings. Yet, time and again, he found only the honest sentiments of a family's bond. "It would be best to inform them about their parents alongside this letter."

Sanders swiftly composed a reply, sealing it with the weighty imprint of the royal seal. After rereading the letter one last time, he nodded in satisfaction, his gaze wavering toward the closed door.

SLAM

Startled, Sanders stumbled backward as the door swung open once more, revealing the same guard entering the room.

The guard appeared apologetic, sensing Sanders' readiness to hurl his work chair in response. "I apologize, Prime Minister Sanders, but one of the guards has brought a report regarding the incident at the tavern."

Initially perturbed by the guard's abrupt intrusion, Sanders' demeanor shifted upon hearing the mention of the tavern incident.

"Hand it over," Sanders commanded in a cold, detached tone, causing the guard to tremble as he handed the parchment containing the report.

"If there is nothing else, I shall take my leave," the guard quickly discerned Sanders' lack of receptiveness to idle chatter and wisely chose not to linger, excusing himself from the room.

In the midst of reading the report, a glimmer of triumph crossed Sanders' eyes. "Finally, I have uncovered the true culprit. With this revelation, my reputation will be restored in the eyes of the king."

"Guard!"

"YES!"

"Deliver my message to the king, informing him that I have discovered the identity of the true perpetrator behind the tavern incident." Sanders paused, his mind racing. "And make sure this letter reaches Master Witch Leona's residence." He tossed the letter to the guard before resuming his seat.

"Yes, I will convey the message immediately!" The guard's voice carried a mix of volume and trepidation.

"Good. You may return to your post."

As the guard departed, he glanced back, noticing that the light in Sanders' upper workroom had been extinguished. A worrisome thought struck him: could his superior have fallen victim to an assassination attempt?

Reaching for the door to the room, he was taken aback to find it already open.

"What's the matter?" Sanders emerged from the room, observing the guard's pale countenance. He recognized this particular guard due to his fervent nature.

"Nothing, Prime Minister," the guard replied hastily, hastening to resume his duty of safeguarding Sanders' room.

Observing the scene, Sanders shook his head and made his way to the bedroom. "Time for some much-needed rest," he thought with a tinge of excitement.

The following day, in the southern inner city, a slightly larger residence stood among the residential houses, boasting both a front and back yard.

From the exterior, this house shared a striking resemblance to its neighboring abode, with only its expansive plot of land setting it apart. If Desmond's house sprawled across vast grounds, complete with pastures and forests, this dwelling was merely a quarter of its size.

"Son, it's time to wake up." A gentle voice wafted from one of the rooms within the house.

Within the room, a 7-year-old child with brown hair lay nestled in bed, measuring approximately 120 cm in height.