SPELLCRAFT: Reincarnation Of A Magic Scholar

You dare defy me?"

The girl hissed, her tail snapping sharply behind her like an agitated serpent.

Neron could feel the weight of the crowd's eyes on him, their collective anticipation pressing down like a heavy blanket. Though his instincts screamed at him to diffuse the situation, his pride wouldn't let him back down completely.

"I already said it was an accident," Neron replied evenly, his tone firm but not disrespectful. "I don't think kneeling is necessary."

Upon saying this, he made to leave the area and completely ignore the girl. Unfortunately for him, it wasn't over yet.

"Hey, human!" The sharp, commanding voice froze him in place.

Turning slowly, he saw the same horned girl from earlier standing a few feet away, her arms crossed and her tail flicking sharply behind her. Her crimson eyes bore into him, and a small entourage of guards flanked her, each one carrying an air of menace.

"You still haven't knelt," she said coldly, her voice cutting through the noise of the market like a blade.

Neron sighed, feeling his patience wearing thin. "Look, I already apologized. It was an accident. What more do you want from me?"

"Respect," she replied, stepping closer. The crowd began to gather again, their murmurs swelling as they realized the confrontation wasn't over.

Neron clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. "Respect is earned, not demanded."

The girl's eyes narrowed, and her tail lashed once more. "You've got a sharp tongue for someone so insignificant."

"Maybe I do," Neron shot back, his irritation bubbling over. "But I'm not about to grovel for something so petty."

The tension between them crackled like lightning. A collective gasp rippled through the onlookers as the girl's expression darkened. Without warning, she lunged forward, her clawed hand swiping at him with surprising speed.

Neron reacted instinctively, ducking low and sidestepping her attack. "Hey! What's your problem?"

"You insult me, refuse to kneel, and now you're dodging?" she snarled, her tail whipping dangerously close to him.

"I'm dodging because you're trying to claw my face off!"

The guards surrounding her tensed, ready to intervene, but the girl raised a hand to stop them. "Stay back. I'll handle this myself."

Neron didn't have much of a chance to protest as she lunged again, her movements fluid and precise. He blocked her next strike with his forearm, the impact sending a jolt up his arm. She was stronger than she looked, and it took everything he had to hold his ground.

"I don't want to fight you!" he said through gritted teeth, deflecting another swipe.

"Too bad," she hissed, her crimson eyes blazing with fury. "You should have thought of that before insulting me."

Neron tried to create some distance between them, but the girl was relentless. Her strikes were quick and deliberate, each one forcing him to stay on the defensive. He could feel the crowd's eyes on him, their whispers growing louder with each passing second.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered, narrowly avoiding a strike aimed at his ribs.

Finally, one of the guards stepped forward, his voice booming. "Enough, Lady Celis. The market isn't the place for this."

The girl—Celis—halted mid-strike, her gaze flicking to the guard. Her tail lashed behind her, but she didn't argue. With a sharp nod, she stepped back, though her glare remained fixed on Neron.

"Arrest him," she ordered, her tone cold and imperious.

"What?" Neron exclaimed, his eyes widening.

"You dared to strike a member of the royal family and resisted her commands. That's treason," one of the guards explained, stepping toward him with a pair of glowing restraints.

"I didn't strike anyone!" Neron protested, though he didn't resist as the guard secured his wrists.

"You resisted her authority. That's enough," the guard replied, his tone clipped.

Neron bit back another retort, knowing it would only make things worse. As the guards led him away, he caught a glimpse of Celis smirking, her satisfaction evident.

"This day just keeps getting better," he muttered under his breath.

*********

The dungeon was cold and damp, the stone walls covered in patches of moss. Neron sat on a hard bench, his arms crossed as he stared at the faintly glowing restraints around his wrists. He could have fought back. He could have escaped. But he knew that would only escalate things further, and the last thing he needed was to make Lilith's life more complicated.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the corridor, drawing his attention. Moments later, Lilith appeared, her expression unreadable as she approached the cell.

"You've been busy," she remarked, her crimson eye glinting with amusement.

"Lilith," Neron started, standing up. "I can explain—"

"Save it," she interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. "I already know what happened."

"How?"

Lilith smirked. "Let's just say my friend has ears everywhere."

Before he could ask what she meant, the guards unlocked the cell and removed his restraints. Neron rubbed his wrists, shooting Lilith a questioning look.

"They're letting me go?"

"Yes," she replied simply, turning on her heel and motioning for him to follow.

Neron hurried after her, his confusion evident. "Why? I thought I committed treason or something."

"You did," Lilith said casually. "But my friend is quite influential. They pulled a few strings."

"Your friend…" Neron trailed off, his curiosity piqued. "Who exactly are they?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Lilith replied cryptically, her smirk widening.

They left the dungeon and stepped into the sunlight, the warmth a stark contrast to the cold, dark cell. A carriage awaited them, its intricate design indicating it was no ordinary mode of transport.

"Get in," Lilith said, climbing inside.

Neron followed, still trying to process everything that had happened. The ride to their destination was short, and when they arrived, Neron's jaw nearly dropped.

The Royal Palace of F'ederan was a marvel of architecture, its towering spires adorned with glowing crystals that cast a soft light over the surrounding gardens.

"We're staying here?" Neron asked, his disbelief evident.

"For now," Lilith replied, stepping out of the carriage. "They've offered us accommodations during our stay."

Their assigned quarters were spacious and luxurious, complete with a bathing area and a balcony overlooking the palace gardens.

"Freshen up," Lilith instructed, gesturing toward the bathing area. "We'll talk after."

Neron nodded, grateful for the chance to wash off the grime from his time in the dungeon. The warm water was a welcome relief, and by the time he emerged, he felt like a new person.

Lilith was waiting for him in the sitting area, a glass of wine in hand.

"Alright," she said, gesturing for him to sit. "Tell me everything."

Neron recounted the events of the day, from his initial encounter with Celis to the scuffle in the marketplace. Lilith listened intently, her expression unreadable as he spoke.

"She slapped you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," Neron replied, his tone exasperated. "And then she tried to claw my face off."

Lilith chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Sounds like her, all right."

"You know her?"

"Not personally," Lilith admitted. "But I know her father. He's an old acquaintance of mine."

As if on cue, the door to their quarters opened, and a commanding presence filled the room.

"Speak of the devil," Lilith said, rising to her feet.

Neron turned to see who had entered, his breath catching in his throat. Standing in the doorway was a towering figure, his horns curling elegantly and his eyes gleaming with authority.

"You should come and say hello, Neron.," Lilith turned to him with a smile. "This guy is the king of F'ederan."

"W-what?!" Neron swiftly jumped to his feet.

"Yup! His name is Rhogar… and I can already guess why he's here."

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