Li Mei circled slightly, eyes scanning his noble features, the elegant royal cloak draped over young shoulders, the way his hand gripped his spear with a determination that looked almost too big for his age.
"Who dressed you, little prince? You look like you stepped off a drama poster—bet you've got girls falling over you back home."
Behind Alaric, his captain's jaw tensed.
"Your highness," he whispered grimly, "her tongue is twisted, incomprehensible—likely a servant of dark magic."
Alaric's jaw tightened, his grip firm but controlled. Though he couldn't understand her tongue, the teasing spark in her eye spoke clearly enough.
Li Mei smirked and gave a casual wink, her voice teasing, "You're going to break hearts in this world, princeling… assuming you can survive ten minutes without stabbing a vending machine."
Alaric kept his head high, his heart pounding—not from fear, but from the simmering determination of a young ruler cast into a foreign world.
He whispered back to his captain, "Ignore the taunts… she knows not who I am… but she will."
The woman stood casually beside her strange metal beast, amusement glinting in her eyes as she openly studied the formation of armored warriors. Her gaze lingered on Alaric, tall despite his youth, posture regal beneath the silver gleam of his hair.
Her tone was light, her words swift and unfamiliar, but the way she gestured — carefree, bold — was unmistakable. "Alright, little prince… what's this? A movie set? Lost theater troupe? Or just really committed cosplay?"
Behind Alaric, a low murmur stirred among his soldiers, their disciplined lines momentarily uneasy.
One of the warriors leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice with careful deference.
"Your Highness… the woman's expression… it is far too bold when addressing your noble person."
Another warrior, hand resting on his spear, spoke grimly, "Her posture is devoid of humility… her tongue dances as though… to mock. Is such behavior customary among the common folk of this land?"
A third, older warrior, voice quiet but respectful, added, "Forgive my words, my Lord… but her tone holds neither reverence nor fear. It is… unsettling."
Alaric remained motionless, spear firm in hand, his gaze unwavering. Though he understood none of her words, the lack of formality in her bearing was impossible to miss.
The captain, standing nearest to Alaric, took a measured step forward and bowed his head slightly in respect before speaking.
"Your Highness… I humbly request permission to address the woman. It is improper for one of your stature to endure such casualness unchecked… Allow me to speak… or to remind her, through presence alone, whom she stands before."
Alaric's jaw tensed, but his command held. His sharp eyes watched the woman's every movement. She smiled, relaxed, circling slightly with a glint of mischief, utterly lacking fear.
Li Mei tilted her head with a grin, giving Alaric a slow, deliberate once-over before waving at the assembled warriors. "So… who's the boss here? You, handsome princeling, or your grumpy giant friend in the back?"
The soldiers bristled subtly, one whispering with utmost respect, "Your Highness… she questions your authority… openly… before the eyes of your oathbound warriors."
Another added quietly, "Your highness … her manner is… dangerously light… for one addressing sovereign blood."
The captain's shoulders stiffened, fists tightening slightly at his sides. "Say the word, my Lord… and I will act as your spear."
Alaric took a slow breath, his command voice steady. "No… remain as you are," he replied, speaking to his men in their tongue with calm authority. "Her customs… are unknown… her actions… strange, but not yet hostile. We will observe… and hold our dignity intact."
Li Mei gave an exaggerated shrug, her grin undiminished. "Not a talker, huh? Mysterious type… interesting."
The company stood silent, disciplined but wary, their young prince unwavering, their confusion growing, but their loyalty absolute.
Li Mei's grin widened as she pulled out her glowing phone, turning the camera toward Alaric and his formation. Her thumb danced across the screen as she casually lifted her other hand into a cheerful peace sign, angling herself to take a photo with the strange, armored company standing like statues behind her.
Click—another photo.
Click—a quick selfie, leaning in Alaric's direction with a wink.
"Come on, prince, at least smile a little. Look menacing, regal, anything—don't just stand there like someone froze you in place."
Alaric's sharp eyes flickered toward the glowing rectangle in her hand, then to the strange two-fingered sign she had thrown up earlier. He frowned, lips pressing into a thoughtful line.
The woman, sensing their hesitation, gave a little grin and once again raised her hand, fingers forming a peace sign, tilting her head as if posing for a picture.
(Come on, let's get a photo together.)
Alaric turned slightly to his captain, lowering his voice.
"Did you see that? Some form of challenge… or perhaps a token of peace."
The captain squinted, adjusting his grip on his spear.
"Or… a warding sign against spirits… or a demand to submit…"
Before Alaric could decide, one of the younger soldiers, determined to avoid dishonouring his lord, stepped forward boldly, raising his hand in a stiff, awkward attempt at the peace sign—but with three fingers instead of two, arm stretched awkwardly skyward like a broken tree branch.
The woman burst out laughing, nearly falling to the ground, her eyes crinkling in amusement.
(Hahaha… what are you guys even doing… is this some comedy troupe?)
Encouraged by what they interpreted as a positive reaction, more of the warriors followed suit—some holding up two fingers, some three, some even clutching their swords in the same pose, their faces dead serious as though participating in a sacred ritual.
The captain, hesitating for a moment, finally grimaced and threw up a rigid peace sign of his own, muttering, "For the honor of the empire… we adapt."
Alaric, struggling to maintain his dignity, raised his hand last—his fingers forming the closest approximation he could manage. However, with the spear still in his grip, it resembled more a victory salute than anything else.
The woman nearly doubled over, wheezing with laughter, wiping her eyes.
(This is priceless… the whole squad's out here roleplaying in the mountains.)
One of the warriors whispered to another, frowning. "Do you think we passed the trial?"
The other replied grimly, "It appears… we have won her approval."
Alaric sighed, spear still raised awkwardly, the hundred warriors of the Selvaris standing proudly beneath the foreign moon… all throwing peace signs in total silence, utterly bewildered, yet strangely victorious.
The first cultural exchange between worlds… was absolute chaos.
As the uneasy peace-sign standoff lingered in the night, a strange pulse stirred in the air around Alaric. Deep within the folds of his royal cloak, the ancient book—the one entrusted to him by his mother—began to tremble faintly, as though it had awakened from a long, dreamless slumber.
Alaric's face was shocked.
A subtle glow seeped through the leather bindings, soft at first, then growing warmer, threads of silver magic snaking along his forearm, coiling around his wrist like living moonlight.
His fingers involuntarily tightened around his spear, the familiar weight of the weapon suddenly feeling lighter, sharper, as unseen energy coursed through his veins. A cold sweat formed at the nape of his neck—not from fear of the armored beast or the grinning woman before them, but from this… unexpected awakening.
Only Alaric felt it. The warriors at his back stood oblivious, their attention fixed on the strange women and her mechanical steed. The woman continued to laugh, snapping another photo, clearly entertained.
Alaric swallowed hard, his gaze flickering down toward the book hidden under his cloak, its glow subsiding just as quickly as it had surged, leaving behind a lingering thrum in his chest—a low vibration in his bones, a whisper without words, as though the book had momentarily… recognized something.
The young heir's jaw tightened, muscles coiling in restrained confusion. He pressed his hand subtly over his chest, feeling the residual warmth of the magic's passage.
Whatever this realm was… whatever forces had stirred… it seemed the book's secrets were bound to me. And Alaric, whether ready or not, was tethered to a destiny unfolding far from home.