Mirror Princess: A LitRPG Space Fantasy (Sword of Asteria Book 2)

by Eddie R. Hicks

  Ulysses put his hands on his hips and sighed. “Was afraid you’d say that.”

  “After what I saw happen on Faeheim and Mennaze,” Guy said. “I’m not turning my back on these people. I refuse to let the sentinels and their pawns murder innocents to gather more crystals for their collection.”

  “Plus the White Dragon, Guy,” Rachael added.

  “Right. It wanted us to come to Alfheimr to find Averyl and question Nijana. Both are connected to this, I’m sure of it.”

  “So, do we have your support?” François spoke up.

  “First things first,” Guy said and returned to address the man on the throne. “Where is Princess Averyl Autumnfall? When we last checked, a Nox Knight named Wylume who pulled the empire’s strings was obsessed with marrying her for some special plan. Something tells me the empire isn’t just here for the harvest. They also know that Averyl is here and want her back.”

  “Some of my men long suspected that was the true reason the fae came to our world and allied with the dark elves,” Tempeste said.

  “Let’s secure Averyl’s safety first,” Guy said.

  François steepled his fingers together and raised his eyebrow. “Then will you help us?”

  “We’ll do what we can,” Guy said. “As star-dwellers, we’re not supposed to be interfering with land-dweller politics. But we’ve been cut off from the fleet, rolling on our own and making up our own rules. So yeah, we can lend a hand, but keep in mind, we’re still undergeared and underleveled when compared to your people.”

  “But you are star-dwellers,” François said. “Can you not use your machina?”

  “Thing is, our weapons don’t work well on the afflicted,” Guy explained. “We’re no better than your people.”

  “Not true,” François waved his hand in the open space ahead of his face, forging his Inventory screen to appear. The king pulled out a hypospray. “We have collected many items that star-dwellers can only use. They are useless to us but useful to you.” He tossed Guy the hypo, and he caught it with one hand, rather swiftly too. Guy’s agility rose, having leveled up recently. “And you are a Paladin . . . nobody else on this world has ever seen someone with your class.”

  “I get that a lot,” Guy snorted.

  He peered at the hypo’s small information screen floating above it.

  Hypospray: AP

  Recovers AP equal to 20% of your max AP.

  Useable by: Star-dwellers

  “Holy shit.” He looked back at the king. “How many of these do you have?”

  “More than I would like to admit,” François said. “You can have them all free of charge if you assist us. In addition, we possess a surplus of Rank C weapons and equipment in our armory that we can lend you.”

  Guy slipped the hypospray into his trench coat pocket. “Give us some time to think about this? I’d like to come up with a plan first, giving the level and gear disadvantage we have.”

  “Of course,” François said to him. “But do not take too long. Our end draws nearer each day we are not pushing New Svartálfar back.”

  A Quest screen popped up in front of Guy.

  Galaxy Defenders: Lumière

  Objective: Defend the Lumière Kingdom from the Autumnfall Empire and New Svartálfar alliance.

  Issued by: White Dragon

  Reward: 5000 Experience Points

  Accept quest? Yes/No

  Well, we’re definitely on the right track. Guy accepted the quest, then shared it with his friends.

  There was nothing else to add, so Guy, Rachael, and Ulysses took their leave. Tempeste had remained behind to brief her father on what she experienced. The three left the castle and looked at Lumière City from their location on top of the hill.

  Ulysses was the first to speak up.

  “So, gallant Paladin,” he said. “How do we help these people when our opponents are higher level, better geared, and the Seraphim is still down for the count? If they can’t win, how do they expect us to help?”

  Guy faced him with crossed arms. “You got a better idea, Ulysses?”

  “Let’s finish the White Dragon’s quest,” Ulysses said. “Find the real Averyl, learn why she has a double. After that, we get the Seraphim back online and get the fuck out of here—”

  “You want to take off?!” Rachael cut in, her grimacing face projecting her disapproval of Ulysses’s suggestion. “Is that what you want? To leave these poor people to their deaths?!”

  Ulysses grunted, shook his head, and stepped away from Guy and Rachael. “Have you two not learned any lessons from Faeheim and Mennaze?”

  “You can leave if you want, Ulysses,” Rachael said. “Guy and I are going to stay here.”

  “So you and Guy have learned nothing. What a shame.”

  “Oh, Guy, just in time!”

  Xanthe had flown above the three, flapping her raven wings to keep her floating above. The shadow angel descended from her flight and landed behind Guy, laying her chin on his shoulder. Guy was afraid to look at Rachael’s expression.

  “Guess what I found, darling?” Xanthe said to him.

  “A place to stay?” Guy asked.

  “The best one.” Xanthe pointed at a chateau at the far edge of the city with a massive, luscious green front yard. “Behold, Averyl’s new home.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  A sentinel ship descended from the thick clouds, gray like the jagged mountains below the starship. The sentinel vessel flared its thrusters, slowing the ship’s descent to the dark elf capital city in New Svartálfar, a frozen fortress city built in the snowcapped mountains in Alfheimr’s infamous icy northern region. An opened airship platform overhanging the ice palace’s wall provided space for the sentinel ship’s landing gear to touch down. You could see the city below the platform if you got close to its rail-less edge. Its citizens looked like ants from their position.

  The sentinel ship’s main entrance slithered open with a soft hiss. A boarding ramp lowered to the snow-dusted platform. Ahead of the ship stood six dark elf men with skin tones ranging from dark gray, purple, or green, ethereal lances in hand, their half-naked bodies decorated with shimmering sigils. Come to think of it, the dark elf soldiers only wore loincloths and opened chain vests.

  Smart move, Serzax Sheer thought as he emerged from the sentinel ship’s darkness. Serzax wore a thick fur coat that kept his face and long silver hair covered in mystery and protected from the subzero winds that blew past.

  Serzax walked down the ship’s ramp first, his sabatons clanking against its metallic surface, his Nocturnal Blade shaking with each step. General Heral Leafblade followed behind with a massive two-handed great sword sheathed to the back of his fur coat. Emeraldal Riversong stepped off the ship afterward, keeping her new bow steady as it remained slung over her shoulder. Finally, the Cleric, Veronis Greenwillow, departed and stood with Serzax’s party while the sentinel ship retracted its boarding ramp, then shut its door.

  The gathering of dark elf guards, unfazed by the wind chill, held their static pose as Serzax approached. He gave them a quick glance.

  New Svartálfar Lookout (Spell Lancer) | LVL: 29 | Rank: A

  Level 29 was the lowest level dark elf he saw. On the ice palace’s walls stood dark elf Mages on patrol, half-naked just like the Spell Lancers ahead. Their queen favored classes with MP bars and regulated them to wear as little protection to give space for their sigils. The dark elves had weak defense but made up for it with their overwhelming magical firepower, granted to them by their sigils.

  Beyond the six Spell Lancers sat the dark elf queen on her throne chair, carried by the brawny arms of four men, one for each corner of the chair. Like the other dark elves, the gust of extremely chilly wind had little to no effect on their queen. The wind forced Serzax and his party to readjust their oversized fur coats.

  The four men lowered the throne, bowed, then gave space for the queen to rise up and walk past the six Spell Lancers. Howling winds lifted the side of her loinclo
th and rustled the thin strip of purple fabric that circled her upper torso, strategically covering just enough flesh on her ample breasts to say that she was not topless. That was all she wore, outside the long finger gloves, decorated with gems.

  New Svartálfar Queen (Mage) | LVL: 38 | Rank: A

  Dozens of sigils covered her body, so much that it was hard to realize that her natural skin color was light purple.

  Her black heel boots clicked through the snow as she walked away from the chair and stood in front of Serzax, grinning deviously at him with her lips covered in glittering white cosmetics. It was white like the queen’s hair draping her bare shoulders.

  “Welcome to New Svartálfar, Serzax,” the queen said. “I am Meridtila, supreme ruler of the north. It is an honor to finally meet you, human.” She looked behind Serzax, wincing. “Is Emperor Jaxin Autumnfall not coming?”

  “He has much to attend to on Faeheim,” Serzax said.

  “Ah, I see,” Meridtila said. “What a shame. I was hoping to meet with the fae emperor, face to face.”

  “The conquest of Faeheim has suffered a minor setback.”

  “So I have heard. Well then, follow me. Your body must desire escape from the cold.”

  Meridtila strode to the ice palace’s opened entrance. Shimmering sigils decorated her back too. Meridtila quite possibly had learned every spell a Mage could cast. The Spell Lancer guards took multiple steps back to give Meridtila and Serzax’s party space to walk, then spun and marched behind, keeping their ethereal lances steady. They did not trust Serzax and the fae he brought.

  Serzax kept pace with the dark queen, walking shoulder to shoulder with her. “From whom?” he asked her.

  “Hmm?”

  “Who told you about the setback the empire suffered on Faeheim?” Serzax asked.

  “The fae your sentinels delivered ahead of you,” Meridtila said. “They chat a lot.”

  “The resistance has grown an extra pair of balls and continues to aid the Firethorn Kingdom.”

  She cackled. “And now you split your forces to come to our world.”

  “It was necessary,” Serzax said as they continued through the halls of the frozen palace, its blue walls, and ceiling covered with jagged icicles. “If what you say is true.”

  “It is true,” Meridtila said. “A fae woman lives within the Lumière Kingdom, baring the resemblance of Averyl Autumnfall.”

  They entered the palace’s deeper levels built for visitors, not that the dark elves hosted many guests. Serzax imagined that visiting star-dwellers would stay there if they came to trade, back before the reality corruption changed the planet Alfheimr. Wood-burning fireplaces brought warmth to his cold joints. He avoided glaring at the light from the flames. Bad enough the daytime light had given him a mild headache after stepping off the sentinel ship. Much like Serzax, the dark elves avoided the sun whenever they could. And like him, they pledged their allegiance to the flags hanging on the walls—flags with the insignia of a sword stabbing the moon.

  It was a shame the dark elves knew nothing of their flag’s origins.

  Meridtila stopped in the middle of a narrow hallway, her lace-gloved finger pointed at the doors along the sides. “We have prepared rooms for you and your companions,” she said.

  “Thank you,” Serzax said and lowered his head in a bow.

  Leafblade, Veronis, and Emeraldal meandered to their assigned sleeping chambers. Emeraldal snarled on the way to hers. And it drew the attentive, pointed ears of the dark elf queen, forcing Serzax to grab Emeraldal’s arm and yank her to him.

  “Try to keep your negativity at a minimum, Emeraldal,” he whispered to her.

  “My bow . . .”

  “Is gone. Get over it.”

  “It was forged using materials my brother harvested!”

  “Yes, I know. We have had this talk.”

  Emeraldal’s brother was dead, killed by resistance fighters while harvesting the wood to craft her bow. Emeraldal’s Bow did not just turn her into a Ranger. It had sentimental value to her. Even when Emeraldal leveled up and had to use a stronger bow, she planned to keep the first one she had to honor her brother’s memory. Those star-dwellers took Emeraldal’s bow when they fled from Mennaze. Serzax ended up snarling at himself. Those star-dwellers took a lot from him, the empire, and the sentinel’s plan for the galaxy.

  He released Emeraldal from his firm grip. “Please do not take your anger out on our hosts, Emeraldal.”

  “I shall do my best, milord.”

  Emeraldal approached her chamber’s door, opened it, and slipped inside. It was just Meridtila and Serzax in the hall with her protective Spell Lancers standing in the back. Serzax stepped to the purple-skinned, white-haired queen.

  “Now, please inform me of the status of your army and airship fleets,” Serzax said to her. “We have much work to do.”

  She grinned. “Do you not want to settle into your room first?”

  “I rest better when I know that I have a plan of action.”

  Meridtila held the grin and walked circles around Serzax, studying him up and down. The queen’s lavender scent perfume was intoxicating. Her icy hand stroked the side of his left torso, then rose to touch his arm. She never let go.

  “You are tense,” Meridtila whispered into his ear. “Unwind first over a glass of wine before you make a poor decision.”

  “Meridtila,” he snorted.

  “Yes?”

  And pulled his arm from her grip, spun, and looked down at her. “Touch me like that again, and I will kill you.”

  Meridtila cackled and touched his arm again. “What? Like this?—”

  Serzax grabbed her wrist and squeezed it hard, reminding Meridtila, a Mage, that even though she was 8 levels higher than him, Nox Knight’s had greater strength. He pressed her so hard she lost one point of HP.

  The Spell Lancer guards aimed the tips of their lances at Serzax and awaited their queen’s orders. Meridtila gave no orders. She just maintained her smirk, licked her lips, and fixed her eyes on his.

  “So, what was it you were going to do to me?” Meridtila asked. “You really ought to have that wine, and perhaps . . .”

  Serzax leaned closer. “And perhaps what?”

  Meridtila wailed during her third orgasm. She was on her canopy bed within her private chamber, getting fucked by Serzax from behind as she remained on all fours. A few empty wine bottles and glasses rolled off the edge of the bed during their romp. The glassware hit the carpeted floor with a loud thud and shattered upon impact.

  Serzax did not give a shit. It was not his mess to clean. He held the sides of Meridtila’s naked waist and grinned at his ramming prick, burrowing into her wet cunt to the sound of her arse cheeks clapping against his muscular thighs. Her cunt was much warmer than her heart.

  He kept his face away from the daytime light that shone through her bedroom window. No need to go limp because sunlight burned his eyes. Serzax’s finish was drawing near. He shut his eyes to focus while beads of sweat rolled down his chiseled pecs and hard abs.

  Meridtila buried her face into the pillow, raised her arse up as her heavy, voluptuous breasts squished into the white sheets. She reached for her clit and rubbed it with fury. She came instantly, and he felt her pulsing orgasm on his cock. Her vagina walls were contracting like it was trying to squeeze seed from his prick. The surge of pleasure weakened Meridtila’s knees and hands, forcing the dark queen to fall onto the bed. His cock slipped from her dripping hole. Serzax lowered himself, held his prick, and pushed it back into her cunt. He resumed thrusting, and this time lay on top of her purple, dark elf body—

  Meridtila came again, just a few seconds after she recovered from the previous one. He seized her backside steady and pumped her faster.

  “I am . . .” Meridtila moaned into the pillow. “. . . coming . . .”

  Serzax smiled. “And I shall be coming right behind you.”

  “Come inside me.”

  He snorted. “Heh, I think no
t.”

  “I was born over three hundred years ago,” she purred. “I am well past the age of childbearing.”

  Her words fell on deaf ears. Serzax pulled his cock out of her, held it with one hand as it squirted his seed out, smothering the sigils on her back with a splash of white.

  “Ugh, ah!” He grunted. His release sent an orgasmic rush through his body, and, for a moment, Serzax lost track of how much time passed as he remained there, holding his hard, throbbing prick. He was still coming all over her backside when he opened his eyes. “Ah! Ugh! Yes!”

  Heavy breathing echoed throughout the queen’s bedroom. Serzax took a few minutes to catch himself, released his cock from his hand, the shaft from head to base covered in a layer of her lubrication.

  “Past the age of childbearing, you say?” Serzax said and walked away from the canopy bed. He reached for a towel lying on the nightstand, wiped his sweaty chest clean, then returned to Meridtila. “Could have fooled me.”

  She remained on her front, breathing heavily. At first, Serzax thought she was still coming. Then he saw her reach for her backside and his seed sprayed over it. She was trying to smear her cunt with it. He threw the towel on her and wiped his seed off. Every drop of it. None touched her pussy, still gaped open from his cock.

  Meridtila growled, sat up, and looked as he flung the seed-covered towel over the broken wine bottle on the floor.

  “How so?” she finally spoke.

  “You are as tight as a woman in her late teens,” Not to mention she looks like it. He doubted Meridtila was as old as she claimed to be.

  She pressed her hands into the white sheets and leaned back. “We elves live for centuries.”

  “And can bear children for a few of those centuries,” Serzax said. “I have no plans on becoming your king.”

  “Why not? You would make a wonderful king.” Meridtila gawked at his chest. “And you tattooed our flag onto your body.”

  On Serzax’s abs were the tattooed image of a sword piercing the moon, the same image seen on the flags of New Svartálfar. Only, his tattoo was not their flag. It just looked like it. He grinned. Meridtila just showed her age without saying it. She was nothing more than some young heir who became the queen with her parents and siblings passing from the war with the light elves. Or by a dagger in her hand.