Supreme Hunter of Beautiful Souls-Chapter 447: Elayne Valroth

The room Hella led him to was smaller than Kael had expected, but that made it all the more intimate. The walls were lined with polished dark wood, adorned with antique maps and discreet imperial symbols. There was no excessive luxury there—everything seemed calculated to convey power without ostentation. An unlit fireplace occupied one end, and in the center was a low table, set for two.

"Please," said Hella, indicating one of the chairs. "Take a seat."

Kael obeyed without haste, settling in a manner too relaxed for someone who had just provoked a small political massacre in the palace corridors.

Before any silence could linger, a figure appeared almost silently. A man of neutral appearance, impeccable attire, trained posture. A waiter—or something equivalent—carrying a tray with a dark bottle and two glasses.

"Wine?" he offered, with a slight, respectful nod.

Kael looked at Hella for a moment, then nodded.

"Of course."

The wine was served with almost ritualistic precision. As soon as the man left, Kael picked up the glass, swirling the liquid slowly, observing its color.

He looked up at Hella with a half-smile.

"You were prepared for this," he commented. "Private room. Wine. Private conversation right after a political uproar."

Hella leaned slightly back in the chair opposite, crossing her legs elegantly.

"Of course I was," she replied without any embarrassment. "I’m a strategist."

Kael let out a short, nasal laugh.

"Fair enough."

He took a small sip, more out of habit than pleasure, and then tilted his head, studying her more closely.

"You talked quite a bit about that younger girl," he said casually. "So I imagine that’s who you wanted to talk about so discreetly. That’s why the dinner invitation."

Hella laughed. A short, genuine laugh, without affectation.

"You’re good at this," he commented. "Politics."

Kael raised an eyebrow.

"I’ve never been involved in politics," she replied. "And frankly, I don’t care." He shrugged. "I just observe. People talk too much when they think they’re in control."

Hella smiled slightly.

"That’s politics."

Kael ignored the comment, taking another sip of wine. Then, as if something had finally decided to leave his mind, he asked:

"By the way..." He made a vague gesture with his glass. "What was that ’Witch King’ thing?"

Hella laughed again, this time with a touch of calculated amusement.

"Oh, that?" she replied. "It was just the most efficient way to kill a member of the royal family without suffering consequences."

Kael let out a short, genuine laugh.

"I figured."

Hella continued, raising her own glass, but without drinking yet.

"If I formally accused him, it would create a diplomatic incident. If I protected him in silence, it would seem like complicity. But by publicly acknowledging his title..." She tilted her head slightly. "I transformed death into hierarchy. Into inevitability."

She paused briefly.

"It was just—"

"Strategy," Kael finished, laughing, before she could complete the thought.

The two exchanged a look full of understanding.

"Exactly," Hella confirmed. "Strategy."

She finally drank her wine, observing Kael over the rim of her glass.

"You can say you don’t care," she continued, "but you understand very well how power works."

Kael set his glass down on the table.

"Understanding doesn’t mean liking," she replied. "Nor does it mean wanting to play."

Hella nodded slowly.

"Even so," she said, "the chessboard insists on pulling you to the center."

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. On the contrary. It was the kind of silence that only exists when both know they haven’t yet reached the real subject of the conversation.

Hella carefully set down her glass.

"But that," she added, "is a matter for later."

Kael leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, a slight smile appearing at the corner of his lips.

"Great," he said. "Because I have a feeling this night is going to be... long."

Hella smiled back. "They usually are."

Hella leaned back in her chair more firmly, as if she had finally decided to stop beating around the bush. The strategic smile softened, giving way to something more direct—still controlled, but less masked.

"Since we’re being honest," she said, crossing her hands on the table, "I don’t just want to protect her."

Kael looked up, attentive, but unhurried.

"I want to make her the next Empress."

The sentence hung in the air with enough weight to justify the silence that followed. The extinguished fireplace crackled slightly, as if the atmosphere reacted to the audacity of the statement.

Kael didn’t react immediately. He didn’t widen his eyes. He didn’t laugh. He only tilted his head slightly, taking it in.

"Ambitious," he finally commented.

"Necessary," Hella corrected. "The Empire won’t survive another reign of vanity. Hadrian’s eldest sons wouldn’t rule—they would consume."

She took a deep breath before continuing.

"The problem is that Hadrian doesn’t accept criticism when it comes to his sons. Especially the firstborn." Her tone hardened slightly. "He confuses insistence with merit. He thinks age and blood are enough."

Kael slowly swirled the wine glass between his fingers.

"And you want... what exactly from me?" he asked, without hostility.

Hella stared directly at him.

"Indirect influence. Political weight. Presence." She chose each word carefully. "You’re someone Hadrian respects. Listens to. Even when he disagrees."

Kael let out a low sigh.

"So you want to make sure the eldest doesn’t stand a chance."

"I want to make sure he doesn’t even get close to the throne," Hella replied bluntly. "Before it’s too late."

There was a brief silence.

Kael then set his glass down on the table and ran a hand over his face, clearly tired.

"Okay," he said. "Before you continue..."

He stared at her with an expression somewhere between serious and slightly irritated.

"Give me the names," he asked. "I can’t stand hearing ’the youngest’ and ’the eldest’ anymore."

For a second, Hella froze.

Then she blinked.

And, unexpectedly, burst into laughter.

She wasn’t restrained. She wasn’t elegant. It was a loud, genuine laugh, the kind that completely breaks the tension in a room.

"Right," she said between laughs, bringing her hand to her forehead. "Right, fair enough. My fault."

She took a deep breath, straightened her posture, and looked at him again with a more human smile.

"The youngest is called Elayne," she said. "Elayne Valroth."

Kael nodded slightly.

"And the oldest?" he asked.

Hella sighed, and the smile faded.

"Cassian," she replied. "Cassian Valroth."

The name sounded heavy. Laden with implications.

Kael leaned back slightly in his chair.

"Great," he said. "Now it seems we’re talking about people, not abstract pieces."

Hella nodded. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

"Because that’s exactly what it’s about," she replied. "People. And the future of an empire that’s already crumbling."

Kael was silent for a few seconds, his gaze distant.

"I promise nothing," he finally said. "I don’t do political favors for sport."

"I know," Hella replied. "That’s why I’m asking for help. Not demanding it."

Kael observed her, assessing not only her words, but what she didn’t say.

"But if Cassian is really a problem...," he continued slowly, "...then someone will have to deal with it sooner or later."

Hella smiled slightly.

"That’s all I needed to hear."

Kael was about to repeat the name when the door opened.

The soft sound of wood interrupted the conversation like a clean cut.

The young woman entered unceremoniously.

She wore a light, airy dress, suitable for the warm palace climate, a thin fabric that moved easily with each step. Her wide-brimmed hat cast a shadow over part of her face, adorned with small bluish details that resembled delicate wings. Her brown hair fell loose, long, with a few strands pinned up in a practical, unornamental way. There was something about her that didn’t match the excess of the palace—no heavy jewelry, no blatant ostentation. She was... too simple for someone from that place.

And yet, impossible to ignore.

Her gaze was cold. Not empty—attentive. The gaze of someone observing before reacting. She assessed the room, Hella, the wine, Kael... everything in a few seconds, as if she were creating a mental map.

Kael had that impression immediately: cold. Controlled. Distant.

Until she looked directly at him.

Her eyes slowly rose, stopping at Kael’s long red hair, still partially tied back, his posture too relaxed for someone in that position. For a second, silence stretched.

Then she spoke, completely casually: "Wow... you’re fucking hot." Time froze.

The servant almost dropped the bottle. Kael blinked, genuinely surprised, and Hella took exactly half a second to react.

"TOCK."

The tap landed squarely.

"Respect, Elayne," Hella said dryly, without raising her voice.

The young woman put her hand to her head, more out of habit than pain, and grimaced.

"Ow. Okay, okay..." she murmured. Then she looked at Kael again, now with a cheeky half-smile. "I take back the ’damn it.’ Just... pretty. There."

Kael let out a short, involuntary laugh.

"Direct," he commented. "I like that."

Hella sighed, running a hand over her face.

"This one," she said, pointing to the young woman, "is Elayne Valroth. The ’newest.’ Now with a name, as you requested."

Elayne tilted her head slightly, a gesture somewhere between politeness and mockery.

"So you’re Kael," she said. "The guy who made half the palace panic today."

Kael raised his wine glass in a lazy toast.

"That wasn’t the plan. But it happens."

She watched him for another second. The easy smile vanished, replaced by something more serious. The cold look returned—not of contempt, but of calculation.

"Aunt," Elayne said, turning to Hella, "if he already knows... then you don’t need to pretend with me, do you?"

Hella stood still for a moment.

Then nodded slowly.

"No. You don’t need to."

Elayne looked back at Kael.

"Then let me guess," she said calmly. "You’re here because my older brother can’t get the throne."

Kael rested his elbow on the table, genuinely interested now.

"You learn fast." She shrugged.

"I’ll watch," she replied. "Someone needs to do this in this family."

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable.

It was dangerous.