Chryses Napella18+

I stood at the gates of Petillia, the heavy ironwork casting long, serrated shadows across the stone. I wouldn't have come here if it weren't a royal order, or if it didn't involve the life of a child. A year had passed since I entered the service of Queen Olette, a cozy, purposeful job that had finally given my people a home, and one I hoped to return to as quickly as possible. I sighed, adjusting the strap of my alchemical pack, and pushed open the castle doors. I was immediately greeted by the scent of earth and the sight of more of those glowing bluebell flowers lining the hall. A man came rushing toward me, his face a mask of frantic desperation. "Whoa, hold your horses, buddy," I said,