The Extra's Transcension-Chapter 116: Windsor [1]

"Mother,"

Margaret said, bowing slightly.

Jessica didn't look up immediately.

Her voice, when it came, was calm but sharp as glass.

"Margaret. You're early today. Is there a reason?"

Margaret hesitated for a second before nodding.

"There is, Mother. It's about the recent explosion in the Northern plaza." 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

Jessica's quill paused mid-stroke.

"The explosion,"

She repeated softly.

"Yes, I've heard vague reports, uncontrolled mana discharge, possible anomaly. No one's told me the full extent yet."

Margaret stepped closer.

"Professor Eugene Darcyroix brought Lyrium

to the infirmary. He was severely injured but stable. They said the entire plaza was torn apart by the blast."

Jessica finally looked up, her cool blue eyes focusing on Margaret.

"Lyrium Blackwood…"

She murmured.

"That name always finds its way into trouble, doesn't it?"

Margaret's tone softened.

"He's one of the most capable… Umm… sages we have, Mother. Whatever that explosion was… it wasn't an accident."

Jessica leaned back slightly, her quill resting on the desk.

"You sound certain."

"I am,"

Margaret said.

"And that's why I came. I want to go to Backthorn, to represent the human side in the alliance talks."

Jessica's brow arched, faint amusement in her gaze.

"The alliance with the Elves, Dwarves, and Draconic Council? That's hardly a casual meeting, Margaret. You're still a student, not a diplomat."

Margaret held her ground.

"Maybe. But I've studied inter-race policy since I was twelve. And you know as well as I do that the elves won't trust just anyone. They'll trust someone of the Windsor bloodline before they trust a council official."

Jessica was silent, her gaze unreadable.

Margaret took another step forward, her voice gaining strength.

"Please, Mother. I know my role in this family's politics is small, but this isn't just politics. The Academy's explosion… the sudden shift in mana across the north… it's all connected. You've seen the reports too."

Jessica rested her chin on one hand, studying the young woman in front of her.

"You've grown bold, Margaret. Perhaps a little too bold."

"It's not boldness,"

Margaret replied quietly.

"It's responsibility."

For a long moment, Jessica said nothing.

The only sound in the room was the faint ticking of the wall clock.

Then, finally, she rose from her chair.

"Very well,"

Jessica said at last.

"You'll go to Backthorn, as an observer. Officially, you'll be accompanying the Council's envoys for academic research. Nothing more."

Margaret blinked in surprise.

"So… you're approving it?"

Jessica gave a small smile.

"I'm approving it, yes. But don't mistake my permission for trust. You'll take Shion with you, she's clever, and she has her own reasons to see what's happening beyond the borders."

Margaret hesitated, then nodded.

"Understood."

Jessica turned toward the window, her expression dimming slightly as she gazed out over the estate gardens.

"Whatever caused that explosion… it was no ordinary phenomenon. The air that day felt…"

She paused

"…Unnatural. Almost alive. I've seen that kind of disturbance only once before."

Margaret frowned.

"When?"

Jessica's lips curved into a faint, humorless smile.

"Before you were born."

"…."

A hush fell between them again, heavy and quiet.

Margaret bowed her head.

"Then I'll go, Mother. I'll find out what I can and return."

Jessica gave a small nod, her tone softening just slightly.

"Be careful, Margaret. Curiosity is a good servant, but a cruel master. Don't let it drag you where you can't return."

Margaret smiled faintly, stepping back toward the door.

"I'll remember that."

As the heavy doors closed behind her, Jessica looked once more toward the horizon, where faint traces of red and violet mana shimmered in the distance.

"Backthorn…"

She whispered to herself.

"If the balance is shifting again, then the world is closer to repeating history than anyone realizes."

***

Margaret stepped out of the grand hall, the heavy double doors closing behind her with a muted thud that echoed faintly down the marble corridor.

The vast estate of House Windsor was always eerily quiet when night approached, that strange hour when the sunlight bled gold through the glass ceilings and turned every shadow into a stretching silhouette.

Her boots clicked softly on the pristine floor, her reflection following in the polished stone.

"Haa…"

She exhaled.

"Alright, that went… better than I expected."

Mother Jessica had agreed, reluctantly, to her request to visit the Backthorn in the name of diplomacy.

Of course, Jessica had also made her recite every possible reason and precaution before giving in.

The recent explosion in the Northern plaza had shaken the capital to its core.

News had spread that one of the students, Lyrium Blackwood, had been caught in it, barely surviving, carried out by Professor Eugene himself.

Lyrium. That name lingered in Margaret's head longer than she liked to admit.

She was worried about him, on top of that his family, Blackwood, his family name was one even her mother had mentioned with faint respect.

The Blackwoods were one of the few lineages that carried both renown and mystery, and Lyrium… well, he was the quiet type, wasn't he? The kind that people either forgot or couldn't stop talking about once they noticed him.

Margaret brushed a strand of her silver hair aside, her thoughts flickering briefly to the rumors circulating in the capital, that strange mana surge, the ground splitting open, the crack of energy that tore through the air like divine judgment.

"The Explosion…"

She murmured under her breath.

"And the Backthorn's under lockdown because of it. Wonderful."

"Haa…"

She sighed again, rubbing her temple before descending the long staircase that led to the lower courtyard.

The scent of steel and sweat began to mix with the faint perfume of roses as she approached the open-air training field.

That was when she saw her, her dear little sister.

Hannah Windsor.

Of course, she was there.

The younger Windsor stood in the middle of the training ground with her sword raised, dressed in her immaculate dueling outfit, white tunic trimmed with gold and black, her blonde hair tied up in a high ponytail that gleamed under the setting sun.

Around her, the family's knights and attendants watched as she practiced, her blade slicing through the air in exaggerated, overly sharp movements.

When Margaret stepped onto the field, a few of the knights immediately lowered their heads in respect.

Hannah noticed, and predictably, her lips curved into that smug little smile.

"Well, well,"

Hannah called out, lowering her sword.

"If it isn't the dutiful elder sister. I didn't think you'd actually crawl out of your room today."

Margaret raised an eyebrow, stopping a few steps away.

"Crawl? I'll have you know I was just in a meeting with Mother. Some of us actually do work around here."

"Oh, please,"

Hannah scoffed, wiping imaginary dust off her blade.

"You mean another one of your boring diplomatic things? The world could be ending, and you'd still be talking about treaties and alliances."

"That's because someone has to,"

Margaret replied smoothly, her tone calm, practiced.

"Not everyone gets to spend their day shouting at straw dummies and pretending they're knights."

"…!"

A few of the knights winced.

One of them even coughed, trying to hide a laugh.

Hannah's expression twitched.

"Pretending? I'll have you know I ranked top ten in the capital's tournament last month!"

"Yes,"

Margaret said with mock thoughtfulness,

"Out of twelve participants."

Hannah's face went red.

"That's, That's not the point!"

Margaret smiled faintly, brushing her gloved hand against her skirt.

"It usually isn't."

She started to walk past her sister, heading toward the gates at the far end of the field.

But Hannah, never one to let things go quietly, followed her.

"So, where are you even going now?"

Hannah asked, matching her pace.

"Running off to play hero? I heard theres an explosion that nearly destroyed half the plaza and almost reached The Backthorn. Sounds like a bad place to be."

"Exactly why I'm going."

Margaret didn't slow down.

"Someone needs to coordinate with them. Mother agreed that the situation's too dangerous to ignore. That explosion wasn't a simple mana malfunction."

"Oh? And you think you'll find something by going there?"

Hannah tilted her head, her tone dripping with teasing mockery.

"How noble. How… predictable."

Margaret gave her a sideways glance, cool and unimpressed.

"You're awfully talkative today, Hannah. Did you actually train or just gossip with your attendants again?"

Hannah puffed out her chest.

"I trained! For three hours!"

"And yet,"

Margaret said dryly,

"Why do you look like you train for an entire day?"

"Ugh, you're impossible,"

Hannah muttered, glaring.

"Why do you always have to act like you're above me?"

"Because I am,"

Margaret said simply, her lips curving into a faint smile before she looked ahead again.

".…"

That one sentence froze Hannah in place.

The knights tried their best not to react, their gazes fixed anywhere but the sisters.

Margaret didn't say it to be cruel, not entirely.

She'd long accepted that her sister's arrogance was her armor.

Hannah was talented, yes, but too emotional, too reactive.

She swung her sword like it was a way to shout at the world, and Margaret… well, she'd learned long ago that the world didn't listen to shouting.

Still, as Margaret walked toward the carriage waiting near the gate, she heard Hannah's frustrated voice call after her.

"You'll see, Margaret! One day, I'll surpass you! And when that happens, you'll regret every time you looked down on me!"

Margaret stopped for just a moment.

The breeze picked up, carrying the scent of lavender from the garden nearby.

She turned her head slightly, enough for her voice to carry but not her expression.

"When that day comes, Hannah,"

She said softly,

"I'll be proud of you."

And with that, she stepped into the carriage, closing the door gently behind her.

Hannah stood there, gripping her sword tight.

For a second, her arrogance faltered, replaced by something that almost looked like confusion.

Margaret leaned back in the carriage seat, the leather creaking beneath her.

Through the window, she could see the estate shrinking as the metallic horses began to levitate in the air and started moving.

The Windsor crest gleamed on the gates, gold wings over a silver flame.

Her eyes darkened slightly as she whispered to herself,

"Lyrium… the explosion… something's not right about all this."

Outside, the world slowly dimmed into twilight.

And as the carriage rolled down the long, toward the distant city lights, Margaret Windsor, daughter of the Windsor matriarch, diplomat of the crown, and one of the most composed women in the empire, felt something she hadn't felt in a long time.

Unease.