The Forest of Ladies.
Anyone who had ever watched or read Mobuseka knew exactly who they were.
A toxic, cancerous organization that had taken the concept of feminism and twisted it into something vile and unrecognizable.
They believed, with an almost religious fervor, that men existed solely to serve women.
That women should rule over everything, sitting atop the throne of society, while men did all the hard, grueling labor and the women simply enjoyed the fruits of their suffering.
It was a disgusting philosophy, and everyone with half a brain knew it.
Many noble ladies, wives of influential men, had secretly joined the organization without their husbands' knowledge.
They funneled money and resources into it, funding this once-small group that had originally been limited to a few rural, backwater areas.
But now?
Now, the Forest of Ladies had spread its rotten vines across the entire goddamn kingdom.
It had transformed into a massive, dangerous organization capable of menacing, kidnapping, and terrorizing countless men throughout Holfort.
The organization had been officially stomped out and declared illegal.
It was a huge, persistent problem for the Holfort Kingdom, and King Roland himself had made it his personal mission to see them destroyed.
The royalty spared no effort in this crusade.
They didn't put out quests for capture. They didn't put out quests for arrest. They put out quests for complete, utter extermination.
No survivors. No mercy. No fucking exceptions.
That was how much the royalty fucking hated them.
The quest itself was simple enough on paper: investigate the Forest of Ladies' movements on Elf Island. Royal intelligence believed that at least one member of the organization had been spotted there.
Perhaps they were attempting to convert the island, to spread their poisonous ideology to the elves, or maybe they were doing something even more sinister.
Whatever the case, the royalty's orders were crystal clear.
Vanquish them all.
Leave nothing but ash and silence behind.
Arthur and his party accepted the quest without a moment's hesitation.
Yumeria, however, felt deeply conflicted. Her expression was troubled, her brows furrowed, her lips pressed into a thin, uneasy line.
Morgan, who had been watching her closely, leaned in and whispered, "Believe in Arthur."
The words were simple, almost too simple, but they carried an unshakable weight.
Yumeria's expression hardened.
Her doubt didn't vanish entirely, but it was pushed aside, buried beneath a grim, determined nod.
She trusted him.
She had to.
With that, they began their journey back to Elf Island, a place Yumeria had hoped never to see again.
Meanwhile, Somewhere on Elf Island...
Lady Zola lounged in her chair like a bloated spider at the center of her web.
Her blonde hair was piled high in an elaborate style that had probably taken servants hours to arrange.
Her fan fluttered lazily in her hand, stirring the humid air.
And beneath her feet—literally beneath her feet—a male elf lay prostrate on the ground, his back bent, his face pressed into the dirt.
She was using him as a footrest.
Not a person. Not a servant. A footrest.
The elf's jaw was clenched so tight his teeth creaked. His hands, pressed flat against the ground, trembled with barely contained rage.
But he didn't move.
Couldn't move.
He knew what happened to elves who resisted.
Zola didn't even glance at him.
He was furniture.
Less than furniture.
Furniture had value.
Erdellia stood nearby, her silver hair gleaming in the dim light, her expression cold and unreadable.
She watched the scene with the detached interest of someone who had long since stopped caring about the suffering of others—if she ever had.
"Erdellia." Zola's voice was lazy, almost bored. "This is a terrible loss for our organization. Yumeria not joining us..."
She sighed dramatically, pressing her fan to her chest like a grieving widow. "Hah... I knew it. I always knew it. Males are simply not trustworthy."
She ground her heel harder into the elf's spine.
He winced.
She didn't notice.
Or she noticed and didn't care.
"First, a male took Yumeria from you. That pathetic human who fathered her half-breed brat. And now?" She snapped her fan shut with a sharp crack. "Now another male takes her away from us entirely."
Erdellia's lip curled.
Not at Zola—never at Zola—but at the thought.
At them.
At the males who had dared to interfere.
"Don't worry, Lady Zola." Her voice was ice. "Yumeria will come back to us. Willingly."
She paused, her eyes darkening.
"Perhaps you were right all along. All men are good-for-nothing. I should know better than to show them even a shred of mercy."
Zola's smile widened.
It was not a pleasant expression.
"Good. That's the spirit, Erdellia. It's wonderful to see so many young elves like you joining our cause." She shifted her weight, pressing the elf beneath her even harder into the dirt.
"We cannot allow those wretched men and their puppet king to degrade any woman ever again. We are the ones who should rule."
The male elf let out a strangled sound—half pain, half fury.
His nails dug into the ground.
But he stayed down.
He had no choice.
Erdellia didn't even look at him.
"Of course, Lady Zola. We support your organization completely." Her grin was sharp, eager. "As long as you're willing to support our independence in return."
Zola tossed her fan aside and reached for the wine glass on the table beside her.
Deep red.
The color of blood.
She raised it high, the light catching the crystal.
"To our alliance, Erdellia!"
Erdellia raised her own glass, her cold eyes gleaming.
"To our alliance, Lady Zola!"
They drank together, the wine dark on their lips, their solidarity sealed in shared ambition and mutual hatred.
Then Zola paused, as if a thought had just struck her.
She lowered her glass and leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"How about we help you... speed things along?"
Erdellia's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
"Yumeria. You want her. We want her. It's in both our interests to bring her back into the fold." Zola's smile turned vicious. "We have some very good news for you, my dear. We found her son."
Erdellia went very still.
"The half-breed brat isn't with her anymore. He's been left in some village. A small one. Poorly defended. Barely worth noticing." Zola swirled her wine, watching the liquid cling to the glass. "I believe that if you were to capture him—with our help, of course—Yumeria would come to you. Willingly. Desperately. On her knees, if necessary."
The smile that spread across Erdellia's face was cold and hungry.
"Tell me more, Lady Zola."
Zola leaned in close and began whispering into Erdellia's ear, her voice low and conspiratorial.
She told her the village's location, the boy's approximate location, and their sinister plan to attack.
They would burn the village to the ground if necessary. They would slaughter anyone who got in their way.
And they would send a clear, unmistakable message to anyone who dared to mess with the Forest of Ladies, or anyone who dared to snatch away a potential member from their grasp.
The message was simple, brutal, and final.
Cross us, and everything you love will burn.