The question lingered in the air for a moment, its weight palpable in the space between them. Sitara's mother, having sensed the change in her daughter's demeanor, met her gaze with a thoughtful expression. She took a small sip of her drink before responding, her voice gentle.

"No, I haven't seen him either," her mother replied, her eyes narrowing slightly as if contemplating something. "Your uncle does have a way of disappearing at times, though. It's not uncommon for him to immerse himself in his pursuits."

Sitara nodded, a mixture of relief and curiosity filling her. Her uncle's mysterious nature was something she had grown accustomed to over the years, but the current circumstances seemed to amplify the sense of mystery surrounding him.

"I guess you're right," Sitara replied, her tone reflective. "He always has been a bit elusive. I just... thought it was a bit unusual this time."

Her mother's gaze softened, a fleeting expression of understanding passing over her features. "You're close to him, Sitara," she remarked, her voice carrying a touch of warmth. "It's natural for you to notice when he's not around. You two have alway been quite close.” Her mother's gaze met hers, a mix of understanding and consideration in her eyes. “If you're truly concerned, your father might have an idea of where he is," she suggested gently. "Your uncle often confides in him about his wanderings.”

Sitara nodded again, though a hint of concern still lingered. She pushed aside the gnawing unease that accompanied her sleepless nights, focusing on the present conversation with her mother instead.

"You're right, Mother," Sitara said, offering a small smile. "I'm probably overthinking things. If I see dad I will ask him about it.” Her mother reached out and gently squeezed Sitara's hand, a silent reassurance passing between them. "I'm glad to hear that, my dear. And remember, your father will certainly help you when you ask. There's no need for unnecessary anxiety."

As they returned to their meal, a sense of comfort settled between them. The unease that had been gnawing at Sitara's thoughts seemed to have momentarily receded, replaced by the warmth of her mother's presence and the knowledge that she could confide in her when the time was right. The garden's tranquility mirrored the bond they shared, a haven of understanding amidst the uncertainties that loomed beyond the castle walls. 

As their lunchtime conversation drew to a close, Sitara felt a renewed sense of purpose. Her mother's words had eased the restlessness that had lingered within her, allowing her to focus on the tasks at hand. With a final exchange of smiles, they both rose from their seats in the garden's serene enclave. "I should head to combat class now," Sitara mentioned, her voice tinged with a touch of anticipation. Her mother nodded, her gaze steady. "Remember to channel your thoughts into your training, my dear. It's a good way to clear your mind."

"I will, Mother," Sitara replied, her determination evident. "Thank you for everything." With a nod of agreement, they parted ways, Sitara setting off toward the training grounds where her combat class awaited. The transition from the peaceful garden to the bustling energy of the training area was a stark one, yet Sitara embraced the shift, allowing the focus demanded by combat to overtake her thoughts.

At the heart of this controlled chaos stood a figure who immediately commanded attention. His name was Thor, a combat teacher renowned for his expertise in various weapons and his chiseled, imposing demeanor. Despite lacking the typical spirit power associated with elves, Thor made up for it with sheer physical strength and unparalleled skill. He was a master of every weapon, a living testament to dedication and discipline. Thor's presence was captivating. He moved with a fluidity that belied his strength, his eyes sharp and focused as he observed the trainees' every move. His silver hair caught the sunlight as he demonstrated a series of swift strikes with a longsword, each movement precise and powerful. The muscles in his arms and chest flexed with every motion, a testament to years of dedicated training. As Sitara approached the training area, her heart quickened. She knew that Thor's training sessions were rigorous and demanding, but she also recognized the opportunity they presented. She stood at the edge of the practice field, watching as Thor effortlessly deflected an opponent's attack and countered with a swift, well-aimed blow. 

After Thor's well-aimed blow demonstrated his skill, his voice boomed across the training yard. "It is time for class!" His command resonated through the air, prompting every trainee, including Sitara, to line up. The anticipation hung thick, and Thor's presence was commanding as he strode up and down the line of students. Beads of sweat glistened on some foreheads, a testament to both the physical exertion and a touch of apprehension that accompanied his training sessions.

Thor's steps came to a halt in front of Sitara, his eyes studying her with a knowing look. "Sitara," he addressed her, his voice carrying a blend of challenge and respect, "I've never been able to best your father in a one-on-one duel. But I'd also lose respect for him if I did."

Sitara met his gaze with a steady composure, understanding the weight behind his words. The legacy of her father's prowess was well-known, and Thor's admission conveyed the depth of the respect he held for him.

With a nod, Thor turned to address the entire group once again. "Today, we'll have a face-off," he announced, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "No powers, just skill and strategy. Let's see who can outmaneuver their opponent on the battlefield."

As the group paired up for the face-off, Sitara found herself matched against an opponent who had trained diligently but had yet to best her in a one-on-one scenario. The challenge in his eyes was evident, and she nodded in acknowledgment.

As the face-off began, the training yard seemed to shrink around them. The air was charged with intensity as Sitara and her opponent circled each other, the anticipation of the impending clash palpable. With each movement, Sitara's training kicked in, the physical strength she possessed coupled with the grace she'd cultivated through years of training.

Her opponent attacked with a swift series of strikes, but Sitara deflected them with precision, her movements fluid and deliberate. She countered with a calculated strike of her own, her weapon grazing his shoulder. His expression was a mix of determination and realization as he recalibrated his approach.

The battle between them raged on, each movement calculated and purposeful. Sitara's keen instincts guided her, and she countered her opponent's moves with an elegant blend of agility and strategic thinking. Her physical strength matched that of a full-grown male elf, a fact she wielded with finesse as she evaded attacks and seized opportunities to strike.

As the face-off concluded, Sitara's opponent acknowledged her victory with a respectful nod. They both returned to the training lineup, chests heaving with exertion and a sense of camaraderie.

Thor's gaze lingered on Sitara for a moment, a silent acknowledgment of her prowess. The training session continued, each interaction pushing the trainees to their limits and honing their skills. Through the sweat, determination, and the echoes of clashing weapons, Sitara embraced the opportunity to refine her abilities, to emerge stronger and more focused than before.

Thor was genuinely pleased with the progress the class had made within the span of a few hours. As the session came to an end, he congratulated the trainees on their hard work, a sense of accomplishment hanging in the air. He approached Sitara, his expression approving.

"Excellent work today," Thor remarked, his tone carrying a note of admiration. "I see a victorious path ahead of you, Sitara, one that's befitting of the next queen."

Sitara absorbed his words with a nod. She took his encouragement to heart, the weight of her responsibilities and potential future as queen pressing upon her.

After the class concluded, Sitara made her way to change her clothes, the training session having left her attire somewhat disheveled. Finding a quiet corner in the changing room. She exchanged her training attire for a comfortable ensemble, donning a pair of brown pants and a lightweight white shirt. The outfit conveyed both practicality and elegance, a reflection of her Elthran heritage. The cloth shoes she chose were unassuming yet functional, perfect for her movements on and off the training field.

As she glanced at herself in the mirror. The attire suited her, not just in its functionality but also in its understated grace. In a human context, some might liken her to a prince, given the pants and shirt, but as she turned, her aura radiated a timeless beauty that transcended such labels.

Her long white hair cascaded in gentle waves, framing her face with a natural elegance. Her porcelain skin glowed in the soft light of the room, and her dark green eyes held a depth that hinted at the strength and resilience within her. She embodied a blend of grace and strength, a testament to her Elthran lineage and her own unwavering spirit.

With a final glance, Sitara left her quarters. She moved with a self-assured grace, her footsteps echoing the determination that fueled her every action. While some might be quick to label her, Sitara knew that her true essence went beyond any superficial judgments. She carried herself with the knowledge that her strength, intellect, and character would ultimately define her legacy, a legacy that she was determined to shape on her own terms.

As Sitara walked past a group of elves deeply engaged in animated conversation, she became aware that her presence had been noticed. Their voices, once vibrant and open, seemed to lower slightly, as if they were intentionally speaking for her ears. She picked up on their hushed words as they discussed the events of the training session, marveling at her movements and the unexpected strength she demonstrated. 

Her acute hearing caught a comment that was deliberately meant for her to hear. "Did you see her out there? The next queen, an Elthran? Unbelievable."

Their tone was a mix of incredulity and subtle disbelief. Sitara's steps didn't falter, but the words struck a chord within her. It was a reminder that despite her efforts and achievements, there were those who questioned her suitability due to her mixed heritage.

As the group noticed her approaching, their expressions shifted, but there was no mistaking the uncomfortable atmosphere that lingered in the air. They exchanged fleeting glances before quickly dispersing, leaving an awkward silence in their wake.

Sitara's thoughts briefly brushed upon the complexities of her position. She had grown up in a privileged household, yet her role as a princess and the next in line to the throne meant she walked a path that sometimes set her apart. The challenge wasn't only the royal responsibility but also the perception that some held against her due to her Elthran and human heritage.

Despite her willingness to help and her genuine nature, she often found herself on the outskirts of her classmates' social circles. The stigma of being of mixed lineage was something she was well aware of, even though she had largely been shielded from its worst aspects. The laughter she'd heard served as a reminder that the perception of her was complex, and she felt the weight of her unique place in society.

As she continued on her way, she focused on her own path, the sense of isolation tempered by her determination to prove her capabilities. She walked with a quiet strength, determined to rise above the prejudices and carve a legacy that would honor her Elthran heritage.

As the day's activities came to a close, Sitara found herself with a few hours to spare before the restless nights she had grown accustomed to. Seeking a sense of connection and perhaps a touch of guidance, she decided to look for her father. Walking through the castle grounds, she felt an inclination to head towards the throne room. It seemed like a fitting place to start her search for him.