part0021

After the seven-headed monster and its God left the city, the elves immediately tasked the herbalists and healers to verify the authenticity of the bloodstone water. After confirming that it was the real thing, they started discussing the proposal given to them. For several days, the officials—including the high-ranking priests in the temple—debated the pros and cons of opening their kingdom to Blackstone Town.

It had already been five days since that encounter, and they still hadn’t come up with a consensus. Currently, the kingdom’s officials were divided into three groups: those in favor of trading with the humans, those who wished to close their borders and live secluded in the heart of the Endless Forest, and those who wished to hunt and kill the Earth Scylla.

“Vice Commander Calen! Are you out of your mind?” One of the royal advisors slammed his hands on the table. “You wish to lead our warriors to the border and attack that monster?”

Tension was palpable in the air as the kingdom’s officials discussed the proposal given to them by the ‘God’ of the Scylla. Most of the royal advisors were in favor of the proposal; they even pushed the idea of pursuing a friendlier relationship with Blackstone Town. According to the royal advisors, there was no merit in aggravating that seven-headed monster and its master—the difference in strength between them and those monsters was simply too great. On the contrary, they believed that the elven kingdom would greatly benefit from this trade. The people were the main driving force in a kingdom’s prosperity. The royal advisors envisioned that the moment they finally got their hands on an unlimited supply of bloodstone water, it would only be a matter of time before the elven race regained its former glory.

The faces of Vice Commander Calen and the two captains beside him distorted. They found these officials in favor of establishing a trade with the humans revolting.

“These cowards,” mumbled the vice commander. He said in a low, but enraged voice, “Royal advisor, have you ever seen your father and your comrades die before your very eyes? Have you seen someone burn alive, their body melting like elk tallow?”

The military officers in the room seethed with rage as they remembered what happened only weeks ago.

“That monster killed hundreds of our warriors! It almost destroyed the entire city! And you wish to form a friendly relationship with it?” snarled the vice commander.

Silence befell the room. The vice commander huffed as his entire body trembled from rage. The memories of how his comrades were killed right before his very eyes were still vivid.

“Calen, lower your voice. You are under the presence of the priestess,” said Commander Khuumal.

The vice commander looked at the priestess and dropped his head in shame. “Ah, Priestess. Forgive me for raising my voice…”

The priestess smiled in understanding. “I believe that everyone in this room feels the same way as the vice commander. There is no way we could have forgotten the sacrifice of those valiant warriors.”

Contrary to the deep and enraged voice of the vice commander, the priestess’ voice was calm and soothing.

“Their deaths, the lives they lived, their loyalty to the elven race,” the priestess placed a hand on her chest, “will never be forgotten.”

Coming from the mouth of the priestess herself, those words carried an indescribable weight. Tears started forming in the corners of the vice commander’s eyes. He nodded his head and said, “Yes.”

“Father,” Priestess Siofra said to the king. “Have you found any leads regarding that so-called God?”

King Melandrach shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Priestess. We’ve combed the archives but failed to find any record related to that… human. The Scylla called him a God, but in the scriptures, there is no such name as Evander among the Seven Gods.”

The priestess slid a thick book toward the king. It was bound by black leather, cracked and dry with age. The pages inside were brittle and smelled faintly of dust.

“I looked through the underground library in the temple. The library restricted to the current priestess,” she said. “And I found a book mentioning the name of that human.”

King Melandrach started flipping through the pages of the book. He realized it was a journal of a human called Gustav Chavalion who’d lived several centuries ago.

“There’s only a single person who fits the identity of that human—that so-called God of the Scylla. Evander Alaester, one of the strongest magicians to have lived on this land. The supposed avatar of the Sun God,” said the priestess. “According to that book, Evander Alaester killed two demon lords in his lifetime.”

“T-Two demon lords?”

“That’s impossible! The rumors must have been blown out of proportion!”

The officials gathered in the room were in uproar upon hearing the last part of the priestess’ statement.

“This book was written several hundred years ago…” King Melandrach narrowed his eyes as he pondered. “Humans are short-lived. It’s impossible for a human to live this long. It must be a different person. Someone with a similar name.”

“I agree with Your Majesty.” Nodded one of the ministers. “A mere coincidence. Humans tend to have… similar names.”

“But it would be wise if we start moving with the assumption that the two are one and the same,” said the priestess. “And even if he is a different person from the avatar of the Sun God, the fact that he managed to tame that monster remains. We should tread carefully, Father.”

The king understood what the priestess meant. If the God of the Scylla was indeed Evander Alaester, then they should definitely pursue a friendlier relationship with him and his territory—Blackstone Town. And even if they were wrong, they would not be losing much from this assumption.

“We’ve closed our nation for too long,” the king said in regret. “If only we had more information regarding that town, that kingdom… it would have been easier to come up with a decision.”

The king sighed and fell silent for a long time. Eventually, he said, “For the sake of the elven race, we shall open our nation to Blackstone Town.”

The king looked at the priestess and she nodded her head in approval.

The military officers closed their eyes upon hearing those words, while the ministers heaved sighs of relief.

“I will personally go to the border and meet with that human,” said the king. “Commander Khuumal, you shall accompany me, along with two guardian golems and a hundred royal guards.”

Although the king had just declared that he would go to where the scouts had been annihilated, no one raised a protest. This much was needed for something of this scale. They would be opening their nation to outsiders after hundreds of years, after all.

Although it would normally take a month on foot to reach the forest border, the king and his entourage managed to reach it in just a week. The elks, together with the spirits, made it possible for the elves to move through the sea of trees with ease.

“Your Majesty, we’ve arrived,” said Commander Khuumal.

The entourage halted. King Melandrach stared at the trees in front of him. Although it was faint, he could see the distortions in space right before his eyes. He realized that all of the trees in front of him were mere illusions—a mirage.

“An illusion spell,” said the king.

“I believe so, Your Majesty,” said the commander.

“Then, how do we get in?”

As though those words were on cue, a rift appeared right in front of them. It slowly expanded, until it became large enough to accommodate even the guardian golems. Looking inside the rift, they could see a large stone castle and the seven-headed monster from before.

“King of Elves,” said the seven-headed monster. “My God has given his permission. You may enter our sacred domain.”

The Scylla was as imposing and as threatening as before. Although it was speaking to the King of Elves, it held no hint of respect or deference at all. It looked at King Melandrach as though he was nothing but an insignificant insect.

“You may bring a dozen guards with you,” added the Scylla. “And those golems. Bring them inside.”

The king, along with a dozen guards and the two guardian golems, entered the rift. The moment they entered the space protected by the illusion spell, they realized that the stone castle was far larger than they’d expected. What they had seen outside was only a portion of its towering walls and battlements. The castle itself was twice the size of their royal palace.

Various questions started running through King Melandrach’s mind.

How did they manage to build this castle in such a short period of time? Why did they build a castle in this part of the forest? And why was an absurdly strong defensive spell, together with a seven-headed monster, protecting it?

“Welcome,” a familiar voice spoke.

A young man with short silver hair emerged from the castle’s entrance.

“Thank you for coming all the way here. You must be tired from the long journey,” said Lark. “I’ve prepared some refreshments. Please, come inside.”

Lark ushered the king and his men inside the castle. Along the way, they passed by a large statue, its upper body covered by a cloth, as though the Lord of Blackstone Town did not wish anyone to see what it looked like. Looking around, although well made, the castle’s interior was surprisingly empty. There were no paintings, no carpets, no fixtures commonly found in castles.

Even the grand hall had only a single table and two chairs, just enough for Lark and the King of Elves.

After the two of them sat, Lark poured the king a drink and got straight to the point, “So, has His Majesty arrived at a decision?”

The king drank the wine offered to him without hesitation. For some strange reason, the wine was very similar to the ones their warriors normally drank in taverns.

King Melandrach gently placed the cup on the table and said, “Yes. But before that, I hope you can answer one question of ours, honestly.”

Lark looked at the king curiously. “A question?” He paused, sipped his wine and said, “If it is something within the limits of my knowledge, alright.”

“Are you Evander Alaester, the magician who lived during the Age of Magic, fifteen centuries ago?”

Lark hadn’t expected this question from the king. He fell silent, smiled, and eventually said, “I am.”

King Melandrach’s eyes widened. Even Commander Khuumal and the royal guards stared at the human in wonder. Rumors of the human’s real identity had already spread throughout the kingdom. And now, the human had just confirmed it himself, that he was that same magician written in the legends.

A human who’d single-handedly repelled several demonic invasions and killed two demon lords during his lifetime.

Shivers crawled down the elves’ spines as they realized that they were in the presence of such a monster.

“So, i-it’s true,” said the king. “But the journal… it clearly said that you died from a curse. The Ritual of the Immortal failed. A human couldn’t possibly live this long. How—”

“One question,” said Lark, smiling. “I agreed to answer only one question.”

“Ah, that’s right. I apologize for overstepping my bounds.” King Melandrach lightly bowed his head.

It was regrettable, but it was indeed true that he’d asked the human to answer only a single question. King Melandrach inwardly clicked his tongue for this blunder. Had he known that the human wouldn’t deny it, he would have requested more answers.

The two started discussing the trade between Aerith and Blackstone Town. As agreed before, Blackstone Town would provide the elven kingdom with at least four thousand bottles of bloodstone water each year. In exchange, the elven kingdom would provide the town with metals, fabric, herbs, fruit, and meat.

According to the elves, the fabrics Lark had seen before were made using threads produced by a carnivorous worm species living in a cavern near the city of Aerith. Although the supply of these threads was limited, King Melandrach promised to sell the bulk of their harvest to Blackstone Town. Furthermore, the king also promised to provide vast quantities of medicinal herbs. With which it should be possible for Lark to create high-grade potions.

For a moment, Lark remembered Big Mona. That fat merchant would definitely squeak in glee once he presented these items to him.

King Melandrach placed an arrow on the table. Its tip was made of a black metal reminiscent of obsidian.

“This is the metal our race uses to create arrowheads,” said the king. “It’s as strong as iron and as potent as a paralyzing potion made from mydrengia. Even a graze from this arrow can paralyze an elk in mere seconds.”

Lark took the arrow and inspected its tip. “An arrow that could paralyze its target. This will surely boost the firepower of my archers. Impressive.”

Lark’s gaze moved toward the golems standing behind the king. He was curious about what kind of technology the ancestors of the elves used to make those things. For a moment, Lark had the urge to cut their bodies open and look at the mechanism engraved inside.

“Of course,” the king said proudly. “When I was young, this forest was infested with monsters. A species of devouring apes lived in this territory. They could rip elks apart with their bare hands and they could move through the trees as though running on flat ground. But over time, our warriors eventually managed to wipe them out—these arrows greatly contributed to that victory.”

“This forest is indeed eerily peaceful, despite its size,” said Lark. “The elves killed all of the monsters living in this forest, huh?”

“That much was needed to protect the children,” said the king. “Unlike humans, we aren’t capable of giving birth to several offspring. The death of a single elf carries far greater weight for our race.”