Chapter 129
Chapter 129
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 129
Chapter Title: Mutual Aid
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"The decree of His Imperial Majesty the Emperor! All subjects, heed the command of the new Emperor!"
Glory Square in the imperial capital of the Bazran Empire.
A knight's shout echoed in all directions, and on one wall of the square, the decree of the newly enthroned emperor from yesterday was posted.
"A decree, huh..."
"What's it say?"
About a third of the capital's residents could read to some extent.
To live in the empire's capital, one needed a certain level of wealth and qualifications.
For example, even servants or maids in noble households had to know how to read.
Such commoners made their way through the heavily guarded soldiers to read the decree.
"Whoa..."
"Ah!"
They couldn't speak aloud because of the soldiers with their ears perked up, but the commoners were stunned.
Emperor's Decree
1. From this day forward, the status of nobles and commoners shall be strictly distinguished, and commoners' admission to knight academies is forbidden.
2. Commoners, even if not slaves, may not leave their territories without noble permission.
3. Crimes of rebellion, treason, or defying imperial orders shall be punished by the beheading of the offender and their entire clan.
4. Violators of the above orders shall be punished as if guilty of defying imperial orders.
5. This takes precedence over all future imperial laws and customs.
A short decree laden with immense implications.
The Bazran Empire's unique advantages—mobility for commoners and the chance to become knights—were stripped away.
Noble society already had strict upward mobility, but now it was outright banned.
On top of that, defying imperial orders meant punishment for one's entire clan.
It was the emperor's threat to kill not just the offender, but their whole family.
"Move it!"
"Wh-what is this? I'm a knight academy trainee!"
"Shut up! As of today, you're demoted to regular soldier. If you don't like it, we'll punish you for defying imperial orders."
On a boulevard crossing the square.
A group of knights and soldiers were dragging dozens of young men in knight academy trainee uniforms somewhere.
"Let us see His Imperial Majesty! There's no such law! How can you defy the will of the founding Emperor Bahillain..."
Thwack!
"Guh!"
"Execute him!"
Slash.
Splurt!
It happened in an instant.
In front of countless onlookers, a knight academy trainee was beheaded on the street.
"..."
Everyone's faces froze.
Just days ago, knight academy trainees were treated as quasi-nobles.
Yet now, they were slaughtered like stray dogs on the roadside.
"Anyone with complaints, speak up. If you want to be a corpse before becoming a soldier!"
Arrogant knights berated the trainees, swords drawn.
"Drag them away!"
As the trainees fell into terror at their comrade's death, the knight smirked and ordered the soldiers.
Such incidents occurred across the empire.
Those who had become knights or nobles from commoner origins were exiled to the front lines or remote areas, or stripped of titles and lands without cause.
The expulsion of capable individuals who formed the empire's foundation.
This was the beginning of the mad politics unleashed by Emperor Poltbiran after his ascension.
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"Did you sleep well, playboy count?"
'Ugh!'
As usual, he got up from bed, washed his face roughly, and stepped out—only to be greeted by a woman's morning salutation.
"Haha, I hope you weren't too uncomfortable in this humble place?"
"Oh, humble? I slept very comfortably for the first time in ages, playboy lord."
'I'm going crazy.'
Because of the princess, the prince, and their escort knights, he had assigned rooms in the Skywing Knights' headquarters building to Irene and the imperial guard knights.
The headquarters building, where only key territory nobles and Armis lived.
The rooms fit perfectly, and somehow, the princess, prince, and Irene ended up on the same floor as him.
Irene, who rose early.
She salted him with "playboy" the moment she saw him.
'Heh, but seeing a flower first thing in the morning puts me in a good mood.'
Her long silver hair glistened over her air plate and cloak, freshly washed.
The beauty with her enigmatic smile at the corner of her mouth delighted his eyes.
'I can't just take this lying down.'
They were fated to stick together like this for a while.
Even if it was the lovely Irene, he had to teach her not to call him playboy.
He stepped closer to Irene.
She flinched.
Her natural smile turned awkward as he approached.
'Kyaa, she smells great.'
Can a flower without scent be called a flower?
As he neared Irene, the pleasant scent from their past flight training wafted subtly.
Irene's unique body fragrance.
He took another step closer.
She hesitated, leaning against the wall.
"Wh-what..."
Irene, who had boldly defended him before the crown prince.
Now she looked flustered.
'She's like honey.'
Was this the aura of a mature woman?
Irene, in her mid-twenties, had lips as temptingly red as cherries.
Thud!
"..."
He placed both hands on the wall near her shoulders, trapping her head.
Her large eyes widened, blue irises lifted in utmost surprise at the sudden situation.
"If you keep teasing me as playboy..."
With those words, his lips naturally approached hers.
She trembled all over.
'Where does she get off.'
She was like a cousin older sister, but among his friends, some dated older college girls.
So he felt no distance with Irene.
An older woman was still a woman.
"I'll seal those lips..."
He whispered softly in her ear, passing her fragrant face.
'Huh? She's closing her eyes?'
But Irene, who seemed ready to react, did nothing.
Normally bold, she should have punched him or scolded coldly—yet she even closed her eyes.
Gulp.
Early morning after waking.
The silver fairy was tempting him to pour oil on his heart and flick the lighter.
His heart pounded wildly.
What started as a joke had his heart racing uncontrollably.
'Wh-what do I do?'
A completely unexpected situation.
He was the flustered one now.
Irene still had her eyes closed, breathing raggedly, her face flushed pink like a ripe apple.
'Hehe...'
His fluster turned to a smile at her first womanly side.
"Haa..."
She exhaled a long breath, as if holding it.
He slowly brought his lips to her face.
She shivered more as his breath touched her.
Smack.
He gently kissed her forehead.
"Good morning..."
He couldn't go for a hangover kiss, tempting as it was.
And it wasn't just today.
He'd see Irene every day from now on.
Knowing her feelings, opportunities abounded.
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'Fool...'
It was a first for her.
Countless proposals from Crown Prince Poltbiran, Sky Knights, and nobles.
Yet Irene had never opened her heart to any man.
But today, one man's hot breath left her body limp in a strange sensation.
It was unsatisfying.
She could challenge others to duels for such roguish acts, but the breath and lips on her forehead left her wanting more.
Tap, tap.
He left without lingering, saying good morning.
"Heh... playboy..."
Irene whispered "playboy" with a modest smile at his retreating figure.
So what if he was a playboy?
In the eyes of a woman in love, nothing else mattered.
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"We need to start construction right away."
His castle, which he must build even in winter if not for the enemies.
A grand, massive, practical mega-castle, unmatched anywhere on the continent, completed with 21st-century knowledge and magic.
He stood at the construction site with the blueprints.
"It's close to the coast for easy sea transport links later, far from mountains and borders for defense, with vast plains and a river rich in water—perfect for development."
Not ideal feng shui, but a location with infinite potential.
Close to Denfos, easy to communicate with territory folk.
"Damn empires, my dream so close, yet they can't stand to see it happen."
Troublesome twin empires.
Too busy preparing for their attacks to waste the territory's meager reserves on castle-building.
"Once the snow melts, I'll get elf help. Roads need finishing too..."
Other lords would lounge through winter, but busy Neru-style lord meant grinding.
Body and mind both in overdrive.
"The bread should be baked by now."
Before patrol, he asked the kitchen to make milk-dough bread.
Elves' favorite bread.
Now officially designated as gift.
Cheap and 100% effective.
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Whoooosh.
The alien sensation passing through the illusion magic circle, as always.
Emerging through the mana barrier into the elves' village.
'No separate cemetery needed.'
Elves hibernated in winter, ceasing activity for long rest.
Not bears, yet even midday, no one stirred in the elf village.
He couldn't last a day like that.
The heavy, sinking air differed from the outside world.
Rustle.
But Bebeto, who kept females sleepless last night too, landed casually in the village clearing.
'They're breathing, so why no movement?'
They loved green forests, but winter scenery was nature's gift too.
Even spring-bound elves couldn't leave the illusion circle.
Their vitality from road-building seemed a lie.
'No sign today.'
Narmias, who always ran joyfully to greet him.
He waited atop Bebeto, but no appearance.
'Sick?'
He pulled down two large leather bags full of bread and fruits from the warehouse.
A worry crept in.
He hurried to Narmias's house with the bags.
'Am I not even a guest anymore?'
Elves had keen senses; they knew he and Bebeto arrived, yet no one peeked out.
Elves mastered the outcast essential: playing alone.
He felt(?) deep respect.
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"Narmias..."
Creak.
He called her name and opened her house door.
'No one's here?'
No answer to his call.
Narmias, always too busy flying to tend him, whom she felt sorry for.
'Huh? Sleeping?'
Her back to him, lying on a bed of dry leaves.
"Narmias..."
He approached and called again.
No movement.
He rushed to her side.
He placed a hand on her forehead, turned away.
'No fever.'
Relief: steady breathing, thin smile on her sleeping face.
'She's thinned out.'
Something happened lately; her cheeks were gaunt.
She seemed exhausted, not hearing his approach.
Swish.
He gently stroked her silver hair, glowing faintly blue.
Save for pointed ears, no different from any human woman.
Pitiful, her path of arduous love from meeting the wrong man.
"Mmm..."
She moaned pleasurably at the tickling hand on her forehead.
Sensing something amiss, her eyes snapped open.
Blue ocean eyes gazed at his face.
"Ah!"
A short exclamation.
"Sorry. You were sleeping soundly; I woke you."
"N-no. I didn't even notice you came, Kayer..."
Narmias spoke and acted like a virtuous wife from Joseon era.
"Not sick, right?"
"Yes... just tired for a bit."
'Do elves weaken in winter?'
No book or tale mentioned elves turning frail in winter.
"Other elves too?"
"Probably. Strangely, for centuries, nearly all elves collapse like this around New Year, sleeping or zoning out."
Not fatal, but centuries-old issue spelled trouble.
"Elder too?"
"No. Oddly, elders past that age are fine. So they're guarding personally now."
'Weird. Young ones frail, yet elders spry.'
"Still, better than last year."
Always positive Narmias.
"Lie down. Brought fruit and bread; I'll prepare."
"Really?"
Normally "I'll do it," but her eyes sparkled with joy.
'I've only taken. I'm the bad guy.'
So happy over bread and fruit?
Self-reflecting, he unpacked fresh apples and bread onto a wooden tray.
He wished for premium hanwoo sirloin, but wishes only.
Narmias propped up in bed, beaming at him holding the tray.
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"I'm full."
"Eat a bit more..."
"No, really ate a lot."
Service mode activated.
Full service, points scored.
'One apple and two breads is "a lot"? Never gain weight.'
He wanted to show Earth's dieting women the elf village.
Those cursing TV beauties while shoveling rice.
Figures are maintained like this daily.
"I'm happy."
Narmias whispered happily, eyes sparkling.
Guilty for little done, he stroked her hair.
"Close your eyes."
"Huh?"
"Hehe, just close them a sec."
Rare smile from joyful Narmias; he told her to close eyes.
'Kiss? No need between us.'
Experienced kissers; he thought her shy, closed eyes.
Rustle.
Not as expected—she rose and walked to a corner.
'What?'
Clinking sound as she fetched something.
"Open now."
Her cute voice like a spell.
He slowly opened eyes.
Shimmer!
Silver glow unfolded before him.
'E-elf air plate!'
Incredibly, Narmias held an elf air plate, worn only by elves.
Mithril one-piece armor surpassing human air plates in comfort and defense.
Even Bazran's emperor coveted it.
Freshly gleaming like just-caught hairtail.
"Like it?"
"Th-this is...?"
"My heart for you."
'.....'
"Narmias..."
Words failed.
Elf woman's heart solely for him.
"Try it on."
Her clear voice, unusually excited.
Click-clack.
He removed his air plate.
Swish.
Narmias dressed him personally.
Electric tingles where her fingertips touched.
'All on?'
Mithril full-body air plate, clearly equipped.
Light.
Unlike weighted human ones with lightening magic, elf version felt unworn.
"Perfect fit."
Satisfied smile, holding his hands after dressing.
He hugged her tightly.
"Haa..."
Soft sigh as embraced.
Her heartbeat through thin elf air plates.
He lowered his lips quietly.
Covered her sweet, soft-breathing lips.
His sole way to express feelings.
"Mm..."
She moaned, soft long arms wrapping his neck.
He hugged her waist tighter.
She deserved love.
Hotly, hotly, pouring his heart into the kiss.
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"A disease, huh."
"Yes? Disease?"
"A very old one. Elves inexplicably lie bedridden or zone out for a month around New Year."
"Why this disease? In such a pleasant, safe place."
"That was the problem."
"Yes?"
After putting Narmias back to sleep, Elder Parkiano waited before Bebeto outside.
The tale of elves' disease began.
"We only recently found the cause."
'Good. If enemies attacked now, it'd be dangerous.'
Elf hunting: catch one, feed clan for generations.
Unlikely, but if mercenaries or nobles knew, village razed.
"Heh... Ancestors said excess can be as bad as lack. We severed from worldly desires, but that was greed too."
'What? Don't ascend to immortality mid-talk.'
Ancient elf elder Parkiano.
His words profound.
"What do you mean?"
"You know: relations between us elves, other races, and humans."
"Of course."
"Elves, beastkin, dwarves betrayed by humans mostly hid in deep mountains or neared extinction over ages."
He knew from elder: humans and other races' history.
Elder spoke bitterly.
"We elves inherently hate nothing. Living in harmony with nature, following world's unseen laws, we share the same mind from birth to death. But mingling with expressive humans infected our spirits too."
'Contagious from humans?'
Still grasping Parkiano's words.
"Then betrayed by humans. They gave all when needed, then enslaved us other races when useless, sparking war. I didn't live it, but ancestral songs tell of a terrifying war."
Understandable.
Humans beastly for goals, ignoring all.
Not all, but most under family, clan, territory, nation collectives.
Collectives override personal feelings.
Majority deems good evil, it flips in human society.
Elves couldn't endure.
No, beastkin or dwarves he'd met couldn't match human vile spirit.
"Defeated, we hid. Our wind-and-cloud-like empty minds filled with rage, fleeing human lands. Ancestral books say we could've wiped humans then. Humans couldn't match elf magic or spirit arts, and we were far more numerous."
Empire library histories: pre-magic age, humans and other races bound and clashed.
Last major war just over a millennium ago, leading to now.
"That hate solidified over a millennium, forming closed elf society. Thorough separation from humans seemed right. But it caused the disease."
'Huh? What?'
Not long-lived, he couldn't grasp immediately.
Human him, unfamiliar with elf culture; cause a riddle.
"What do you mean? I still don't get it."
"Haha, too hard?"
"Yes..."
"Then simply."
Elder, accepting him as kin, smiled kindly, continued.
"Closure caused the disease."
".....??"
"I said: we elves live openly, attuned to nature. But now, do you think we do?"
"No."
Definitely not.
Stubborn, suffocating race to him.
Natural children? Hardly.
"Imagine centuries in a space mere dozens of kilos wide from birth to death. No disease would be weirder."
'Catchy. Matches my thoughts.'
Cemetery-like silent village.
Aligned with elder.
Confined centuries in tiny space: hell, cemetery.
'I'd have run away long ago.'
Plus inherent obedience to elders.
Bored of same faces, buildings, nature: disease inevitable.
"Thanks."
"What for?"
Startling him again today.
"Your doing let us find elf cure."
"My doing?"
"You stirred me and elves out to world. That's the cure."
"Gasp!"
Unthought cure.
He'd fished elves for impure motives, yet it cured their disease.
"Rage and grudge in tight space over millennium bred disease. But your elves ventured out, minds opening gradually in vast world. That tiny change dramatically improved it. Last year, elves down a full month. They deny, but soul disease silently fatigues body like sleep. Inherited ancestral rage and cramped life caused it; world exposure flipped thinking, cured."
'Whoa! Deep meaning.'
Modern terms: stress from ancestral trauma and long isolation.
Hwa-byung, basically.
"Please, keep helping."
"Wh-what..."
"Danger of permanent if untreated. Remove cause first: true cure. Need elves ahead? Say anytime. Trust you; we'll send Blue Tree clan to world!"
"Gah!"
'Mama! What windfall.'
Begging on knees for elves insufficient; elder offers top labor freely.
Thank you, thank you, super thank you.
"Why burdened? Like last winter, give elves jobs. All done already?"
Eyeing him.
"Honestly, not much work... but elves suffering, I'll make some."
"Oh, thanks! Clan forgets this grace never, eternal!"
'Hehe, lifetime slave contract added~!'
Easy gains breed quick forgetfulness.
Unlike autumn, roles reversed; he subtly prodded, elder gratefully promised eternally.
'As saying goes: lucky find money falling. Kekeke.'
His heart growing wicked.
So what.
Sister-in-law happy, brother-in-law happy: elves cured happy, he gets premium workers happy.
What else is mutual aid?