Chapter 35
Chapter 35
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 35
Chapter Title: Past Connections (2)
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"Eyes resembling starlight."
"Lips painted like pomegranates."
"Cheeks smeared with honey."
"A forehead as lovable as a newborn's."
"A voice as fresh as a young bird's chirp."
The most beautiful creation fashioned by the gods.
"Unfeigned purity."
"Unblemished innocence."
"Selflessness untouched by corruption."
A benevolent race that wouldn't harm even the tiniest life.
"Flowers blooming verdant for centuries."
"Vitality like ancient millennium trees."
Forest gardeners living from three hundred to a thousand years.
"Beautiful," "kind," and "ever-fresh."
That was the common perception of elves.
And there lay a fatal flaw.
Elves were never pure, innocent, or selfless. They were insidious, calculating, and arrogantly dogmatic to an extreme.
The myth of benevolent, compassionate elves was a fantasy conjured by those dazzled by their angelic appearances. I knew this better than anyone.
I'd experienced it firsthand several times in the past.
Accounts from those enchanted by elves were rarely good. They were a cruel race that used beauty as bait to ruin their prey.
And among them, the most dangerous were a particular breed.
"High Elves."
The heroes of elvenkind, like millennium flowers that bloomed first and withered last.
And one such High Elf stood before me.
Not just any High Elf, but an Elder High Elf who had lived nearly a thousand years.
"The Dancing Magic Swordsman, Sigrun."
Sigrun had been a member of the expedition that slew the Light Dragon. She was also the madwoman who had tormented me—back when I was a sword—with horrifying intensity.
And there she was, gazing at me with the exact same appearance as four hundred years ago.
Her eyes were still clear and transparent, yet obsessively piercing.
Gulp.
I, a sword for centuries with nothing to fear, dreaded Sigrun. This elf was truly unhinged.
[If your master dies, want to come with me?]
[I'll keep you entertained forever.]
[So what if you're a sword? I like you better that way.]
Remembering how she stroked my slender blade with ecstatic bliss made my skin crawl.
Sigrun's lips parted.
"I never imagined anyone still remembered that poem."
Oh no.
I hadn't dreamed she'd be here and recklessly invoked the power of the Ode of Heroics. Worse, it was the [King's Poem] she knew well.
I racked my brain, desperately spinning thoughts to escape this unwelcome reunion.
But fortunately, it was just my imagination.
"The descendants of the Dragon Slayer haven't forgotten their legacy."
Only then, seeing no trace of suspicion on Sigrun's face, did I realize the truth.
My current form was utterly different from the sword she once knew.
I was a human now—the firstborn of House Leonberger.
A sigh of relief escaped me.
I wouldn't suffer her torments like before. My chest loosened at the thought.
"Greetings are belated. I am Sigrun, leader of the delegation visiting to reaffirm our friendship with the kingdom."
"Idrian Leonberger."
I responded to her greeting as casually as possible.
Sigrun tilted her head.
Her innocent gesture had noblemen clutching their hearts, howling in rapture.
It made my stomach churn.
Their fawning over her beautiful facade was nauseating.
What faces would they make if they knew a millennium-old monster lurked beneath that fresh shell?
I quickly dismissed the curiosity. I had no intention of provoking Sigrun over idle whims.
She was one of the strongest foes from my centuries as a sword—and the most unpredictable.
I wouldn't gamble my future on something trivial.
Ugh.
Today's banquet seemed doomed too.
Yesterday, the imperial envoy stirred trouble; today, a lunatic elf latched on. What a rotten streak.
My grand recitation of the Ode felt wasted.
As I edged away stealthily, Sigrun stepped forward.
"But."
She leaned in so close her breath brushed my skin.
"Have we met somewhere before?"
A chill ran down my spine. Hiding my goosebump-covered hand behind me, I shook my head vigorously.
"Strange. Why do you feel so familiar?"
"First time seeing an elf."
Her eyes narrowed at my words.
"Really?"
"Really."
Her crystalline gaze, as if peering into my soul, chilled me to the bone.
High Elves were born with the stature of heroes. Even four centuries ago, her realm had been far beyond me; I couldn't fathom how much higher it was now.
I could only pray her insight hadn't reached the pinnacle of piercing all things.
"Liar."
My heart plummeted at Sigrun's words.
"It's true."
I feigned calm, but she shook her head.
"Humans seeing an elf for the first time usually react in one of two ways."
She spoke with a melting smile.
"Enchanted."
I grimaced at her cloying charm.
"Or wary, like Your Highness."
The former for the masses, the latter only for those of exceptional cultivation.
"But to me, Your Highness doesn't seem that advanced yet."
Sigrun beamed radiantly.
"My tastes are just a bit unique."
What nonsense. Elven beauty transcended preferences. Even brutish orcs acknowledged it.
Mentioning taste before such absolute allure? What a lame excuse.
But what could I do? She insisted, claiming no man resisted her. Arguing would look petty.
And the Sigrun I knew wasn't so lacking in pride.
Chin.
She stepped back a couple paces.
"It was a pleasure meeting you, however briefly."
Pulling her hood back up, she retreated to a corner of the banquet hall.
"Ah..."
Sighs erupted as her face vanished into the hood's shadow. Glancing around, I saw men staring spellbound. Some eyes twisted with greed and desire.
They're done for.
Falling for that innocent shell and acting on it meant utter ruin—no foundation left. Elves showed no mercy in retribution, sparing neither age nor gender.
I clicked my tongue and turned away.
There was Uncle Bail. He hadn't sensed the enormity of the elf woman right before him.
Not that anyone could detect an Elder High Elf deliberately concealing her presence.
Still, his vulnerability drew a sigh from me.
If Sigrun had come with ill intent today, the kingdom's fate was sealed.
"Her benevolent and beautiful consort, Queen Margarita, enters at the gracious invitation of Lionel Leonberger, the righteous ruler of Leonberg, most noble and wise of kings!"
Lost in thought, the queen had arrived.
Her elegant poise amid splendor was striking.
The somewhat chaotic atmosphere instantly ordered itself. Nobles knelt or bowed before the noble lady.
"Ian."
Escorted lightly by her lady knight, the queen approached me with a proud smile.
"Seeing you like this reminds me of His Majesty in his youth."
She seemed pleased with my carefully adorned appearance.
"Come here."
She took my hand and led me to the dais.
"Don't think of slipping away early today."
Ventriloquizing softly, she sat in the chair on the dais. I took my seat beside her.
Empty chairs dotted the dais—the king's and other royals'.
"His Majesty will attend tomorrow."
She added,
"Tonight's for you, not an exaggeration. Just enjoy it."
The queen rose and offered brief blessings to the nobles. With her unremarkable words, the banquet's paused rhythm resumed.
Music flowed. Grand lords and nobles approached one by one to pay respects to the queen. Their demeanor toward me was worlds apart.
This was true royal dignity.
Even without borrowing the Ode's grandeur, nobles bowed on their own. I smiled wryly.
Still a long way to go.
No disappointment. Transcendence and completion would bring such stature naturally.
"How was she?"
"Pardon?"
While lost in thought, the queen asked.
"That girl just now."
I followed her gaze unwittingly. A girl, perhaps ten, caught my eye and shyly fidgeted.
"Fine house, impeccable character. Word is she's brimming with feminine virtues. No flaws as your bride."
Realizing belatedly what she meant, I paled.
"Too young."
Not even a lady yet—a maiden at best. My honest assessment drew a lecture from the queen.
I let it flow in one ear and out the other.
"Tsk."
Tongue-clicking, she shoved another candidate my way.
Older than the first, but still utterly immature.
I shook my head.
She paraded several more. I rejected them all.
"It's about choosing a bride. Don't expect the sultriness of your usual women."
Wise, virtuous, healthy. Solid backing house. Listing princessly virtues, she summoned the next.
I shook my head.
The candidate and her parents turned away. Mother and daughter seemed relieved.
More followed.
All immature girls, barely grown. I sighed repeatedly.
The queen sighed too.
How long had it been?
A hooded group strode to the dais. Sigrun and the elves.
"Sigrun of the Mistletoe Clan greets the beautiful Queen Margarita."
Sigrun bowed with a fresh smile.
"Elves visiting the kingdom after so long—quite the surprise."
The queen marveled at their arrival, delighted at such esteemed guests on this day as an omen.
"If I may, it seems Your Majesty seeks a bride for His Highness. Am I right?"
Sigrun stepped forward. The queen nodded, and she beamed.
"Truth be told, the king sent us without explanation. But now I see why."
She glanced at me.
"What do you think of our kind, Your Majesty?"
"Quiet neighbors who could be friends anytime."
Sigrun's smile deepened at the queen's reply.
I grew uneasy, soon pinpointing why.
"Wouldn't family be better than friends?"
"What do you mean?"
"I'm a High Elf, after all. In human terms, from quite the ancient noble line."
Good lord. I'd complained about overly young candidates, and now the world's oldest(?) bride appeared.
"Coincidentally, my age isn't far from His Highness's."
The loathsome Sigrun lied without batting an eye.