Chapter 99
Chapter 99
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 99
Chapter Title: 32. Fisherman's Profit (3)
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Her arms were still crossed, her face still scowled just the same, and her posture waiting for my words hadn't changed a bit.
But her eyes were completely different.
Just moments ago, she had merely let me ramble on. But now, her gaze demanded an explanation from me.
"That day, the dwarf clan's meisters were there because they were scouting sites to build a new furnace to replace the one whose lifespan had come to an end."
She remained silent.
"If you had caused them any harm or sabotaged them that day, the dwarves—driven mad by the loss of their furnace—would have all swarmed north in droves."
Individually, dwarves were certainly weaker than elves. Unlike high elves who lived a thousand years, dwarf meisters only lived about three hundred. That gap in lifespan was precisely the gap in power.
But that was only on an individual level.
A dwarf army, fully prepared for war, was an entirely different story.
Armed with their self-forged divine weapons and iron cannons, the dwarves themselves were like iron and fire. They were hammers that could smash anything and flames that left nothing unburned.
Sigrun couldn't possibly fail to grasp what my words implied.
Yet even so, she remained cynical toward me.
"No matter how many of those puny dwarves come crawling, we can just kill them all."
I shook my head at her words, spoken after a long silence.
"Even if you won, it would be a pyrrhic victory at best. By then, their iron cannons would have burned all the forests you hold so dear to ashes."
People often called elves the innocent gardeners of the forest, romanticizing their obsessive attachment to it.
That wasn't true at all. Elves didn't cherish and protect the forests out of some pure love for greenery.
Fey to the forests. Dwarves to the depths below.
It was because the land permitted to them was limited solely to the forests.
A shrinking forest meant a shrinking kingdom, and a burning forest meant a burning kingdom.
And even in defeat, a dwarf army had the power to raze their entire realm.
"I've already bestowed a great favor upon the elves."
I flopped down onto the sofa, sinking deep into the backrest as I savored Sigrun's expression.
Her face had stiffened rigidly, and with even the last traces of her sneer wiped away, all that remained was a dryness devoid of any vitality.
Her true nature began to peek through that face, like a doll sculpted from grains of desert sand.
A cruel madness flickered behind her silver eyes.
"A favor is something like magnanimity or mercy bestowed by the strong upon the weak."
Know your place, she warned me. Recognize your own station.
My eyes stung like they'd been pricked by needles. My skin burned as if seared by fire. My breath caught tight in my throat.
And she hadn't even unleashed her true might yet. This was just a verbal warning.
My pride was wounded.
"If you're going to shamelessly play dumb, then do so. I won't demand any further compensation."
So I responded all the more defiantly.
"But don't expect anything more from me. You were the one who broke faith first, not I."
At that instant, Sigrun's faint breathing cut off completely. She stared at me like a broken doll, her movements creaking.
The moment our gazes met, I knew.
I had just crossed a line I shouldn't have.
I had thoroughly enraged a being of overwhelming power, incomparable to any warlord.
A monster who could probably crush me with a single finger—one I likely couldn't even withstand a single strike from.
I didn't so much as twitch an eyebrow.
She was an Elder High Elf who had come here already offended. Even if I groveled to soothe her mood, I'd end up with a collar around my neck anyway.
Clinging to life like a dog with a leash wasn't my way. Of course, dying like a dog right here wasn't what I wanted either.
"Come out."
I whispered lowly, staring straight at her as if she might erupt at any moment.
Sigrun showed no reaction to my sudden words.
"Archmage of the White Night."
But even she stiffened the instant I uttered "White Night."
Flash!
In that moment, in the room lit only by the hearth's glow, crimson eyes suddenly emerged from the darkest shadow.
I was just about to step out anyway.
It was Ophelia, the High Lich—once the revered Archmage of the White Night in life, now a grotesque skeleton.
The High Lich fully emerged from the shadows and glared at the Elder High Elf, then suddenly clacked her jaw.
It looked like a smile at a glance. But the emotion within was far from welcoming—intensely threatening.
Sigrun's shoulders twitched faintly.
I warn you in advance.
But before that twitch could lead to a sword dance, Ophelia spoke.
If that little gesture is the prelude to some vulgar swordplay...
Geometric patterns suddenly appeared on the walls, ceiling, everywhere around.
Overlapping five to seven circles each, these were geometric figures embodying the truths and mysteries of the world—magic arrays that only those who had reached the realm of archmage could create.
...you'll experience the White Night before the first note even begins.
Sigrun's body froze solid. Conflict surfaced in her silver eyes.
I could see her inner turmoil plain as day.
She had come simply to vent and warn. My provocation had briefly made her lose her reason, but harming me offered her no gain.
Then, unexpectedly, the Archmage of the White Night appeared.
Up until now, it had been merely a lack of profit. From here on, it was clear loss.
With magic arrays filling the room, only the archmage knew their exact number and contents.
That meant the archmage ruled this space.
Of course, an Elder High Elf had the power to behead an archmage before the arrays activated—but that only worked on living ones.
The Archmage of the White Night was a High Lich.
Decapitation wouldn't stop the spells.
Sigrun's gaze dropped to her feet. Right beneath her, a complexly intertwined magic array glowed.
Click.
She quietly released the sword hilt she had gripped.
"I've never heard that you'd come south of the mountains."
The madness and rage from moments ago were gone from her face as she feigned embarrassment.
"If I'd known, I would have come to pay my respects much sooner."
Back to her usual self, Sigrun stared at me pointedly.
"Your Highness. Bringing another woman into your bedchamber while you have a fiancée is an insult that's hard to bear."
It was an accusation for using the Archmage of the White Night as a shield.
"You broke faith first."
My response remained unwavering.
She had come with ill intent from the start, denied our mutual alliance out of pride despite maintaining it superficially, and tried to force me with power.
"Quarrels between lovers are common. If we parted ways every time, what couples would be left in the world?"
I scoffed even at her soothing, coaxing tone.
"Fine. I acknowledge my recklessness and will pay the price for the favor Your Highness bestowed."
Finally, she threw up her hands in surrender.
"I'll fully transfer the nineteen Sword Maidens to you."
It sounded generous at first, but it was no great loss for her.
She had assigned them to me as eyes and ears in the first place, but with the Archmage of the White Night at my side, that purpose was now impossible.
Moreover, Ophelia had once called the Sword Maidens half-blood fey, not pureblood. To elves obsessed with bloodlines, they were no kin at all.
In other words, Sigrun wasn't handing them over—she was discarding them.
"I'll gladly accept."
But I had no intention of treating the Sword Maidens as trash just because Sigrun did.
Skilled in stealth and infiltration, with combat prowess rivaling decent knights, they were valuable assets even if not fully trustworthy.
If I could just smooth over ties with their awkward former master, I'd have recruited them myself first.
Sigrun sealed an oath with a few words, relinquishing all rights to the Sword Maidens.
Ophelia added binding force to her vow as a precaution, and only then could the Sword Maidens truly escape the Elder High Elf's influence.
"Satisfied now?"
I shook my head firmly at Sigrun's question.
And told her that restoring broken trust required far more effort.
Sigrun frowned and asked what more I wanted.
"Unlike dwarves, we don't hoard particularly valuable goods."
As she questioned whether there was truly anything worth expecting, I flashed a triumphant smile.
Dwarves were unrivaled in fortification and metallurgy; elves in magic and gathering.
And what I wanted was the essence they gathered—the blessing of the forest itself.
"Elixir."
The fey's miracle potion.
Sigrun furrowed her brow at my words.
"Do you even know what an Elixir is?"
"As much as anyone else."
"It's not some immortality elixir like humans claim, and if misused, the losses far outweigh the gains."
Sigrun added pointedly.
"Especially for a promising knight like Your Highness—the losses would be even greater."
She wasn't making excuses to avoid giving it. She genuinely believed it wouldn't help me. She seemed worried that a delicacy meant for far-future feasting might spoil if mishandled.
"So, are you giving it or not?"
As I pressed her, she hesitated long, then abruptly turned away.
"I hope this isn't bottomless greed."
Just before vanishing out the window, she added as if it had just occurred to her.
"Keep watch beyond the mountains."
And with a whoosh out the window came a faint whisper on the wind.
With the lord of the mountains in the wrong place, all this chaos ensues.
I instinctively turned to look behind me.
There stood the High Lich who ruled a ridge of the Frost Mountains, gazing at me with hollow eyes.
I dispatched rangers to scout the situation beyond the mountains.
"How long has it been since the war ended, and I'm already this lax?"
I berated myself.
Sigrun's parting words were as good as a stern reprimand.
A warning to my heart, grown complacent amid smooth days.
I steeled my resolve and planted a sword in my mind.
Only then did I realize it.
The clouds of war creeping right up to Winter Castle's doorstep.
But I wasn't anxious like before.
Winter Castle was ready to face any foe at any time. Even if incomplete, over five hundred knight candidates trained relentlessly day and night, and a new ranger legion—equivalent to one full legion—traversed the mountains diligently, honing real combat instincts.
Moreover, at a single order, the northern lords' armies—totaling some three legions—would assemble here.
I quietly waited for the rangers' return.
But the rangers I awaited didn't come. Instead, an owl arrived, pecking at my bedchamber window.
Its sharp talons gripped a vial of mysteriously shimmering liquid.
The miracle potion Sigrun had sent: the Elixir.
I uncorked the vial without a moment's hesitation.
Whoosh.
I savored the dense aroma piercing straight to my senses.
The very blessing of an abundant forest.
The most essential thing for me now.
The essence of mana.
I downed the potion.