Chapter 283
Chapter 283
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Expedition Force
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"Ah..."
A fragile sight, as if brushing against her would scatter her into white petals on the wind.
The girl in pure white gazed out the window with eyes brimming with melancholy.
"Rishir..."
Soon, those elegant lips uttered the man's name.
It was akin to a magical incantation.
One infused with the power to make any onlooker envious and resentful of that name's owner—
Any ordinary man witnessing the scene would have instantly fallen under that spell.
He would have grasped at any means to make the name she called so desperately his own.
Lucky, then, in that regard.
The one watching her from nearby was no ordinary man.
By his own claim, not even a woman.
Lona, the exquisite young noble.
He gazed at the girl in pure white with a refined smile that set many ladies' hearts aflutter.
"What's this, Fienne? Pining for a man while staring out the window? Didn't know you had such a girlish side."
An opportunity to tease the haughty lady. Lona wouldn't miss such a rare chance.
Lona prodded Fienne with a mischievous grin.
But Fienne didn't react. She remained lost in deep thought.
Gazing out the window, calling a man's name.
The girl in pure white continued her next action.
"Just come back... I absolutely won't forgive you..."
"..."
Upon closer look, those eyes weren't wistful—they were coldly dead.
The girl in pure white.
No, the acting councilor.
Shadows of fatigue were thick on her face.
Traces of her efforts to compensate for Rishir's absence.
'Ah. So that's why those in power choose corruption over honest diligence.'
Lona gained a somewhat skewed insight from her appearance.
"Well, what'll you do if you don't forgive him?"
"Obviously—"
Fienne, about to shout with all her might, clamped her mouth shut and faltered midway.
She had meant to boldly claim her right to take his blood, but putting it into action complicated her thoughts.
Excitedly demanding "bloodsucking" as a reward, no less.
"What do I even lack?"
"Fienne?"
"If anything, that's a reward for him, not me! If I offered such grace right now, every human in this city would line up before me..."
The girl in pure white grumbled like she was making excuses, her face flushed red.
Perfect for teasing, but Lona restrained himself.
Provoking Fienne in that state might lead to something uncontainable in a whole different way.
"...Ah!"
How long had Fienne been wrestling with herself?
As if struck by a brilliant idea, color bloomed on her sulky, elegant face.
"I just had a great idea!"
"What is it?"
Fienne sat in her chair, leaning back against it.
Then she scooted her hips forward slightly and lifted her legs.
Lona involuntarily turned his head away.
Swish.
The sound of her dress hem brushing her skin, followed by the extension of her pristine white legs.
The sight was so bewitching—even the young noble who toyed with city ladies' hearts could scarcely endure it.
And that in a light, casual atmosphere devoid of any such intent.
"I'll make that man wash my feet!"
"Wash your... feet?"
Lona looked back at her.
Her excited voice matched the playful mischief filling her expression.
"Yes! Like this, looking down on him kneeling at my feet, diligently washing them while writhing in shame! How's that? Wouldn't that make for a sufficient reward—no, no!!! Punishment?"
"Reward—no, punishment. Punishment for what?"
"What else? For dumping a ton of hassle on us and gallivanting outside!"
"Us...? For my part, I'm doing this because I want to—"
"Yes!?"
Huh.
Lona struck his signature pose with a confident expression.
The charm that shook women's hearts.
"Because I've never particularly wanted to impress that guy or anything. From the start, men are—rough-skinned, hairy, fishy-smelling—why bother with such things when I could mingle with lovely ladies instead?"
"...Ah, that setting. You're still sticking to it?"
"Setting? What are you talking about? From the beginning, I've never seen that guy as more than a friend."
"..."
Whatever anyone says?
Like pricked by his own words, he suddenly spilled excuses in a ramble.
Perfect for teasing, but Fienne restrained herself.
Provoking Lona in that state would turn things into a real hassle.
"Besides, he probably sees me as a friend too? Casual same-sex buddies. I'm not against that. It's comfortable, even."
Before long, the young noble had vanished.
In his place was a fresh young lady evoking a summer sky.
She twirled the ends of her short golden hair around her finger.
Her healthy tanned skin flushed subtly, giving off a faint sheen.
"...So you're still committed to that 'men in general' shtick?"
"Wh-what!?"
Fienne finally piped up, while Lona startled and hastily recomposed himself.
"Ahem. Anyway. I'm not particularly interested in that stuff. Not that I am, but..."
Lona's gaze drifted briefly into space.
"If I bail now, you'd be the bad guy alone, so no choice. Fine, whatever. Foot-washing? I'll take it."
Reluctantly.
Not really into it.
At that self-justifying attitude, Fienne let out a small scoff.
"No? Not at all? Why would that make me the bad guy? I don't care one bit, so feel free to go mingle with the ladies worry-free."
"..."
Their gazes clashed like swords in midair.
"Besides, are you sure about that?"
"About what?"
"Looking down on him writhing in shame?"
"Sure am?"
"Will he actually writhe in shame?"
"..."
She pursed her lips.
Her eyes flicked to the upper left.
Thus, Fienne's mind commenced prediction mode.
Visualize Rishir washing feet and writhing in shame.
Failed.
What surfaced in Fienne's head was instead a man nonchalantly massaging her pristine white feet.
She was the one writhing in shame.
"..."
As if having previewed the future, Fienne's lips pouted.
She unconsciously muttered.
"No helping it then. Like that time, I'll pull his hand..."
That night.
Her conclusion, recalling Rishir fidgeting and sucking his fingers.
In truth.
Back then, Fienne—sucking his blood—had been more fidgety than Rishir himself.
But memory is awfully convenient.
In Fienne's recollection, she toyed with Rishir in a seductive, leisurely manner befitting a true ancestor.
A far cry from reality, where her ears turned blood-red post-bloodsucking before she bolted away.
"What're you talking about?"
"Hm?"
Then.
Lona asked Fienne.
"What did you do to that guy's fingertips?"
"Oh. Nothing much."
Fienne puffed up proudly and launched into her heroic tale.
Lona didn't focus on the true ancestor's grandeur.
What caught her interest was the backstory.
A secret midnight rendezvous under the moonlight.
"Y-you harlot!?"
"Yes!?"
Lona's sudden outburst.
Fienne, mid-boast, panicked.
"H-harlot? Me!? Out of nowhere!?"
"Exactly! Sneaking into that guy's room at midnight and slurping on his fingers—"
"Don't phrase it so vulgarly! This was a most sacred act, not whatever you're imagining!?"
"Sacred or not, you snuck into a man's room at night and rolled his fingers in your mouth!"
"Th-then what about you!?"
"Me what!"
"You jumped him naked back then too!"
"Th-that...! That's different!"
"Oh? How so?"
"Back then, I had a perfect body incapable of such vulgarity!"
"I said it's not vulgar!?"
"By that logic, mine wasn't either!"
"Right! Who said otherwise!?"
"...No, we're still different no matter how you slice it!!! You traitor!!!"
"Wha—"
There were no longer a true ancestor enchanting hearts or an exquisite young noble.
Just two ladies lost in a red-faced frenzy.
Knock knock.
Their bickering paused only after a visitor arrived at the office.
"..."
"..."
The two glared daggers at each other before turning away.
Secretary Lona went to the door and opened it.
"Ah, Lady Fienne. Sorry to interrupt while you're busy...?"
The visitor was a servant of Acting Councilor Fienne.
Like the mansion's other staff, she dreamed of chatting with Fienne, but reading the mood, she cut straight to business.
A report on the current Bondalles situation, as Fienne had ordered.
Bondalles was one of the major cities along the elf expedition force's route.
Should the elves seize it, they could use it as a base to extend influence over the surrounding area.
That explained the recent influx of outsiders to Bondalles.
They sought to exert influence under the pretext of the elf expedition.
In case Bondalles failed to respond adequately, they planned to station their own people there.
The reason Bondalles' powerholders, Fienne included, endured weary days.
Bondalles was prosperous but not militarily strong.
Warding off the wolf packs pouncing at the chance was no easy task.
But—
"Thanks to the prior meetings, their audience requests have sharply declined. The overt movements they showed inside and outside the city have too."
In the end, it was resolved well.
"And so, only one audience request remains."
Lona added.
"...Good work, Fienne."
"...You too, Lona."
The two forgot their prior spat and smiled at each other.
It was worth celebrating.
The massive anomaly of the elf expedition force. Right at its heart.
Normally, Bondalles would have become a chaotic stage for massive power struggles without issue.
In fact.
Councilor Lan and other city leaders agreed: "The old Bondalles would've been in crisis long ago."
The change that made today's Bondalles possible.
The sole reason Bondalles escaped the current crisis.
"They came to us too."
Lona recalled the previous audience.
They had tried to sway Fienne's faction with gold and threats.
—Think it over, Acting Councilor.
—You might refuse, but can the other city nobles stay aloof before this offer?
—By then, it'll be too late.
—No place for you, no gold left.
Maintaining the city's stance amid simultaneous external pressures was no easy feat.
A city is a community formed by various groups.
"If I hold firm but others fold, what then?" Such thoughts inevitably stirred anxiety.
Especially in a city like Bondalles, lacking a dominant central power.
External forces had extended their reach presuming that selfishness.
—Ridiculous! That councilor rejected the offer!? Why? He had no reason to!
Thus.
They could only express bewilderment at their Bondalles experiences.
Prioritizing the city community over any offer or threat—that integrity.
It was the kind seen only in cities ruled by absolute powers akin to grand nobles.
The incomprehensible situation stimulated their imaginations.
—Could there be... a secret force in this city we don't know about? Maybe that's why the Frozen Breath and talent collectors set up here...
The circumstances that made the wolves withdraw and observe.
Recapping events, Fienne let out a chuckle.
"Bondalles' secret force, huh..."
The massive shadow that calmed the excited wolves.
Naturally, no such secret force existed in Bondalles.
No colossal power manipulating the city from the shadows.
But.
Depending on perspective, maybe.
"Lady Fienne."
"Yes?"
"Could it be... that 'he' intervened?"
Confirming Fienne's good mood, the servant asked with intrigued excitement.
That one.
None other than referring to Rishir.
Rishir.
He was a member of some secretive, mighty organization.
A ghost story spreading as accepted fact in parts of current Bondalles.
The tearful efforts of those yet to meet him, piecing together fragments of his feats.
"Who knows."
Fienne offered only a meaningful smile.
If Rishir did nothing, that fit.
If he resolved everything, that fit too.
"Oh..."
Whatever she interpreted from Fienne's demeanor.
Her eyes sparkled brightly.
What stories would she share with colleagues in that state?
Fienne wondered if she'd stirred unnecessary trouble.
The colossal(?) shadow faction covertly dominating Bondalles.
That urban legend grew ever more rampant with each passing day.
"Delron. Are you sure this is fine? Going to such lengths—"
Just before the expedition force left Thormun.
Rishir met Delron separately for a talk.
Due to the sword house's sudden proposal.
Emboldened in Thormun, the expedition force drastically altered its route.
Discarding the old path of endless detours, they set a new one.
A bold straight shot.
By that route, only one city lay between them and Bondalles ahead.
The city of the towering crimson mage tower.
The great city of Ifriren.
A daring decision bearing considerable risk for the expedition force.
Popandal's sword house gladly shouldered the burden to aid them.
Representing Thormun, they would temporarily join and guarantee the expedition's safety.
"If anything, I'm regretful this is the least I can do."
"..."
Popandal's sword house.
Seeing their lineup, Rishir had no choice but to accept the goodwill.
And shortly after.
The Ilraddain expedition force departed the mansion toward the city's rear gate.
"Safe travels!!!"
"May the gods' blessings be with your journey!!!"
"Hey! Don't say that to elves! The gods are our human deities!"
"Oh, right? Then what for elves—?"
"That world tree thing? The massive tree."
"Worshipping a tree as a god?"
"Well, probably bears golden apples or something."
"Ooh, a tree like that? I'd worship it too!"
"Anyway—elves! May the world tree's blessings be with you!!!"
"With the hero here, the world tree will surely bless you!!!"
The Ilraddain expedition force received the assembled Thormun citizens' cheers as they formed up.
Thanks to the misconception—not misconception—that the "Hero of Advance" was their core.
"These people, seriously...!!!"
Delron gawked at the citizens.
During his mercenary days.
He had witnessed elves fly into rages at ignorant humans mentioning the world tree.
Glancing at the elves, Delron bowed apologetically to their leader, Karoer.
"My apologies, Duke Karoer. We humans know nothing of the great world tree and often commit such ignorant blunders. Please overlook it..."
The world tree's blessings thanks to the human hero.
Ignorance at that level was violence.
The elves were likely reeling from headaches.
Delron panicked, fearing they'd flip out any second.
"The world tree's blessings thanks to the hero..."
"Eh?"
A subtle smile graced the high elf's serene face.
The other elves chatted among themselves, bursting into laughter.
At the impossible elven reaction, Delron blinked in a daze.
Karoer told him.
"Don't worry. We're fine."
"Ah...! Thank you for your magnanimity!"
"No need for magnanimity."
"Pardon?"
"They weren't entirely wrong."
"...Pardon?"
Karoer's words peaked Delron's confusion.
How was "world tree blessings thanks to the human hero" not entirely wrong?
'...Ah! I see!'
Eventually.
Delron nodded as if understanding.
He prided himself on fully grasping the man named Rishir through events.
Delron had learned to thoroughly reject common sense when approaching Rishir-related matters.
Reaching that conclusion, Delron chuckled.
Even he found it utterly absurd.
But.
To understand that man, you had to stray this far from common sense.
'Lord Rishir must have been recognized by the world tree as one of their own! Granted such a special role!'
Afterward.
Delron shared his revelation with the sword house members.
"No way... How could a human become an elf?"
"Even for Lord Rishir, that's..."
"They probably said it out of respect for his face."
At their reactions, Delron felt not frustration but a slight superiority.
Seemed he was the only one.
The one who "fully" understood Rishir.
Chest puffed, he asked Karoer.
"Duke Karoer. I had a hunch, but what role did Lord Rishir receive from the great world tree?"
"He is the world tree's mother."
"Ooh...!"
As expected.
Rishir held an immense title.
The world tree's mother, no less!
'But... what does "world tree's mother" even mean?'
Delron plunged into deep thought, seeking the true meaning behind the metaphorical(?) name.
"Huh? Lona. Come to think of it—"
"Yes?"
"You said one audience request left, but this morning you—"
"Ah, right. Was gonna refuse, but it's a special case—"
"Special case?"
Fienne's eyes widened at Lona's explanation.
"A dark elf who knows Rishir?"