Chapter 40
Chapter 40
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 40
Chapter Title: The Elves Gather
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Excluding Sion and Piot, the rest of the group was led to a two-story wooden house on the outskirts of the North Mountain Elves' village.
The two-story house looked quite large, but it was still insufficient to accommodate the fifty or so members, so the mercenaries and soldiers began setting up tents in the nearby open field to camp out.
“Please use fire carefully.”
“Of course.”
Yonas, who knew the elves best among the group, directed the work in accordance with their request.
Uncle was working so diligently that Sirvan couldn’t just stand by idly; though grumbling inwardly, he awkwardly joined in.
“Sirvan! Go over there and help with the work.”
“Yes...”
Sirvan, who had been milling about among the comfortable house knights and soldiers, sighed inwardly at Yonas’s order and trudged over to where the Zanstrik mercenaries were.
‘There are so many people, and we’re staying in that house anyway—what’s the point?’
His throat itched with complaints, but with Yonas having become a completely different person lately, Sirvan could only quietly lend a hand to the mercenaries.
After about ten minutes of work, someone approached the open field.
‘Frielle, was it? But why is she coming alone?’
Sirvan tilted his head at the sight of the elf who had led them from the forest to the village—the leader of the elves.
He had already felt puzzled and a bit offended that only Sion and Piot were meeting the elder, and now with Frielle coming alone, his suspicions grew even stronger.
Frielle passed right by Sirvan and went to Yonas to speak with him.
Sirvan’s elvish was still awkward, and he was too far to hear clearly, but he could tell Yonas was greatly surprised by her words.
After Frielle left a moment later, Sirvan sneaked up to Yonas, gauging his mood.
Seeing his uncle looking gravely serious yet somehow a little excited sparked Sirvan’s curiosity, so he cautiously spoke up.
“Uncle, what’s going on? What did that elf say earlier?”
“Hm.”
Yonas, lost in thought, suddenly turned his head and looked at Sirvan with complicated eyes. As Sirvan grew even more puzzled by the unfamiliar gaze, Yonas spoke.
“The elves have decided to go with us to Three-Headed Eagle Castle.”
“What?”
Sirvan was genuinely shocked.
The elves had deep and long-standing ties with the family, but aside from the essential personnel who rotated every few years, they almost never visited Three-Headed Eagle Castle where the duke resided.
And Yonas had just said “the elves.” That meant not a few, but many.
“The North Mountain Elves? How many? No, why to Three-Headed Eagle Castle...”
“Not just North Mountain—the elves.”
“...!?”
“Elves from North Mountain, South Mountain, and High Mountain might all go with us to Three-Headed Eagle Castle. No, they’ll almost certainly all go together.”
The three elf tribes settled in Sion Dukedom weren’t particularly close or distant.
They had some exchanges, but they didn’t feel any special affection or deep kinship just because they were the same race.
For humans, it’d be like neighboring villages—humans don’t get along closely or fondly with everyone from the next village over.
They might occasionally help each other or cooperate, but often they lived like cows and chickens, or even treated each other like sworn enemies.
And the same went for elves.
Of course, the elf tribes in Sion Dukedom didn’t treat each other like enemies. Having come to escape tribal extinction, they never quarreled.
However, they weren’t particularly close—just not hostile—and being an impassive race with minimal emotional fluctuations, they didn’t interact much unless it was absolutely necessary.
For all three elf tribes of Sion Dukedom to visit the ducal castle at once?
“This is huge! Wow! Don’t the three tribes almost never gather like this? Only for a new duke’s inauguration, weddings, or funerals, right? Wow...! What if the dwarves come along too?”
True to his young age, Sirvan couldn’t hide his excitement.
But as he listened to Sirvan’s thrilled words, Yonas’s eyes suddenly widened.
“Inauguration and funeral. And dwarves...?”
It felt like lightning striking in his mind.
-From the moment you arrive in the Dukedom, you must trust me unconditionally.
The stern voice of the revered founder suddenly came to mind—it couldn’t be coincidence.
At the time, it had seemed obvious, and overwhelmed with emotion, he had simply vowed to obey.
But what if those words carried the founder’s strong will and deep intent?
And what if that will and intent were connected to the recent discord surrounding the family and title?
Thump!
Yonas’s expression hardened in an instant, his heart sinking.
* * *
“Are you disappointed because I didn’t tell you from the start?”
“No. I fully understand Grandfather’s intentions. It’s just... I was a bit surprised.”
The shock was brief.
Piot quickly composed himself, his attitude and speech even more cautious than before—Sion was satisfied with the response.
“I had planned to tell you once everything was back in place. But the situation has changed. And more importantly, you have changed.”
“Me... you mean?”
Sion nodded to the bewildered Piot.
“Yes. To be honest, I thought it would take more time for you to fulfill one person’s role—precisely, the role I expect of you. But that time has come sooner than anticipated.”
“Ah......”
Piot’s face flushed with joy and embarrassment at the recognition from his legendary great-grandfather-hero.
“Most crucially, you saw the level.”
“Level...?”
At Sion’s words, Bael and Frielle, who had been silently listening to the great-grandfather and great-grandson’s conversation, showed slight changes in expression.
As the two elves’ demeanors shifted, Sion turned to them and continued.
“What I’m about to say may not be entirely factual. But I believe it’s almost certainly true, so keep it in mind.”
“Hm. Understood.”
Bael, who had observed Sion up close since his youth, quietly focused on him.
Frielle, well-versed in Duke Sion’s legendary exploits from the tribe elders and the fair, trustworthy attitude of the Sion ducal family toward elves, also listened intently.
“What my great-grandson and you all saw was the term ‘level.’ It’s a kind of rank.”
“Rank?”
“Exactly.”
Sion calmly explained the concept of levels. It wasn’t difficult, so the three quickly grasped it.
But Bael, the eldest among them, wondered about something else.
“However, Duke, how do you know about this ‘level’?”
Sion, having anticipated the question, answered without flinching.
“I heard it from someone.”
“Can you tell us who?”
Gazing into Bael’s somewhat cloudy eyes, which bespoke his remaining lifespan, Sion felt a twinge of unease.
He wasn’t one of the so-called Six Heroes, but as a longtime comrade-in-arms, lying to this old elf weighed on him.
But he couldn’t reveal everything.
And now was the time for a white lie.
“Does that matter?”
“......!?”
“Isn’t what matters what level is, why it suddenly appeared, and why only a few see it—not everyone? Does it matter more who told me than that? Especially between you and me, and my family and the elves?”
“Hmm.”
It would be absurd if it weren’t a lie, but Bael couldn’t deny it.
Sion and the elves settled in this dukedom had a complex relationship.
Sion didn’t offer the elves kindness without reward. Nor had the elves settled here solely on faith in his promises.
It was a give-and-take.
Their goals aligned, and under mutual trust, they had coexisted well for long years.
The key here was “trust.”
And Sion—his descendants—had kept their promises to the three tribes.
“You’re right. It doesn’t matter.”
“Thank you for understanding, friend.”
Sion nodded at Bael’s reply.
Though they hadn’t seen each other in ages, he knew Bael would grasp and follow his intent.
Piot and Frielle present might not get it, but the bond between the two was profound.
‘That’s what comrades-in-arms are.’
The old comrades who had bled together toward the same goal quickly restored their past trust.
“Level is...”
Sion looked around at the three and spoke again.
“A measure of a person’s current state. It won’t drop, and it’ll rise depending on effort.
In my view, right now, only those with special talent in body or mind, or superior specific skills compared to others, can see it—not everyone.”
“Talent and skills...”
“Exactly. For example, Frielle.”
“Yes.”
“I observed you on the way here. In my opinion, you’re the strongest warrior among the North Mountain Elves, right?”
“Yes.”
“And your tracking and detection skills are the best.”
“That’s correct too.”
“That’s why you can see the level now. And Bael, you’re the representative elder of the North Mountain Elves and were the strongest warrior when you came to the dukedom with me.”
Frielle and Bael were exceptional among the North Mountain Elves. Thus, Sion was convinced they could see levels.
“Hmm. Duke, what about the other tribes then?”
“Not right now, but eventually, I expect they’ll all be able to see levels.”
Elves were a special race—strictly “people,” yet comprising less than 1% of the world’s population.
Sion was certain they’d see levels even faster than humans, most likely.
“Hm. So that’s why you summoned the brothers and sisters from High Mountain and South Mountain.”
“Exactly. Those responding to my call would be the exceptional ones from High Mountain and South Mountain. At least three or four should be able to see levels.”
And these “special” elves who could see levels would be a great help not just to Sion himself, but to the ducal family, which he planned to upend and normalize once.
“Special brothers and sisters... Duke, are you planning to lead them to the ducal family? And step back to the forefront yourself?”
Bael asked, nearly convinced. He believed that was the only reason his old friend, absent from the dukedom for decades, had returned.
“No. I have no such plans.”
“What? Why not?”
Bael, who knew Sion well from long observation, was a bit surprised.
Piot felt the same.
From the moment he learned Sion’s identity, his heart had swelled with the desire to stand by his revered founder.
“I’ve lived a long time, you see.”
Sion grinned and continued to the three.
“I’ve found it far more convenient and fun working from behind the scenes. Not the most appealing term, but... like a black curtain?”
“Black... curtain...?”
Seeing Sion’s sly grin, Bael wondered if his old friend had become the Demon King in his absence.
(To be continued next time)