“Call me Edwina.”
The elf queen was a modest noblewoman.
“My name is too long and complicated for a human mind to remember.”
To be precise, she was a “modest noblewoman for an elf.”
“If it’s too burdensome, fine. You may call me Edwina Idmir Eilenden Erlastien, Aldrenwell II. Half of it would still be considered polite.”
“I will call you Your Majesty.”
“You seem to like simplicity. Very human.”
The queen smiled humbly. Her wrinkled face was still impressively lively with her cheerful eyes.
The concept of an old elf is somewhat unfamiliar. Elves are a race with extremely minimal physical changes until the moment of death.
Signs of aging appear only in elves who have let go of everything and are preparing for death. And in such cases, most elves’ eyes “die” first.
Over the long years, their emotions wear out, hardening like accumulated sediment layers. They become empty, with nothing new or enjoyable left. Gradually, they take root in the earth and slowly let go of their existence as individuals.
An elf that becomes a tree is still alive but can no longer be called an individual. They return to being part of the great forest known as the “Ancestors.”
“I was surprised to receive the report. I thought a guest would be interesting during this lonely time. I could hardly wait to have a conversation. If it was an imposition, I hope you understand.”
“It’s alright.”
“Indeed. Although late, welcome to Kalion, guest.”
The queen smiled contentedly, like a grandmother handing cocoa to her grandchild.
However, Ivan did not trust elderly people in this world. Unlike the brilliant civilization of the 21st century, where the elderly were naturally respected, the elderly in this primitive world were those who had “proven themselves through the years they survived.”
Especially after a war that had claimed a third of the workforce.
“Except for envoys, no human has enjoyed tea time with me for at least two centuries. Now, I won’t teach you our etiquette, so speak freely. What brings you to my palace?”
Ivan quietly touched his teacup. There was no one around him except for a few guards with closed eyes.
He was the only one granted an audience.
He looked around. The elf queen’s palace, the spire terrace of the Eternal Palace, shone white under the warm noon sun.
Wildflowers and unknown beautiful shrubs adorned the aerial garden, and a fountain, clearly a magical device, scattered sunlight as it flowed.
Birds he had never seen before chirped as if singing.
From this high spire, just a slight turn of the head allowed a view of all the streets of Ydranhill. The panoramic view showed the white city and dozens of warships and merchant ships floating on the emerald sea, like jewels.
“It’s a nice place.”
“Ah, my only hobby is observing. There’s nothing else to do but watch over my people.”
This signified a reign without actual governance.
All administrative powers rested with the Privy Council.
Unlike the nominal constitutional monarchy of Krasilov, Kalion adhered strictly to royal authority under the law. The position remained purely symbolic.
Ivan was not used to speaking indirectly. He was not skilled in diplomacy to converse politically with high-ranking officials.
He quickly turned to face the queen.
“There are groups using milestones. Is this something Your Majesty has permitted?”
“I do have administrative authority. But if the council decides, what can I do? All I can do is give permission.”
“Did you know?”
“Yes. And what you truly want to ask.”
The queen laughed pleasantly.
“Speak freely. The ancient artifacts of Kalion are not your concern, are they?”
“There is intelligence that the deposed crown prince of my country is hiding in this land.”
“Ah, yes. His name was… Alexander, wasn’t it? That boy.”
“My country requests the extradition of our criminal under the Treaty of the United Kingdom.”
“If that was the case, you should have sent an envoy with an official request. That’s not something I can do.”
So, bring official documents if you want to talk about your country.
That’s her stance.
Ivan looked at the queen deeply. Her eyes were still sparkling with joy.
Let’s see what more tricks you have. It was the amusement of a queen growing old without power.
“Then, I request an audience with Veolgreen Grykencos.”
“Oh.”
The queen’s eyes brightened.
“You noticed? The intelligence power of Krasilov is impressive.”
“You flatter us.”
It’s certain that Veolgreen has allied with Alexander.
In the first place, it means he didn’t come to Krasilov to deal with Alexander.
However…
‘He could have killed me that day.’
At the time Veolgreen possessed the captain of the airship, he had the power to do so. If he had wanted, Ivan would have died then and there.
He is the most powerful magician of this era. Even in close combat, victory is not assured. And that was not even his true form.
But then, Veolgreen spared him after a brief test. Rather than sparing him, it seemed the test itself was the purpose.
‘At that time, Alexander’s goal was the usurpation or destruction of Krasilov’s throne.’
If he wanted to ally with Alexander, bombing Frechenkaya cleanly would have sufficed. The fact that he didn’t means—
‘Was he… using Alexander?’
It meant Alexander was needed for some plan he had.
It meant he brought Alexander to Kalion and protected him for some purpose.
And this all happened under the approval of the old queen before him.
No matter how powerful Veolgreen is, in this country, he is merely one of the Privy Council. The elves are not so humble a race as to unconditionally revere him even if he were just a member of a hero’s party.
To harbor the crown prince of a failed rebellion from another country, support him, send elves, or even send warships to find him, would require someone’s backing.
It was safe to say the queen knew of Veolgreen’s plan and actively supported him.
“Veolgreen Grykencos was a High Astrologer. Just speculating since he was Your Majesty’s right hand.”
“Hmm, do you think Sir Grykencos could be anyone’s right hand? Do you still see me as having such hands and feet?”
Watching the queen smile slyly, Ivan quietly nodded.
She was proposing a deal regarding Veolgreen’s location.
“I am here not as a soldier of Krasilov, but as a mere guest.”
I am a soldier of Krasilov. Of quite a high rank.
“In my country, there is a culture where a guest residing in a house does not refuse small requests from the somewhat inconvenient host.”
If you need hands and feet, I will help you for a while. Tell me what you need.
In response to Ivan’s words, the elf queen asked with a humble smile.
“That’s an interesting culture. Shouldn’t a truly noble household not trouble their guests?”
Will you bring this up as an issue later?
Ivan shook his head and answered her words.
“Repaying kindness with kindness is a human’s duty, isn’t it?”
As long as you keep the deal, I will resolve it cleanly.
Satisfied with Ivan’s answer, the queen nodded.
“Indeed, Krasilov is a country that knows manners.”
The deal was sealed.
Ivan drank his tea with satisfaction.
*
“They asked me to perform a sword dance.”
“Huh…?”
At Ivan’s words, Edel put down her fork.
“Her Majesty did?”
“Yes.”
“To whom?”
“To the Privy Council.”
The Privy Council’s duel representative (a current Privy Council member and owner of the Black Horn) tilted his head. By the way, this was the office of the Black Horn Ydranhill branch’s branch manager.
The branch manager crossed his arms and looked at Ivan and Edel. The meaning in his eyes was clear.
Should I kill him?
Edel shook her head. Don’t.
To repeat, elves who carry swords are essentially madmen. And since the baseline for elves is madness, it makes them doubly mad. Ivan accepted this simple fact without any racial bias and moved his hand to his waist.
Ready to draw his axe if they made a move.
“What exactly did she say?”
“She told me to investigate the misuse of the Milestones and to take action if corruption is confirmed.”
“And she entrusted that to a human—an outsider?”
“Obviously, it means to poke around first.”
The Privy Council’s base is like a tree. Just as old trees often harbor beehives, birds, and snakes, who knows what might pop out when you shake it.
As modern science has revealed, trees communicate through their roots. When one tree is attacked, the others immediately know.
Again, the Privy Council members are like trees.
Touch one, and they’ll all react wildly, communicating closely and causing an uproar.
This is different from the previous matter with the Alchemy faction. That was resolved through internal power struggles with support from Veolgreen and the Black Horn, a typical part of “elf politics.”
But this time, the elf queen is wielding a foreign “human” as her sword.
“Hmmm.”
Edel flicked her ears thoughtfully, then shook her head.
What would happen if the Privy Council members revolted against the queen? She’s a monarch who sits there with no real power, only a title. Replacing the monarch wouldn’t be difficult. Her son has been of age for 300 years.
They would replace the queen, imprison her, and reorganize the regime. In that process, the queen’s sword, Ivan, would be shattered.
“And you accepted that?”
“For a price.”
“A price? What is it?”
“Alexander.”
If Veolgreen is indeed allied with Alexander, meeting Veolgreen alone would solve more than half of the problem.
Once the Privy Council starts acting up, their vision will inevitably narrow. An angry beast always becomes blind with rage.
In the meantime, the queen will seize what she desires.
Ivan only needs to secure Alexander and return him to his homeland.
It’s a mutually beneficial relationship. Humans call this a ‘deal.’
After listening to Ivan’s explanation, Edel smirked and shook her head.
“You’ve become quite the politician, Jhon.”
Edel lamented as she took a sip of her tea.
“I still don’t know what Her Majesty is after.”
Ivan silently agreed.
Elves who begin to age lose the light in their eyes. It’s natural. Only elves whose emotions and will have been worn away experience aging.
Therefore, an old elf scheming with such passion was quite strange.
Her eyes sparkled with passion and curiosity.
Ivan wasn’t well-versed in elves. The only things he knew for certain about elves were that they die if you cut off their heads and they are incredibly troublesome.
But from a position of power, not as an elf, he knew such cases.
When an old, weary, and powerless ruler shows passion for something.
It usually only happens when they are engaged in a power struggle.
However.
“If it stays within Kalion, it doesn’t matter.”
As long as it doesn’t affect Krasilov, it doesn’t matter at all.
He didn’t care. What did it matter if elves were being ‘elves’?
“You know I can’t help you, right? I have to manage the Black Horn.”
“Prepare in advance.”
“Wow, you even give prior notice for a national inspection. That’s why power is great. So where do you plan to start?”
Most countries in the Union operate their state affairs through a competition between the so-called ‘House of Lords’ and the ‘Royalist Faction’. In simpler terms, it’s the separation of the executive and legislative branches. (Both possessed judicial powers, so they weren’t separate.)
But in Kalion, there is no ‘Royalist Faction.’ No noble stands with the king.
So if the queen wants to stir up the Privy Council, she doesn’t need to carefully pick the nobles. Any noble she points to will be part of the ‘Aristocratic Faction.’
“The Life Science faction.”
So if he has the authority to dance the sword dance, he might as well target the most suspicious one first.
Given the clear indications of their meddling with the Alchemy faction, the most suspicious ones now were the necromancers.
Ivan finished his tea and stood up.
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