Chapter 42: The Meeting of Elven Lords

Chapter 42: The Meeting of Elven Lords

After Linis left, Airael didn’t stick around in the Great Hall, instead making her way to the training grounds within the Avalon Royal Palace.

She had a clear purpose for being here: to sharpen her combat skills.

Though she had confidence in her abilities, Airael was aware of her weaknesses.

Over the years, her strength had grown, but she’d slipped in the area of combat.

It was unavoidable, really; she had to handle the kingdom’s affairs while also taking care of Anna, leaving little time for fighting.

Besides, as the ruling Elven Queen, there weren’t many battles that required her personal involvement.

If everything fell to her, then what were those below her even for?

Society is like a big group; everyone has a role to play!

But I digress.

Airael was determined to fix this shortcoming over the next week.

She wanted to face the upcoming battle in perfect form.

This was what they called looking down on the enemy strategically while treating them seriously tactically.

Those Elven Lords were indeed no pushovers, each having lived for thousands of years like Linis, just the combat experience alone was something to reckon with.

In the training grounds, Airael drew her Sword of Dawn and looked at her two personal maids-cum-bodyguards, saying, “Celia, I’ll be relying on you and Aurora from here on out.”

“Got it!”

Celia and Aurora nodded in unison, understanding their Queen’s intent.

The two drew their own swords and began sparring with Airael.

While their strength was no match for Airael, she needed this as practice to get accustomed to the flow of battle.

In this scenario, as long as she held back a bit, Celia and Aurora could still be of great help.

While Airael prepared for the battle a week later, the Elven Lords weren’t idling about.

Firstly, they reached out to each other and quickly set a time to gather.

That afternoon, in a hotel room in the Elven Royal City.

Various male Elven Lords sat in different corners of the room, none of them daring to speak first.

However, everyone’s eyes were subtly directed at Mason.

It was clear they had reached some sort of tacit understanding among themselves.

Mason, under the collective gaze, understood it was likely related to his earlier comments.

Though he had tried to clarify later, he had nonetheless planted seeds of doubt in their minds.

Under the pressure, Mason had to take the initiative, saying, “Gentlemen, in just one week, we will face her Majesty in battle, and that battle involves the future of both ourselves and the Elven Race. Therefore, I hope you can all put aside any past grievances and unite against our common foe. You must have felt it already; our Queen’s power is no trifling matter.”

“Mason, we already know all that. What we need you to explain is what happened this morning? Why did you say that to her Majesty?”

The speaker was Smir, one of the only two Mages in attendance.

The other Mage was Mason himself.

Though not a political expert, Smir had a good measure of wisdom.

In light of Mason’s somewhat unreliable stance, the Elven Lords elected Smir to represent them.

“I know my words this morning might have raised some misunderstandings, but I said them anyway—didn’t you have any thoughts on that?”

Mason’s retort made the Elven Lords furrow their brows.

“What exactly are you trying to do?”

Smir questioned, clearly perplexed.

In contrast to Mason, Smir’s intellect lacked somewhat, especially in political matters.

“There were aspects of her Majesty’s speech that I found quite agreeable.”

Seeing their puzzled expressions, Mason shook his head with a wry smile.

“Her Majesty truly is capable; in just a few short years, she has brought monumental changes to the Royal City. Perhaps she really can save the fate of the Elven Race.”

Upon hearing this, Tugur asked Mason, “Does saving the Elven Race mean oppressing us? Making us follow her every command?”

“Though I shouldn’t say this, it is right and fair; we ought to offer our loyalty to her Majesty.”

Mason replied.

“Mason, that’s enough.”

Seeing the argument brewing, Smir felt the need to intervene.

“And Tugur, now is not the time to squabble.”

Mason and Tugur fell silent.

Tugur shut his mouth, while Mason turned his gaze to Smir, saying, “Smir, you should understand what I mean.”

“I understand you, Mason.”

Smir replied after a fleeting glance, then sighed.

This issue was inherently complex for these wise Elves.

First, they knew that the strengthening of the Elven Race could only benefit them; any downside was negligible.

However, the future held many uncertainties, and they would have to gamble their present on it.

After all, they represented not just themselves but all the people behind them.

“As long as you understand me.”

Mason gazed at the other Elven Lords, who said little.

But Mason had already grasped the sentiment.

They were just too proud to admit it right out loud.

After all, they had recently demonstrated their distrust of him.

“It seems everyone can understand me.”

Mason said with a smile.

“Alright, Mason, if you have any plans, spill them!”

Smir interrupted, sensing that if this continued, they might find themselves in deeper trouble.

Was it his imagination, or was Mason being a little cheeky these days?

“I don’t have any plans, and I don’t think we can do anything stealthily in this city.”

“That may be true, but if her Majesty dares to initiate a battle, it signifies her confidence. In other words, her strength is certainly extraordinary now.”

Smir said, worry evident in his tone.

He’d felt stimulated at the time, but as he mulled over it now, it was already too late.

Primarily, Airael had really rubbed him the wrong way back then.

“All we need to do is prepare for battle over the next week, and then we’ll face her Majesty head-on, showcasing our true strength to her!”

Mason proposed, even though it sounded somewhat useless, at least they finally had a goal.