I Became the First Prince: Legend of Sword's Song

Geography of Fishermen (3)

Her arms were crossed, her frown unchanged, and her attitude of waiting was the same.

The look she gave me was different, though.

A while ago, she had told me to talk. Now, her eyes were asking me for an explanation.

“The meisters of the dwarf race were there that day because they were seeking a place to construct a new furnace, to replace the one that is expiring.”

Sigrun remained silent.

“If you had harmed or hindered them, all the dwarves would have gone mad the moment they lost their old furnace, and they would all have headed north.”

Obviously, a single dwarf is weaker than an elf in many ways. The high elves can live past a thousand years, while the dwarven meisters only have an average lifespan of three-hundred years.

That difference in lifespan was the perfect example of the difference in power between the races.

Still, such a difference only exists on an individual level. When an army of dwarves

has finished their war preparations, the situation alters drastically.

Once the dwarves in the smelters and at the forges had been geared for war, arming themselves with iron guns, they became a juggernaut of metal and flame. They became a hammer that could smash anything and an inferno that could burn all.

Sigrun definitely knew what I meant, but nonetheless, she remained cynical.

“No matter how many of those dwarves come, we’ll slaughter them all.”

I shook my head at her words.

“If you win, it will be a pyrrhic victory. You will suffer greatly. At that time, the dwarves’ flame-cannons would have burned down all the forests you so care for.”

People often referred to elves as the ‘innocent keepers of the forest’, glorifying the obsession that common folk had for elves as well as their relationship with forests.

That was a misconception. The reason that the elves inhabited and protected the forest had nothing to do with a love for greenery.

“The elves head into the forests, and the dwarves shall gain the under-earth.”

Their habitation of such a verdant realm was because this had been the only land allowed to them by the treaty.

Deforestation meant decreasing the land of the elven kingdom. Burning the forest meant that their entire kingdom would be aflame.

The dwarven had the capability to burn all the elven kingdoms, even if the dwarves were defeated.

“I have already shown great favor to the elves,” I said as I sank my ass into the sofa. I buried my back deep into the cushion as I admired Sigrun’s expression.

When only her hardened face and the cynicism of her mind remained, it became clear that she was a dry thing that felt no life whatsoever. And little by little, her true essence was revealed, as if she was a pretty doll filled with nothing but coarse grains of desert sand.

A cruel madness suddenly flashed through her silvery eyes.

“Grace is the mercy that only the strong can offer the weak,” she warned me, her eyeballs piercing me as a needle pricks a finger. My skin felt aflame – as if I had been thrust into a furnace – and my breath came out constricted and wheezing. And she had not even revealed the full extent of her powers yet, she had but warned me.

My pride was hurt.

“If you wish to feign ignorance, then do so. I, too, will not demand a price from you, then,” I said, and my voice grew firmer, “but don’t expect anything from me anymore. It is you, not I, who has broken faith first.”

And then- the faint susurrus of Sigrun’s breathing completely stopped. She looked at me, her neck creaking like a broken doll’s.

The moment I met that gaze – I knew.

I had just crossed a line that should not have been crossed.

It was a true baring of her inner being, the revelation of an entity far greater than the Warlord.

Perhaps she merely saw me as a beast that could be killed with the single flick of a finger.

In all likelihood, I would die without so much as drawing my sword.

I didn’t raise a single eyebrow as I stood transfixed.

Elder High Elves rarely reveal themselves in this manner – only if the forests are threatened. Even if she had chosen to gently reveal her nature, it still felt that she was about to tame me and place a collar around my neck.

And that was not my way to live life, filling a leash like a dog.

Of course, I had never hoped to get killed like this: By a lunatic elf in my room.

“Come out,” I quietly whispered, looking straight at Ophelia. If she could, she would likely be having a seizure.

Even after I had spoken, Sigrun did not respond.

“Mage of the pure white night,” I said, and this seemed to harden her resolve.

‘Qooosh!’

With a flash, red eyes that smoldered as fire appeared in the darkest shadowy corner of the room.

“Even if you hadn’t asked, I was about to step out,” Ophelia stated.

In my time, she had been revered as a mage of the night by many humans, but now she was the High Lich Ophelia, a creature of bare bones.

The High Lich fully revealed herself in the shadows, her jaw rattling as she stared at the Elder High Elf.

It sounded as if Ophelia was laughing, yet no feeling of welcome was in that chuckle: It sounded quite terrifying.

Sigrun’s shoulders shook a little.

“I warn you in advance,” said Ophelia, “that the slightest violent gesture from you will be the harbinger of a macabre little dance.”

Geometric swirls of magical energy appeared on the floors, walls, the ceiling – everywhere.

The patterns were geometrically overlapping circles, five to seven circles existing in each form. It was the language that represented the truth and mystery of reality. Only mages could create such patterns.

“You will be struck by pure white light before the first tune of your song begins, elf.”

Sigrun’s body grew stiff, and conflicting impulses raged in her silver eyes.

I saw her internal conflict clearly.

It was with simple resentment and a warning on her lips that she had come to me. I had lost my temper after she had provoked me, but I knew even then that Sigrun would not benefit from harming me.

And into that situation came the unexpected appearance of the white night mage.

Previously, Sigrun stood to gain nothing from our encounter. Now, she faced an obvious loss.

The magic circles swirled all over the place, and only Ophelia knew the exact number of them and the magic that they would unleash.

It meant that it was the High Lich who reigned in the room.

Certainly, the Elder High Elf could still slice my throat before the mage even managed to trigger a single circle, but then Ophelia would still be alive.

Ophelia was a lich, so if Sigrun managed to cut into her neck, the spell would still be triggered.

Sigrun shifted her gaze to the floor. An intricate overlap of magical circles was shining directly below her.

‘Shoook,’ she gracefully sheathed her blade.

“I’ve never heard that you’ve come down from the mountains.”

The anger and insanity of moments before had deserted Sigrun’s face. She seemed more embarrassed than anything.

“If I knew it, I would’ve come and said hello at once,” Sigrun added, now returned to her usual self. She stared at me.

“Highness. It is an unbearable insult, to bring another woman into your bed if you have a fiance.”

She was not happy that I had Ophelia in my rooms and that the lich had shielded me.

“You are the one who first broke faith,” came my answer.

After all, Sigrun had come here with malice in her heart, and she had broken our pretense of mutual aid – which we had maintained on the surface – out of pride.

It was she who had tried to coerce me with force.

“It is common to have quarrels between lovers. Are there not lovers who remain faithful in this world, even if they depart from one another so many times?” I said, my voice softly soothing but with a hint of a growl.

“Very well. I admit my rashness, and will so pay the price to uphold the grace of Your Highness,” she decided, slightly raising her hands. “I will permanently appoint the nineteen sword-dancers to Your Highness.”

On the face of it, this might seem a great gift, but the fact of it was that she lost nothing through such an offer.

What Sigrun had done from the get-go was to attach the elves to me as her eyes and ears. However, since the white night mage was at my side, their duties could no longer be fulfilled.

Moreover, Ophelia had just the other day referred to the swords-elves as ‘half-blooded fairies’, which meant they were not pure of blood. So those terrifyingly bloody elves were mixed-blooded sword-dancers and never truly of the elven race.

Sigrun had not handed them over to me, but rather abandoned them among the humans.

“Thank you,” I said, hiding my knowledge that Sigrun had treated the sword-elves like trash.

They were good at stealth and reconnaissance. In battle, they fared as well as any knight, and though all their talents were certainly useful, I had never been able to completely trust them.

Only if I could utterly sever their gritty relationship with their former mistress could I take them in as followers.

With a few words, Sigrun mouthed a covenant and gave up all her rights to the swords-elves.

Just to make sure, Ophelia imposed a spell of coercion onto Sigrun’s covenant. Only then were the sword-elves truly able to escape the influence of the Elder High Elf.

“Are you satisfied now?”

I shook my head at Sigrun’s question.

“More effort is needed to mend my broken trust.”

Sigrun frowned. “Is there anything more you want me to do? Unlike the dwarves, we don’t have stockpiled treasures to dole out.”

I smiled as she asked what exactly I was expecting from her.

From the first ages, the dwarves were the best when it came to crafting and metallurgy. Elves were the best in terms of magic and alchemy.

And what I wanted was the essences that they have distilled, which contained the blessing of the forest itself.

“Elixir,” I plainly stated. It was the ambrosial concoction of faerie-kind.

Sigrun frowned and asked, “Do you know what an elixir is?”

“As much as anyone knows.”

“As you humans know, Elixir is not a potion that gifts immortality, and if taken incorrectly, the human stands to lose much more than it would gain.,” Sigrun stated, adding, “Especially a promising knight such as Your Highness is set to lose much.”

She wasn’t making excuses because she didn’t want to give it to me. No, Sigrun really thought Elixir wasn’t going to help me. She seemed to worry that her future meal – that would be me – would be damaged before it became nice and plump.

“So? Will you give it to me? What is your answer?” I demanded as I pushed back.

Sigrun hesitated for a while, and then turned away from me.

“I hope your greed is not too great,” she said as she approached the window. As if just remembering, she added, “Look beyond the mountains.” With this, she disappeared through the window.

Over the wind, I heard a whisper: “The ruler of the mountain is in the wrong place, so the elf is upset.”

I turned around, and there was the High Lich, who had ruled one side of Mt. Seori, and she was looking at me with those depthless eyes of hers.

* * *

Rangers were dispatched to observe the situation beyond the mountain range.

“How long has the war been over? And something has already been released…”

I blamed myself, and Sigrun’s last words had been a fierce rebuke.

It was a wake-up call, though, warning me of the feeling of dullness that had crept into my daily life.

It felt as if a knife had been jabbed into my heart.

It was only then that I realized the change: A sense of war has reached the noses of everyone in Winter Castle.

I was not as nervous as before.

Winter Castle was always prepared to fight against the foe. More than five-hundred knight candidates were training day and night, as well as an entire corps of new rangers. All these soldiers have diligently traversed the mountains and so gained a sense of actual combat.

I still waited for the scouting rangers to return.

They did not arrive, but one night an owl came and pecked at the window by my bed.

In its sharp claws, it grasped a vial filled with a liquid of an indescribable color.

It was a vial of Elixir, the potion sent by Sigrun.

Without any hesitation, took it from the owl uncorked it.

‘Tuup.’

I relished the cloying scent that quickly penetrated my nostrils.

It was the blessing of the rich forest itself – the one thing that I need most right now.

It was the pure essence of mana, unrefined liquid magic.

I drank the elixir.

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