The elven palace was the heart of Ishildorin.
The whole city was built around it like stars around the moon. The Elf King lived deep inside this huge, glowing building.
They called him “king,” but elves didn’t pass down power through family. It was more like picking a wise leader. The old king chose the next one, and the Elder Council had to agree.
So, elves only had a “king” or “queen,” no “princes” or “princesses.” If they did it like humans, you’d probably see a “thousand-year prince” or something weird like that.
The Elven Forest didn’t like outsiders, and the palace was even stricter—except for official visitor groups.
Right now, in a side hall, a bunch of humans were packing up, the mood heavy. Sword Saint Elwyn was grumbling—well, more like yelling—his complaints echoing down the hall.
Stuff like “no honor” and “sneaky jerks.”
His voice carried far, and nearby elves heard every word loud and clear.
Under their annoyed stares, his student, Fifteen, whispered, “Master, please! Stop talking! Or at least… quieter!”
But Elwyn totally ignored him.
“He’s doing it on purpose, right?” Salian Whitestone, in charge of hosting the humans, looked at the loud-mouthed Elwyn with a mix of frustration and helplessness.
The human group didn’t just want food—they also demanded the elves send their best fighters to help the front lines, as promised in an old agreement.
The Elf King said no way, and Salian’s job was to politely show them the door.
Diplomacy was supposed to be smooth, with sneaky insults kept subtle.
But the humans sent Elwyn, a total loose cannon!
After the refusal, the Sword Saint started mocking everyone, using such rude words the elves were shocked. He even called the Elf King a “shameless creep” to his face, nearly starting a fistfight at the meeting table.
Luckily, it didn’t come to blows—Salian didn’t want to end up like the elf guard captain who ticked off Elwyn, got beaten black and blue, and still couldn’t get out of bed.
In the end, the elves agreed to give half the food the humans asked for, but sending troops? No chance. The Elf King offered to send elite rangers to hunt demon spies, but the humans turned that down too.
It was called “hunting spies,” but it was really about finding the “Hero” mentioned in reports. Even without mentioning the Hero, the humans weren’t about to share secrets about their backlines, so the talks falling apart wasn’t surprising.
Elwyn’s insults got louder and louder. Next to Salian, he could hear teeth grinding.
Galadriel Dusksong, the Elf King’s daughter and Salian’s co-host, had a face so dark it could rain. Her icy blue eyes glared at the noisy middle-aged man.
“That… old creep!”
Salian wanted to point out that both he and Galadriel were way older than the human. But seeing the anger in her eyes—and knowing some private history between her and Elwyn—he smartly kept quiet.
The month-long, supposedly serious diplomatic talks ended in a messy shouting match between the Elf King’s daughter and the Sword Saint.
Salian sighed in relief, though. No more listening to Elwyn’s trash talk or staying in the palace.
The palace was big and fancy, and some young elves who’d never been inside might dream of living there. But for elves, who loved nature, the treehouses in the outer forest, built with the giant trees, felt way cozier. At least, that’s what Salian thought.
His home was on a giant tree at the forest’s edge.
Most treehouses near the palace belonged to elves like him who worked there.
But instead of heading up the spiral stairs home, Salian turned into the shadowy woods below. Before going back, he needed to check if his troublesome sister was home.
The deeper he went, the quieter it got, until he saw the familiar lone hut.
Before he could open the door, loud thumps came from inside.
Salian frowned and pushed it open—
Whoosh!
A blue blur shot at his face like an arrow!
Salian’s lips moved fast and silent, creating a clear, bouncy magic bubble in front of him.
The blue thing hit the bubble and fell, caught easily by Salian.
It was Fly-Fly, his sister’s parrot. He knew it well.
Looking around the room, Salian’s forehead twitched, even though it wasn’t his house.
In a side room, Little Bean the Earth Bear lay on the floor, its goofy head sticking out with its tongue lolling and eyes rolled back. Furball hid under the bed, shaking. Bubble, the Shadow Marsh Python, was slumped on the ground, clearly out cold. A teal-white Puffshroom was lazily kicking its head with tiny feet, stopping only when it saw Salian.
The hut looked like a storm hit it—furniture tipped over, broken, scattered everywhere, with a big hole in the wall!
Salian’s blood pressure hadn’t spiked this bad even dealing with Elwyn’s big mouth!
He took three deep breaths to calm down.
“What junk did that dummy drag home this time?” Salian’s eyes locked on the Puffshroom, a glow of magic in his hand.
The Scout Puffshroom was instantly trapped in an invisible magic field, wiggling uselessly as it was lifted to Salian’s face.
He studied the weird creature. “A Puffshroom? Way too mutated… Where’d that girl find this thing?”
Curious, Salian’s fingertip glowed as he leaned closer to the stuck Puffshroom, planning to check its insides.
He wouldn’t kill it—just look and heal it after.
“What! Are! You! Doing?!” A furious yell came with a charging figure!
Airaven, just back, rushed at her brother like an angry lion cub, kicking at him!
Another magic bubble popped up, easily blocking her.
“Just checking if this thing’s dangerous,” Salian said calmly.
“Little Ji saved my life! Don’t mess with it!” Airaven pushed the Puffshroom behind her, yelling.
“Saved your life?!” Salian’s face got serious fast.
Airaven realized she’d said too much and tried to run, but it was too late.
Salian grabbed her arm, his tone firm. “Spill it. Everything. Don’t skip a word.”
He was her brother but over a hundred years older, and with some family stuff, he’d practically raised her. Hearing Airaven was in danger? He needed answers.
While Salian focused on his sister, the Scout Puffshroom didn’t wait. It bolted, darting back into the messy hut and slipping out through the wall’s hole!
Big shot alert—too tough to handle!
[Name: Salian Whitestone]
[Level: LV71]
(End of Chapter)
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