Pureblood elves with blond hair and blue eyes were exceedingly rare across the Nine Kingdoms.
With their long lifespans, innate agility, formidable spellcasting talent, and generally handsome features, the elves could truly be said to be a race favored by the gods.
However, they generally lived a semi-secluded life in the Silvermoon High Court, rarely having contact with the outside world.
Ordinarily, people were most likely to encounter half-elves, or drow elves from the Underdark.
Cicero was a pureblood high elf. He possessed flowing golden hair and a slender build, but compared to other elves, his eyes were excessively sharp. This lent his presence a bit less elegance and a bit more of an aggressive edge.
Right now, he sat before the Porcupine Knight, fixing the lord with that razor-sharp gaze.
Even the Porcupine Knight, a man who could wrestle and slay a griffin single-handedly, felt deeply uncomfortable beneath Cicero's predatory stare, feeling like prey pinned beneath the eyes of a hawk.
Rattled by this scrutiny, the Porcupine Knight might well have ordered his guests seen out were it not for the fact that these elves were dressed in the garb of the Silvermoon High Court.
Now that the City of Alchemy was destroyed, petty lords like him had lost their backing. Faced with a mighty power like the Silvermoon High Court, he naturally dared not cause offense. Thus, the Porcupine Knight had no choice but to politely invite them to sit, asking, "Lord Cicero, may I ask the purpose of your late-night visit?"
Cicero spoke, his voice deep and magnetic. "Sir Lord, I trust you already understand that with the City of Alchemy destroyed, this land has become masterless territory. I wonder how you plan to deal with the chaos to come."
The Porcupine Knight retorted, "What do you mean, 'masterless territory'? I am the lawful lord of this land."
Cicero gave a soft chuckle. "Your lawful authority derived from the City of Alchemy's recognition. Now that the City of Alchemy has fallen, this region will descend into pure, barbaric warfare. You and the others are like little bugs trapped in a jar, forced to slaughter one another. Perhaps someone will be lucky enough to survive to the very end, but do you believe you will be that person?"
"That is my concern," the Porcupine Knight said, suppressing his anger. "Did you elves of the Silvermoon High Court appear out of nowhere simply to mock me?"
Cicero shook his head. "Of course not. We come to offer you an opportunity—a chance to live. Before this land descends into all-out melee, our elven people hope to prevent war from breaking out. Perhaps we can find a peaceful resolution to these disputes."
"So the Silvermoon High Court wishes to rule this fractured kingdom, and you come today hoping I will pledge my service to the Court?"
The Porcupine Knight felt a mix of suspicion and excitement. Could these elves be here to offer terms of surrender?
Submitting to the Silvermoon High Court? That seemed far from a bad prospect.
Though he knew little about elvenkind, these elves didn't seem to have a reputation for villainy. He had only been a petty lord before anyway; what difference did it make whether he served those alchemists or the elves?
If the elves were truly offering terms of surrender, swearing fealty early might even bring advantages.
Cicero smiled faintly. "Sir Lord, you are a clever man, yet not quite clever enough. As a rule, elves do not collaborate with outsiders. Therefore, I come today to negotiate with you: if you are willing to peacefully evacuate, our Silvermoon High Court can guarantee your personal safety."
The Porcupine Knight thought he had misheard. "Evacuate? You mean we are to abandon our fief?!"
"Not entirely abandon it. Perhaps, once we stabilize the situation, we will partition another tract of land to resettle you."
"Resettle..." The Porcupine Knight's hand had already closed around the longsword at his waist. He glared at the insolent elf. "Watch your words, elf! I received you as guests. While enjoying the rights of a guest, you must also conduct yourself as one—otherwise!"
Courtesy was not unconditional. The Porcupine Knight was now the alliance leader chosen by several nearby lords. He had to maintain his dignity at all times and could not afford to project weakness to his allies, lest the fragile pact collapse at once.
"Oh? Your mettle does come as a surprise, Sir Lord. The previous lords I met lacked the courage even to look me in the eye. However, bravery and recklessness are separated by a razor-thin line."
Cicero stood, looking down haughtily at the Porcupine Knight.
"Sir Lord, if you wish to assert your rights as host, the prerequisite is possessing the strength to back it up. Before our formal negotiations begin, both of us need to confirm our standing in this parley."
With a wave of the Porcupine Knight's hand, the reception hall echoed with the creak of drawing bowstrings and cocking crossbows. Over a dozen bows and crossbows were raised, trained on the arrogant elves.
The Porcupine Knight stood up as well, drawing the longsword at his waist. "Elf, I will grant you one chance to reconsider your words. Strong as the Silvermoon High Court may be, this is not your domain. If arrogance is merely a cultural habit of yours, I can overlook the unpleasantness just now and resume friendly conversation."
Though his words offered a meek retreat, the Porcupine Knight gripped his hilt tightly.
From the moment the bows were raised, he had seen not a sliver of fear on any elven face, so he knew full well this fight was unavoidable. He was simply truly reluctant to clash with the elves at a time like this, and those words had been his final recourse.
Cicero paid no heed to the arrows pointed at him, saying flatly, "Strike. For the first time, take no lives."
No longer hesitating, the Porcupine Knight barked his order: "Loose!"
Arrows flew toward the elves, several shafts zeroing in on each of them. At such close range, a miss should have been impossible. Yet magical shields flared around the elves in an instant; the missiles deflected harmlessly the moment they struck the barriers.
Cicero was even more outrageous: he plucked three arrows flying toward him out of the air with one hand, as effortlessly as picking leaves from a branch.
Immediately afterward, a cloud of fog billowed forth, blanketing the entire hall.
In darkness so thick one could not see one's own outstretched fingers, bows and crossbows became useless.
The Porcupine Knight had already raised his longsword, slashing toward Cicero before him. His blade was swift, bearing the unmistakable mark of a well-trained warrior. Yet when the edge came down, it cleaved only empty air. Cicero seemed to have anticipated his movement long before, dodging in advance.
Amid the mist, the Porcupine Knight swung his blade by memory. His strikes flowed like water, fluid and swift, unleashing three cuts in a matter of seconds. A downward cleave, a horizontal sweep, an upward slash—each clearly calculated to catch his opponent's evasions, yet his edge only sliced through dense fog, dealing no harm whatsoever.
Just as the Porcupine Knight's momentum flagged slightly, a shortsword thrust out, pressing against his waist.
The blade was razor-sharp, leaving a deep gash across his armor that barely missed piercing through. Had the Porcupine Knight not dodged with sharp reflexes, blood would already be pouring from his flank.
His foe was not only exceedingly nimble, but was also wielding an enchanted weapon.
Though the Porcupine Knight's armor was made of ordinary steel, it was forged of solid, honest material, yet a light thrust had nearly punched clean through. If armor offered no protection, this battle would be a guaranteed death sentence for him.
In just a single exchange, the Porcupine Knight realized he was facing enemies he could not defeat.
Just as he prepared to fall back and regroup, the heavy fog dissipated rapidly. The only ones left standing in the hall were himself and the elves; all his guards had collapsed to the floor.
Beholding this sight, the Porcupine Knight knew he had lost.
These elves were likely high-tier adventurers—powerful, tightly coordinated, leaving him no chance of victory.
"Now, can we sit down and talk?" Cicero asked the Porcupine Knight.
The Porcupine Knight still held his longsword tight. Resisting might be futile, but giving up like this was tantamount to placing his life entirely in the elves' hands, wasn't it?
"Still not willing to give up?"
Cicero flicked a finger. An orange-red glow flashed across his fingertips. His incantation was so rapid that the Porcupine Knight had barely caught a few syllables before he realized the longsword in his grip was heating up furiously.
The metal blade grew as scalding as if freshly pulled from a forge. With an agonizing cry, the knight dropped it to the floor.
The second-circle spell Heat Metal could make metal on a target red-hot, proving most effective against warriors clad in full plate armor like the Porcupine Knight.
With his blade cast aside, the knight was stripped of all capacity to resist.
Cicero said to him, "You are a competent warrior. Unfortunately, you are facing the Silvermoon High Court. Human, we still come with goodwill this time; today is merely a warning. But if you are unwilling to peaceably surrender your territory, then the next time we appear, we shall bring you death."
Looking down at his scorched hands, the Porcupine Knight understood the gulf between them.
"Is this how you've been expressing your 'goodwill' all along the way?" the Porcupine Knight asked Cicero.
Cicero nodded. "Indeed. Quite a few lords have already agreed to our peaceful relocation plan. So please, consider carefully. We elves have no desire for senseless slaughter either."
The Porcupine Knight's expression turned grim.
His fief lay on the outskirts of the City of Alchemy, within the core territory of this kingdom, far removed from the border abutting the Silvermoon High Court. Yet the elves had already pushed an advance detachment all the way here?
Did that mean the borderlands had fallen completely into elven hands? Why hadn't a whisper of news reached him?
Despair consumed the Porcupine Knight. Was he truly going to give up this land purchased with blood?
Back then, to make a name for himself, he had charged at the very forefront during the monster invasion, single-handedly slaying a monstrous griffin to earn his knighthood. And now, with a few words, these elves wanted to reduce him to a commoner once more?
Yet if he refused, could petty lords like them ever repel an elven assault? Even if they rallied enough troops, with abilities like these elves possessed, they could simply infiltrate and assassinate them without ever fighting a pitched battle.
Countless questions flooded his mind, but in the end, the Porcupine Knight lowered his head and said to the elves, "If you provide us with enough supplies and time, we will leave."
Wood could not stop a steel blade. No matter how stubborn he wanted to be, strength was what ultimately spoke. Having no other choice, the Porcupine Knight could only accept the elves' demands.
"Very good. You are calmer than I expected, and better understand compromise." Cicero produced a contract glowing with magical light, laid it before the knight, and said, "Sign your name. In the name of the gods, we swear to guarantee your basic personal safety."
The Porcupine Knight took the parchment, skimmed it briefly, and signed the agreement.
The moment he laid down the quill, he seemed to age ten years, sinking back into his chair as though all strength had drained from his body.
Right then, the hall doors were pushed open once more, and a terrifying aura rolled in, draining the color from everyone's faces.
Cicero turned with a grave expression, only to see a young mage with dark hair and black eyes standing in the doorway. That horrifying pressure radiated straight from him.
This sudden arrival was naturally Anbaixiu transformed into human form. He didn't know many lords in the area, so his first choice had been to seek out the Porcupine Knight—and incidentally talk through the ransom matter they hadn't settled earlier.
Who would have thought that upon walking in, he would find a group of elves bullying the Porcupine Knight?
The high elves had already reached their claws all the way out here?
The Porcupine Knight was even more astounded. Regardless of how this person had appeared here—couldn't you have come a few minutes earlier?!
Chapter 92