“You cried today.”
Tethsweilan walked along the street, casually mentioning it as if she had just remembered.
“Kerosene.”
Livyat mumbled back, her words muffled as she chewed on a dough ball.
For once, Tethsweilan didn’t use her usual teasing tone but spoke earnestly, “This afternoon, I saw the freshly printed notices posted in every restaurant. I was at a place on Port Street, planning to try their signature dish—Silver Thread Fish Stew with Archipelago Cassava. But as soon as the notice went up, all I could eat was Silver Thread Fish, no cassava.”
“So you think it’s my fault the residents can’t eat…”
Livyat’s voice was hollow, devoid of any emotion.
“No.”
“Is it Loren Green’s fault?”
“No. I just think, Miss Livyat, you’re really adorable. Crying over this. Rest assured, whether you’re Mr. Loren Green or Miss Livyat Green, I don’t think any of this is your fault. It’s the cassava’s fault—its only crime is that it fell ill. And, I think, if Mr. Loren Green had stamped that document himself, he would have said—’It’s fine, I’ll just stamp it.'”
After a while, Tethsweilan was surprised to find that Miss Livyat, who had maintained a normal social distance until now, suddenly pressed close and walked with her, her petite face no longer so sorrowful.
Almost without thinking, Tethsweilan reached out to touch Livyat.
Her hand brushed Livyat’s ear, and then—
“Ah! Ah! My ear hurts, it hurts so much! What’s happening, did I get an ear infection?!”
Livyat sprang away like a cat, her small face twisting in pain, a faint shimmer of tears in her pale silver eyes, and the tips of her ears now slightly pointed.
She tried to touch her ear with her left hand, but hesitated to actually do it.
“What’s an ear infection? Oh right, your ears do look a little different. I suspect you might be gradually turning into an elf,” Tethsweilan speculated.
“No, have you ever seen this happen before? A man turning into a woman? A human turning into an elf?”
Livyat grumbled inwardly: I mean, this world doesn’t even have mage legions, wizard towers firing at each other, earth-shattering calamities, or even dragons and stone giants—they only exist in legends.
Maybe only someone like Frodo has seen things like this.
In a world without hobbits, how can you be so unfazed by everything happening to me?
“Never. But as I said, the Ancient Tree has complete faith in the prophecy of the ‘Book of Kings.’ If it says—you are chosen to be the Elven Queen—then so it is, without the slightest error in word, definition, or concept. That is why: ‘Follow its decree; do not doubt your new queen.'”
Suddenly, Livyat wondered if this book was connected to that unspeakable-faced goddess.
But clearly, there was no known faith in this world that directly professed belief in that goddess.
This, she had learned after reading most of the religion-related books in the Great Library.
At the entrance to her apartment, Tethsweilan was about to head back to the consulate, but was stopped by a cool, soft hand, smooth as jade.
She raised her eyebrows and turned to ask, “Is Miss Livyat inviting me to stay the night?”
Livyat was entirely unfazed by the teasing.
“Thank you, Miss Tethsweilan.”
Tethsweilan pressed the back of her hand to Livyat’s cheek and said, “See you tomorrow, Miss Livyat.”
How soft, how springy her cheek feels.
…
Late at night, in the Civil Affairs Office.
The Frostweave Kingdom’s royal letter had reached the Governor, who immediately passed it to Julia for assessment.
By rights, it should have gone to the Foreign Affairs Department, but the director there was aligned with the opposition.
As expected, the letter opened with a harsh denunciation of Hobrick’s move to open its market to the Elven Kingdom, calling it a betrayal of the continental blockade the two had enforced against the elves thousands of years ago.
Julia chuckled quietly.
Thousands of years ago?
The Elven Kingdom then was nothing like the disinterested, isolated nation of today—back then, they were much more involved.
And really, aren’t you all doing business with the Elven Kingdom anyway?
King Wadislaw Frostweave demanded Hobrick provide a reasonable explanation and revise its policy, hinting he was already aware of the southern Archipelago situation, and threatened to reduce grain exports if the Republic remained stubborn.
Then he criticized Hobrick’s naval policy, stating that a powerful trading republic weakening its own navy was incomprehensible—clearly referring to Hobrick’s postponement of the new flagship’s construction.
All of King Wadislaw’s complaints stemmed from that great river running north to south—the Elsarion River, known to the elves as the “Silversheen Barrier.”
Humans generally call it the Grand River or the Fold River, meaning simply “the great river.”
The dwarves name it the Shtadolt River—”Steel-Tempering River.”
Dozens of countries rely on this river for irrigation and trade, and depend on Hobrick’s navy to escort their shipping.
In the end, they rely on the Republic’s naval presence to deter the Elven Kingdom, pirates, and would-be troublemakers—making the river a safe trade route.
Unfortunately, the Hobrick Republic isn’t actually located on either bank of the great river—it sits at the southernmost edge of the continent, with fine seaports and its southern Archipelago colonies.
From west to east, it’s separated from the river by the dwarven Ironhold Kingdom and several minor states.
This means escorting Frostweave Kingdom’s merchant vessels on the upper river is hardly necessary—especially if Hobrick deepens trade with the elves.
If the Republic’s fleet stops patrolling the upper reaches of the river, Frostweave’s golden trade route will collapse overnight.
In their eyes, postponing flagship construction is the first step in withdrawing from the river.
King Wadislaw understood this perfectly; there was no way he would sit back and lose both money and the river.
This royal letter was, without doubt, only the beginning.
Julia rubbed her forehead and began drafting her report to the Governor.
Candlelight flickered across the royal letter on her desk, as the salty port breeze blew in through the window.
In her mind, she pictured that delicate yet resilient silver-haired figure.
She resolved to share more of these matters with Livyat tomorrow—her clever little mind would surely come up with even more ideas.