Chapter 28
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Chapter 28: The Elven Tribe
Four days after the startling surprise attack, near the edge of the Asreks family’s territory by the Forest of Gran, two ordinary open carriages creaked along the bumpy dirt road toward the woods.
This small merchant caravan from the Belmar Duchy had two drivers, two traders, and four guards. Their cargo, though not expensive, catered to Elven tastes—a gamble to win favor on Elven lands.
The guards, however, stood out as elites.
“Explain this ‘true master of the forest’ business,” said the red-haired guard with maple-leaf hair, casually breaking the silence.
The black-haired guard with sharp eyes replied, “From my childhood near a family villa. The ‘master’ controls the forest’s magic veins. Even stubborn Elves must obey whoever holds that power. So reinforcements depend on their word.”
“Then why visit the Elven Tribe? Wasting time!” interrupted the petite, freckled guard. “We’re on a tight schedule—no room for games with pointy-eared snobs!”
“Politeness? Like asking a steward’s permission first?” suggested the blond guard, easing tensions.
“Not about manners,” the black-haired guard corrected.
These four were Midi, Fina, Sigmund, and Lilian.
Exhausted from the raid, they’d set out after just one day’s rest. Burning the granary bought three weeks at best—less if the Sais family rushed supplies. Persuading the forest’s “true master” could take unpredictable time. Even Midi, Alice Otolopas’s lover in his past life, couldn’t guess.
In that past life, fleeing the Delos Empire with a feverish, magic-ravaged Fina, Midi had barged into a mutated forest for herbs. A wildfire had weakened the woods then, letting him stumble into the Witch’s abode. Their trio’s tale began there.
Now, things differed. The Forest of Gran remained unburned, the Elven Tribe strong, and the Mist Sorceress Alice’s magic array flawless. Midi’s hazy memories of stumbling through identical trees offered no guidance. Charging in now? Impossible.
If her defenses broke easily, she wouldn’t be the Mist Sorceress. Knowing Alice meant nothing if he couldn’t breach her array.
So Midi chose certainty: find Elves under Alice’s control, trace clues to the Witch’s abode. Trade? Proven fastest way to deal with Elves.
The carriages entered the Forest of Gran.
This section, bordering Asreks land, lay quiet under Elven rule—no goblin ambushes, Cat Demon antics, or Minotaur blockades. Half a day deep, the path vanished. The carriages switched to rugged wheels while the “guards” hacked through brush with axes.
No path, but direction remained. With them were real traders—a master-apprentice duo from the Elvin Trading Company, decade-long Elven trade veterans. The drivers handled rough terrain smoothly.
And Midi, Alice’s former lover, understood Elven thinking intimately. Following hidden markers on trees and rocks, they reached twin trees—twenty-meter-tall gate-like giants.
The Elven Tribe’s “absolute control zone.” Trespassers died.
As the elderly merchant raised a horn to announce their arrival, Midi’s gaze sharpened. He seized Fina’s hand, halting her gathering magic.
Arrows hissed from the woods, thudding into the ground before Midi—a bristling fence of steel.
“Spare us your crude noise,” sneered a voice. Dozens of figures emerged, led by a golden-haired Elf in scaled armor and green cloak, wielding a longbow.
“I’m Beryl, captain of the Silver Star Tribe’s Wind Team. State your business, humans.”
The old merchant stepped forward, all smiles, introducing the group. Beryl’s eyes lingered on Fina—human beauty rivaling an Elven queen’s.
Midi felt no fear. This level 28 roaming gunslinger with a homemade bow? Fina’s uncharged Magic Beam could obliterate him. They’d sensed the Elves earlier but feigned ignorance. Showing strength risked exclusion; better play weak.
Midi: level 23. Sigmund and Lilian: 23. Fina: 24. Their true combat power? Higher. But to Beryl, they seemed mere level 20 guards. His sixty-strong team could erase them with twenty arrows.
After a lingering glance at Fina, Beryl waved them in. “No tricks. Cross us, and my arrows strike.”
