Chapter 355: Eve of the Storm

After that, they proceeded with sealing the cave entrance.

Dryad Village mages and Eugene’s summoners poured catalysts and cast spells. It was simultaneously a joint military operation and a showcase for their respective research.

“For each wish, a life…”

“Here is a spirit pure of pain, anger, sorrow, jealousy, and all other emotions. Accept this, and in exchange, grant a small mercy.”

Many Dryad Village mages used mandrakes as catalysts. Powerful magic required sacrifice, and the ultimate sacrifice was always life.

Mandrakes were more efficient than any other offering, except human sacrifice. Their portability was also overwhelming—they didn’t escape and required only water. As plants, they circumvented the doctrines of religions that forbade living sacrifice.

Exorbitantly expensive with no market availability was the only problem. If obtainable, they were the finest catalysts.

Woodrumble.

Thorn vines thicker and sharper than those protecting the Dryad Village filled the entrance.

Dark ichor stained each thorn, making them appear even more ominous. Even an accidental scratch wouldn’t end with just a wound.

“What happens to this cave now? Does it remain an ominous space?”

Eugene asked, examining the seal with satisfaction.

In the distance, a creature resembling a mutant soaked in radioactive materials was peeping at them. While camping to perform the seal, all manner of cryptids had been lurking around.

Most were combat-incapable scavengers. They devoured excrement, food scraps, and human passions left behind by the army.

“It will gradually change, Your Majesty. This cave is now half-closed. Its connection to the Great Forest has been severed.”

A gnome mage pointed toward the Dryad Village.

“This space now connects only to our village, so it will gradually transform to resemble the fairy realm. For friends who prefer yang energy.”

“Good. The village is now safe.”

“More than that. In a few hundred years, this will become a repository of rare medicinal ingredients.”

Where salt and fresh water mixed, golden fishing grounds formed. Regions where the mortal world and the other world overlapped like this were perfect conditions for growing rare alchemical ingredients.

The precious tributes harvested would travel from here to Elenost, from Elenost to Mushroom Village, then through Lantzheim by ship to Britainia.

Enjoying the full fruits of this would be far in the future, but the seeds were being planted now.

*

After all schedules concluded, it was time to leave the Dryad Village.

“I’m sorry. We’ve carefully reviewed the ancient records, but even we don’t know about half-fairy pregnancies. That knowledge is passed down only to the apothecaries in Elenost.”

“You’ve already given us so much. Don’t worry about it.”

Valda consoled Teresa, who was apologizing.

This wasn’t mere politeness. They’d received rest, intelligence, various elixirs, and even Geobong seedlings—fruitful negotiations with the bloodkin that would prove invaluable.

“At last, Hazel’s wish comes true. She’s been curious about the outside world since she was young and has been quite stubborn about it.”

“I’m grateful for her company. A dryad’s embrace is the finest cradle, and their sap is nature’s concentrated milk. How reassuring.”

The dryad who would further glorify Eugene and Valda’s new dynasty joined the party. It had been an incredibly rewarding visit.

“Please also look after the children who haven’t awakened yet. This is an opportunity that comes after so long.”

Beside Hazel was a cradle woven with magic. Inside were seeds the size of two fists combined, emanating spiritual energy far exceeding mandrakes. Baby dryads that hadn’t yet awakened.

“So they really are born from seeds! If they have the form of trees, this is exactly how it should be!”

“They don’t come from the spirit realm and inhabit trees?”

“Splitting from branches was too much, wasn’t it?”

The summoners, long intrigued by the dryads’ mysterious reproduction, were excited.

“Summoners. This is merely one facet of our lives. We possess the dual nature of animal and plant—we don’t insist on a single method.”

As Teresa clarified, dryads reproduced in two main ways, similar to bamboo.

The first was vegetative reproduction, where a portion separated from their origin—the Mother Tree—and grew. Grace and Teresa were born this way, which explained their striking resemblance. Essentially clones born from asexual reproduction.

The second was seed reproduction, creating an entirely new generation.

After the First Era royal house’s fall, the dryads had lived in isolation, suspending this practice for ages.

But the ultimate purpose of all living things was to spread. They desired to propagate with superior adaptability.

Eugene’s visit was a perfect opportunity to spread a diverse clan beyond the Great Forest. The Mother Tree, relying on his goodwill, had germinated seeds for the first time in ages.

As proof of the restored alliance, these were given to Eugene and Valda as a couple.

*

Meanwhile, Elf King Ostir was also accumulating benefits of various sizes through the army he’d mobilized.

The core objective of the march was, naturally, to subjugate the dragon threatening the nation. But having raised such a large army, wasn’t it wasteful to target the dragon immediately?

Gaining additional troops and supply bases by touring villages and slaying monsters had great meaning. This was also why kings throughout history had toured their kingdoms—to win the hearts of the people.

Just as Ostir’s march was proceeding smoothly, cold water was poured over it. Scouts spying on Eugene brought critical news.

“The Dryad Village’s thorn wall opened on its own?”

“Yes. At first, only a narrow path opened, so just two entered. But soon the wall widened greatly, admitting all the army stationed outside.”

Ostir’s own scouts and those of each noble chieftain were returning one by one.

“A grand festival was held. Magical fireworks decorated the sky, and countless fairies drove away the night’s darkness.”

The mages who performed the fireworks were a council of elders holding significant influence in the Dryad Village. Fairies, too, were residents who judged guests’ status with the purest eyes.

Not just envoys, but permitting the army’s stationing had already shown far greater respect than Ostir received. And they’d held a lavish festival for all guests?

This meant only one thing.

‘The dryads and elders’ judgment couldn’t be wrong.’

‘The true royal heir has truly returned.’

The murmuring of noble chieftains accompanying the army grew louder.

Until now, they hadn’t been certain whether Valda truly held the old royal blood. Despite the chieftains supporting Ostir’s machinations, there was no conclusive evidence beyond rumor.

But not anymore.

-Army departs. Dryads accompany.

Letters delivered via familiars arrived, further cracking Ostir’s control.

“Even if we catch the dragon, what happens after?”

“We’d fight the outside forces that entered the forest.”

“You’d aim a bow at the Philiamor name?! Are you serious?”

“Hey, don’t interpret words that way. But we also can’t defy His Majesty, can we? His family has protected the forest from the Second Era to now.”

“That’s true, but…”

“We’re only aiming arrows at the invader who bewitched the princess. We have a mission to rescue the noble bloodline and bring her back to Elenost.”

The loyal but simple-minded traditionalist chieftains were being swayed, but the royal tutor could only sigh. Lasrandir had thought about this more deeply than anyone.

But the memory of the king’s mockery—sending a deformed doll as a gift—kept appearing before his eyes.

“The current king doesn’t desire much. Compared to any previous king, he governs frugally.”

Lasrandir’s words made the chieftains nod.

“Indeed. You can tell a promising tree by its first leaf.”

“How brilliant he was when we first met…”

The Great Forest’s elf chieftains had less contact with the outside world than foreign nobles. Living deep in a forest filled with all manner of monsters, this was natural.

They never ventured far from their fortified dwellings. Most nobles therefore overlapped their image of young Ostir onto the present.

“You don’t know how he reacts when the few things he wants are blocked.”

“If it’s your counsel as the king’s tutor…”

“It’s precisely because I’m his tutor that I’m still alive. I’ve already lost my chance.”

Lasrandir had lost the king’s trust for tampering with his gift. Especially after Ostir learned that instead of a doll, an incomplete recipe for a pregnancy potion had been sent—he had flown into a rage.

-Damn you! You made a fool of me!

-Sending an empty cradle could also be a provocation. For me, it was the best I could—

-And when that woman spreads her legs and gives birth? You think that’s the best too?

-Your Majesty! You go too far! She is not someone to be spoken of so, even as a rival!

If the incomplete recipe hadn’t been sent, Ostir would have imposed punishment beyond mere house arrest.

-That woman will definitely come here. Sooner or later. And she’ll have a baby in her arms. Just imagining it is terrifying.

Eugene and Valda’s marriage was, in a sense, incomplete. In an era where producing heirs was paramount, a child’s birth was the true union of two houses.

And even Ostir, proud and willful, couldn’t ignore a half-breed child between human and elf.

Unlike other mixed-bloods easily dismissed as mongrels, perception of the half-fairy bloodline was special.

A human born with a hero’s destiny and an elf blessed by nature—their child was revered as a being who would bring harmony to the next world. History had proven this.

“Lady Valda marrying King Ostir would be ideal, but what does it matter?”

“Indeed. If a marriage alliance were formed between His Majesty of Britainia’s children, that would also work.”

Traditionalist nobles spoke comfortably. Surprisingly many chieftains thought this way. One reason Ostir maintained power even after Valda’s identity was confirmed.

They inherited and nurtured slight misunderstandings or distortions of First Era history through generations. They were unfamiliar with the concept of nation-to-nation diplomacy.

This was the result of living isolated in the Great Forest. The elf leadership lacked the sharp political acumen of outside nobles.

Even Lasrandir had belonged to the faction supporting a gentle union through Eugene and Valda’s marriage.

“Nothing is more important than repelling the dragon. Even if outside forces bring war, we have this vast forest. This land, a natural fortress, is our playground. If the day truly comes when we must fight, I will devote my life to protecting Your Majesty.”

Even if fighting became inevitable, Lasrandir had no intention of abandoning the king.

This was why Ostir, despite his complicated feelings for the royal tutor, had refrained from punishment. When the time came to fight, he was the most reliable card.

“That alone isn’t enough. With the Dryad Village’s endorsement, the more the human army approaches, the more chieftains will defect.”

Ostir had hoped the human army and dragon would clash first—this was the second reason he’d delayed marching while touring villages.

But with the dryads’ approval, there was no choice. The chieftains were already wavering—if Eugene’s forces won against the dragon?

Before fighting even began, traditionalist chieftains would mass defect to Valda’s side.

“Change the route of march.”

Further touring was poison. It was wiser to strike the dragon immediately while his forces were at full strength.

*

Maria rode happily near Eugene.

As a Dhampir, she didn’t particularly like sunlight, and she was especially deficient in melanin. The densely wooded Great Forest was always shaded even during the day—an optimal environment for Maria.

The Mightbred Charger carrying her also seemed in high spirits, its steps light.

“Strange. These horses are all ill-tempered, yet they become gentle when Maria rides.”

“It must be my body temperature.”

Maria’s porcelain hand touched the horse’s neck, and it playfully tilted its head, asking for more.

“Mightbred Chargers have higher body temperatures than other horses. That doesn’t make them heat-intolerant, but they fundamentally prefer coolness.”

Maria’s saddle was modified so her legs pressed close to the horse’s body.

“So physical contact is the foundation of intimacy?”

“Just having legs touch seems to cool it down. When I dismount and embrace it, it won’t stop making happy sounds.”

“Still, try not to ride barefoot without stirrups when you have free time. Watching makes my blood run cold.”

“But this child loves it so much. Don’t worry too much. It’s such a smart horse—without stirrups, it moves very carefully.”

Prrrr!

The Mightbred Charger snorted in agreement. But when Might glanced over—

Cower.

It immediately backed down.

“More importantly, I’m a noncombatant—should someone like me really ride such a precious horse? Your Majesty has plenty of distinguished and loyal knights.”

“Not at all wasteful. A Mightbred Charger enables escape in any situation, making it perfect for you.”

Maria was Eugene’s most distinguished court guest. The vital link to the prestigious Pierce family of Barcia and his most trusted physician.

Moreover, the horse she currently rode was the most savage among Mightbred Chargers. Even knights had given up after multiple dangerous falls.

“Speaking of which, I’ve been curious about something.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Do different bloods vary much in taste or smell?”

“…”

The unexpected question left her momentarily speechless.

“The striga queen kept insulting me, saying I stank and reeked. But when I ask my subordinates, they all shake their heads.”

Homi, with her sensitive nose, and Hind, who spent much time with Eugene, were excluded from the question pool.

The former was a lady who found happiness burying her nose in Eugene’s chest, and the latter—a stern knight with a different image—was actually a smooth operator who never spoke ill of his lord.

“Since striga are the origin of vampire legends, I wondered if it might be the blood.”

“I’m not sure. I don’t know much about human blood myself…”

This time Eugene was surprised.

“You’ve never tried it?”

“Honestly, I’m too intimidated.”

Barcian nobles typically obtained small amounts of blood from loyal subjects.

The finest food, abstaining from alcohol and tobacco, offering life’s fluid with sincerity—preserving it and mixing small amounts into wine was considered the noblest lifestyle.

But tastes varied, and some nobles chose different paths.

“Then what did you drink back home?”

“Calf’s blood mixed with milk.”

Depending on noble tastes, they substituted with foal’s blood, piglet’s blood, or swan’s blood. Barcia, with the continent’s finest lands, made this possible.

-To refuse the blood of a knight as strong and merciful as you isn’t pride—it’s stupidity.

Eugene recalled the once-spunky young girl. Six years later, she’d barely grown, with only her eye expression having changed.

“Perhaps she sensed the goddess’s blessing upon Your Majesty. Isn’t the striga also a tainted creature repelled by silver?”

“She might have been smelling that and cursing.”

“Don’t trouble yourself over a monster’s rant. There’s no way Your Majesty’s body, blood included, could emit any foul odor.”

“Then why don’t you verify it yourself?”

Eugene playfully tugged his collar down with a finger and grinned.

“…”

But the somewhat rigid Maria couldn’t take a joke. The expectant expression she’d shown six years ago resurfaced in full.

“I-I’ll gratefully accept your kind intention.”

She bowed late in declining, but her heart was already pounding. Her breath was heated with desire.

Prrrr.

The temperature-sensitive Mightbred Charger tilted its head. It had faintly felt its back and flank warming.