A cool breeze swept across the high observation platform built into Gaia's trunk. Thousands of feet up, thin mist drifted like clouds, temperature crisp and refreshing. I sat on the stone railing, legs dangling, gazing down at the endless silver-green sea of Silverleaf Forest stretching miles below.
For the first time in my life, I was this high—overwhelmed by the sheer grandeur.
Rapid footsteps shattered the peace. I smiled inwardly. Solitude lost, but something far better gained.
"Master?!"
"Lord Sorola, please come down. It's dangerous sitting there."
Tch.
I was just posing dramatically on the railing, looking cool. And this damn Serbei thinks I'm suicidal? In front of Jenna, no less—talk about embarrassing her master.
I'll settle that score later.
I turned casually, flashing a flawless innocent smile. Behind Jenna and the offending Serbei stood six senior elves from the earlier meeting, plus a dozen unfamiliar warriors—likely Serbei's trusted officers.
"I used to be terrified of heights as a kid," I said idly, still gazing outward. "But at some point it stopped bothering me. Now I love sitting up high like this, looking down at everything tiny below. Feels like another world entirely."
The fear vanished around the time my mother died thirteen years ago.
"You know why the grand elder doesn't respect me?"
Silence. They either didn't know or couldn't answer. Jenna cautiously stepped closer. I stroked her soft silver hair, eyes still on the view.
"The grand elder believes your clan's forces plus Gaia's defenses can hold against 400,000. He's partly right—normally, that number wouldn't breach this place. But he's committing the cardinal sin of warfare: tunnel vision. He sees only the immediate terrain, not the full board.
"Imagine you were attacking the dark elves. In a war this critical, who would you ally with? The undisciplined, plunder-obsessed orcs who fight like wild beasts? Or the Empire—your fourteen-year ally with real military discipline?"
I didn't need to look to know their stunned expressions.
I was showing them true strategic genius, exposing their shortsightedness. Even I wouldn't underestimate Longevity—how dare they?
Serbei reacted first, proving he wasn't just the strongest mage but the sharpest commander.
"If it were us, we'd choose the Martial Rost Empire—our longtime ally. Not for raw strength, but because your soldiers are professionals, not looting savages. Lord Sorola… you mean the real ally isn't the orcs, but the Diyari Kingdom, allied with dark elves for over thirty years?"
Exactly.
Diyari Kingdom—our western neighbor—once dominated the continent. A century of war left the Empire two-thirds its current size, constantly threatened.
Forty years ago, three brilliant commanders emerged in our forces: my father, Marquis Fat Rubia of the Black Dragon Knights; Prince Will Martial Rost of the Crimson Eagles; and Marquis-in-waiting Radik Gancha of the Silver Snow Wolves. In ten years, they captured eight enemy cities, forcing balance.
Diyari relocated its capital; we bled gold and lives. Both sides yielded, signing the "Eternal Peace Treaty" twenty-plus years ago.
Serbei, over five centuries old, knew it well. The treaty barred direct invasion—but said nothing about aiding allies.
Thus, Diyari supporting dark elves made perfect sense. Orcs were mere cannon fodder—a distraction.
"Since we're here," I said suddenly, turning and taking Jenna's hand, "show me your bedroom."
I pulled her through the crowd, winking at Serbei as I passed.
"Master, not like this… um…"
In Jenna's modest chamber, I sprawled on her soft bed and pulled her onto my lap, arms around her slim waist, inhaling the sweet scent between her breasts. Elves lived simply—her room smaller than my maids', no decorations, not even a stuffed toy.
Jenna still wasn't used to intimacy. She squirmed as I teased her.
"Jenna, I'm only this forward because I'm helping your clan. Don't disobey."
"B-but… how does this relate to my people?"
I hid a smirk, gently pushing her aside and lying back.
"Do you know the pressure of commanding tens of thousands of lives?"
Jenna stood shyly, shaking her silver hair adorably.
"It's crushing—like constant nightmares, head ready to explode. Every general has a release: drinking, music, executing prisoners… Mine is women.
"But I never force anyone. If you don't want it, fine. Though my mind might not be sharp enough then… and I could accidentally let your entire clan get wiped out. I'd feel bad."
I closed my eyes, pretending to sleep. Truth was, I was exhausted—nonstop travel, camping rough. A noble like me needed proper rest.
The pure-hearted elf panicked.
"I'm sorry, Master! Don't abandon my people. Whatever Master wants… Jenna will… obey…"
"No, I'm a man of honor. I'd never force you."
"Eh… then… Master…"
"Actually, I'm soft-hearted. Beg me nicely—beg for kisses—and I might change my mind."
Heh heh heh…
"Master… please… Jenna begs Master to…"
"What? Beg me to kiss you… or fuck you?"
Jenna turned scarlet, speechless. I sprang up, pulled her close, and claimed her lips—tongue teasing hers. Inexperienced but not unwilling. For a 200-plus-year-old virgin, she was adorably naive.
Just as things heated, a knock interrupted. Jenna tried pushing me away in panic.
"Is someone there?"
"No!"
"… …"
"… …"
"Lord Sorola, may I open the door? The grand elder wishes to speak with you."
"I'm busy sleeping. Come back in an hour—no, two."
Hearing her father, Jenna summoned saintess strength, shoved me off, and rushed to open the door for the clan's top authorities.
"Father… Uncle."
The grand elder entered with Serbei, then dismissed them.
"Big brother?"
"Don't worry. The baron and I need a private word."
Serbei and Jenna exchanged worried glances but obeyed. Door shut, the grand elder sat facing me.
"Alright, Sorola. Just us now. You staged that drama to lure me here. What do you want?"
Old fox—sharp as expected.
"I really dislike you."
"What?!"
"Old, stubborn, arrogant, pragmatic to a fault, terrible fashion sense, and you reek of fox. Calling you annoying is me being kind. Worst—you back the crown prince, opposing my family. Zero vision."
His face shifted from flush to livid, fingers trembling—likely chanting a kill spell.
"But to a businessman, it doesn't matter how much I hate you, your stance, or your stink. Profitable deals are always welcome."
At "profitable," his expression eased slightly.
"A deal?"
"Exactly. A fair trade."
"But… our holy elf clan…"
"I know—you're famously broke. I'm not stupid enough for a cash deal. You need military power to save your home. I want beauties… and power."
He gave a wry smile, finally understanding.
"I dislike you too, Sorola. But your talent and boldness are undeniable. Your terms are impossible to refuse. You want beauties and power—yet unlike humans, we elves live as equals. I can't offer women. Jenna is already the finest under three hundred years. Be content."
"What about power? Your clan hoards rare magic—I'm very interested."
"We have ancestral elf secrets, but clan law forbids teaching outsiders—especially greedy humans like you."
"Fine. Deal's off. I'm heading home."
I knew he'd bite. I stood, stretching.
"Wait! We have over a hundred thousand years of priceless records."
"Records?"
"Yes. Our history dwarfs your nation—and nations before it."
True. Elven records were invaluable—not for outdated history, but ancient scripts. Mastering forbidden magic like my *Forbidden Training Summoning Codex* required diverse ancient texts. Mages were half-historians for good reason.
On this continent, only dragons rivaled elven longevity. Ten thousand years of texts? Goldmine for my research.
But…
"Great grand elder, you offer dusty old books for 100,000 troops? Bit steep."
"I… even gave you my daughter. Call it a discount."
"Discount too big. I'm researching slimes. Throw in satisfactory slime data and live samples—I might accept."
"Slimes?"
He looked baffled. Slimes were common forest pests—weak even as familiars. But he couldn't refuse without losing face.
"Weird request, but we have plenty of slime records. Catching a few is easy. Deal!"
Afraid I'd back out, he extended his palm. I slapped it—sealed.
*(Elf records, slime samples, slime data—acquired!)*
My family's army answered to Father—deployed to weaken Diyari, maintaining balance. Without my intel, they'd have no target.
Best part: not my money paying them. Biggest winner? Me.
Selling out others felt amazing. No wonder traitors thrive—it's addictive.
Too good.
"Grand elder, besides the Black Dragons, I have another 20,000-man surprise force for sale. Interested?"
"Surprise force?"
Damn, I'm hooked on this betrayal game.
He waited for details—I wouldn't reveal yet. Those 20,000 were my private army: 12,000 elite cavalry under Riando from Febenli, plus 8,000 light cavalry hired from the top Eagle Strike mercenaries.
My own wallet—higher price justified.
"Mere 20,000 against 400,000?"
"Heh heh… good question. Charging head-on? Useless. But all light cavalry—they've secretly crossed Moonwatch River, ambushing at Wolfkiss Canyon exit."
The grand elder paled.
Orc lands: green basin ringed by mountains. Land access only through narrow valleys—one guarded by Moonwatch River and Wolfkiss Canyon—natural barriers.
My cavalry blocking the canyon exit could sever orc supply lines—game-changer.