Warhammer: Return of the Dragon.

The Phoenix King's robe looked a bit out of place compared to the two bottles and jars. Imrik certainly wouldn't let Mortelius carry the goods. He firmly believed that his mount was his family and comrade-in-arms, not a lowly packhorse.

This made things difficult for the Phoenix King, who had to come here personally carrying the things seized from the Church of the Lady of the Lake.

When he saw the alert state of the five little warriors, the Phoenix King was very satisfied. Although it was a bit embarrassing to lose to a Holy Grail guard, when he thought about the fierce battle record of the human kid before he swore to protect the holy land, it seemed understandable.

Besides, the five little warriors are still young. With their qualifications, they should be able to accomplish great things...

The five of them stood up side by side, their relief at surviving the calamity soon dispersed. No one knew what the Phoenix King wanted, but what was undoubted was that compared to the handsome elf with a smile on his face, the five of them were like... a piece of gravel under the dragon's claws, which could be destroyed without any effort.

"Markus Kruber..."

Before Imrik could say the next sentence, Marcus stood up straight as if in response to stress, and shouted loudly regardless of being in a state of escape.

"Yes, sir, what do you want?"

Marcus was a little nervous, and if his shaking knees and shoulders didn't lie, he was a little... afraid.

Who made the embassy always like to brag about the Phoenix King, saying that His Majesty is so wise and powerful that he can destroy a city with just one finger, and fight against the Eternal Chosen Esava Kul alone in an army of 100,000. If Magnus had not held him back, His Majesty alone could have made the Chaos invasion irreversible.

Some of the descriptions are quite unique, too. They say the Phoenix King is a guy with a fine body and a dragon soul, and that when he glares, a breath of air can appear.

Only Judith's description was relatively accurate. The ambassador vaguely explained the origin of Kislev's current situation, and countless clues led to His Majesty who sat on the throne of Lothern.

The nervous Kruber did not realize that he was not an elf and the Phoenix King was not a military exchange officer stationed in the Empire.

"Yes, Your Majesty, you fool..."

Victor whispered to remind Kruber of his choice of words. He respected the elven monarch. Perhaps the elves had many tricks, but the history of the Church of Sigmar told the deeds of great heroes, and this was the only thing that would not lie.

If the Phoenix King was not an elf, the Church of Sigmar would have conferred the title of Saint on him to praise the greatness of him and the devout.

"Yes, yes, your majesty."

"Perhaps I should change my clothes, otherwise I will only be reminded of my identity as the Phoenix King..."

Imrick shook his head and handed the wine over, motioning for Marcus to come and take it.

As Marcus staggered in two steps, he did not even let the soldier take a second look at the treasures from the Lady's Church. He stood cautiously beside the Phoenix King, waiting for the next instruction.

But Imrik obviously didn't like this. He waved his hand to indicate that there was no need to be nervous, walked to the wooden stake next to the campfire and sat down. He reached out and picked up a secret skewer prepared by the dwarf master, and began to evaluate it with relish.

"It tastes good, better than expected. I often suggest that the Royal Court's restaurant should hire chefs from different races. Can you imagine the pain of only being able to choose from ten recipes in a hundred years?"

Bardin carefully picked up a few skewers of cooked meat from the campfire and handed them to the Phoenix King. "It's the flavor of the Grey Mountains, mixed with some of the surface style. I'm not bragging, the old ranger, there's no chef better than me in the entire Dreadnought Fort."

"Those royal chefs should really learn from you. They actually demand that the Phoenix King's daily dishes must come from special offerings from the various countries of Ulthuan. They have never thought of learning a little experience from the special cuisines of other races." "Yes, yes, the dwarfs' cooking skills are no worse than the elves'. I was almost invited to the Eternal Peak to serve as the High King's royal chef. If it weren't for the fact that someone had to hold the axe in my hand, I would have gone to meet the chef of the World's Edge Mountains long ago."

"That's a waste of your talent. Food can bring satisfaction and happiness, but the axe is the key to survival..."

The elves and dwarves were chatting enthusiastically, as if it was their first meeting. They naturally anticipated various interesting types of food after hearing that Gorickson had a lot of experience in cooking trolls and wyverns.

Imrick immediately said that he would personally hunt a few and invite Bardin to cook for him, to test the style of the great chef of the Grey Mountains.

Victor's eyes swept over Marcus, and he saw that the usually very frivolous soldier didn't look serious at all at this moment. When he heard there was wine and meat, he came over with the bowl in hand.

"I'm also good at cooking, and I mainly help the chef deal with the food he cooks... Or you can listen to my opinion. The meat of trolls and wyverns is too tough. It's better to replace it with bear paws, which are the delicacies of Kislev."

"Damn it, Kruber, I'm talking to him and you got in my way."

"He didn't specify that he wanted to chat with you, Bardin. Why can't I talk?"

Honestly, it's quite interesting... This was Imrik's thought. He bit a golden and juicy skewer between his teeth and watched the arguing actions of the tall and short man with great interest.

To be fair, when the character that I used to control appears in front of me, the strange feeling is hard to get rid of.

If Victor could witness Sigma, Marcus's steadfast protection of the empire, Bardin's finding Plateau Castle, Sienna's search for a home, and Kerillian's feeling for Elsa... perhaps many things would be different.

The elf waved to the three people who were still standing restrainedly. It would be tiring to be a monarch for too long, and he had just been entangled with Lilith for a while, which made him in a bad mood.

The monarch has no friends, but the elves can have friends. He doesn't mind lowering his status and having a good chat with the five little strong men. After all, this may be the only chance...

"Your Majesty..." Victor was still careful, but he stood vaguely in front of Kerillian, covering the tall and thin figure of the elf behind him.

The witch hunter could see that the elf did not want to meet her monarch, and as captain, he was obliged to protect the woman's ideas.

But this only made Imrick feel a little funny. He stared at the campfire and said calmly.

"Kerillian, are you still bothered by that?"

The elf did not respond, but her tense body told of her fear. The scene she was most worried about had occurred. The direct source of the envelope was Ulthuan.

"We all make mistakes sometimes, or maybe your mistake is that you have a different standpoint. Of course, this is sophistry. Even if you haven't made any mistakes, I can still send you to jail for countless reasons.

But for now, sit still and try out the dwarf master's craft."

The monarch's orders must not be disobeyed. The three people and the dwarf could not feel the terrifying power of the handsome man. Only when Kerillian approached, his cold will was constantly washing over her mind.

Surrender to fate... This is the fate of the elves. (End of this chapter)