Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

"You... seem very happy?"

Finnubar's voice was steady and restrained, but still carried a hint of probing that was hard to ignore.

Because, in his view, Dakous's condition was somewhat strange?
"Of course!"

Dakos answered almost immediately, his tone so firm that it left no room for negotiation. Before his words had even finished, he had already pulled out a chair at the long dining table and sat down, his movements swift and decisive, as if standing for even a moment longer would be a waste.

"Oh?"

However, before Finnubar could continue to ask questions, Dakous preemptively spoke first.

"I found it! I dreamt about it!"

"Found it?" Finnubar frowned slightly.

The mountain of daily political affairs, intelligence, and decisions surged rapidly through his mind, and this abrupt word failed to immediately fit into any known context. His gaze lingered on Dakous's face for a moment, and that rare, almost radiant smile stirred something within him.

His thoughts raced, and after a moment, his expression suddenly relaxed, revealing a look of realization. Then, with a hint of caution and confirmation, he tentatively asked...

"Ren?"

"Yes!"

Darkus nodded, his hand, which had been reaching for the cutlery, changed course halfway, instead clenching his fists and holding them in front of his chest. It wasn't a lapse in composure, but rather a suppressed excitement, as if his emotions would burst forth at the slightest relaxation.

Finnubar did not inquire how Dakos knew this, nor did he assess the reliability of the dream as a source of information.

In elven society, dreams are never just dreams.

It can be a harbinger, a revelation, a fleeting and secret resonance between the soul and a distant reality. Since Darkus says he has found it, it means—he has found it!

He let out a long sigh of relief, and as he exhaled, his expression softened, and a genuine yet restrained smile of relief appeared on his lips.

In his mind, the lizardmen were no longer just allies of Duruchi. They were an integral part of the grand scheme of elven society, an indispensable force in the future game.

He had never actually set foot in those ancient pyramid cities, nor had he ever come into close contact with the workings and beliefs of the lizardmen society, but he knew very well that what Darkus had been searching for was about the survival and advancement of the lizardmen civilization—a key that could unlock a completely new situation.

And now, the key has been found!
However, before his smile had completely faded, his brows furrowed again.

"Does the plan... need to be adjusted?"

After a moment, he looked at Darkus again, his tone now calm and serious as before.

At this moment, he was ready!

However, Dakotas did not respond immediately.

He slowly twisted his neck, his gaze falling on the long table covered with a clean white tablecloth. The exquisite silverware and porcelain plates reflected a cold, restrained luster, appearing to him like miniature chess pieces, quietly waiting to be redeployed.

The restaurant fell silent for a moment.

Even Jerian, who had been eating with his head down and hadn't spoken a word, stopped eating without realizing it. He raised his gaze, which shifted subtly between his father and Darkus, carefully trying to catch every invisible yet heavy change in the air.

"This feeling... power!"

After a long silence, Darkus finally spoke. He leaned back in his chair, spread his hands, palms up, as if weighing something invisible yet real. "Adjusting, or not adjusting, may sound like just a change in strategic order, but in fact, they point to two completely different worlds!"

His gaze swept over Finnubar's face, which grew increasingly somber with anticipation of the outcome, but did not linger. Instead, it seemed to penetrate the restaurant's walls, projecting onto a future vision that was still in its infancy, slowly unfolding in the fog.

“You know, power itself has never fascinated me.” He said this in a calm tone, without disgust or ostentation, as if he were simply stating a fact that had been repeatedly proven. “It is just a tool, a path. The only thing I care about is to carry out that grand plan that has been outlined, that more ancient blueprint that concerns the survival and advancement of the entire world.”

He paused for a moment, then his voice lowered, but remained exceptionally clear, like a blade piercing through all pretense.

"What will we gain if we put disarmament and the restoration of production out of our minds? An army armed to the teeth with new technologies, yet still driven by the inertia of war? A society that is outwardly glorious but inwardly hollowed out by military logic? An export of order that appears powerful but is actually extremely fragile?"

His gaze wandered again, as if examining possibilities that had not yet occurred but were already taking shape.

"We'll become addicted to this instant power, addicted to the thrill of playing 'god' rather than 'cop.' And then what?"

The air became exceptionally quiet at that moment.

"therefore……"

He withdrew his gaze and refocused on what was in front of him, pronouncing the simple syllable extremely slowly and steadily.

"No!"

Finnubar's shoulders slumped slightly as he let out another long sigh.

It wasn't the lighthearted relief of a burden, but rather a weighty sense of calm that followed confirmation. The previously tense atmosphere relaxed and began to flow, as if some enormous inertia that might have veered off course had been firmly pulled back onto its predetermined track by a more resilient and clear-headed force.

"Praise Asuyan! My choice was right! Always right!"

When he said this, his voice carried a sense of certainty and relief.

Having said that, he raised his glass and gestured to Dakota. The liquid in the glass swirled slightly, then he drank it all in one gulp.

The restaurant once again echoed with the subtle, orderly clinking of cutlery against porcelain plates, a crisp, restrained sound, like a ritual that naturally continues after a key step has been completed.

The meal continued, but something decisive had already been decided in silence.

Darkus said nothing more, simply lowering his head and calmly cutting the food on his plate. The knife fell with precise movements, revealing no extra emotion.

For him, true power is never the pleasure of dominating others, but the ability to make the choice that best aligns with the grand plan at every crossroads.

Today, he once again stood firm on that boundary.

The lighthouse will eventually light up, but its light must be meant to illuminate the predetermined route, not to dazzle the light-bearer and make him forget his true place in the grand narrative.

Just as Fegal and his men had judged, Dakos was indeed preparing to reduce the size of the army.

Unload the mill and kill the donkey?
When the cunning rabbit dies, the hunting dog is cooked; when the birds are all gone, the good bow is put away.
Crossing the river and then dismantling the bridge?

Hmm, maybe they all have a bit of that in them.

Or perhaps, this is simply part of the historical pattern?

whatever.

On the political level, although Malekith was the biggest military leader and Dakos firmly held the dominant position in the navy and had a considerable influence in the army, both of them were very clear about one thing: they must not be held hostage by the military.

The military's inertial expansion must be suppressed, and it must be ensured that the military is always merely a tool, not its master.

What they wanted was control of the army, not to be controlled by the army's logic. They understood better than anyone that the army, this massive machine born for war, once the snowball starts rolling, will crush all rationality with its own weight and inertia, becoming extremely difficult to stop.

If one were to rule over Ulthuan, it would be only natural for someone to suggest marching on Elsin Alfvén; and after that, one would turn one's gaze toward Clarion... step by step, the reasons would become more and more compelling, the resistance would become less and less, the war itself would degenerate into a kind of inertia that did not need to be justified, and victory would become a deadly poison.

What Dacules and Malekith truly sought to protect was never the outcome of a particular war, but rather the supreme power of decision-making.

What kind of war to fight, when to fight, and why to fight—all of this must be completely and absolutely controlled by them, and no group, any force, or even any "taken-for-granted" habitual overstepping of authority is allowed.

The war must continue, because the world has never truly been at peace, but the war must never get out of control!
Therefore, disarmament is imperative.

Politically, this is a clear signal, a proactive and chilling gesture of restraint.

It means temporarily halting that colossal machine designed for King's Landing at Ausuan and forged for total war, allowing the gears to cool, the bearings to be depressurized, and the structure to undergo inspection and calibration, rather than letting it continue to idle and self-accelerate on the back of victory and institutional inertia.

Only in this way can military power be brought back into a normalized and institutionalized track, becoming a tool that can be precisely deployed and withdrawn at any time, rather than a monster driven by its own logic.

The practical aspect is equally urgent.

The government's finances are nearing their limit.

Years of war preparations have been like a continuous drain on resources, leaving the coffers increasingly empty. Resources must be forced to shift towards reconstruction and development, and society's productivity urgently needs to be freed from armaments and consumption in order to achieve genuine recovery and self-sufficiency. An overly bloated army is not only an unbearable financial burden, but it may also degenerate into a new source of instability due to idleness, resource competition, or ambitions expanding in a vacuum.

Military disarmament is an inevitable choice that cannot be avoided or postponed under these dual pressures.

The military will undergo structural adjustments and systemic reforms in this process, eliminating redundancies, streamlining bloated organizations, reshaping its structure, and introducing new military concepts and technologies, placing loyalty, efficiency, and controllability above size.

Once society has recovered, once the economy and industries have been revitalized, and once Ausuan has been assimilated, a more streamlined, efficient, and loyal war machine can be set in motion again under the clear and calm will of the ruler, and will unhesitatingly point towards the direction that truly needs to be conquered and resolved.

This is a cycle.

Expansion, contraction, sedimentation, re-emergence.

And the switch to turn on each cycle must be firmly held in the hands of the decision-maker. This is the cold and cruel logic behind long-term stability and sustained prosperity.

As for how to cut it...

At this critical juncture of recovery, reconstruction, and strategic shift, another far-reaching and fundamental core strategy is unfolding simultaneously.

To forge the Elf Society into a 'lighthouse' that guides and illuminates the world.

This not only signifies economic recovery and cultural prosperity, but also means building an irresistible centripetal force of civilization through the systematic output of systems, technologies, ideas, and values, making the concept of "elves" itself a synonym for order, progress, and power.

This is precisely why Finnubar cautiously inquired whether the plan needed to be adjusted.

In the initial blueprint, Project Lighthouse and post-war recovery were planned to be the next steps to be pursued in parallel.

Its realization requires stable domestic politics, a predictable environment, and a continuous and abundant supply of resources.

However, the key has now been found by Ryan.

Everything seemed to have been able to change because of this.

The war machine... perhaps it didn't have to stop completely?

It can turn directly, and in one fell swoop, under the guise of "expanding the frontiers of order" or "eliminating threats to civilization," incorporate force itself into the narrative, transforming it into a cold and sharp deterrent prism in the light of the beacon, accelerating the spillover and expansion of influence in the most direct and brutal way.

But Dakous's choice remained the same: stop.

This decision was not hesitation, but restraint; not retreat, but applying the brakes. He knew better than anyone how deep the dangers lurked on this path.

Pure military force, even when cloaked in the guise of "spreading order," is highly susceptible to slipping into the trap of endless intervention and conquest as it reinforces its own sense of victory and legitimacy. Intervention becomes a habit, habit becomes a responsibility, and responsibility ultimately devours everything, exhausting the hard-earned resources and redefining the once-beacon of hope with the shadows of fear, dread, and forced obedience.

He needs the influence of the lighthouse, but he needs the role the elves play in this system even more, rather than the role of 'world conquerors'.

This means that the lighthouse's light must be twofold.

It must be both a gentle guiding light, showing direction to those who are lost, and a high-hanging searchlight, illuminating the boundaries of the rules and marking the price of crossing them.

The Elves should appear as arbitrators, maintainers of order, and disaster responders, not as relentless conquerors. They will use their advanced technology and unparalleled yet ever-controlled military presence to maintain a global stability that is most beneficial and sustainable to themselves.

To achieve this, the war machine must first be cooled, dismantled, and rebuilt.

Disarmament and rejuvenation are not merely technical operations to restore strength, but also a directional re-forging. The aim is to create a new force that is more lean, more efficient, and fully dedicated to political objectives.

This force will no longer be a conquering legion that rolls along by inertia, but rather an "enforcement unit" that can be precisely deployed and recalled at any time.

Normally, they are stationed at strategic nodes, serving as a deterrent through their very presence.

Once certain areas experience "disorder," such as chaotic encroachment, large-scale loss of control, or serious challenges to the core interests of the elves, they can quickly mobilize, intervening as "police" rather than "intruders," standing on the dual high ground of morality and technology to complete rapid intervention and restore order.

Therefore, Dakota's lack of adjustment is precisely the most profound and thorough adjustment.

He chose to first cultivate his inner strength, recover his strength, reduce his forces, and integrate his forces, before stepping forward with a completely new and overwhelming civilized posture to play the role of the world's much-needed, yet irresistible, order arbiter and maintainer.

Yes, there's a legitimate reason for it...

The war machine appears to have stopped.

But in reality, it is being dismantled, reassembled, and renumbered, waiting to be restarted in a more complex, more restrained, and more powerful form.

That will be a machine that serves the lighthouse, providing the most solid foundation for the lighthouse that will illuminate the entire world order, as well as the sharpest, yet always controlled, edges.

As he ate, Dakotas lifted his gaze from the food on his plate and looked at Jerian.

Yelian, who was being watched, immediately stopped what he was doing. He looked up to meet the gaze, his expression becoming serious and his breathing slowing down.

“You haven’t been to Chappejuto yet, have you?” Dakos asked.

Jerian had indeed never set foot on that land, but he did not respond verbally. He put down his cutlery, gently moved the chair legs back on the ground, and then stood up nimbly, straightening his back and letting his arms hang naturally at his sides.

They adopted an attitude of needing no further words and awaiting orders.

"Let's go for a walk."

Dakos spoke in an extremely casual tone, as if he were simply asking him to take a walk in the courtyard after dinner.

Jerian brought his feet together, the heels of his boots lightly touching, producing a short, clear sound. He clenched his right fist, pounded it heavily against his chest, and then raised it high, giving a concise, standard, yet powerful military salute.

The movements were swift and decisive, without the slightest unnecessary pause.

Darkus watched as he accepted the order and sat down again, resuming his eating posture, a barely perceptible hint of satisfaction flashing in his eyes. This ability to execute orders without explanation or confirmation was precisely the quality he valued. He then shifted his gaze from Jerian to Finnubar.

Finnubar met his gaze and nodded slightly. This gesture was less a response and more a tacit understanding.

Just as he had done with the supplies for Rennes’ fleet before, he naturally took on all the tasks of preparing supplies and coordinating the itinerary for Jerian’s voyage.

The meal continued amidst the soft, rhythmic clatter of cutlery. A moment later, Jerian, who had finished his meal first, quietly rose, bowed, turned, and left his seat, his figure quickly disappearing outside the restaurant.

"You and Kohein..."

Dakos began to speak, but did not finish his sentence.

"The process was somewhat..." At this moment, Finnubar also finished his meal. He neatly placed the silverware back in its original position, spread his hands, palms up, his expression complex and subtle, "Twisty, but thankfully the result..."

"Around commoners and nobles?" Darkus cut to the chase.

Finnubar nodded heavily, and for a moment, his shoulders seemed to slump slightly.

“If the result is good, then that’s good.” Dakos didn’t ask for details, as if the specific arguments, tug-of-wars, and compromises were no longer important. “Next, we just need to get it running.”

Last night, Finnubar went to see Kohein.

How should I put it... the relationship between these two is now as rigid as the frozen ground of Nagarus.

They used to be best friends, at least before Finnubar's antics, and afterwards...

Although the outcome was as desired, the goal was achieved, and the situation was reversed, the process to reach that result was filled with too many unavoidable things: deception, misleading, deliberate concealment, and even betrayal.

These choices may be rational on a macro level, but on a private level, they are like cold knives, repeatedly cutting each other and ultimately creating a bottomless, irreparable rift.

It's even difficult to find a suitable word to describe this state.

Marlene's relationship with Kohein also reached a freezing point. If we also include Italis and Barriel, the whole affair becomes even more ironic and cruel.

Although Kohein came from humble beginnings, born in a barn in the Challes Mountains, his father was a plantation owner and his mother was a local archery champion, and there was no trace of ancient nobility in his family bloodline.

But he was no mindless brute. On the contrary, he was skilled in both literature and martial arts, possessed extensive knowledge, and his wisdom far exceeded most people's perception of him. He had read more books than many nobles, and his insights were often more profound than those of scholars who spent their entire lives hiding in their studies.

He speaks with elegance, focusing on reason and principle rather than glory when conversing with others. His thinking is sharp, and his words always carry a unique calmness, like a rock that remains unmoved after countless storms.

But he never flaunted his wisdom; he rarely displayed his thoughts, even deliberately maintaining the image of a "rough and tough warrior." He preferred to be seen as a simple, honest old soldier rather than a shrewd sage. He knew that people always underestimate a seemingly simple person, and that was precisely his weapon.

That's why all of this seems so ironic and so heartbreaking.

Finubal, her close friend, and Marlene, her lover, both decide to completely side with Duruci...

In addition, there were two Duruci spies, Itaris and Balil, who had already infiltrated the ranks...

Together they wove a vast and intricate web.

This net not only captured the course of events, but also firmly trapped Kohein, a man with a rough exterior but a heart full of sincerity. Trust was crushed, and affection was distorted, all of this happening right before the eyes of the person who least wanted to be deceived and least should have been.

But then again, it's the only option we have.

Kohein's identity, background, personality, and responsibilities meant he was destined to be excluded from Finnubar's core plans. If he were to learn any crucial details, the consequences could be devastating.

The war will likely continue in a more direct and bloodier form.

Kohain is still the captain of the White Lion Guard, but he has no intention of continuing. Once everything settles down, he plans to lay down his armor, retire to the mountains, and extricate himself from this entangled world of politics and intrigue.

Finnubar's meeting with Kohein last night was a decision made by Dakous and the result of discussions between them.

Darkus did not want Kohein to withdraw, exile himself, or retreat into the mountains. He hoped that Kohein would continue to burn brightly in another way, governing the province of Charis as an agent of the Phoenix Court. (End of Chapter)