Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

Dakota's initial expression was normal. He stood in front of the first painting, nodded slightly, and had a hint of approval on his lips.

The composition, the lighting, the expressions of the figures—everything is just right. Raine's brushstrokes are as delicate as ever, as always, and I love them. That style, somewhere between realism and impressionism, always manages to touch me in unexpected places.

But when he moved to the second painting, his expression changed.

First, there was a distorted expression, as if he had seen something he shouldn't have; his brows furrowed, his nostrils flared slightly, and his lips pressed into a wavy line. Then, that distortion evolved into the image of an elderly man on the subway looking at his phone.

"grown ups?"

Raine tilted his head and asked in a low voice.

“No!” Darkus said firmly, but his voice had a strange tension. “It’s very well drawn, as good as ever. I like it very much!”

When he said this, his expression seemed to be on the verge of collapse, with the corners of his mouth trying to turn up, but his eyebrows refusing to cooperate, as if his whole face was being pulled by two opposing forces at the same time.

Ryan blinked but didn't ask any further questions.

He was used to Dakou's reactions.

Asking further questions is useless, and so is explaining. The problem isn't with the painting itself, but rather that Daxius thought of something else through it. Since Daxius is unwilling to talk about it, there's no need for him to keep pressing the matter.

Dakos took a deep breath, suppressing the emotion that had come from nowhere, and then went to look at the third painting.

Today marks another week, or eight days, since Aniranien rose to power. Of course, Asul doesn't use that calendar.

After the Aniranien rose, the Kosqui people who had gathered there did not leave immediately. Instead, they went home and stayed for another five days.

There was no revelry, no bonfire party, no all-night drinking, and none of the disorderly, out-of-control kind of excitement that required apologies the next morning.

There were only small-scale celebrations with plenty of supplies.

The children who came from afar were absolutely thrilled. They had food, drinks, and toys, all for free, and they also had many playmates.

Well, the supplies for eating, drinking, and having fun either come from Ashriel or Nagaros, so you could call it an advertisement?
It leaves an indelible mark on children; many years later, when they grow up, they will clearly remember what happened during those days. Furthermore, they will vividly recall the taste of the candy, the color of the drink, and the feel of the toy.

The elderly, or more precisely, the older generation, watched the children play and eat while reminiscing about the past and looking forward to the future. They sat on the edge of the tent, on the rocks, eating and drinking while talking about names and events that only they remembered.

"When I was their age..."

This sentence has been repeated countless times by different voices, in different corners, and with different tones.

Led by nobles and officers, the soldiers launched a further encirclement and suppression campaign.

It's important to know that, shaped by geography and climate, the Kosquieu coastline is dotted with underground tunnels. These tunnels were either sculpted by the forces of nature, with the sea eroding the limestone over millions of years, creating deep passages; or they arose from the mining of salt and metal mines, and after the ancient mine tunnels were abandoned, they became labyrinths in another sense.

In times of crisis, people often seek refuge underground, and those caves are either converted into shelters or turned into playgrounds. But in Anirenne, beneath those ruins that have been submerged by seawater for thousands of years, what hides in these tunnels are not refugees, but occupants.

In addition to carrying out a cleanup operation to expel the remnants of the old era from every tunnel, every dark room, and every crack, they also had to search for remains.

Those who couldn't escape, those who didn't have time to leave when the disaster struck, those who waited in the darkness for rescue but never received it...

Their remains are scattered in the ruins, in the tunnels, and in spaces sealed by the sea for thousands of years. The discovery of each set of remains is met with a moment of silence.

It wasn't a sorrowful silence, but a more complex silence, carrying a sense of "finally".

The Phoenix King and the Eternal Queen then displayed their power to increase their respective influence.

Malekith stood on high ground, overlooking the newly revived land. His shadow was stretched long in the sunlight, long enough to cover half of the newly cleared square.

Estrel moved among the crowd, her robes fluttering gently in the sea breeze, her voice neither too loud nor too soft, just enough for everyone to feel seen by her.

They were both doing what they were supposed to do: one demonstrating strength, the other demonstrating compassion; one inspiring awe, the other inspiring closeness.

As for Darkus...

He stood in front of the third painting, which depicted the diverse scenes of a celebration, a more relaxed, more everyday, and more elusive state.

With an almost obsessive attention to detail, Raine captured the spirit and movement of each elf: an old man in the corner was smiling, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes like contour lines on a nautical chart; several children in the center of the picture were sharing snacks, their hands and feet moving with a carefree joy; a little further away, a man and a woman stood side by side, their shoulders at just the right distance, their eyes secretly meeting.

Everyone has their own place, everyone has their own story, and everyone lives out their most authentic self at that moment.

“This one is good,” Dakos said.

This time, his expression was genuine. There was no distortion, no disgust, no tense, almost strained look. His gaze lingered on the image for a long time, so long that Renn thought he was about to launch into a lengthy critique. But Darkus said nothing, only nodded—a small but profound nod.

Renn didn't speak, he just lowered his head.

As for the first two...

The first painting depicts the moment of the ceremony: the instant Slan raises his hand, the instant the elven spellcasters assume their starting positions, and the instant the sound of the tide disappears. Renn's painting is excellent; the composition is meticulous, the lighting accurate, and the placement of each person is carefully arranged.

But there's not much to say about that.

A ritual is a ritual; it doesn't require surprises, it requires precision.

Ryan did it accurately, that's all.

The second painting mainly depicts the moment of the charge.

The moment Dakos saw it, he thought of a movie called "Mr. Six" and the scene of charging on the ice.

That unwavering resolve, that determination to "die on the front lines," was captured by Renn's brush on the canvas. Malekith was at the forefront, his Sunfire Sword drawn, followed closely by the spellcasters and Darkus, the tips of their tridents pointing towards the depths of the painting. Then came the valiant troops, then the nobles, then the soldiers, layer upon layer, surging forward like a tide.

A little...?
He couldn't express it either.

It wasn't bad, it was too good, so good that he didn't know what to say.

Could it be related to who the enemy is?

"Want to take a look around? I haven't really seen the city properly yet." After looking at the three paintings, he extended an invitation to Renn. Renn had already finished painting; his easel was empty, his brushes were clean, and his paint box was tidied up.

There is no reason to refuse.

So they left the Palace of Rest.

The resurgence of Anileen marks the beginning of the second phase of exploration. The seven points scattered throughout Ulthuan have been surveyed; the next step is no longer 'finding,' but 'utilizing.'

Therefore, Darkus and Rein were no longer needed by the exploration team. Professionals should do professional work; the two of them were simply idling around and did nothing of value.

So they went to Tal Corelli.

The Palace of Rest is a magnificent twin-towered marble palace perched on a cliff overlooking the Silverwave Shipyard, and owned by the Emerald Sea family of Lorthern.

To be precise, the palace belonged to Princess Alicia, the mother of the Ty brothers, and was part of her dowry. When she married Prince Alasya, the palace, along with the sea below the cliff, was written into the marriage agreement.

Strictly speaking, the father of the Ty brothers, Prince Alasia, was a Kosquite. This was related to the choice of the eldest son of Aenareon, the first son of the Phoenix King, who chose to settle in this land, and his descendants have lived and multiplied here generation after generation.

Currently, the couple lives in Lorthene and rarely visits Kosquie. After Alicia died in childbirth, the place was no longer used. When Tyrion rose to power, he granted permission—not a gift, nor a sale, but simply a license.

Thus, the Palace of Rest became a guest house and social club for young nobles. Those young people who were tired of Lorthorn, those noble scions who wanted to find fresh air in Kosqui, and those small circles who needed a respectable place to hold private gatherings would all come here. They drank, chatted, exchanged information, and schemed against each other, leaving behind countless versions of legends among those marble columns.

Of course, this is a matter of another timeline; the Tai brothers are still nowhere to be seen right now.

Since the Palace of Rest is located above the Silverwave Shipyard, Darkus and Rein's first stop was naturally... that shipyard below.

This shipyard is not large; it can't compare to Duruci's shipyard at all.

One is a massive shipyard and its associated supply chain; the other is a small workshop.

Silverwave Shipyard is a workshop, but it's no ordinary workshop. It has a long history, dating back to the time of Aenarion, and is renowned for its innovative designs and excellent service. In the Kosque maritime community, "Silverwave products" are a guarantee of quality.

When the two arrived at the shipyard, only the patriarch of the Silverwave family, Calithus, was there; his daughter, the shipbuilder Eralia, had left that morning.

In Kelisses’ words: Elaria has a somewhat withdrawn personality.

He sighed countless times as he spoke, clearly a father who didn't want his daughter to end up like this. It wasn't the kind of sigh of "Why aren't you married yet?" but the kind of sigh of "I can't bear to leave you alone out there."

As a shipbuilder, Ellaria needs inspiration.

As a result, she, who was already a loner, would sometimes wander around and act arbitrarily, often disappearing for days to observe the swimming postures of dolphins, sharks, and giant flying fish. The shipyard employees had to keep a close eye on her whereabouts, not because they were afraid that something would happen to her, but because they were afraid that if she disappeared for too long, she would return with a bunch of "impossible" blueprints.

Accompanied by Kelisses, Dakos took a tour of the shipyard.

Although the shipyard was bustling with activity, with ships at different stages of construction, modification, and dismantling, the workers were busy on the slipway. The sounds of hammering, sawing, and shouting mingled together, creating a unique kind of lively atmosphere that belonged to the shipyard.

Although the exquisite craftsmanship of the mortise and tenon joint allows for the seamless joining of wood pieces without the need for nails or glue.

But Darkus remained uninterested, his gaze constantly drifting elsewhere, mostly fixed on the cliffs to the south. The cliff faces were sculpted into bizarre shapes by the sea breeze and waves, and several seabirds circled atop the cliffs, their cries carried away by the wind.

"Too small."

Finally, he stopped at a superb vantage point overlooking the shipyard and the cliff, and after a moment of contemplation, he exclaimed.

There was no sarcasm or contempt in that remark, just a calm statement of fact. It was like saying, "It's very windy today," or "This is a good spot."

But Kelisses clearly doesn't think so.

"The noble son of Matheran?" He bowed deeply, his waist so low it was almost parallel to the ground.

This man was far too powerful for him to afford to offend; his rank was far higher, and a single word from him could decide the fate of him and his entire family. As a follower of Matheran, all he could do was pray that the other party wouldn't make things difficult for him, out of consideration for the fact that the other was also a follower of Matheran.

It wasn't that he was cowardly; it was that he knew all too well what this man meant to Kosquieu.

"Have you seen Duruci's iron ship?" Darkus beckoned to Kelisses, indicating that he shouldn't be so reserved.

"I've met you." Kellyseth straightened up, but his shoulders were still slightly hunched.

He had seen those iron ships; they weren't made of wood, but of iron, of steel plates, but without rivets or welds.

Iron ships were divided into warships and merchant ships.

Although warships have sails, they mostly navigate using magic and their associated systems. They are not afraid of any wind direction or any reefs; they can go wherever they want and stop whenever they want.

Merchant ships, although also Albatross-class, but...

When he first saw the iron ships, he remained silent for a long time. He had spent his entire life dealing with wood, pondering which type of wood was most resistant to corrosion, which ship design was most labor-saving, and which mortise and tenon joints were the strongest. But those iron ships told him that he didn't need to know these things; what he knew was outdated.

Just as Darkus was about to tease, or rather 'embarrass' Kelisses, Darrowland appeared.

Clearly, Darrowland, the local tyrant, learned of their departure shortly after they left the Palace of Rest. It wasn't stalking or surveillance; it was a more subtle, instinctive trait of a ruler: an important figure has arrived on your territory, he's left his residence—how could you not know where he went?
Then you are not a qualified ruler.

Darrowland walked from the shipyard entrance, his pace unhurried, a perfectly balanced smile on his face—neither overly enthusiastic nor overly cold. Behind him were no attendants, no guards, no two rebellious sons; only himself.

"Can it be big?"

He nodded slightly, his tone implying that he was there to save the day—not to save Darkus, but to save Kelisses. The poor shipyard owner was already terrified by Darkus's words; if Darkus said anything even more frightening, he feared he would kneel down.

Darkus glanced at Darrowland, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"Just a spur-of-the-moment decision, just browsing around."

His gaze shifted from Darrowland back to the southern cliffs. Sunlight bathed the cliff faces, gilding the rocks eroded by the sea winds for millennia. Seabirds continued to circle, their cries now more distant than before.

Darrowland followed his gaze, and for a moment the atmosphere fell silent. (End of Chapter)