Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

Daxius was not actually interested in Yoram's turbulent psychological reactions.

It's not indifference, it's just that I'm too busy.

His focus was never on "what a person thinks at the moment their fate is changed," that's something novelists should be concerned with.

He was thinking of Torella Moonrose at the time.

It wasn't about beauty; Toreland certainly still retained her charm, but Darkus had seen enough beauties to the point that he had developed a professional numbness to "beauty." Nor was it about any ambiguous thoughts; the lights in the Grey Oak Tavern were indeed ambiguous, but his mind was far clearer than those lights.

He was thinking about Torreland and the system behind her.

As far as he knew, Torella and Hemara were among the same group of sorceresses trained by Malekith.

Today, Hemara is the head of the House of All People, managing the civil affairs system, including household registration, statistics, grassroots affairs, and the vast and intricate system that is closely related to the daily lives of every ordinary citizen. She sits in her office, approving documents, meeting visitors, and chairing meetings, busy from morning till night, like a puppet on countless strings, but every single string is in her hands.

Although Hemara wants to retire, that's her own business.

Darkus knew her weariness—the kind of weariness that wasn't from fighting on the battlefield or battling various forces, but from being slowly worn down by endless meetings and paperwork day after day.

The group led by Elsin Alwyn and Adria, who were in charge of the event, followed in the footsteps of the two women.

If Darkus were replaced by Torella, and we were to think in terms of so-called female perspectives, it would be far too unbearable.

Ah, I'm gathering intelligence in Ulthuan, spending all my time in the tavern, playing games with various factions, putting on a smiling face, trying to get information out of people, distinguishing between truth and traps, and sifting out valuable information from a bunch of drunken ramblings. Meanwhile, my contemporary Hemara... is already the head of the House of All People, managing thousands of people, going in and out of the palace, and discussing politics with Malekith.

Even Adria, who came after her... also stood alone under Elsin Alwyn, with an entire intelligence network under her command.

And Torella? She's still the tavern owner, still the grey oak tree, still the endless wine and the never-ending drunken ramblings.

Darkus had promised Egileser a smooth transition, a safe landing, and that she could live a quiet life in anonymity with those secrets, while also guaranteeing her descendants a chance, unlike most intelligence chiefs who are discarded after their usefulness is over.

It was a promise, and also a test.

Intelligence chiefs are the people all rulers rely on and fear the most. They know too much and have too much influence. Once they lose control, they are more dangerous than any enemy.

Most rulers would eliminate them after the situation stabilized, using various reasons and methods to make them disappear from the world, leaving only a few sealed files and a few words of eulogy for "making a great contribution to national security." Or there might be no eulogy at all, as if the person had never existed.

He showed his kindness, and Aguilera reciprocated by desperately repaying him and supporting him.

In the process of conquering Ausuan, this group of people and this system played an indispensable role. The intelligence passed in the shadows, the information obtained at crucial moments, and the trump cards that were "knew in advance" at the negotiating table—their shadow was behind everything.

They weren't the ones charging at the very front, but they were the ones who showed those who were charging where to go.

And there were many like Torella; she represented a system, a system headed by Egileser. They included tavern owners, dockworkers, merchants, shipwrights, customs officials, and servants of noble mansions.

Of course, there are even more outrageous cases, such as those who transformed from nobles of the Duruci clan to nobles of the Asur clan, and those who infiltrated the White Lion Guard and eventually became vice-captains.

They do not wear uniforms, do not receive military pay, and do not participate in military parades.

They simply stood there, watching, listening, and taking notes, and then, late at night, they turned those notes into a report and sent it to the right place through a channel known only to them.

A double-edged sword?
Will these people cause damage to the rule that follows? Perhaps they will, or perhaps they won't.

The terrifying aspect of an intelligence system lies not in the system itself, but in the people who use it. When used well, it is a shield, eyes, and nerve endings that sense danger in advance.

If used improperly, it can be a dagger, poison, or a ferocious beast that could turn on you at any moment.

In short, Dakotas wanted to ensure that these people landed safely.

It's not the kind of crude dismissal where you just give them some money and leave; it's the kind of dignified, secure, and meaningful treatment that makes them feel that "all these years of hard work haven't been in vain."

This gives them the option to continue working or to change their lifestyle.

For example, respecting Torella's personal wishes, if she is willing, the Phoenix Royal Court can then make adjustments and appointments to make her the head of the House of People in the Province of Kosqui, thus completely clearing her name.

On the surface, she is from Kosquieu and is a genuine Kosquieu native, but in reality...

Or retire completely, taking those secrets that will never be made public, find a quiet place, plant flowers, raise fish, and take care of children.

Give their children the opportunity to receive a better education, to be qualified for institutions, and to have the right to choose the life they want, instead of being trapped by the label of being the offspring of intelligence personnel.

As for how to implement it specifically...

Some things can't be rushed, but they also can't be delayed.

When the heat is right, it will naturally be cooked.

While Darkus was deep in thought, Renn was having a conversation with Yoran. The conversation ended just as Darkus came out of his reverie.

To the south of Sea Song Academy is the Hall of Law, and a little further away is the House of Reflection. The two buildings are very different in style; the former is a solemn stone hall with a scale relief carved on the porch; the latter is surrounded by gardens and green trees, and looks like a country villa from a distance.

The so-called "hall of law" translates to "courtroom."

It mainly mediates conflicts between ordinary people, such as contract disputes, neighborhood disputes, debt issues, and everyday frictions that are neither too big nor too small, not worth fighting over, but not worth swallowing.

Yoram was a regular there, not as a defendant, but as a legal advisor to the common people. He had no formal license or official title, but when ordinary people living in the docklands, fish markets, and artisan workshops encountered legal problems, the first person they thought of was not the high-ranking lawyers in the court, but Yoram under the lighthouse.

After adjusting, Yoran told many interesting stories. He said that he always encountered situations where the plaintiff and the defendant would come to him one after the other. In the morning, one person would come crying and complaining, and in the afternoon, another person would come to defend themselves, and neither of them knew that the other had also come.

Sometimes, when the timing is inconvenient, the plaintiff or the defendant may even arrive at the same time, leading to a heated argument under the lighthouse. The argument goes from "Why do you have the right to consult him?" to "If you can come, why can't I?" It escalates from legal debate to mutual accusations and finally to a passionate physical fight.

Yoram said he had to stand between the two men, pushing them with one hand, and then persuade them separately when they got tired.

“Most of the time we can persuade them to stop,” he said, with a hint of helpless pride in his tone. “If we can’t persuade them, we can only let them finish fighting before we talk.”

Daxus had no intention of going to the Hall of Laws, as it was, after all, an official institution.

Otherwise, would he go and sit in on the proceedings?
It's also a form of entertainment, sitting in the gallery and watching how ordinary people argue before the judge, how Yoram defends his client, and watching a real, unscripted folk drama.

Unfortunately, no trial has been held.

The House of Reflection, when translated, is essentially a prison.

However, this prison was not an ordinary prison. It was a villa in appearance, located in a spacious, well-manicured garden north of the Hall of Law. The garden was dotted with a tranquil swimming pool with azure water that reflected the clouds and shadows of the trees. It was surrounded by a decorative fence with roses climbing on the wrought iron railings.

If you weren't told where this place is, you might think it's a nobleman's estate.

This villa was built specifically for "re-education," targeting local residents who deviated from the peaceful traditions of Tal Corelli, such as those who fought in public, repeatedly violated port regulations, spread rumors and caused panic, and those whose "misconduct did not constitute a felony."

They would be treated as "guests" and undergo ideological reform. Under the supervision of the person in charge, they would engage in gentle exercise, painting, poetry writing, and meditation in the garden, or be assigned trivial tasks such as sweeping fallen leaves, mowing the lawn, and repainting the exterior walls of the buildings. This was because the person in charge of the villa believed that their thinking lacked "the potential for growth" and that they needed to start relearning from the most basic things.

During their detention, the guests were placed in comfortable yet simple rooms with beds, windows, desks, and garden views. The environment was designed to inspire reflection—not the kind that "locks you in a dark room and makes you figure things out on your own," but the kind of reflection where "you sit in the sunlight, looking at the flowers outside, and suddenly realize that what you've been doing before was rather pointless."

If a guest shows improvement in behavior and passes the application, they can be granted permission to leave the park. However, to ensure the safety of the citizens of Tal Corelli, those leaving with a pass must wear a surveillance device and be assigned appropriate tasks in the community for 're-education'.

For example, moving goods at the dock, sweeping the floor at the fish market, or helping out wherever needed.

It's not about punishment, but about teaching them how to interact with society again.

Dakous didn't go to the Room of Reflection either; what's so interesting about a prison?

Moreover, according to Yoran, there are currently no guests there.

So the three of them went to the reservoir park.

Tal Corelli is situated on a cliff-like terrain, with a drop of nearly 100 meters from sea level to the mountaintop. The reservoir park, on the other hand, is located on a natural terrace on the west side of the city, right in the heart of the residential area.

When Darkus arrived, he found many elves gathered there, carrying water jugs and buckets. Some elves were queuing to fetch water; the queue wasn't long, but it was continuous, and everyone was very quiet, occasionally exchanging a few words in hushed tones. Others, after fetching their water, went to a distance, sitting or standing in small groups, placing their buckets at their feet, and began to chat.

According to Joran, in times of peace, the elves who roam here would boast about their recent achievements, such as, "My child caught such a big fish yesterday"; or they would sing in unison, not the kind of rehearsed, conductor-led chorus, but the kind where one person would start and the others would follow, spontaneous and not afraid of being off-key; or they would share stories, the strange and wonderful things they encountered at sea, the gossip they heard at the dock, the news they read in letters from distant relatives; or even flirt, young men and women meeting by the pool would take the opportunity to exchange a few more words while drawing water, or to touch fingers while handing over a water jug.

Well, in Dakota's view, this is just a park with a matchmaking corner where you can get water.

As for why the residents of this city would come here to fetch water...

Nestled within this lush park is a freshwater pool, the terminus of the aqueduct, supplying drinking water to the entire city. Mountain springs, drawn from the direction of the crater, meander for miles along an ancient stone aqueduct, eventually flowing into this pool.

Among the public art installations in the reservoir park, the most eye-catching is a 15-meter-tall colossal sculpture of bone-white marble. The statue holds a spear, the tip pointing to the sky, and is clad in a battle robe, the folds of which are sculpted as if blown by the wind, lifelike to the eye. His chin is slightly raised, his gaze tilted upwards, as if looking at something only he can see, majestic and awe-inspiring, looking down upon all living beings.

The statue's owner was not a Kosquien, but a Kaledo.

Yes, Caledo II, the fourth Phoenix King—Tessanil Calard.

A statue of Caledo II stands here, related to the history of Cosquieu and Caledo. Before the Great Division, the two kingdoms had a very good relationship.

This is one of the reasons why the Kingdom of Kosqui is targeted by Herliben.

At the nobility level, Leandera's mother came from the Kingdom of Kosqui, and Tessanil's brother, Imradrick's wife, also came from the Kingdom of Kosqui and was a member of the White Wave family.

White Waves of Belloda White Waves.

And I must say, from an artistic point of view, this statue looks quite impressive. The proportions are balanced, the pose is natural, the treatment of the clothing folds is textbook-perfect, and although the facial expression has a typical elven aloofness, that proud and disdainful attitude is displayed to the fullest.

Dakos stood at the foot of the statue, looked up for a few seconds, then looked down and rubbed his neck.

Fifteen meters is indeed quite high.

And then no more.

Dakos clearly defined himself as a tourist visiting this place.

He wasn't a special envoy, an inspector, or a superior coming to nitpick; he was simply a stranger strolling in the afternoon sun, full of curiosity but not in a hurry to draw conclusions. The iconoclasm movement—that didn't exist. Although that movement was using the issue as a pretext.

He doesn't need to tear down statues to prove anything; his authority doesn't come from that.

He is very tolerant in this regard, as long as it is not a strange and lewd shrine. Those "religious places" that worship evil gods and conduct indescribable rituals in dark rooms will be demolished without any room for negotiation.

But public art that is normal, has historical value, and represents the culture and aesthetics of a certain period should be preserved. History is not a blank sheet of paper; you can't erase everything written on it and rewrite it. You can only continue writing.

In Golund, Moraes's statue still stands there.

She was Malekith's mother, Ainarion's consort, and one of the most complex, controversial, and lovable yet hateful women in the history of the Duruci, and indeed in the entire history of the Elves.

Her statue was not toppled, not out of any consideration for family ties, but because she is a part of history—the good part, the bad part, the part worthy of respect, the part worthy of contempt—all etched into the stone face of that statue, inseparable.

In Chapeyuto, the names of some contributors to the construction of the Great Temple of Matheran, who were subsequently embroiled in the Great Purge, have not been erased.

The name on the stone tablet proves that such a person once existed in history.

They did good deeds, toiling on the temple construction site, generously contributing funds when needed, and stepping forward during the most difficult stages of the project, demonstrating their dedication to Matheran.

them……

But their names are still there, not because of anything about them, but because history needs to be remembered, not glorified.

His view is: face history squarely, face what has happened, and learn from and reflect on what happened, so that future generations will know that there was such a period, what happened during that period, and why it happened.

Although, to borrow Hegel's words...

But this doesn't stop him from ensuring that history is passed down as truthfully as possible. Whether future generations can learn from it is their business.

The three then sat on comfortable benches surrounding the pool. The benches were made of stone, their surfaces worn smooth and shiny by countless people's robes. They were slightly cool to the touch, but the afternoon sun shone on the area, creating a perfect balance between coolness and warmth.

Ryan and Yolan chatted casually. Through Yolan's words, Ryan gained a deeper understanding of the local affairs of Kosquieu. He asked very detailed questions, so detailed that Yolan sometimes had to stop and think before he could answer. Yolan, on the other hand, was demonstrating his value. He not only answered Ryan's questions but also proactively provided background information, connecting seemingly isolated phenomena to form a complete explanation with a cause-and-effect chain.

He wasn't showing off; he was proving: "Look, I know these things, I can do these things, I am useful."

During the conversation, Yoram would wave his arms every now and then, or stand up to bow.

Clearly, he enjoyed high prestige among the working class in Tal Corelli. Not the kind of prestige bestowed by power and requiring maintenance, but the kind accumulated over time, built through every consultation, every mediation, and every instance of speaking up for the underdog. That kind of prestige doesn't need business cards or titles; it only requires you to walk through the streets and alleys of the city and see how many people wave to you.

Meanwhile, Dakotas was enjoying a rare afternoon. He lazily slumped on a bench, legs crossed, one foot gently swinging. His eyes were half-closed, seemingly half-asleep, but in reality, he was observing, listening, and munching on the gossip uttered by the common people.

Occasionally, he would make eye contact with the patrol team looking in his direction.

The city guards patrolled along the park's paths, their steps measured and their eyes alert. He and Ryan were undoubtedly strangers, two suspicious individuals who dressed differently from Kosquie, sat on the bench for ages, and were clearly not locals.

According to normal procedure, the patrol team should have approached them and asked: Why are you sitting here for so long? Where did you come from? What are you doing here? They should have provided relevant identification. But the patrol team only glanced at them a few times and then continued walking.

Dakos noticed that the leading officer nodded slightly when he made eye contact with Yoran. Yoran nodded back.

That's it.

The patrol clearly recognized Yoran, knew he was not a suspicious person, and also knew that the people with him were probably not bad people.

Although the word "probably" is not enough in safety work, in this afternoon at the reservoir park, amidst the sunshine, the pool, the benches, and the atmosphere of the matchmaking corner, no one wanted to disturb this rare tranquility.

As for why the patrol team appeared in the park and why they were questioning people, it's because this is the city's main water source.

The reservoir park's pool marks the end of the aqueduct and is the source of drinking water for the entire Tal Corelli area.

The patrol team is here to protect the water source, not to meddle. They stand guard, patrol, and observe everyone who approaches the pool, not to catch thieves, but to prevent anyone from tampering with the water.

Just as drinking boiled water became popular at a certain time to combat certain waterborne diseases, it subsequently became a daily practice. In this city, most families have the habit of keeping an extra kettle in the basement just in case.

why?
Because Trucchi had wreaked havoc here, and at one point he did it quite a bit, poisoning the pools and polluting the water, plunging the entire city into panic.

Ultimately, the residents of Asur were forced to use documents proving their identity and queue for water. To alleviate public panic, the authorities regularly test the water quality, taking samples, conducting analyses, and recording the results, which are posted on a notice board at the park entrance for everyone to see. Legally, throwing any foreign object or substance into the pool is a serious crime, punishable by exile.

In Asur society, exile is more terrible than the death penalty.

I sat there for the entire afternoon.

There's nothing special about it; there's nowhere else to go.

Not far from the reservoir park is an observatory. This pentagonal tower is the tallest building in the city, with its spire pointing towards the sky. Its outline can be seen from any corner of the city.

It serves as a weather warning station and a magical wind observation post. Hurricanes frequently pass through the Drifting Islands. These massive cyclones, generated from the sea, bring thunder and lightning, and crash against the coast with unstoppable force, endangering ships and awakening the Kraken from the deep sea. Giant sea monsters that slumber in the deep-sea trenches will rise to the surface when stirred up by the hurricanes, entangle ships with their tentacles, and devour sailors with their gigantic mouths.

Occasionally, distorted hurricanes blow in from the north. These are not natural winds, but surges of energy, carrying magical winds that sweep across the coast in an inexplicable and illogical way, triggering powerful magical energy fluctuations. If not properly dealt with, they may evolve into giant magical storms that devour the ley lines network, or stagnate as the Deha Energy Pool.

Therefore, mages need to strengthen their defenses before the Twisting Hurricane arrives. Specifically, they should ride giant eagles deep into the eye of the storm, just like Belorda did at Twilight Keep, to disperse the storm.

That's not dispelling it, it's tearing it apart, dismantling the storm's structure from within, letting it consume itself.

However, with the emergence of Eitaus, the astronomical observatory in Tal Corelli became obsolete. Why? Because Tal Denor, where Eitaus is located, is further north.

In other words, Tal Corelli's astronomical observatory, like the gallery lighthouse, is now deserted. The tower and the instruments are still there, but the mages who once stood guard there day and night have gone to places where they are needed more.

A block away from the reservoir park is the Kadai pantheon. It enshrines Aisha, Kunos, and other major deities of the Kadai pantheon. The temple is solemn, with towering columns and incense burning continuously.

Unfortunately, there's not much to see either.

Such integrated temple complexes are ubiquitous in the cities of Ulthuan, almost like a template. The main hall is in the center, surrounded by side halls, with the altar in front and the shrine behind, and even the placement of the incense burners is very similar.

It's not disrespect, it's just that I'm genuinely tired of seeing it.

Just one block away is the Gallines Amphitheatre.

This is an open-air theater, adjacent to the north gate. Towering colonnades and walls embrace a natural, bowl-shaped depression, inside which tiered stone benches slop down. Looking down from the highest entrance, the entire theater resembles a giant bowl, filled with sunlight and shadow. On the street, a row of marble archways provides a spacious entrance, its lintels carved with theatrical masks and laurel branches—an ancient symbol of theatrical art. The entire building is shrouded in a huge canvas tent, providing shelter for the audience even in wind and rain.

At the top of the main portico, a striking bas-relief depicts the various social classes of Tal Corelli: fishermen, merchants, nobles, soldiers, craftsmen, priests, mothers, and children, regardless of their status, all are welcome to enter and enjoy entertainment and enlightenment.

From sunrise to sunset, this place is a marketplace for political debates, philosophical discussions, and announcements of news from within and outside the city. Speakers in long robes stand in the center, delivering impassioned speeches to the gathered audience, who listen quietly, converse, or take a break. The scene maintains an elegant etiquette throughout, without booing or commotion. Although the speakers are often passionate, the audience's response is always restrained: applause, nods, and at most, hushed whispers.

The topics discussed were all elegant and profound, demonstrating Asur's high regard for wisdom and knowledge.

To elaborate, this place hosts events for philosophers and thinkers who share their understanding of philosophy and thought. For example, topics like "What is justice?", "What is the essence of spirits?", and "What does the sea mean to us?"

There are no standard answers to these questions, but the discussion itself is meaningful.

Or they could be messengers from the royal palace, sharing parliamentary activities and important news from within and outside the kingdom.

As night fell, the stage was handed over from the Hossein to the Loikists, and a variety of plays were performed in turn. These included tragedies, comedies, historical dramas, mythological plays, and some mixed art forms that defied categorization, combining music and dance.

The actors sang, recited, acted, and fought under the lights, while the audience sat on stone benches, sometimes laughing uproariously and sometimes shedding tears. Drama is one of the oldest forms of entertainment in Asur, and also the most healing.

Unfortunately, it's still wartime, so everything has been stopped.

So, it's better to stay in the park. Because of various shutdowns, parks have become the main gathering place for ordinary people. At least there is water, trees, benches, acquaintances to chat with, gossip to share, and an afternoon to while away.

As the sun gradually disappeared, the sky turned orange-red, the clouds were edged with gold, and a path of shimmering light, like scattered gold, stretched across the sea. Dinner time! Time to have some fun!

Led by Yoran, Dakos and Renne ventured deep into the alleyways known only to the locals and into the entertainment districts frequented by ordinary people.

The streets were narrow and dimly lit, and the air was filled with the aroma of grilled fish, fried shrimp, and boiled seaweed.

Yolan stopped in front of a nice bar, a small shop without a sign, with only a half-open wooden door and dim light shining through the curtain.

The boss recognized Yolan, glanced at him, then at the two people behind him, and without asking any questions, simply nodded, gesturing for them to go inside.

The bar wasn't big, with only five or six tables, but every single one was full. The owner added a folding table near the stove; although it was a bit hot, being close to the kitchen had its advantages—the food came out faster.

Grilled fish, fried squid rings, seaweed salad, a big pot of seafood soup, and wine from Ashira. The food was indeed delicious; the fish skin was crispy, the fish meat tender, the shrimp in the soup were springy, and the squid rings were crispy on the outside and tender on the inside.

Darkus ate slowly, spending more time listening to the conversations around him, hearing how the commoners evaluated Duruci, how they evaluated Malekith, the Phoenix King, and how they evaluated themselves as the second-in-command.

No one recognized him, no one noticed him; he was just yet another stranger eating with Yoram.

After dinner, the three of them went to the spa.

The so-called spa center is actually a large bathhouse or bathing center.

The building is two stories high; the first floor has hot tubs and sauna, while the second floor has a rest area and massage rooms. The clientele is mainly ordinary people; the prices are low, but the place is clean and tidy.

Darkus and Renn ended up staying on the second floor, while Yoran left in the middle of the night.

Of course, Yoran wasn't leaving to do any work, to tip off anyone, to arrange any secret rendezvous, or to carry out any long-term spy mission. He was simply packing his bags, explaining things to his family, and preparing for a long journey.

He was going to follow Darkus and Raine, leaving the city where he had lived half his life, to Lorthorn, where the Phoenix Court was located, to begin a life he had never experienced before. His mother would worry, his neighbors would be surprised, and his regulars would ask, "Where has Yoran gone?"

But he had already made up his mind; he had waited too long for that opportunity.

The reason for the rush was that Dakotas was leaving the city the next day. There was no farewell ceremony, no banquet, and no long walk of farewell from Darrowland.

We just keep walking, we just keep moving forward.

The itinerary still had the next stop, the next city, and the next place he needed to see in person. (End of Chapter)