Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

"It has a total length of 250 meters, a width of 25 meters, a total tonnage of approximately 14 tons, a storm steering wheel for the power system, and a maximum speed of 000 knots."

Bel-Aihor's voice remained calm, without any ups and downs, as if he was just stating an ordinary fact. However, the data he reported was like a heavy weight, pressing on the hearts of all the Asurs present, causing the entire hall to fall into a dead silence.

Each number cut into reality like a sharp blade, revealing a cruel fact: Drucci was far ahead than they thought.

"Druchi's new pride - the Great Eastern Class! Although we still don't understand why he named it the 'Great Eastern Class', compared to his other abilities, his naming... is simply unbearable to watch." Bel-Aihor was silent for a moment, as if recalling the scene at that time, and then slowly spoke.

In fact, the so-called Great Eastern class is just a very large hull that can float on the sea and is equipped with a storm wheel. It does not have double paddle wheels, sails or propeller power.

To put it more bluntly, it looks a bit like a big toy, but actually... it's not!

"What is this class of ship used for? Is it an integrated ship like... the Albatross class?" Marlene frowned slightly, thinking about this unfamiliar name, but soon she put her doubts behind her and focused on more important issues.

"Yes, an integrated ship." Bel-Ehor nodded slightly and gave an affirmative answer.

Then, he changed the subject and said slowly, "Now, a 500-meter-long sealed dock has been built on the Nagor. The entire Seyuan Yutao senior management attended the celebration ceremony, and I was also fortunate enough to visit it."

He paused, as if intentionally giving the Asur present time to digest this information, and then slowly added his sentence.

"Do you know what this means?"

"This means... they already have the ability to build ships that are 500 meters long." Marlene took a deep breath, her tone revealing shock that was difficult to conceal.

However, Bel-Ahol shook his head slightly, with an intriguing smile on his lips.

"No, he won't do that."

"Why?" Marlene was stunned.

"I talked to him about this issue. It's not just a technical issue. It also involves a series of complex factors such as geography, religion, economy, and social structure." Bel-Ahol lowered his head and recalled, then said slowly.

His eyes slowly swept across the field, and every look seemed to reveal a truth that was deliberately avoided.

"In his philosophy, 'the sea belongs to the elves.' In other words, he hopes that more elves can rely on the ocean to survive, rather than letting a few people monopolize this power."

The Asurs' expressions changed slightly, and they vaguely sensed something.

"You may not know that the sealed dock on the Nagor was built by the Hell's Disaster family, and the shipyard in Clarkarond is also owned by Hell's Disaster. With his religious identity, he could have monopolized the ocean and turned it into his own private wealth." He paused, then emphasized, "But he chose not to do so."

The air in the hall seemed to freeze for a moment.

“He chose a different path.”

He slowly looked around at the Asur present, his eyes showing sharp insight and his tone steady and powerful.

"To put it more bluntly, he wanted as many captains and sailors as possible, rather than letting a few oligarchs control the ocean. He wanted navigation to be a cause for all people, rather than being monopolized by a small group of nobles."

silence.

Deep silence.

Deafening silence.

The Asur did not object, for they knew that these words struck at the heart of their society.

Since their birth, the ships of Asur have been a symbol of the power of the aristocracy. The huge fleet belongs to the aristocracy, and the captains are selected by the aristocracy, either family members or loyal retainers for generations, while the sailors are just tools in the hands of the aristocracy, relying on them for survival. However, in the navigation system of Druch, navigation has become a profession that can be competed fairly?

When the Tai brothers were sixteen years old, they traveled from the Kingdom of Cosqui to Lothern on an eagle ship called the Eagle of Lothern. The ship belonged to the Emerald Sea Family and was commanded by a female captain of civilian origin. She was tall, stern, and decisive.

More than a century later, the female captain and her crew are still sailing the seas, and they meet the Tyrion brothers again in the port of Skage in Lustria - the same people and the same ship. This time, her mission is to escort the two back to Ulthuan, where the House of the Emerald Sea hopes that Tyrion can become the rightful champion of the future Everqueen Alarielle.

The nobles' fleets are like their fiefdoms.

Every ship in the family of Eltharion's future sister-in-law was helmed by a trusted retainer, whose position was passed down from generation to generation. From bookkeepers to inventory managers, the entire system served the interests of the family and the nobility.

However, the navigation system of Duruchi is completely different. It has become an open industry. Any elf can enter it with ability and experience and make a living by sailing.

"He believes that human nature is greedy." Bel-Aihor continued, his voice calm and firm. "If ship owners are allowed to freely decide the size of their ships, they will continue to expand until the ships just meet the carrying capacity of all canals and ports. In this way, they can get the maximum profit with the minimum investment. When the ships are large enough, the entire ocean transportation industry will be monopolized by a very small number of ship owners, and ordinary elves will no longer have the opportunity to set foot in the shipping industry, or be like us now."

"So... he is deliberately restricting the expansion of capital?"

"Yes." He exhaled a puff of smoke lightly, with a faint smile on his lips. "What he wants is not the prosperity of a few people, but the prosperity of the entire society. He would rather let more elves rely on the shipping industry to survive under the blessing of Matheran, rather than let a few super shipowners monopolize everything."

"So...Druchi's navigation system has become a systematic and sustainable industry?" Aislin finally couldn't help but speak. Even he couldn't hide his inner shock.

"That's right." Bel-Ahor nodded slowly. "Under his guidance, the shipbuilding industry, the shipping industry, the warship manufacturing, the training system... everything has already formed a complete closed loop that can circulate on its own and continue to expand."

Silence permeated the conference hall, and the Asurs' worldview was completely overturned.

Aislin smiled bitterly and shook his head. Dacus was more suitable for the title of "Ocean Lord", and he... was just a joke. He stood up, took out a cigarette, stared at it for a while, and then slowly lit it. At this moment, he suddenly felt that the cigarette seemed to be quite good to smoke? Not as bad as he said.

Otherwise, what could he do? What could he do?

The current Ulthuan is not even capable of competing with Naggaroth at sea. Should we gather all the fleets and fight Duruki directly in the Sea of ​​Malice?
To give an inaccurate example, the current Ulthuan is more like Ami. One day, Ami, which was beginning to decline, gathered seven fleets and organized a battle. Unfortunately, the battle was a failure. Although the foundation still exists and it is still the overlord of the ocean, the absolute dominance that once existed has begun to collapse...

Bel-Ahor's voice remained steady and was still being output, but the Asurs sitting there could hear the hidden meaning in it.

The Great Eastern class is not a battleship at all, but a cruise ship, a tourist passenger ship.

But this ship has a strategic value that cannot be ignored. It can carry an entire legion at a time, nearly 7,000 soldiers, as well as corresponding equipment and supplies. Three Great Eastern-class ships are enough to transport an entire legion, and its speed is three to four times faster than that of the Black Ark.

"You mean... he plans to build ten of these ships?"

"Yes, ten." Bel-Aihor nodded slowly, his tone steady but with a chilling tone, "His plan is to use three ships in a group for rapid military deployment, and the extra one as a hospital ship and prisoner transport ship." He glanced at everyone present, his mouth slightly raised, "Do you know what this means?"

No one answered, but everyone understood that this meant that Drucci's delivery ability would usher in a qualitative leap.

The Black Ark is indeed huge and powerful, but it is more like a mobile war fortress than an efficient means of transportation. Its size, maintenance costs, and slow speed make it more suitable as a floating fortress rather than a fast-response strategic weapon. But now, this seemingly harmless "cruise ship" - the Great Eastern Class, is perfectly making up for the shortcomings of the Black Ark.

The Great Eastern class will quickly deliver large armies to any battlefield, while the Black Ark will serve as a mobile base in the rear, providing a steady stream of supplies and support.

The combination of these two will enable Druch's war machine to reach unprecedented heights.

What is most disturbing is that he has already thought about what will happen after the war.

Bel-Aihor tapped the table lightly, as if enjoying the brief silence, and then spoke slowly.

"His ambition goes far beyond this."

“After the war is over,” he narrowed his eyes, his tone carrying a hint of laughter, “he plans to…sell these ships.”

"Sell?! Sell to whom?"

"Anyone can do it." He shrugged and spread out his palms casually.

"It's mainly about the elves who want to join the maritime business in the future... Listen carefully, it's 'elves'!" He dragged out the last word and glanced at the Asur nobles present, "It's not Asur, nor is it Duruch, it's the elves!"

For a moment, there was deathly silence in the conference room.

Although the Asu were reluctant to admit it, they could clearly feel that his goal had never been the victory of a certain ethnic group, but the future of the entire race.

"His plan is that after the war, these ships will be equipped with superstructures to increase their carrying capacity, making them real civilian passenger ships that travel between various regions and provide convenient travel services for all elves." Bel-Aihor paused for a moment, his eyes flashing with some emotions that Asur could not understand, "This is not the point."

"The point is, those Albatross-class merchant ships will also be sold."

The air in the hall seemed to be frozen.

"After retiring, captains can use their points to purchase these ships and become free merchant ship owners, traveling between various regions and colonies."

This was more than a war, more than a victory, this was a complete transformation.

The end of the war will not leave behind devastated ruins as in the past, but will bring about an unprecedented economic era.

After the war, these ships will not become war relics like the Black Ark, but will become the new economic lifeline, connecting a brand new ocean trade network.

War is no longer the end, but a new starting point.

After the war, Ulthuan will not decline. Instead, with the dividends of the war, more elves will become independent merchants, free ship owners, and wealthy travelers.

The elves will have their own shipping company, and their society will no longer rely on the rule of a single aristocracy, but will form a huge economic system based on points, capital, and market competition.

Victory in war will directly translate into economic victory.

Finnubar's face had turned pale.

Dacus's war was not just for the annexation of land, not just for revenge, not even just for domination.

What he wants is to completely change the world.

Although Finnubar had known of Dacreus's ambitions in Athel Loren, he finally realized it when the reality dawned upon him - they were witnessing the dawn of a new era, and Asur was not ready for it at all.

The corners of Italis' mouth twitched slightly, and his fists tightened involuntarily, his knuckles turning white. He was silent, his heart was cold, and he didn't know whether it was anger, shock, or some indescribable sense of loss that was surging.

Why on earth is he here?
Is it to listen to Asur, who clearly leans towards Duruchi, telling him about the changes that have taken place in Naggaroth over the past fifty years?

How ironic, how ridiculous, what a joke!
He should have belonged to that country, to the dark capital covered in ice and snow, to the world of conquerors woven with iron and blood, to the environment of negotiating and negotiating with the nobles in the dark council hall. His birth, his father, his brothers, and even his own accumulated achievements, naturally made him belong to Naggaroth.

But he missed everything.

He had once confidently believed that his presence in Ulthuan was of vital importance, that he could provide Druki with crucial intelligence, and even become an important chess piece in Ulthuan's political chess game in the future. However, now, he finally realized that everything he had done was completely meaningless.

What Drucci needed more was a military spy, not a spy like him. There was no need for spying or conspiracy.

They've already won.

Militarily, they had an indisputable absolute advantage, and the balance of the war had long since tilted towards them.

Economically, they completely destroyed the traditional aristocratic system in a strange way, making society run more efficiently than ever before.

In religion, they no longer believe in Kane, but believe in practical interests.

In society, everyone knows his or her place, everyone knows how to climb up, and everyone becomes a part of this huge system, voluntarily and actively pushing it forward.

Fifty years.

In just fifty years, Naggaroth had completed an all-round crushing of Ulthuan and completely destroyed Ulthuan.

This victory is not limited to the battlefield or the expansion of territory, but a victory of the system, ideology and culture. Now, these various victories are combined and turned into a diplomatic victory.

He could clearly see that even though these Asur were still resisting on the surface, their hearts had already begun to waver. They were thinking, they were weighing, they were trying to adapt to the new rules - instead of instinctively rejecting them. They were moving closer to Duruchi, instead of resisting.

Fate was cruel, and Molayig played a huge joke on him.

At this moment, Italis' heart was devoured by an invisible fear. He realized that he could no longer keep up with the times. He might just be an abandoned relic, a person struggling to survive in the old world, and the old world had ended.

Perhaps, he should trick Finnubar into going to Naggaroth, and he could take this opportunity to go back?

Bell-Ahol was about to open another bottle of drink, but he suddenly realized that he had to pee, which made him frown slightly. He moved his hand away from the bottle and placed it on the table.

The air was heavy and everyone's breathing became cautious and restrained.

He glanced at Eltharion, then turned his head and scanned the people in the room, and finally looked at Eltharion again. When the other nodded slightly, he knew that the time had come.

He sighed softly and spoke slowly.

"You should have understood."

His tone remained calm, but with a hint of unquestionable meaning.

"Druchi society has undergone fundamental changes. You may hate it, you may be disgusted, but you cannot deny its effectiveness."

He paused, looked around, and then continued.

"The people of Duruchi are no longer slaves driven by power. They actively participate in this system. They believe in it, rely on it, and are even willing to die for it."

"Why?" he asked himself, "Because this system clearly tells them that as long as you work hard, you will be rewarded."

"In the society of Druk, everyone has a clear path to advancement, everyone knows how to climb up, and everyone knows what kind of future their abilities can bring them."

“It’s completely different from the system in Azul.”

He raised his head and glanced at Asul who was sitting there, with some indescribable meaning in his eyes.

"What about our society?" He raised his head and looked at Asul who was sitting there. After he finished speaking, he sighed lightly, as if he was organizing his thoughts, and then spoke slowly.

“The buildings of Lothern still stand, but they no longer seem to belong to the living?
They are old, silent, and exude a dusty atmosphere. They were once symbols of glory, but now they are like empty mausoleums. Those magnificent mansions, which once belonged to the most noble families, are now closed, the window frames are covered with dust, and the furniture behind the doors is covered with sheets and tarpaulins, as if shrouding the deceased owners.

Some of the windows had been boarded up, as if sealing off a dead history. The house was dark and had not been visited in years. I felt like I was walking through a ghost town, a place with more dead than living, more memorials to the past than living people.

In those uninhabited mansions, I once picked up a forgotten mirror and wiped off the thick dust. When the smooth mirror reflected my face, I had an illusion that I had become one of these forgotten people.

A sarcastic smile appeared on the corner of his mouth, and he looked at Asul who was present and continued.

"At that moment, I truly felt for the first time that we elves are a dying race, slowly disappearing from the world, and will never be able to regain our former glory."

His voice was unhurried and carried a certain cruel calmness, as if he was narrating an already predetermined ending.

“Each of these forgotten mansions once symbolized glory, and each threshold once echoed with a noble family name, but now, these families have disappeared.

Where did they die? Did they die heroically on the battlefield, or were they gradually forgotten in the endless decline? How did they disappear? Were they cut down by the swords of their enemies, or were they swallowed up by the torrent of time? Did they die one by one, year after year, century after century, and were gradually erased by the indifference of fate over the long years?

There was a thoughtful gleam in his eyes, but there was a hint of sadness in his tone.

"At that time, I felt afraid, a deep and inescapable fear that made me uneasy and sad. I looked out through the broken window and saw that the city was still brightly lit and prosperous, but a larger part of it had fallen into darkness and silence."

His voice was slightly lowered, with a hint of indescribable sadness:

"When I returned to Lothern, I went to see it again. At that moment, I finally understood that Lothern was being eaten away by some invisible tumor. Its heart was rotting, but we were still obsessed with 'bloodline', 'inheritance' and 'innate nobility'. We pinned our destiny on the distant past instead of seizing the future."

The nobles will always be nobles, the commoners will always be commoners, opportunities are controlled by a few people, the "nobility" we talk about has become corrupt, and the "obligations" we once took pride in have long since become empty rituals and no longer have any practical significance. "

He paused and slowly uttered the last sentence, which was like a heavy hammer, hitting everyone's heart.

"This world will not leave room for the corrupt."

Silence filled the air, weighing heavily on everyone's heart like the night.

Yelian lowered his head, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the tabletop. He did not refute Bel-Ahol. In fact, he no longer had the energy to do so.

What else could he say?
He had long known about those forgotten old houses, those dusty pasts, and those realities that no one was willing to face. It was he who took Bel-Ehor there. Originally, his brothers were reluctant to go, but it was his adventurous spirit that got in the way.

When the doors of those closed mansions were opened for the first time, the air was filled with a stale smell, the wooden floors creaked under the weight of footsteps, and the sunlight cast fragmented light and shadows through the broken window frames. He still remembered how he mustered up the courage to hold Bel-Ehor's hand and walk into the building that time had forgotten. They turned over the dusty furniture and pushed open the closed doors, trying to find traces of the past in the abandoned houses.

They found many things, faded tapestries, broken mirrors, lost letters and diaries, and even unopened letters, as if waiting to be read by an owner who would never return.

He wondered more than once where the elves who once lived in these houses had gone. Did they die in the war? Did they die quietly in some unknown corner? Or was it simply because fewer and fewer elves were born, and their families inevitably dispersed?

When he was a child, he didn't want to think about these questions deeply. He just felt a little scared and uneasy. Now, he finally understood where that fear came from.

It was the fear of a nation gradually dying out.

He had known it all along but had refused to admit it.

But now Bel-Ahor had spoken it all, in a cold and cruel way, stripping away the illusions the Asur had carefully woven and tearing apart the veil that concealed the truth of their decline. They were forced to face the reality that Ulthuan was dying and they had been deceiving themselves.

He wanted to object, but he couldn't find a suitable reason.

Yelian was silent, Bel-Ahor was silent, and everyone present was silent.

Not only they are silent, but also the past, present, and future of Asur as a whole, if they do not make changes.

Time passed by invisibly, the oppressive air seemed to solidify, and everyone could feel the heavy weight.

After a long time, Bel-Ahol stood up and walked slowly. The sound of his leather boots on the ground was particularly clear in the silence, and every step seemed to be knocking on everyone's heart. He walked slowly, but with a certain power that could not be ignored. After a moment, he stopped, crossed his hands behind his back, and looked at everyone with deep and sharp eyes. No one dared to look him in the eye.

See the picture poorly.

"The war will not last forever." His voice was calm, but with an unquestionable certainty. "In the end, we will all usher in a new order. And this order will be shaped by those who can best adapt to the times."

His eyes fell on Asur who was sitting there, and he continued word by word.

"I am standing here today not to laugh at your predicament, nor to show off Duruchi's success." His tone was slow and firm, like a steady war drum, beating everyone's mind, "I am here to tell you that Dacus is willing to protect your interests."

Everyone in the room held their breath.

Amid the heavy silence, no one dared to speak easily.

Bel-Ahol glanced at everyone, his lips slightly raised, his eyes as sharp as a knife.

"What do you think Daxus's goal is?" he said slowly. "Do you think he wants to destroy Ulthuan? To kill all of you?"

"No! What he wants is to integrate the elf world." He shook his head slightly, his tone firm as iron.

"Assur's presence is of no harm to him. A stable and prosperous Ulthuan is far more valuable than a dilapidated and weakened Ulthuan."

"The war will eventually end, and when that day comes, you will not be liquidated or enslaved. Instead, Dacus will provide you with a new way of life."

He paused slightly, his eyes as steady as the sea, and slowly uttered the last sentence, each word of which seemed to sink into everyone's bones.

"But the prerequisite is that you are willing to accept new rules and a new social order."

He glanced at the Asur present, and his voice was low and powerful, like a sharp blade piercing the silence.

"The old era has ended. Are you willing to embrace the new era?"

Finnubar felt a heavy pressure, like a force of a thousand pounds pressing on his shoulders, making it difficult for him to breathe. The eyes around him gathered, like silent questions, and he could feel the inner struggle, hesitation, and even the faint desire of these Asurs, which was the desire for the new world described by Duruchi.

He knew that this was the most terrifying thing.

If Duruchi had only conquered with force, then the Asur could have resisted without hesitation, firmly guarding their beliefs and traditions as they had done in countless battles in the past. But now, Naggaroth brought not blood and fire, but a rational and cold order, a system that was more efficient than their current system, and a future that they could not refuse.

They were not conquered but seduced.

Finnubar's fists tightened slightly, his nails dug into his palms, his thoughts in chaos at this moment.

He did not want to admit that Druch had won, that Asur had been shaken, that the old order of Ulthuan had come to an end.

But he could not deny that Asur's path had reached a dead end, which was why he went to Elsin Arwen to try to find a new way for Ulthuan. But Dacius's words at the time made him realize that it was meaningless for him to do so. Opening the sea would only bring some economic benefits to Ulthuan and give Ulthuan a break, but it would not completely solve Ulthuan's decay.

The war at sea has proven their failure, the economy is being eroded, and even faith is beginning to disintegrate. The nobles are still indulging in the memory of glory, their armies are still clinging to outdated tactics, and their society is still operating based on the rules of thousands of years ago, while the Duruchi... the Duruchi are advancing rapidly, transforming themselves at an astonishing speed, and are even more like elves than they are, and more in line with the needs of this era.

He was unwilling and angry. He wanted to refute, but he couldn't find a reason.

He wanted to tell everyone that Asur should not give up his pride, that Asur could not accept the order of Duruchi, and that Asur must stick to his own path. However, when he opened his mouth, his throat was so dry that he could not make a sound.

The elves present were all waiting for his answer.

At this moment, he truly realized that he had reached a fork in history.

Whatever his answer is, it will determine the future of these three kingdoms, or the entire race.

He slumped in the chair, staring at the ceiling with lifeless eyes, as if he was staring at some invisible fate. After a long time, he slowly stood up and walked to the cigarette box. He took out a cigarette, put it under his nose and smelled it, then took the lighter handed to him by Marlene and lit it.

He did not burst into a violent coughing fit, but puffed out smoke like an old smoker. He stood there quietly, smoking one puff after another under the gaze of everyone present. When the cigarette burned to the end and was about to burn his hand, he took another deep puff, then threw the cigarette butt on the ground and crushed it with his boot.

"Do you know what a region is?"

He spoke, his voice low and calm, as if he were recounting a distant history. He told of the time when he and Dacreus played backgammon in Athel Loren.

"A super-large political integration body centered around the Phoenix King and spanning national boundaries, emphasizing absolute strength and worldwide influence, and establishing the elves' dominant position in the world order!"

"I was shocked at the time. Although Daxus spoke very simply, I could see the scene hidden deep in his words. This is beyond my imagination. I can't imagine how powerful the elves would be at that time, a truly world-class empire!"

"What role will I play in this? I didn't know what was controlling me at the time, so I asked this question."

"Finubar, you have the talent to be a politician. Believe me, you will become an outstanding politician in the future and you should play a very important role. If possible, I would like to work with you to govern the Elven Empire. We must ensure that the system of Ulthuan can function normally when one of us is not in Ulthuan. You are an excellent messenger, and so am I!"

"He looked me straight in the eye with a look of sincerity and determination."

"I asked him, do you really think so? Or is it some kind of sweet poison?"

"I know you have many doubts and worries in your heart. But you can try to believe me. You have a long time to think. There is still some time before the war between Naggaroth and Ulthuan. If possible... can you let your son come to Naggaroth to have a look? I don't want Lothern to be destroyed by war. In my opinion, it should have a great title, 'The City of the World's Desire'! Lothern should be the largest city in the world, the most glorious city, a city admired by other races."

After saying this, Finnubar lit another cigarette. (End of this chapter)