Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

What appeared before Dakos was a natural harbor that seemed to appear only in a dream – the Bay of Aurel.

Nestled between towering cliffs on the western coast of the Kingdom of Safri, the harbor is cleverly embraced by nature, like a masterpiece casually sculpted by the Creator. The sea breeze blows from afar, stirring up light mist that drifts quietly through this horseshoe-shaped bay, as if even the wind itself is cautious, afraid to disturb this sacred and tranquil territory.

Standing at the mouth of the bay is a silver lighthouse, tall and elegant, its beams of light like fallen stars, burning eternally day and night. It is not only a guide for ships, but also a torch of faith, proclaiming the noble and enduring legacy and glory of the spirits.

Surrounding this bay, blessed by the gods, the architecture exudes a pure and beautiful style: white towers stand tall, golden domes gleam in the sunlight, and colonnades and corridors interlock, spreading out orderly along the cliff edge as if naturally grown from the mountain. The entire harbor's planning reveals no artificiality, yet is full of ingenuity, showcasing the ultimate refinement of Asur's architectural aesthetics.

Even the most discerning and aesthetically sophisticated nobles of Asur couldn't help but murmur their admiration at such a sight. The marble pier, stretching out into the sea like wings, seemed to float almost on the smooth, mirror-like surface of the water, so light and graceful as if it could take flight at any moment.

If one knows where to look, even without a second eye, one can keenly perceive the magical ripples permeating the surroundings. It clings to the runes atop the tower, shimmers softly on the calm water, and subtly carries the whispers and footsteps of the harbor's inhabitants to newcomers, like a silent guardian, scrutinizing the true nature of those who arrive.

The sailors' efforts to reach the shore ultimately proved somewhat futile. The current itself, as if guided by some unseen force, gently yet precisely guided the ship into the harbor and smoothly docked at the designated pier. Although the sailors still habitually tied their mooring lines to the bollards, the ship would not drift an inch even without the ropes.

As for Auril Bay itself, the settlement is nestled among layers of white cliffs, radiating outwards from the horseshoe-shaped bay. Streets climb the slopes, extending layer by layer to the coastal highlands of Safranbolu. At dawn, these streets come alive with activity, pedestrians moving through the alleyways, the market wafting with the aroma of bread and nectar, and the entire harbor exuding a warm and vibrant atmosphere.

but now……

Just as when Duruci arrived in the loyal Lorthorn, an invisible chill and desolation enveloped the place. There were no pedestrians on the streets, the shops were closed, and only the sea guards in silver-blue armor patrolled back and forth, maintaining a fragile balance of order.

The raider, this aerial dagger-like vessel, did not choose to dock in port. After all, it was not a ship in the traditional sense, but a flying machine, an elven creation with both thrust and buoyancy mechanisms.

At this moment, it slowly rose in altitude, flew over the silver tower and waterway, and approached a group of buildings with family and legion flags flying, which was an inn called "Hades' Light".

Before the raiding ship had even come to a complete stop, Admiral Caladoria of the Asur Navy, accompanied by a fully equipped naval guard, was already waiting outside the hotel. She was clad in armor, her long cloak fluttering in the wind, which carried the scent of the sea and the chill of blades.

As Dakos disembarked, Caladoria and the sea guards saluted him in unison, their posture precise and without any hesitation.

"You're staying here?" Darkus asked casually after returning the greeting.

“Yes, the glorious High Priest, the noble son of Matheran,” Caladoria replied firmly, his voice resonant and his words respectful yet solemn.

As the supreme commander of the navy, Darkus's military rank naturally carries the prefix "honorable." As the second-in-command within the Stormweavers Order, the title "noble" is a matter of respect within the religious order. And the one ranked above him is none other than—Serene.

The combination of the two is not contradictory, but rather a double affirmation of authority.

"When did you arrive?" Darkus asked.

“Yesterday!” Caladoria answered crisply and without hesitation.

“Here…” Darkus spread his hands, his palms slicing through the air. He didn’t continue speaking, but the meaning was already clear.

“There are no soldiers stationed here, no fighting, just like you see.” Caladoria wasn’t as stiff as she was this time; she spread her hands, mirroring Daxus’s posture. She knew what Daxus was asking, and she knew he had already reached a conclusion and just wanted confirmation.

Dakos nodded without saying anything more. He didn't ask where Malekith and Finnubar were, because the answer was already written in the emptiness of the harbor and the stillness of the ships. He was a day late; as agreed, the two had already led their group along the winding mountain road behind the inn, heading towards the summit.

"How long will it take to get up there?" He looked at the winding mountain road that snaked up the side of the cliff.

"One hour."

Upon hearing this reply, Dakowston immediately showed a speechless expression and shook his head. If his judgment was correct, this path could only accommodate one rider at a time, and a slight misstep would send him plunging into the unfathomable sea cliff at the foot of the mountain.

One man can hold the pass against ten thousand.

No, this is neither a strategic pass nor a place of vital importance to military strategists.

The terrain does look intimidating—towering, steep, and winding—making it seem easy to defend and difficult to attack. But in reality, it has absolutely no strategic value, not even a shred, because no enemy would be foolish enough to launch an attack here.

The reason why the Kingdom of Safre is known as the "Granary of Ulthuan" is not because of these steep cliffs and winding roads, but because it consists of two large plains: the Finnuwa Plain in the north and the Windswept Plain in the south.

Of course, while it's called a plain, it's not absolutely flat. There are still undulating hills and rolling hills, but overall it's still open and arable land.

Looking at the overall terrain, the geographical distribution of Safri is as follows: the land bordering the Kingdom of Avalon to the north is lowland, and the area bordering Itaien to the south is also lowland; while the central area, which is the area where Darkus is now standing, is highland, like a piece of white jade embedded between two fertile lands, proud but impractical.

Looking at it from the east and west: to the west is the Sea of ​​Ausuan; to the east are mountains, a chain of ring mountains. The west is naturally lowland, gradually rising to the east and eventually merging into the ring mountain range.

Therefore, the land beneath Dakota's feet was unsuitable for stationing troops, large-scale agriculture, or field warfare. It was neither important nor dangerous, making it a standard "strategic airspace."

Who would log in from here? Nobody. Only a fool would choose this side.

The truly suitable landing sites are at the northern and southern ends, especially the port of Elisthe in the south, which is Safry's largest port with wide waterways, open terrain, and extremely convenient supply and transportation. If the enemy lands in the south or north, once successful, they can advance rapidly, traverse the two plains, carry out deep strikes, and conduct strategic maneuvers.

This is why there are no troops stationed here.

As for why Darkus is here...

The reason is simple—this place is closest to the White Tower of Holmes.

As he approached, Dakota vaguely saw the silhouette of the White Tower of Hoss. Although shrouded in the morning light and mountain breeze, he still caught a glimpse of its towering form, like a finger raised by a deity, pointing to the heavens and to the future.

Caladoria was stationed there not because of any important military installations, but because she needed to guard the ships.

Below the harbor, two Asur dragon boats are moored, their sails spread like wings and their hulls like dragons.

One of them was Caladoria's flagship, the Sun Spear.

The other was Aislin's flagship, the USS Calandiri.

Both ships are the elite creations of the Asur Navy, like blades on the sea.

Among them, there is an even more conspicuous and extremely unconventional ship—a Trucchi Grand Orient-class cruise ship with exaggerated hull lines and a style completely different from Asur's aesthetic. It is like a dragon mingling among a flock of giant eagles, proud, arrogant, and inexplicably harmonious.

In addition, there are several local small boats used for navigating the inland sea.

As for the other three dragon boats that accompanied them when they departed from Lortherne?
They weren't here; they returned directly to Lorthen after the ceremony. The coronation ceremony was over, and the army was about to set off again for deployment. There was no point in those generals coming here to go to the White Tower of Hoss.

Darkus glanced at the harbor, then turned to look at the surrounding scenery. He had to admit, the scenery here was truly beautiful—tranquil, elegant, seemingly secluded from the world, like a miniature version of an elven paradise.

It's no wonder that the nobles and royalty of the outer kingdoms have always held so many grievances against the Kingdom of Safri.

Why should we suffer, bleed, and fight on the front lines, while you can hide in the safe inner ring, enjoying such beautiful scenery and the fragrance of the peaceful sunshine and morning breeze?
On both sides of the inn are golden and silver vines adorned with summer flowers, the blooming vines winding upwards along the stone pillars and swaying gently in the breeze; while on the other side of the cliff path, there are white flowers in early spring, budding and about to bloom, their fragrance like the first ray of light at dawn, fresh and carrying the scent of damp earth, refreshing and invigorating.

Looking down, the Aurora Bay below the cliff is clearly visible. The red-tiled houses in the harbor rise one by one from the sea like exquisite steps, gleaming warmly in the sunlight. Smoke curls from the chimneys as the sea breeze blows, creating a peaceful and serene scene.

"Eat first." After a while, once all his companions had disembarked, Dakotas instructed.

People are iron rice is steel.

No matter how fast you travel or how much you chase someone, you still have to eat.

As agreed, Malekith would depart the day after his arrival. If Dakos arrived early, they would wait; if he arrived late, they would catch up. Climbing the winding mountain path would take time, and with a considerable number of people in the group, the pace wouldn't be too fast.

"Is it here?" Caladoria pointed to the hotel. "Or on the second floor? You can see the harbor from there too."

"It's up to you."

Ultimately, the dining location was chosen to be on the second floor of the hotel. Just as Caladoria had said, the view here was superb, with the entire harbor in sight. Sunlight streamed through the window frames, dappling the petals on the trellis, creating a shimmering, dappled effect, like a festival of light.

The cuisine is typical of Asur, emphasizing a "light" flavor, focusing on subtlety and naturalness. All seasonings adhere to traditional proportions, with even salt used sparingly. However, the beverages are anything but bland; in fact, they can be described as quite "stimulating."

The wine is Narinocha, which comes from a rather legendary history.

During the reign of the fifth Phoenix King, "The Peacemaker" Caladrell, the renowned Archmage Evan Thornwhisperer, in an experiment attempting to control the winds of Giron, accidentally transformed into a Narenocha plant—yes, his entire body became plant-like, completely losing his human form. Seven hundred and fifty years later, Lysil Greydawn successfully freed him from his slumber, awakening Evan. Afterwards, the two archmages combined their understanding of nature and magic to create this wine fermented from Narenocha pods. Widely popular in Ulthuan, it is considered a "unique choice among the refined," and one of the few "relaxation-only" wines recognized by Asur.

The characteristic of this wine is not to make you drunk, but to bring a relaxing, gentle, and even hallucinatory immersive experience.

To put it simply, it's a subtle hallucinogen. But it's not the crude, barbaric kind; rather, it's an elegant and refined form of "hallucination therapy."

Of course, it depends on the person.

For someone at the level of a Grand Mage, it's not much different from ordinary wine, unless they drink a very, very large amount. But if a young person who has just come of age drinks it, they'll probably start hallucinating, either imagining themselves flying or seeing their future self talking to their present self.

Seated at the table were Dakos and his party, Caladoria, and the innkeeper himself.

The fleet arrived too fast, how fast?
The residents of Asur, who were approaching Auril Bay, had no time to react. If it were a port in the Outer Ring Kingdom, they would either be under martial law, flee, or organize resistance.

The hotel owner was quite unfortunate; his inn was in a unique location, being the only reception center in Aurora Bay. Yesterday, the place was packed with people, especially wealthy individuals, making it impossible to move. As the owner, he had no choice but to accept the guests.

Darkus gently gestured for Hadris to relax, that the atmosphere didn't need to be so tense. Then, he turned to ask his boss.

"Mr. Hadris, did you see Malekith yesterday?"

His tone was calm, as if he were asking a passerby if it had rained yesterday, but the content was enough to make any Asur's heart race.

The Light of Hadris.

Hadris, yes, that's the name of the innkeeper. A local, his face bears the wrinkles of 'excessive politeness' that come from years of business dealings and interacting with nobles.

Adding to yesterday's experience...

He possessed a second vision; in his youth, he had studied at the White Tower of Hosse for a period, receiving formal magical education. Unfortunately, his talent was limited, and his magical skills were not particularly outstanding.

Eventually, he changed careers, returned to his hometown, and opened a hotel. That's the one we have now: Hadris's Light.

The vines twining around the trellis outside the inn were planted by him personally. He not only planted them well but also maintained them with magic, ensuring that the flowers flourished and remained brightly colored throughout the year, making them one of the inn's selling points.

Scenes like this are common in the settlements and farmlands of the Kingdom of Safri. Young mages, after learning a little magic, can't wait to practice their spells in the fields outside the White Tower. This makes life exceptionally easy for the farmers there; they only need to scatter seeds in the ground, without even turning the soil, let alone irrigating, and then they will have a bountiful harvest.

A classic case of having plenty of energy but nowhere to use it.

"seen."

When Darkus asked the question, Hadris nodded somewhat nervously, his tone tinged with tension, his gaze shifting between Saril and Caladoria.

“Don’t be nervous,” Saril said gently, wrapping the biscuit in a broad-leaved plantain leaf. His voice was soft, like a breeze in a late spring forest, carrying a soothing magic.

After asking his first question, Dakota didn't rush to continue. Instead, he lowered his head and silently ate a piece of bread. The bread came from the Kingdom of Safri, baked with authentic wheat flour, yeast, milk, and eggs. It had a crispy crust, a soft interior, and a rich wheat aroma.

After finishing his meal, he spoke again.

"How does it feel? Tell the truth, speak freely, say whatever you want, no one here will do anything to you." His tone was calm, without any inducement, threat, or stance, just an open-ended question, an encouragement.

Hadris opened his mouth as if he had something to say, but the sound got stuck in his throat. He hesitated, his lips moved several times, and finally he sighed, lowered his head, and shook it gently.

"Morayig's fate is cruel." He finally spoke, his voice low and deep, as if stating a long-held truth.

“Yes, fate is cruel.” Darkus nodded in agreement, his tone devoid of emotion or question, but he quickly changed the subject. “As an individual… what are your thoughts? Don’t talk about fighting for the Phoenix King, talk about something practical. Your business, family, worries, fears, confusion, or anything else… anything.”

Hadris remained silent for a few moments before raising his head to look at the mysterious figure across the table. His gaze was somewhat complicated, and he finally uttered a soft sentence.

"As long as the White Tower of Hosse stands there, my business will be very good."

Upon hearing this, everyone reacted with varying expressions.

It is not an answer, it is a belief. It is a kind of dependence on order, a yearning for stability, and an absolute identification with a certain traditional lineage of Asur society.

Even if the Phoenix King is replaced, even if the crown falls on the head of the black-haired one, even if the flames of war have reached our doorstep.

As long as the tower still stands, as long as the morning bell still rings, as long as the white tower still overlooks the entire Safri, he can continue to run his inn, maintain his daily life, and live like an ordinary Asur.

"As long as the White Tower of Hosse stands there, my business will be very good."

Hadris repeated himself, this time speaking calmly, almost indifferently.

Dakos picked up the glass of pale red Narinocha wine, swirled it gently, and watched the wine stains slowly slide down the glass. He didn't rush to speak, waiting for Hadris to continue.

A moment later, Hadris did speak, his voice very soft, as if he were talking to himself.

“I saw him yesterday, right downstairs…” He pointed to the black and silver royal flag fluttering outside the window, which was where the raiding ship had landed.

“I recognized him at first glance, not because of his face, but because of a very strange feeling. When he stood there, even the wind seemed to stop. It was like…like winter suddenly falling into a summer night lake.”

He shuddered unconsciously as he said those words, and even now, sitting on the warm second floor of a hotel, with fresh sea breeze and sunshine outside the window, the memory of that moment still gave him goosebumps.

“He had a feeling…” Hadris looked up at Darkus, “He wasn’t here to ask about prices, nor to stay overnight. It wasn’t evil, nor was it cold; it was just an undeniable presence. It was strange; I couldn’t describe it in words.”

No one interrupted him; everyone was listening.

“My first thought was that he didn’t belong here. He… he wasn’t Asur, but he was Asur, more Asur than any other Asur.”

"And what do you think?" Darkus asked softly, his voice low, yet like a pebble dropped into a still lake, stirring up ripples.

“I don’t know.” Hadris shook his head. “I really don’t know. I never imagined that one day the banner of Nagarius would fly over the port of Saffre. I never imagined... that someone would call Malekith the ‘Phoenix King’.”

"You find it offensive?" Saril asked gently.

“No…not entirely.” Hadris smiled wryly. “If he were the conqueror, I could accept it. If he came up and drove us all into the sea, I would accept it too. But now…now…we seem to have accepted him reluctantly. He says he is the Phoenix King, and we nod; he says he is going to the White Tower of Hoss, and we let him go.”

“I feel that…some things are changing quietly, but we are still living the same way as before, as if we can maintain the status quo as long as we don’t acknowledge the changes.”

He paused, then added.

"I used to be a lowly mage, now I'm just an innkeeper. I'm neither a nobleman nor a military officer. Every day I see who's booking rooms and who's coming to eat, new faces and old faces."

"After learning about Lorthorn, I started having dreams. I dreamt that black clouds descended over the entire Saffre, storms raged, and black dragons circled in the clouds. I dreamt that Malekith, dressed in black armor, stood in front of the White Tower of Hoss, with no one around him."

"Are you scared?" This time it was Raine's turn to speak, his voice steady.

“I don’t know,” Hadris replied, repeating his previous statement. “All I know is that I don’t want to move.”

After these words were spoken, everyone fell silent.

Before this table of people who held the power of decision-making and destiny, a commoner named Asur expressed his most genuine fear: not death, not a coup, not Duruci, but "moving."

Leaving his homeland, losing his stability, and losing his predictable life—that's what he fears.

“War is coming, isn’t it?” Hadris suddenly asked, his gaze drifting to the eerily calm sea outside the window. “Has Ulthuan changed hands? Are we going to have another war? Is everyone… ready?”

No one answered him.

An inexplicable heaviness hung in the air, like an impending thundercloud; before the thunder even rumbled, it made breathing slow and difficult. (End of Chapter)