Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

silence……

It is another Cambridge.

It enveloped the entire cave and oppressed the hearts of everyone present.

In the end, it was Imrek who stepped forward.

He stepped forward, staring at Leandra with a deep, weary, and somber gaze. He wasn't asking a question; it was more like a plea.

"Isn't there even one piece of good news?"

His words were low and slow, carrying a faint plea, as if he were hoping that fate would suddenly change its mind and cast a ray of light on the edge of this boundless abyss.

This time, Leandera didn't play along with her words like a jester, nor did she use metaphors and mockery to cover up the truth. She simply shook her head directly, a small gesture, but enough to sever all illusions. There was no sneer or smugness on her face, only regret and a hint of barely concealed apology.

Imrek closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His chest rose and fell slightly, as if he were forcibly pressing a whole shattered world into his lungs.

“Tell us everything you know.” His tone regained its composure, but he still couldn’t hide the sadness and helplessness within. “This will…be very helpful to us, thank you.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Lamerlin, who was standing to the side, turned to look at him. Their eyes met in mid-air, and they remained silent.

Imrek shook his head slightly, a bitter smile appearing on his face—a lonely smile, the weariness only a bearer in the eye of the storm possesses.

“I can still handle it,” he said.

"Die knowing why?" Leander suddenly made a joke that wasn't funny at all, her voice indifferent, like a cold, hard block of iron thrown into an icy lake.

They didn't respond to her dark humor because they knew she wasn't provoking them, but rather mocking herself, or perhaps ridiculing her own fate.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know their plans or next steps. After the ceremony, they held a meeting, but I… wasn’t invited.” Leander’s voice gradually lowered. She straightened up, but seemed to have aged considerably all of a sudden. “My existence is more like a witness, and I came here to tell you what I know and what I have seen…”

She paused for a moment, then looked up, her eyes clear but weary.

"I'm like a puppet on a string."

She was neither accusing nor seeking pity; she was simply stating her facts. A helpless bystander, a chosen one, a ghost destined to pass the torch between two fates.

“To be honest, I didn’t want to come,” she continued, her voice tinged with complex emotions. “The Kingdom of Caledo… there’s nothing left for me to cherish. My family, except for me, is all gone. Status… land… they’ve long since lost their meaning to me.”

Her gaze drifted into the distance, as if piercing through the cave walls to see the distant stars and forests.

"If I could... I would like to return to Azsorloth to face my final moments."

Her tone was calm, as if she had already accepted her fate.

“Then you…” Kelly instinctively wanted to ask, but didn’t know how to put her words into words.

“Darkus,” Leander interrupted him softly, “Darkus Helban.”

She raised the hand that wasn't holding the cane, and spread it slightly, as if she could still feel the warmth of the wine glass the other person had handed her at the banquet that night.

"After the meeting, they held a dinner party. At the dinner party, he found me and asked me to come here, so I came."

“From your expression… I can tell that this is a…” Lameran began, his voice hesitant. He shouldn’t have asked that question; it was too personal and impolite. But he couldn’t care less.

“Yes.” Leander nodded, not angry, but with a knowing smile. “You’re right.”

“I think… if it weren’t for him, Malekith would still be thinking about how to set foot on Ulthuan, how to dismantle the Phoenix Gate’s defenses, and how to destroy the Asur Navy, instead of what he is now.” Her eyes were unfocused, as if she were looking at the shadow of another era.

“He…” she began to speak softly, but then stopped.

She shook her head; at this moment, even she herself didn't know how to accurately evaluate Darkus.

"You seem to know him quite well?" Lamerin asked astutely, sensing the hesitation in her words and a deeper meaning in her casual tone.

“I wouldn’t say we’re familiar.” Leander shook her head, her brows furrowing slightly. “The first time I saw him was…”

She paused, a look on her face that even she herself couldn't quite believe.

“I’m sorry, I can’t remember either,” she sighed softly. “In Aesoloron, time flows just like it does here.”

She was silent for a moment, then looked up and asked.

"By the way, I'm curious. How did Finnubal, back in Ulthuan, recount his experiences in Azsorloth? Or rather, how did he describe everything about Azsorloth?"

"A magical forest just like the Kingdom of Avalon... Asul, who was unwilling to leave Elsin Alwyn, went there and started a new life, living in harmony with the spirits. The social structure was the same as that of the Kingdom of Avalon, consisting of neighboring gangs, clans, and kinship, and ruled by a three-person council, a high council, and a senator."

Kelly stepped forward and, in an almost mechanical way, condensed Finnubar's account into a few sentences.

"A three-person council."

Leander repeated the word softly, and then she smiled.

That wasn't a joyful laugh, nor was it a kind laugh; it was a sarcastic laugh.

"Is there a problem?" Lameran asked, frowning. He sensed something, but couldn't quite grasp the logic behind it.

“No…no problem, absolutely no problem.” Leander’s smile deepened, but her tone gradually turned cold. “That’s true, Finnubal wasn’t wrong, but he…hid the crucial part.”

She paused, her gaze sweeping over Kelly and Lamela.

Did he tell us who the three members of the council were?

"A nobleman who manages a territory?" Lameran asked tentatively.

“Lord, madam?” Kelly added.

"Rotate?" Lamerlan continued to refine this seemingly reasonable system.

Leander nodded slightly, then suddenly looked up, her gaze sharp as a blade.

"He took advantage of your arrogance!"

Her voice suddenly rose, like a whip lashing across everyone's face.

“You should go there and see for yourselves, instead of choosing to turn a blind eye and a deaf ear! If you were willing to let go of your prejudices, even just a little, perhaps things wouldn't have turned out so badly today!”

Kelly's brow furrowed as he realized something, a wave of unprecedented shame washing over him. He could hear the accusation in Leandera's words, and he vaguely sensed from behind those sentences that he had been tricked and misled.

"What do you mean?" Lamerin couldn't help but ask, even though an answer already existed in his mind.

"The Senate convenes four times a year, once a quarter, on the spring equinox, summer solstice, autumn equinox, and winter solstice, in the open space in front of the Oak of Ages, to discuss diplomatic affairs concerning neighbors or the defense of the entire territory of Esororon. Emergency Senate meetings may be convened when necessary. Senators are respected warriors, ladies, watchmen, and clergy from the Twelve Territories, who will propose specific action plans based on experience, but they themselves do not enjoy political rights."

Leander did not offer any explanation, but simply and accurately repeated Darkus's words.

"The Senate is governed by the High Council, which consists of the lords and ladies of the Twelve Lords, the prophets of Azsorloth, and the priests of Aisha, Morayig, and Lilith. The High Council is responsible for adjudicating matters concerning Azsorloth and its surrounding areas, receiving envoys from Ulthuan, and determining the terms of agreements."

Leander spoke slowly and deliberately, observing their changing expressions as she spoke.

Then, she abruptly changed the subject and dropped the real bombshell.

"The High Council is managed by a three-person council. When the High Council is deadlocked, the three-person council must make the final decision. One of the members is either a lord or a lady, and the twelve lords take turns serving as members."

She paused, then her tone suddenly became sharp.

"Except for Lords Des and Amadeus Ironbark, who can voluntarily relinquish their duties, all other lords and ladies must not relinquish them! They must fulfill their responsibilities!"

Lamela's eyes narrowed as he realized the key point.

This is a trap, a hidden thread of power, and a core vulnerability cleverly concealed within the discourse system.

He took a deep breath and asked the question that had already surfaced in everyone's mind.

Who are the other two people?

"The other two are not 'human'!"

Leandera's tone carried an undisguised sense of repression and coldness.

"One of them is the Slan Priest known as Narhap, the strongest spellcaster I've ever seen. According to Darkus, he is one of only five Slan Priests in the second generation."

Before she finished speaking, Lamela and Kelly gasped almost simultaneously. They stared at each other, their eyes wide with disbelief and shock.

They certainly knew what the Sran Priests meant: they were among the oldest, wisest, and closest to the essence of the gods; they were the living memories of that lost continent before it was forgotten by the world; they were the creators who wrote the destiny of the world alongside the ancient saints.

Why would this happen...?

However, before they could fully process the shock, Leander's voice rang out again, her tone no longer cold, but as if carrying a final layer of pressure.

"The other one is Dursu."

After saying that, she thought her words would ignite the entire audience.

But...no.

The faces of the Dragon Prince and the Dragon Mages were blank and bewildered. It was as if the name was nothing more than a vague legend, an insignificant footnote to them.

In that instant, Leander felt an indescribable weariness, a powerlessness of being isolated from the truth. She felt the urge to turn away again, to abandon all explanations and let the truth drift away with the wind.

But she stopped, sighed, and turned back.

"I'll give you some hints."

Her tone was like the lingering wind in a late autumn forest—slight, low, and hoarse, yet chilling.

"At the meeting in Avalon Woods where Bell-Shana was decided to become the second Phoenix King, a being appeared and said a word."

"Oak Heart?" Lamela was the first to react, his eyes widening in surprise.

“She was indeed Elena. When Astariele was fighting demons in Avalon, she asked me to protect her child. I took the child back to the Great Forest, where no other elves had ever set foot. We fought the demons for many years to protect the child.”

Kelly slowly repeated the ancient and mysterious words from the record.

Leander nodded, her expression serious.

“Oak Heart—that is the name of Dursu.”

She looked directly at everyone, brooking no argument.

“I can tell you very clearly that the spirits were created by the ancient saints. And the Sran Demon Priests… are the same.”

Her gaze was like a sharp blade, piercing through the last layer of denial and resistance to reality in everyone's hearts.

"Do you understand now?"

The entire room fell into a deathly silence. No one dared to underestimate the composition of this three-person council, nor did anyone dare to cast a mocking glance at the political structure of Esororon.

"What does this have to do with Darkus?" Imrek finally spoke, his tone complex, low and tinged with a hint of composure he was trying to control.

Yes, and very closely so.

Leander nodded.

"During the War of Revenge, I thought I was dead. But I wasn't; I was taken to Aesolloren by a Duruci."

She paused, her voice slightly hoarse. "After that, I lived in seclusion there... but I knew clearly everything that had happened in Azsorloth over the past thousands of years."

She slowly scanned her surroundings, looking at the faces of every dragon mage and dragon prince.

"Before Darkus appeared in Asororon, the ruling structure there was not as Fennubar described. In the past, the ruler of Asororon was Ariel, the incarnation of Kunos—the incarnation of Orion and Aisha."

"That day, a ceremony was being held to celebrate Orion's rebirth."

“I was there, and Finnubal was there as an emissary sent by Ulthuan, but due to historical reasons, they were not welcome and could only appear in the corner. The ceremony proceeded as usual, however, with the arrival of Darkus, everything changed.”

She paused for a moment, as if that scene was still lingering in her mind, unwilling to fade away.

"The enraged Orion launched an attack without negotiation, without trying to understand, without uttering a word."

"But the spirits, those ancient wills that guarded Aesoloron, sided with Darkus. Enil followed him, some Asley chose to support him, and others... remained neutral. The lizardman army arrived, but they did not join the attack; instead, they stood by."

"In the subsequent championship match, he personally killed Orion."

Her tone was calm, as if she were merely stating a fact that had happened, rather than the end of a divine incarnation's fall.

“Ariel chose to give up everything. She did not fight, nor did she resist; instead, she disintegrated and vanished completely.”

Leander paused for a moment, then continued.

"At night, the Asleys saw off the fallen. He and Finnubal walked side by side through the night forest, talking. I didn't hear the whole conversation, but I could sense that... Darkus seemed to have known Finnubal for many years, while Finnubal... seemed very reserved, even somewhat uneasy."

“This was clearly Finnubar’s first contact with Dakos, but it was definitely not Dakos’s first contact with him.”

She gently raised one hand and made an opening motion.

"In the dead of night, Belorda appeared at Asur's camp."

"The meeting began the next day."

"Aesolloren has entered a new era."

Leander didn't embellish it at all, but the word "new era" felt like a heavy hammer, striking the nerve endings of everyone.

Although the Dragon Prince and the Dragon Mages were arrogant, they were not foolish. They could already perceive from Lyandra's narration the role Darkus played in this series of upheavals—a central, dominant, and almost undeniable figure.

“So… Bellorda.” Lamela repeated in a low voice, glancing at Kelly, and the two of them almost simultaneously gave a wry smile.

They get it.

Leandra has made it clear enough: in this political restructuring and turning point of fate, Bellorda played the role of sending a friendly signal to Asur, as Darius had done. And the success of this signal was the turning point that ultimately caused Finnubar's stance to waver.

Both of them voted in favor of the meeting to decide whether to allow Belorda to return to Ausuan for questioning.

in case……

Unfortunately, there are no "what ifs" in this world.

“Yes, just as you think.” There was no sarcasm in Leander’s tone, only a faint confirmation. “At the beginning of the meeting, the history of the elves was told, narrated by Saril, the incarnation of Hoth. I guess you weren’t interested in that story?”

She sighed softly.

"By the way, Morayig showed up in person before the meeting officially began."

"Her interaction with Dakos was so intimate...it gave me the illusion that he was Morayig's son?"

"In addition, Aisha's maid also appeared and handed Dakota a box."

Leander held up three fingers and gestured in the air.

"Inside the box are... three precious Tears of Elsa!"

She watched as the expressions in everyone's eyes gradually changed, and without giving them a chance to catch their breath, she continued speaking.

"Did you think it ended here? No."

"Loyke is here too."

Her tone suddenly rose.

"With his offspring—Liariel."

“Sarril, Des, Liariel, and Serene, four divine incarnations or attendants, participated in that meeting.”

"Then, Aesolloren... became what Finnubal told you."

She paused and looked around. All eyes were on her, but no one dared to speak.

The silence was like the stillness of the seabed before a tsunami, so oppressive that it was hard to breathe.

Each of them truly perceived the horror of Darkus through Leandera's account.

That wasn't the ferocity of the battlefield, nor the cruelty of bloody battles, but a kind of radical reconstruction that fundamentally changed the structure, the logic, and the relationship between gods and mortals...

It was a conquest that subdued the enemy without a fight.

A victory without bloodshed, yet more thorough than war!
“Could you tell me more about Darkus?” Lamela’s voice wasn’t loud, but it pierced the silence like a trembling sword tip. He glanced at Imrek, who stood silently like a statue, then turned his gaze to Lyandra.

He asked the question that everyone most wanted to ask but dared not ask.

Malekith—that arrogant dark king—had never possessed such oppressive and despair-inducing power.

In the past, it was believed that if Malekith were to rise to power, he would loudly proclaim himself to be of Ainarion's bloodline, the rightful heir, and the rightful second Phoenix King.

He would certainly deny the entire Asur royal lineage after Bel-Shana, calling them false kings and usurpers.

But now, he calls himself the "eleventh," putting pressure on Asur.

He is not such a humble person.

This is not his style, nor is it a strategy he would come up with.

And how could Finnubal... that gentle, cautious, rational, and tradition-obsessed strong contender for the Phoenix King, possibly do such earth-shattering things? How could he resolutely give up the throne and accept the Lord of Duruchi?
There must be someone pulling the strings behind this.

A shadowy figure pushing.

A person who makes the gears of fate turn at breakneck speed.

Now, he has appeared, surfaced.

“Son of Morayig, incarnation of Matheran, chosen one of Adrezer, chosen one of Loyk.” Leander spoke slowly, her tone calm, yet each identity she uttered sounded like a death knell. “In the politics of Duruci, he is the ‘Hand of the Witch King,’ the chief governor. In fact, that is indeed the case. He controls, dominates, and directs all affairs of Duruci society; he is the core of everything.”

She took a soft breath, her voice becoming low.

"As far as I know, shortly after he returned to Nagalos from Elsin Alwyn, he personally killed the Witch Queen Morath, along with Heliburn, the symbol of the Cult of Kane and the Bride of Kane."

She paused and glanced at the crowd.

"The Kane sect is history."

Normally, upon hearing news such as "Moras is dead" or "the Kane Cult has been destroyed," even the most indifferent dragon prince and dragon mage would be met with gasps and discussions.

But now, no one is speaking.

No one spoke.

They were no longer shocked by the surface facts, but were silenced by a deeper fear—that the real enemy they faced was never Malekith, but the one who rewrote the entire chessboard.

Darkus, who lurks in the shadows, shakes politics, and reshapes order, is more terrifying than any enemy who stands in the open.

"so what?!"

An angry shout suddenly broke the silence.

Calidor stepped forward, his face filled with anger and resentment.

"He will die too!"

The sound fell to the ground, but the empty cave did not respond to him.

No one agreed.

Those comrades who would have nodded, clenched their fists, and raised their arms in triumph were now silent. Not out of fear, but because they were no longer sure whether they were facing a mortal or a storm conjured by the will of a god.

They had heard tales of Kunos's rampage in Ulthuan as Orion, or had experienced it themselves. The Kingdom of Elion was torn apart, until Orion finally withdrew, satisfied with his fate.

That being was defeated by Darkus himself.

And now, what right does any of them have to utter such a rash and pale statement as "he will also die"?
Relying on dragons?

Leander didn't respond to Kalidor; she merely gave a contemptuous smile, extremely restrained yet utterly sarcastic. Her patience had long been exhausted by reality and despair; she didn't want to waste any more words, nor did she want to use facts to educate those who still clung to wishful thinking.

She stepped forward, stood before Imrek, and looked up directly at the regent on whom so much hope had been placed.

“Now, tell me, Regent!” Her voice burned with fiery intensity, “What should the Kingdom of Caledo do?!”

"You command them to assemble, awaken the dragons, and prepare for war."

"Then tell me, which mountain? Which city? Will fight for the Kingdom of Caledo now?!"

"How many more kingdoms are willing to die with us?!"

Her questioning was like a heavy hammer striking a drum, with a distinct rhythm and a gradually rising tone. Each sentence ended with a faint tremor, as if the anger that had been suppressed for too long was finally bursting forth.

No one answered her.

Imrek didn't have it either.

He stood there, like a statue.

He knew that Leandera was right.

She was right.

He knew even more that at this moment, the dragon princes were no longer a symbol of unity, no longer a symbol of nobility, unity, and steadfastness, but rather a shattered piece of glass, a glorious remnant about to crumble into pieces under the scorching heat of the flames.

Each of them, carrying their own bloodline, their own glory, and their own fear, stood on this scorched earth about to burn.

Some will fight to the very end, even if they are burned to ashes, they will still roar one last time.

Some began to doubt whether they should turn away or choose another lord.

Many more people simply stood there blankly, at a loss, unsure of which step to take.

The flame has not yet been lit.

But the division has already begun.

He knew that his next words would determine his and their future. (End of Chapter)