Chapter 480 - 438: Rotten Crown (Part 3)

Chapter 480: Chapter 438: Rotten Crown (Part 3)

Caroline snapped her head up, her eyes burning with a palpable fire.

"You..."

A hand rested on her shoulder.

Velin had stepped in front of her, blocking her impending outburst.

"I see."

Velin wore his trademark gentle smile.

"The voice of a Sea Siren. A truly artistic request. As expected of the Grand Councilor who rules the High Elves, his taste is indeed extraordinary and transcendent."

Velin dipped his body slightly in an aristocratic bow.

"We will give your proposal serious consideration. However, capturing a Sea Siren will take time. Might we be permitted to return and make the necessary preparations?"

Firas was taken aback for a moment, not expecting them to agree so readily.

He had expected the humans to haggle over that "trivial" amount of grain. He hadn’t thought this one would have such an appreciation for the arts.

"Well, well, it seems you humans aren’t as foolish as I thought."

Firas nodded in satisfaction and waved his folding fan.

"Then be off with you. Remember, the Grand Councilor’s inspiration waits for no one. If you’re too late and the theme of the concert changes, we won’t be needing it any longer, you see."

With that, he turned and departed like a cheerful lark, trailing a heavy scent of perfume and humming an unfamiliar tune, completely oblivious to the absurdity of his request.

The moment the door closed, Caroline kicked over a nearby chair.

"Lunatics! A bunch of lunatics!"

She trembled with rage, her chest heaving. "The front lines are about to collapse, and they want a Sea Siren? Why don’t they just ask for the stars in the sky?!"

"Calm down, Caroline."

The smile vanished from Velin’s face.

He walked to the table and picked up the map Firas had just scorned.

"This is worse than mere humiliation. If it were humiliation, that would at least mean they know what we’re begging for. But now..."

"So you still want me to go capture a Sea Siren?!"

"Of course not."

Velin pulled a charcoal pencil from his pocket.

On the map, he drew a large X over the military marker for Moon Shield Castle.

Next, he forcefully drew another X over Eternal Oath City, the political center.

"This path is a dead end, too."

Velin’s voice was as calm as if he were reading an autopsy report. "The political route is a no-go. The higher-ups haven’t just lost their minds; their heads have completely detached from their bodies and are floating in the sky."

"Then where else can we go?" Caroline looked at the mutilated map, her voice laced with despair. "The military route is a failure, and so is the political one. Are we really just supposed to go back and wait to die?"

"No."

The charcoal pencil in Velin’s hand didn’t stop moving.

Its tip moved across the map, finally stopping on an unremarkable green area located between the other two locations.

It was neither a heavily guarded fortress nor a lavish, bustling capital.

It was a territory Velin had only learned of after extensive inquiries—a place in the heartland of the Evergreen Council known as the "Emerald Greenhouse." It was also the filthiest, foulest, most forgotten place in all of elven society, regarded as a "garbage dump" by all High Elves.

"We’ll go find him."

Velin forcefully drew a circle around the location, the tip of the pencil piercing the parchment.

He looked up at Caroline. "Pack your things. We leave tonight."

"We’re going to the ’Emerald Greenhouse.’"

"To see the one man all the elves look down on—Marquis Golden Rice."

Outside the window, the magical glow of Eternal Oath City remained as brilliant as ever, a city reveling in peace and prosperity.