In the elven kingdom of Caeloria, where trees grew tall enough to pierce clouds and architecture flowed with nature rather than dominating it, the royal court gathered to observe the distant war.
The viewing chamber was a masterwork of living wood and crystal. Their organic curves created perfect acoustics that carried whispered conversations across the space with disturbing clarity.
Rhys Lufiel stood beside his mother, Lady Claudia, both of them watching the magical projection with expressions that mixed contempt and anger in equal measure.
'Where the hell are you Jack? Don't tell me you died. That's not how this rivalry ends. It's not satisfying enough.' Rhys grimaced in annoyance.
"Such crude warfare," Lady Claudia observed, her voice carrying the musical quality that all high elves possessed. "Humans throwing bodies at walls, counting on numbers rather than elegance or precision. It's almost barbaric."
