Episode 68: Elizabeth's Confusion and the Duplicity of the Upper Class
That evening, Elizabeth attended a dinner gathering among her peers in the upper circles. The hall glittered with gowns and jewels, filled with noblewomen boasting of their children's engagements and prestigious matches. Inevitably, the conversation turned to her son's recent betrothal—and soon after, to Serina.
One lady, smiling pleasantly, turned toward Elizabeth."Lady Elizabeth, I hear your daughter still keeps herself quite busy at the institute. That is admirable for a family of standing, but surely it is also time she sought a good match?"
Elizabeth hesitated, ready to explain the importance of her daughter's research, when another woman interjected with an airy laugh."Indeed. And we must congratulate you again on your son's fine engagement—splendid news! Now, if only we might soon hear something similar from your daughter." Her smile carried a faint edge as she added, "Though… I hear there is a soldier often by her side at the institute. Might there be… more to it than mere friendship?"
She let her words trail off with a coy laugh, while the other ladies exchanged amused, knowing glances. Their duplicity was palpable, and Elizabeth felt unease stir.
Before she could reply, yet another spoke with a colder smile."But truly, thinking of the kingdom's future—would it not be unfitting for one of its bright scholars to be entangled with a mere soldier? No matter how diligent he may be, his background is nothing more than… ordinary."
Laughter rippled softly around the table, laced with mockery. Elizabeth forced herself to maintain her composure. Must I worry about such people judging my daughter's life so cheaply? Her heart tightened. She herself had risen from a merchant's family with no ties to nobility, climbing only through effort and conviction. To hear these women dismiss someone for their birth alone ignited a quiet resistance within her.
Another woman, with a practiced smile, added,"Of course, I'm sure Lady Serina's association with this soldier is nothing more than simple friendship. I only hope you have no cause for misunderstanding." Her tone left little doubt of her true meaning: a bond beyond friendship would not be tolerated.
Elizabeth's heart grew heavy. Until now, she had pressed Serina toward advantageous matches for the family's sake. But remembering her own past as the daughter of a modest merchant, she suddenly wondered: Can a person truly be measured by status and pedigree alone?
Though she wore a calm smile to the end, confusion welled within her. She recalled whispers of Leon at the institute, and how he had protected her daughter when she was injured. Was he truly just an ordinary soldier—or was there something more in him that Serina alone had recognized?
On her way home, gazing through the carriage window at the kingdom's lights, Elizabeth replayed the evening's duplicity in her mind. The shallow judgments of the nobles left a bitter taste, but also planted a seed of resolve. She needed to know Serina's heart more deeply—and she needed to see Leon with her own eyes.
Yes, she thought, I must understand what Serina truly desires—and whether this soldier is indeed worthy of the trust she places in him.
That decision steadied her. For the first time, she resolved to widen her gaze—not judging by lineage alone, but by truth and character.
**
Episode 69: The Corrupt Elves' Venomous Plot
Far from the heart of Elysium, troubling reports arose from ancient ruins where corrupted elves had begun their sinister work. They pillaged recklessly, driving villagers from their homes and spreading chaos. Desperate, the displaced people petitioned the crown for aid. The kingdom responded by dispatching senior warriors across the land—among them Leon, now leading his own detachment, bound for the ruins.
As they neared, Leon felt a heavy presence lingering in the air. Villages lay deserted, scattered with traces of elven desecration. With wary discipline, his men advanced toward the ruins.
There, amid the crumbling stones, Leon's eyes caught the flash of silver hair in battle. It was Ellahar, the famed elven swordsman, locked in combat against a host of corrupted kin. Yet his movements were uncharacteristically slow, his breath heavy.
Leon soon saw why. The corrupted elves were releasing a foul, poisonous mist that clouded the field and sapped strength. Even Ellahar staggered beneath its weight.
One of the elves sneered, his voice dripping with malice."Ellahar, your vaunted strength avails you nothing now. Weakening you with poison is child's play. To trespass in ruins we command—what folly."
Leon's jaw tightened. He signaled his men with a swift gesture. The unit fanned out, launching a sudden strike against the enemy. Meanwhile, Leon surged forward toward Ellahar, weaving through the haze.
"Ellahar! Are you all right?" Leon called.
Recognizing him, Ellahar managed a strained nod."Leon… to think I'd need aid here. I have never felt my power falter so—but this poison… it slows my every step."
Leon's eyes sharpened."Then let us fight together. We'll drive off this mist and strike them down."
He barked commands, his men pressing the enemy from different angles. Channeling his enhancement magic, Leon steadied his blade with surging strength, moving swiftly alongside Ellahar. Together they pressed forward—Leon intercepting blades with reinforced speed, Ellahar pushing through with heavy strikes despite his weakness.
But the elves poured forth more of their toxic fumes, thickening the air once again. Leon grimaced. At this rate, not only Ellahar, but my entire unit will collapse… We need another way.
Ellahar, catching his breath, called out hoarsely,"To scatter the mist, you must move quickly—create wind! I'll guide the direction. Strike when the veil breaks!"
Leon nodded sharply. Rallying his men, he led them in rapid maneuvers that whipped air through the battlefield. Ellahar summoned the last of his strength, his sword sweeping arcs that conjured a gust to drive the haze back. As the poison dispersed, his steps grew lighter, his strikes sharper.
With a cry, Ellahar cleaved through one foe in a brilliant stroke."Now I can fight as I was meant to!"
Side by side, Leon and Ellahar pressed their assault. Steel flashed, poisoned elves faltered, and one by one they fell beneath the combined onslaught. Their foes, at last overwhelmed, broke and fled into the night.
Leon exhaled, lowering his blade as silence returned to the ruins."My thanks, Lord Ellahar. Your guidance saved us."
Ellahar smiled faintly, the gleam returning to his eyes."Gratitude is shared, Leon. Today I see how far you have grown. You fought as a true warrior of Elysium."
A quiet pride stirred in Leon's chest. In the ruins' eerie stillness, a bond between soldier and swordsman was etched in steel and breath, their resolve tempered by shared battle.
**
Episode 70: Brakka's Resolve, the Southern Warrior
In the southern reaches of Elysium, whispers spread among the orcish clans. They spoke of Brakka—a mercenary of immense strength, son of a rebel warlord, and a fighter whose duels had already become legend. From a young age he had dreamed of becoming a great warrior. He roamed from village to village, challenging the strongest of the orc tribes, and victory followed him like a shadow. His skill was now recognized across the South, and his name began to echo even beyond, throughout the kingdom.
But Brakka's ambitions reached further than tribal glory. Since childhood, he had dreamed of standing among Elysium's finest warriors. Yet his lineage—born of the rebellion—cast a shadow no steel could cut. The kingdom's intelligence corps tracked his every move, wary of his growing reputation. To them, he was not a warrior to be welcomed, but a potential threat. To join the royal army seemed impossible; at best, he might one day prove useful, at worst, he might rise against them as his father once had.
Denied a place in the ranks, Brakka resolved to carve his name into the kingdom through another path: as a mercenary. Only by proving himself in battle—by triumphing where others faltered—could he force Elysium to reckon with his strength.
One day, word reached him that merchants in a southern orc village had been attacked by corrupted elves. With no time to petition the crown for aid, the merchants turned to Brakka. In return for weapons and supplies, they begged his help. He agreed without hesitation.
The corrupted elves came in numbers, their foul power tainting the air. Yet Brakka met them with nothing but raw muscle, honed instinct, and unrelenting will. He fought without enhancement spells, relying only on the strength of his body and the precision of his technique. His strikes fell like the weight of mountains, swift yet brutal, crushing foes who thought themselves many. When at last the merchants were freed, their awe of him spread like fire through the South.
On his return, Brakka encountered a patrol of Elysium's soldiers. They eyed him with suspicion, their hands never straying far from their weapons.
"So," one soldier said coldly, "you claim to have rescued these merchants? You should have called for us. Such matters are not for mercenaries."
Another added with a sharper edge, "And you—son of a rebel chief. How can we be sure you won't turn against us? Perhaps today you save merchants, but tomorrow? Who can say?"
Brakka stood silent, absorbing their words. Their mistrust was not new; it was the burden of his bloodline. He longed to stand as one of them, to be counted among the warriors of the realm—but he knew acceptance would not come easily, if at all.
That night, alone, he tended his wounds and replayed the encounter. Their words lingered like the sting of salt. Prejudice and suspicion were walls taller than any fortress, but they did not break him.
He clasped his sword again, his grip firm with resolve. If the kingdom will not grant me a place, then I will earn it through power alone. As a mercenary, I will become too great to be ignored.
Looking up at the southern stars, Brakka whispered to the night, vowing that one day Elysium would know his name not as the son of a rebel, but as a warrior in his own right.
**
Episode 71: The Elven Forest's Formal Request
In the royal court of Elysium, unexpected news arrived: the northern Elven Kingdom had formally requested aid. Their sacred forest was under attack. Corrupted elves had defiled its groves, and sacred relics had been stolen. For the elves—proud to the point of isolation—to call for outside help was extraordinary, and the request stirred great interest among Elysium's lords.
When Ellahar, the silver-haired swordsman, received word, he lowered his head in thought. He preferred to fight alone; too many companions could become a burden, or worse, a clash of egos. Yet he remembered all too well the suffocating poison used in their last encounter. To face such treachery again without allies would be reckless.
And so, one face came unbidden to his mind: Leon. The young soldier who had stood beside him in that moment of peril—not through overwhelming strength, but through clarity, courage, and quick judgment. Ellahar had met countless warriors, many stronger, many prouder, but Leon's steady resolve lingered with him.
Though he could have asked for more renowned fighters, Ellahar knew that too many strong wills in one place often brought strife. What he needed was someone adaptable, someone true. Leon fit that role.
The high commanders of Elysium deliberated carefully. The Elven Kingdom's plea carried both military and diplomatic weight. After reviewing the request, Leon's name quickly rose among the candidates. He was still a commoner by birth, yet his recent service had earned trust: swift judgment, unwavering duty, and loyalty that even noble-born soldiers had come to respect.
Thus, Leon was chosen.
At the edge of the elven woods, he reunited with Ellahar. Recognition lit in both their eyes.
Ellahar inclined his head with a faint smile."Leon. This task will be harsher than the last. The corrupted ones will not hesitate to use even fouler tricks. I once thought I could handle it alone—but your aid proved its worth before. I will welcome it again."
Leon bowed slightly."I may lack great strength, but if I can stand beside you to protect the forest, I will give all that I have."
Ellahar's smile deepened. In Leon's humility and resolve, he saw the qualities most needed for what lay ahead. Strength alone would not win this war. Faith, loyalty, and courage—these were the weapons Leon carried, and Ellahar trusted them as much as steel