“What happened?” Queen Delimira questioned as she felt confused as to why Sylvester and Rathagun started laughing after looking like they had a fallout.

Sylvester smiled and turned around to head out of Alfia for good this time, “It’s nothing, Queen Delimira, just a few steps forward and a few steps backwards. The usual game of kings and pawns.”

Delimira rubbed her head tiredly and fixed her hair. She found the two men so similar in some situations, such as now. Apparently, they both loved acting mysterious. “I don’t understand, and it’s not my place to care. Pope Sylvester, I came to take you on a tour of Alfia, as planned.”

Rathagun looked strangely at his wife, wondering what evil she was planning on his son, “I’m sure Avanss will be enough to show Pope Sylvester around.”

But Sylvester quickly mediated, as he wanted to spend more time with her and leave a better impression. “It’s alright, King Rathagun. I’m sure Queen Delimira will be more respected as we go through the elven settlements—they will mind themselves more in her presence. Moreover, I’ll be heading to Divider Swamp right after my tour.”

Rathagun forgot to argue at the strategic mention of Divider Swamp, “I’ll meet you there as well, Pope Sylvester.”

The reason Sylvester didn’t ask Rathagun to come along with him was because he had yet to understand how flying worked. So, he didn’t want to embarrass himself by walking on Light Tiles while the elven King flew.

Sylvester left with the elven Queen and soon arrived outside the castle, where Bloodrain and Soulbreaker were waiting for him on one side of the road. On the other side, about a dozen elven guards clad in armour waited. Clearly, the guards were there to escort the Queen as they travelled around Alfia.

Sylvester and Delimira soon climbed atop a carriage without a roof. It was open from all sides, and only luxurious cushioned seats adorned in green velvet were around them. A single elven man sat at the front as the reinsman, controlling beasts that looked like a mix of a horse and a lizard. Perhaps it was meant to mock the dragons.

“I will show you the High Regum first, the inner sanctum of Aflia, where only the elves reside, while other species are only allowed as temporary visitors,” Delimira explained and gave the reinsman some orders.

Right away, two more carriages in the front and two more in the back joined to escort them. However, Bloodrain and Soulbreaker had their own horses that Sylvester had brought on a ship from Sol. So they rode near his carriage, flanking the side he sat at.

They left the royal castle’s enclosure in no time and started riding through the regular streets that normal elves used. The one thing that Sylvester envied was how utterly beautiful the elven race was. Every single man and woman he saw was beautiful, and children were rare but held the same curious charm.

Eventually, they passed through what he’d call a town square in Sol. It was a large, wide road going through the middle of rows of buildings, leading to a larger space where many more elves were gathered, likely called by the Queen, to see the Pope.

However, the carriage never stopped moving, and he noticed Queen Delimira avoiding looking at the crowd in the town square.

‘Fear, shame, sadness? What a sudden influx of scents.’ Sylvester noticed the condition of her emotions and looked at the crowd of elves. To his surprise, despite him being there, he felt their gazes were more focused on the Queen. 𝗼𝐯𝐥.𝗻𝐭

“It’s the ice queen!”

“The spoiled goods!”

“Why can’t she just make our King happy?”

“She’s probably infertile—I heard many things about her…”

“She’s a spoiled rich princess, that’s all.”

Sylvester heard faint words despite how far the crowd were. His abilities allowed him to see what the people wanted, and he noticed their general dislike toward the Queen. It made him wonder how things got so bad.

“I can hear them,” Queen Delimira muttered, looking unhurt on the outside. “They know it too.”

“Don’t they fear you?” Sylvester asked.

She scoffed in self-ridicule, “They only fear my father and my husband, both men, the main reason for my misery. Ignore them, Sylvester… they say such things because they know nothing better.”

Sylvester rubbed his chin, wondering if he could help, “Are you? Infertile?”

“I don’t know… We never tried to produce a child,” she replied truthfully. “The rumours spread from the time a few slaves and servants heard Rathagun and I in a verbal argument. In anger, he called me a barren, self-centred woman.”

Sylvester sighed, not knowing how Rathagun could allow the situation to go so out of hand. But knowing that not all people were calculative like him, he could see it as a human error, in this case, an elven error.

“What kind of personality do you show the commoners, Queen Delimira? You must have interacted with the servants and commoners, I presume.”

She responded immediately, “I generally ignore them since they are not worth my attention. I maintain distance and never speak with any unless I require something.”

“Are there poor elves out there? Who can’t eat and find a place to live?” He continued to ask.

“Of course, there are a few lazy ones. They blame society for all their shortcomings. My husband holds the same thought that such elves are better off left as outcasts,” she proudly claimed, telling him their foolish domestic policy.

However, since his goal was to earn her trust, he offered her a way to earn respect in society, “Do you know what kind of people were the first to believe in me? Call me Son of Solis, and accept me as the next Pope?”

“Who?”

“The poor,” Sylvester replied. “Queen Delimira, if you wish to improve your public standing, learn to be a politician and how to maintain a gentle face no matter the turmoil in your heart. Start visiting the poor elves, especially the families, all in the name of Mother Remira. Give them food and money, and suggest them to various places where they can be hired. Once they join society again, they will never forget your kindness and spread the word. You’re the Queen; you’re like a mother to the entire kingdom—act like one.”

Queen Delimira looked at Sylvester and had no doubt that her stepson was giving her genuine advice, “Is that how you rule?”

“My kindness is genuine, as I truly desire to make the lives of all better. But in general, most nobles are like that. They don’t want an uprising against them, after all,” he explained, and soon noticed their surroundings change as they rode through the massive gates.

The road led them to a small canal, and once they crossed it, they were surrounded by trees on both sides of the dirt road. However, looking closer, Sylvester noticed some figures peeking over from behind the trees.

“Dryads,” Queen Delimira introduced him to the area. “They are spirits of nature, each attached to a tree. They rarely take physical form. Alfia has declared them as protected species due to their affinity with plants. So they live here in this reserved region.”

Sylvester watched the many faces behind the trees. The dryads were all women, as beautiful as elves, if not more. They had slim, alluring bodies and barely covered themselves with leaves. Their eyes had the same colour as their hair, which was similar to the colour of the leaves of the tree they were connected to. Green, yellow, pale orange, red, and even pink—they were truly beautiful creatures.

“He’s here!”

“Look!”

“Strong!”

Shocking Sylvester, the dryads began to come out of their shy little covers behind the trees and stood proudly in the open. They continuously looked at Sylvester, and as the carriages moved, more and more dryads walked out of the forest and stood near the roads to see him.

‘Such overwhelming scent of worship… Don’t tell me their God is also involved somehow,’ Sylvester hypothesised, but didn’t acknowledge any yet. ‘Or is it due to my affinity with solarium? These are spirits in physical form, after all.’

“Peculiar!” Queen Delimira exclaimed in awe. “They never come out in the open for anyone, not even me or the King. Not unless they find a male worthy enough to mate with.”

Sylvester chuckled wryly, “I’m quite sure they don’t want to mate with me—not all thousands of them.”

She smirked, giggling, “Who knows, there has never been a twenty-six year old Supreme Wizard either.”

“Hmm…” Sylvester stared at the Dryads and wondered something, a possibility that had some chance of coming true. “I wish to speak with them. I wonder how old the oldest dryad among them is.”

“Halt!” Queen Delimira bellowed and stepped down from the carriage, staring at the beautiful female tree spirits. “The legends say they are a species older than any. Long before elves, dragons, dwarves, or humans walked this world. They thrived here.”

Interested, Sylvester jumped down as well and walked toward the dryads. Noticing his incoming steps, some of them ran back, while others remained proudly standing with their heads held low. He felt respect, worship, and expectations in the air as the scents spread.

So he eventually stopped a few meters from a dark-red-haired Dryad, who also seemed the tallest and the oldest among them. However, there was no way of knowing their age from their looks, as they all remained beautiful.

“How old are you?” He asked straight away.

“…”

Queen Delimira found herself speechless at his straightforwardness.

“Three thousand and two hundred years old.”

“It worked!” Delimira exclaimed.

Sylvester nodded his head, standing with his folded arms. Soon, he closed his eyes. It seemed as if he was in deep thought. But when his nostrils flared a little, the Queen and the dryads wondered what it was.

Sadly, none of them were ever going to learn the escapade of Chonky the Great.

“Maxy!” Miraj, who was flying in the sky above the carriage all that time, abruptly came back down and landed on Sylvester’s shoulders before whispering excitedly. “I saw something awesome! I saw humans… But they were not humans! They were horses!”

Sylvester held himself from laughing in that situation and spoke with Miraj in his mind. “Centaurs.”

“Cunt—ers?” Miraj curiously repeated.

“…”

“Cent—aurs, that’s how you say it,” Sylvester corrected him.

But the curious cat remained curious as always, “Cent—ours? Are they mine?”

Sylvester sighed and opened his eyes to focus on the pretty dryad again, “How old is your oldest member?”

The red-headed dryad thought for a moment, “Seven thousand? Close to it, Respected Virideus.”

Taken aback, Sylvester noticed the strange name. “Viri-deus? What does that mean?”

With a nonchalant expression, the dryad responded, and following her words, the rest of the dryads lowered their heads.

“Virideus is the God of Green.”

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