Chapter 110 Final Chapter
The air is heavy and humid, and for the golden elf Severil Yinge, every summer in this vast green field is like this.
The west of Everjum Island is kissed by the sea breeze all year round. He had not even noticed before that he had been away from the lush and rich Supreme Forest for decades.
Severil walked invisible in the warm green shadow of the ruined walls of the palace. Looking at everything around him, he came back from his memories, and cold hatred gradually appeared in his perfect eyes.
He wore an exquisitely crafted golden gown that seemed to be made of snake skin to protect himself, and the deadly elf thin-edged sword in his hand was imbued with powerful magic power.
Even by the fastidious standards of the Golden Elf, he was striking and handsome.
However, in his rage, his delicate features were clouded, making him look like an angel who had been wronged.
He briefly assessed the damage he saw: a scorch mark left by an old fire, an abandoned and dilapidated courtyard, broken windows and a holed roof, and at the same time, he The sword was pushed back into its sheath without any pretense.
He couldn't figure out why all of this had come to this point, and this angered him and made him engulfed in hot anger.
“They turned my home into a wasteland!”
he growled, before taking a deep breath to calm himself.
Fifty summers ago, he left his mother's family's manor with his sister Salise, protected by a powerful spell that resisted phenology, time, and thieves.
But now it seems that his meticulous arrangements in the past were in vain.
The spell he once arranged has been broken. Strong and green trees stand in the overgrown courtyard, the hall is buried deep in it, and there is a damp smell of rotten wood.
The old manor was destroyed by roots and rain without restraint, but this is the law of growth of all things and the change of seasons.
What's the point of blaming nature for its natural workings?
Of course he would not, so he wisely suppressed his anger for the time being.
In order to protect the Palace of Movelier, his grandfather built the ancient gate and woven innumerable magic spells, all in the hope that one day an elf would step into its marble pavement. palaces, and the villains and gangsters who broke and dispersed them were the culprits.
Severil slowly walked around, studying the empty rooms in the manor.
At this point, all he could do was confirm the extent of the damage and try to piece together clues to figure out the fate of the house that had stood in this silent and empty forest for many years.
What had happened to the vestibule was evident, with the strong old door destroyed.
The beautiful carvings by his grandfather's hand were dented and dented, and the makeshift battering ram log was left at the door. Now there was nothing left except the outline of a ten-foot-long rotten wood. But the debris from the cracked door remained in the hall.
"How long does it take for newly cut logs to rot to this point." He murmured doubts, "Forty years? Or fifty years?"
Obviously , not long after he and his sister Salis gave up here and went to the lush paradise of Everlasting Island, thieves came here.
He thought that a few generations would pass by before humans would start to plunder the palace of Avandor's children.
But humans have never had the virtue of patience, have they?
Severil followed the old sign and stepped into the house.
For a while at least, the front room itself had been reduced to someone's stable.
Piles of black marks show where scattered straw and animal droppings have fallen.
On a fist-sized stone circle piled casually, thick and greasy soot left scorch marks on the wall, indicating that someone had started a fire here a long time ago.
Severil dug through the pile of ashes and pulled out a few pieces of blackened bones.
The fragments of a leather goblet, and a wooden spoon carelessly thrown aside, are all the work of humans, and they are all to blame.
He stood up and clapped his hands clean, then followed the traces of injury deep into the house.
The situation in every room is the same: not a single piece of furniture is left in this ancient elf manor, and everything has been looted.
He walked along the steep stone steps leading to the crypt under the house, and here Severil smiled for the first time in an hour.
Some past intruder was knocked down by the magical guardian of the house.
The guardian of this room is an animated statue, a warrior golem animated by elven magic.
The statue itself was torn apart nearby, but a human skeleton was embedded in the wall opposite.
The latter's empty eyes were wide open, staring at the mottled ceiling above his head, and one side of his skull was flattened.
The handiwork of the stone guard, Severil guessed.
"At least some of you have paid the price for your greed."
He said to the withered bones: "But your friends don't seem to think you are worth the effort to bury or cremate. It seems that in You really have bad luck when it comes to choosing friends, huh?”
He knelt down against the skeleton and examined it carefully.
A rusty chainmail hung loosely on the bones, but under the chainmail there was a gleam of metal that attracted his attention.
He carefully removed a dull silver pendant from the dead man's tunic.
A dull silver galloping horse strides across the amulet's faded green glaze.
I have seen this sigil before, Severil realized.
In an insignificant human village not far from Movelier Manor, this sign hung on the door of a rough and dirty human tavern.
"It was actually the humans from the Supreme Forest who robbed my home?" He murmured.
He tore the pendant from the skeleton's neck, holding the rusty amulet tightly in his fist as he stood up.
This sheer ingratitude struck him in the face.
Severil followed the army of the Queen of Evermeet Island back to the sea of trees in the High Forest, in order to defeat the demon elves who dared to touch Evermeet Island.
Hide within Hellgate Keep and the ruins of Myth Dror on Cormanthor, these despicable demon spawn threaten all surrounding human territory.
Severil and all those who joined the Holy War sacrificed their lives to stop evil.
The blood and courage of the elves are the only remaining barrier between those humans and the flames of hell and the nightmare of ancient malice.
Less than five kilometers away from where he was, there were still more than twenty elf warriors serving the Queen of Evermeet Island, guarding those pitiful human villages.
But everything he saw around him was an indictment of how despicable human thieves and shepherds had taken over and treated what was left of Severil's people.
Did they forget about us a hundred years ago? he thought angrily.
Why would an elf warrior have to take risks just to protect this creature?
What kind of idiot is the commander of the expeditionary force to spend even an hour trying to find goodwill and assistance from humans, or to get such kindness from any human beings?
Severil's face twisted in disgust as he wrapped the pendant he had obtained from the dead thief in a piece of cloth and threw it into a pouch on his belt.
About this emblem, he planned to ask clearly, and the sooner the better.
Then he lowered his head to avoid the low stone beams and walked along the stairs into the room under the manor house.
The air became cold and musty, and the wooden floor above it underwent staggering changes due to the heat and humidity of midsummer.
He didn't bother with lighting. The high sunlight at noon fell faintly from the corridor, which was enough for his elf eyes to see the conditions of the underground house at a glance.
It was not immune either.
The devastated stones show that fierce and rough battle magic was once released here.
The original summoning spell trap that would have pitted the invader against a guard of celestial beasts, loyal and sincere, has now been wiped from the walls.
Five sharp-edged arches lead from the room to the bypass at the bottom of the stairs, and the door that closed them is indestructible, but now it no longer exists.
Strong acid corrodes, spells disintegrate, and may even be taken away as trophies.
But that doesn't matter, does it? The important thing is that the ancient crypt is now wide open and defenseless.
Admittedly, Severil's mother's family did not leave any treasures worth keeping secret in the manor they had given up.
However, they are convinced that their deceased people will sleep peacefully behind the powerful magic and elven stonework.
Severil scanned the crypts one by one and saw a dozen of his mother's ancestors and relatives stripped clean for the burial jewelry they might have worn.
Their remains were scattered all over the place in an orderly manner, looted, searched and then abandoned.
Severil couldn't help falling to his knees, tears streaming down his face, but he didn't allow himself to look away.
At this point, he did not allow himself to back down before fully witnessing these atrocities.
Placing a large amount of jewelry and funerary objects in a mausoleum for enjoyment in the afterlife is not the way elves send their deceased to Avandor.
Golden elves are different from humans in that they are suspicious of death and hope that through those rituals and treasures they can gain power when the end comes.
Most gold elf nobles are buried in their most elegant attire, wearing formal jewelry and crowns as a simple tribute.
But this does not mean that it is natural to let those scavenging beasts take away the things that are used to pay homage to the dead.
He entered the last crypt, and the loss here made him even more bitter.
This is the resting place of his mother's cousin, the last person to bear the surname of Movillier.
Floating with him was the ancient moon blade of the Movelier family.
Since the last descendant of the Movelier family passed away, this family sword has become dim and fell into silence.
Each moon blade is a symbol of the elf family, and every rune on the sword symbolizes a power of the sword. If the family declines, no one can use the moon blade.
And this ancient sword was stolen as expected.
Even if this sword has been dormant or completely silent, it is still a well-deserved treasure of the Movillier family - and of course Severil's mother's family.
Severil could barely endure all the other things, even though they were tantamount to full of pain, but Xiao Xiao who stole the Dead Moon Blade gave him a deep and burning blow in the middle of his chest. .
“What does conscience mean to you?”
He asked the tomb robbers who had disappeared long ago: "Isn't there anything that you would be in awe of?"
Severil retreated into the central hall, crying silently in the darkness and shadows, as if It was as if all the bitterness of my life had been poured out at this moment.
He was born in this house a hundred years ago.
The soft lights sway with the spring breeze in the cold night, the dome made of green and fragrant grape branches and leaves covers the courtyard in summer, and the high window mirror of the library reflects the orange and gold frost in the autumn morning.
For him, everything is still vivid in his mind.
Unfortunately, nothing remains of his early years.
At that moment, the tap of a certain claw saved his life.
When the dirty abyss monster jumped from the stairs and attacked, Severil recovered from his grief at the critical moment and was able to dodge.
A black shadow rushed past him as fast as lightning, its hook whizzing past the elf's head and neck where it had been earlier.
A hot and sharp claw grazed Severil's face, and the powerful momentum forced him to turn sharply to the other side, causing the monster to lose its ability to tear out the throat of its prey from a high position. Chance.
Severil exclaimed and took a few steps back. He took out his sword while leaving the space between his arms to confirm his position. His opponent somewhat resembled a rotting goat, but with a long, thick tail that tangled and circled behind it like a hungry snake.
Its skin was crimson and hot, its eyes blazing like green flames burning within the shadows of the Underdark.
"Cry over the dead, elf?" it hissed, "Don't worry, I'll leave your bones here to keep company with the other remains."
"Insult me Ancestor, you are seeking death, lackey of the abyss!" Severil roared, placing the tip of his sword between the monster and himself.
The demon grinned, revealing its sharp and rotten fangs, and then rushed towards the elf like a storm with its sharp claws and piercing horns.
But Severil was prepared for the monster. He allowed himself to slide naturally into the meditation of the sword mage, a state where the body and mind were constantly involved in the dance of thousands of carvings. .
Severil moved his sword carefully and steadily, guiding the monster's claws away from his flesh, dodging its tail sting, and concealing subtle thrusts and counterattacks.
The razor-shaped tip of the thin-edged sword searched for demon flesh and blood in the gaps between the sharp claws, back and forth.
A stream of blood splattered.
Hot black blood was scattered on the dusty floor, but the monster paid no attention to these wounds.
It bit and slashed wildly, its claws and horns carrying the wind as it swept past Severil.
The elves and demons fought to the death in frightening silence, except for the hollow blows and scraping sounds of claws and swords.
The sharp barbs penetrated Severil's limbs, and the claws tore through his gleaming chain mail, but he still fought hard, never letting the pain and exhaustion stop him for a moment. Side ambition.
The demon tried to grab Severil's sleeve with a claw-like hand and then pushed it towards him, so that it could drive through him like nails in the bed board.
But Severil turned sideways, shook off the monster's claws at the same time, shouted a fatal spell at the last moment, and grabbed the monster's arm tightly with his free hand.
Golden light burst out at the sword mage's touch, burning his opponent's arm into useless charcoal.
Just as the demon retreated with a low gasp, its grip on Severil loosened.
It crouched down and began to twist its body, dancing its tail with terrifying spikes around it in a whistling wind that could crack rocks.
Severil jumped over the demon's attack, and with a smooth movement, he penetrated the monster's throat with a thin-edged sword, which was a foot deep.
The demon drove him back with a flurry of lashes and thrusts, but black blood surged from his mouth and flowed between his yellow fangs.
It staggered two steps toward Severil, but its flaming green eyes turned gray, and then fell to the floor and poured into a small pool of dirty rotten liquid on its body.
Severil aimed carefully at the opponent and pierced it with another thrust.
Then he took a few steps back and waited for the corpse to disappear - the summoned monsters always did this.
But nothing happened.
At the place where he fell, the body of this lackey of the abyss turned into a pool of filthy pus and blood.
"It was not summoned?" he whispered in shock.
This thing was not summoned to the material world by a spell. It must have voluntarily passed through some kind of passage connecting the planes where it is located.
It truly exists in this world.
An ominous sign.
Is the appearance of this monster in the world the work of demon elves, or is it some other dangerous existence that intends to thwart Severil and his elves?
No matter what the answer is, this is all the clues he can find in the ruins of Movelier Manor.
Who stole the ancient moon blade? What is the relationship between humans and this matter? There is no answer here.
Exhausted and depressed, Severil shook off the rancid blood on the blade, turned around and walked up the stairs, returning to the warmth of midsummer.
………………
Severil returned to camp an hour before sunset.
This is a pleasant place, a forest glade under the shade of leaves, only a stone's throw from the sound of the River Riven. Twenty elven warriors under Severil's command are here. Patrol.
"Lord Severil is back!" A clear voice called.
Severil looked up and saw the moon elf ranger Andariel standing on a boulder overlooking the camp, raising his bow in greeting.
Andalil, who was born in the city of Illanse, is young and impulsive. He admires Severil's noble origin and personal achievements, and is so serious about it that Severil can't bear it sometimes. He always doubted whether he was deliberately mocking him, but he never found the slightest hint of sarcasm or ridicule in the young elf's true feelings.
Severil waved in response to Andariel's greetings and walked towards his temporary residence that doubled as a lounge and command room.
The other two elves have been waiting here for a long time: Selina - another moon elf priest, and the golden elf mage Triandion - possibly Severil among the entire elves participating in the Holy War. The closest and truest friend.
Triandion has a thin, pointed goatee of smooth golden whiskers, which is unusual for an elf.
The cold attitude, shining green eyes, and beard make him look sharp and sinister.
The mage glanced at Severil and raised his eyebrows, "What's wrong with you?"
"I met a demon at the ruins of Movelier Manor."
"Devil?" Selina said sharply, putting the feathered arrow on the ground, "Your Excellency Seo Shelin, Are you injured?"
"It's nothing serious," Severil said, turning his attention back to Triandian, "I solved it, but its body didn't disappear. It wasn't summoned."
"The demon spirit must be controlling some kind of portal, or maybe this monster is one of the demons trapped in Hellgate Keep. Wandering in the ruins." Triandian's brows raised even higher, "Do you know what kind of monster it is?"
"It's half a foot taller than a tall elf. The strong, pale ram has a huge curved horn on its head, no wings, but a snake-like tail with a twisted metal spine at the end."
"That is the Brazu Demon, sometimes called the Goat Rotten Demon." The mean-faced golden elf looked at Severil more carefully, "You are very lucky to come back after this battle, Severil."< br>
Severil shrugged his shoulders and made no comment. Priest Selina took out a slender poplar wand from her belt, knelt down next to him, and murmured a healing prayer.
The sword mage flinched slightly when the holes, bruises and bruises were stimulated again, but the pain of all the wounds quickly disappeared under the soothing magic of the moon elf.
He took a deep breath and nodded gratefully to her.
"What is the devil doing at Movillier Manor?" she asked, withdrawing her wand.
"The house is now in ruins." Severil replied sadly:
"It has been looted, the protective magic has been broken, and even the cellars below have been looted. My mother's Kinsmen were robbed and abandoned in their sleep, and thieves even stole the Moonblade of Movilir, which had lain dormant for hundreds of years. There is nothing there now."
"I. Growing up there, it was only fifty summers away from it, but seeing its current appearance, we would mistakenly think that the children of Avandor had left this land for dozens of centuries, not decades. "
"Who committed such atrocities?" Moon Elf Selina asked loudly.
"Some people bear this emblem." Severil stretched out his hand to show the pendant of the galloping horse to the other two people. "I found it on the bones of a dead human in the house."< br>
"I recognize this mark," Triandian said. "It hangs on the tavern in a human village called Green Valley Village."
Severil narrowed down the list of owners of the pendant, And stuffed it back into her coat, "I know."
Selina sighed and shook her head, softly trying to persuade the sad sword mage, "Severil, how long have the bones been there? How long ago was your family home invaded? Maybe ten years? Twenty years? Or even fifty years? The humans living in Green Valley Village may not have anything to do with it. Nothing impulsive happened."
"For their own good, I hope so." Severil stood up and looked at the setting sun, "Our spies found nothing valuable this afternoon. Information?"
"No, everything is fine."
Triandian replied, he hesitated for a moment, and then said: "But the envoy we sent to Silvermoon City has returned."
Severil's expression changed and he looked at his mean expression. Dear friend, "Is the master of Silvermoon City willing to help us take back Ilanthe City?"
He is the prince of the Silver Song family, and his father is the ruler of Illanthe City, but between the two Months ago, a small number of elven families jointly launched a coup and killed his father.
Elves are a peace-loving race.
The city of Ellanthe in the High Forest was once built to commemorate Karsus, a great arcanist in the Netherese Empire in ancient times. It was once reduced to ruins.
It was his ancestors who united with the moon elves, wood elves and gold elves of the High Forest to rebuild this peaceful city dominated by elves.
However, as the Silver Song family lost control of Illanse City, countless elven civilians were massacred and had to take refuge in Silver Moon City.
This made him realize that everything behind this was pointing to a conspiracy woven by some evil beings.
He must take advantage of the Everjum Island expeditionary force's arrival in the High Forest to recapture the peaceful city that belongs to his Yinge family.
The prerequisite for doing all this is to get the support of the Silver Moon Alliance.
"Not ideal." Triandian stroked his goat's golden beard and said to him, "Strictly speaking, we have not met the Lord of Silveryue City at all."
"What do you mean? "Severil looked at him puzzled.
He has recently returned to the surface from Bullingdon Stone City in the Underdark, so he is very unfamiliar with everything around him.
“Silvermoon City has yet to elect a true leader.”
The Moon Elf Priest said helplessly, “With the death of the former lord, High Lady Alustriel, it would have been most appropriate. The successor is Mesrama, the son of the Supreme Lady, and this is indeed the case. Mesrama has always been a councilor of the Lords Alliance and the de facto leader of Silvermoon City."
"Sorry, can you talk about the key points?" Severil looked at Selina apologetically.
“Ms. Valamalandis, the Silver Moon Dragon Queen, the guardian of the North, believes that Methrama is too straightforward and sincere to be qualified as a leader.” Triandian told him , "Ms. Verama Landis has found a more suitable candidate."
"Since the Silver Moon Dragon Queen has interfered with the management of Silver Moon City, why has the position of City Lord not been confirmed yet. "Severil looked at the two of them in confusion.
Silver Moon Dragon Queen Ms. Valamalandis is an ancient golden dragon. Together with her husband, 'Silver Wing' Diszero Rodton, an ancient silver dragon, they call themselves: Guardians of the North. .
This dragon couple, who have always lived in legend, silently guard the Northland, and often appoint agents and city lords they think are suitable.
Now that Lady Valamarandais has denied the identity of the leader of the Sons of Alustriel and found a new agent, this should be a very smooth thing.
"The agent Ms. Veramalandis found is not willing to assume the position of city lord." Selina sighed slightly, "So, Silvermoon City is trapped in this situation."
"I have found out the cause of the problem." Triandian frowned and said:
"The agent found by the Silver Moon Dragon Queen is a psychic. It seems that She is an elf from other material worlds. The main reason why she did not want to take up the position of city leader was because she got separated from one of her companions during her journey through the star world. She had no intention of doing so until she found this companion. "Manage anything."
"I have seen this psychic," Selina said. "Ms. Willama Landis talked to me personally and asked all the elves in the Supreme Forest to support her. Serve as the Lord of Silvermoon City. In this case, the humans and dwarves from Icewind Valley, Mirabar, Mithril Hall and Sandaba, these staunch supporters of Mesrama, will not raise objections."< br>
"If she serves as the leader of Silvermoon City, with the support of the Silver Alliance, it will be relatively easy for our expeditionary force from Evermeet Island to conquer the territory of the High Forest and recapture the city of Ellanthe." Triandian said calmly.
"Is there any news about this psion's companion?" Severil nodded slightly, agreed with his best friend's statement, and looked at him with doubtful eyes.
“It’s not clear yet.”
Triandian frowned again, “His Excellency ‘Silver Wing’ Diszero Rodton has gone to the Eno Oak Desert. Searching everywhere, and we also used the power of Yongju Island to help them search through Cormanthor's expeditionary force."
"What is the name of her companion? What are his distinguishing features? Severil nodded thoughtfully and asked curiously.
"He is a male half-elf war mage and a psychic who possesses psychic power. His name is Brian..." Moon Elf Priest Selina answered in a rather skilled tone.
………………
(End of this chapter)