The first sight emerging from the horizon was the towering Glittering Tower, a fortress-like lighthouse standing over a hundred meters tall. Situated on a rocky island at the narrow entrance of the sea, this monumental structure housed thousands of lights, illuminating all the sea routes leading to Lothern.
This epic fortification guarded the Sea Gate of Emerald Gate. Any enemy approaching would be struck down by the multitude of weapons embedded within the tower. Its sheer presence was enough to repel even the most frenzied assaults.
After passing the Glittering Tower, the next stop was the massive Emerald Gate, towering several stories high. Under the guidance of High Elf navigators, the fleet was granted passage through.
With Teclis and the others now having returned to Tyrion's fleet, there were no High Elves left aboard the Enterprise. This was when Olica finally came out. She was dressed in a black-and-white lace maid outfit, with a pristine white headpiece adorning her head. She silently gazed at the Lothern Sea Gate, a melancholic air about her. Ryan and Suria walked up behind her. Seeing Olica's sorrowful expression, Suria sighed softly, wanting to say something but refraining. Ryan, however, gently embraced his maid from behind. "Olica?"
"Master, look." The Dark Elf closed her eyes for a moment, leaning against Ryan's chest before reopening them. "Look, the gigantic statues at the gates of Lothern."
Ryan focused his gaze.
Just before the gates of Lothern stood dozens of colossal statues of the Elven gods, towering over a hundred meters tall, each carved from the ancient elven empire. These depictions were crafted in times when the gods still walked among the Elves, before they were bound by Asuryan's restrictions.
Each Elven god was represented, even Kurnous, the god of the hunt, depicted with a deer's head.
Only Asuryan, the Phoenix King of the gods, the most ancient and majestic, the Creator and Giver of Life, was portrayed with a mask on his face. The mask was half black, half white, symbolizing his role as the divine balancer of all things. Clad in feathers of pure white and holding a scepter, Asuryan sat in perfect stillness, unmoving. He had never answered any prayers nor involved himself in the affairs of the Elves. According to Lileath, Asuryan rarely even spoke to other gods, let alone mortals.
Lileath had once told Ryan that even she had never been able to get close to Asuryan. The Phoenix Lord always sat atop his diamond throne within his golden pyramid, coldly observing the world. No mortal had ever laid eyes on him, and even the gods had only met him a handful of times.
Asuryan had once shared a consort with Khaine, the goddess Hekarti, but she perished during the Fall of the Eldar.
Lileath had also told Ryan that Asuryan was a hermaphrodite—a being without gender. As the god of gods and the Creator, Asuryan had no gender and no mortal desires. Olica confirmed this, adding that the only time Asuryan had ever shown any emotion was when Khaine, the god of bloodshed, attempted to usurp his dominance over the Elves.
For context, Khaine was Asuryan's brother and had fought several battles with Kurnous over the Elven mother goddess, Isha. Khaine also harbored a deep love for Lileath.
A hermaphrodite? Ryan couldn't help but find this detail bizarre.
Ryan then shifted his attention to other familiar gods like Kurnous, Isha, Hoeth, and Vaul. When he spotted Lileath's statue, it resembled the Lady of the Lake, though the Elven version had a more youthful appearance, with moon-white hair and angelic wings.
"Many of these gods have already been consumed by Malagor," Olica murmured sadly, still leaning against Ryan. "They've been forever corrupted by Chaos."
Ryan nodded, recalling how Lileath and Araloth had spoken of this. The Beastmen's Lord of the End Times, Malagor, had proven to be a bane to the Elven gods. Time and again, Malagor had devoured the physical manifestations of the Elven deities in Athel Loren. Every god consumed by him would never return or be reborn. The Wood Elves had suffered heavy losses and paid an immense price every time they fought Malagor, but the beast could resurrect endlessly. Yet the damage it caused to Athel Loren was irreparable.
After more than a dozen battles with Malagor, the Wood Elves were on the brink of exhaustion. Even when Araloth managed to kill Malagor in the Arden Forest, it had only bought Athel Loren a brief respite—perhaps twenty years at most.
Ryan's gaze lingered on the statue of Khaine, the god of bloodshed. Khaine stood tall, clad in full bronze armor, his expression twisted in rage as he wielded two serrated blades, from which blood perpetually dripped. The reasons behind this were long and complex, but to summarize, Khaine's thirst for blood and slaughter knew no end. Over time, this insatiable desire grew, until his worshipers could no longer satisfy him. At that point, Khaine would abandon them. His lust for women was equally boundless, with the Dark Elves annually selecting maids to offer him, only a few of whom survived to join the Brides of Khaine.
Though the High Elves still venerated Khaine, it was only to a limited extent. Prayers to him were reserved strictly for war, and all other forms of worship were strictly forbidden.
As they passed through the Emerald Gate, the capital of the High Elves, Lothern, came into view.
What a breathtaking city it was!
Hundreds of spires shot up into the sky, each several meters high, adorned with countless elegant Elven banners waving in the wind, stretching as far as the eye could see. Trade ships from all over the world were docked in the harbor—ships from the Old World, Araby, and even far-off lands like Ind, Nippon, and Cathay. The labyrinthine waterways crisscrossed the city, bustling with activity, while legions of High Elf soldiers stood vigilant. Giant sea walls rose to block the tides and even the sunlight, casting long shadows over Ryan and his companions. In the center of the harbor, on an island-sized platform, stood the massive statue of Aenarion, gazing serenely over Ulthuan, the land he saved with his life, and the Phoenix Empire that flourished in his wake.
Behind him stood statues of every Phoenix King, each one lifelike: Bel-Shanaar, the great king of the Elven empire; Caledor I, his successor; the reckless Caledor II; the ruthless Tethlis... and finally, the current Phoenix King, the tall and dignified yet unexpectedly approachable Finubar.
The waterways were jammed with merchant ships, leaving no room to navigate. Tyrion ordered the Lothern Sea Guard to clear the routes, instructing the ironclads to wait. Ryan and the others had no choice but to stand on the deck and observe the bustling harbor. Most of them were utterly awestruck by Lothern's wealth and prosperity. This magnificent city and its great harbor were a hub for the world's goods and a welcoming point for visitors from every corner of the globe.
"Master, Lady, look over there!" Olica pointed to a cluster of islands in the western part of Lothern's inner sea. The islands were surrounded by sea walls, drawbridges, and large fortresses, glittering with gold and bustling with people. "That's the Foreign Quarter!"
"Is that where we'll be staying?" Ryan asked, surveying the sizable island cluster, which seemed to cover several square kilometers.
"Yes, that's the area designated for foreigners. It used to be just a small fishing village outside Lothern's docks, but now the population of humans there surpasses the local Elves. More than 100,000 people live in that ten-square-kilometer space." Olica's melancholy had faded, and she spoke with renewed interest. "Humans breed faster than anyone, second only to Skaven and Greenskins."
"Here, humans trade in Dwarven goods, gold, silver, gems, furs, herbs, grains, books, and other goods with the Elves," Suria added, reading from a guidebook titled The Ulthuan Trade Guide. "This foreign quarter is the only part of the city where outsiders can live and walk freely without special permission from the Phoenix King or his representatives."
The first-time visitors marveled at the splendor of the High Elves' homeland. The beautiful, noble city opened its doors to them, leaving them in awe.
After over an hour of waiting, the path was finally cleared, and the ironclads began docking. Gigantic gangways were extended from the luxurious deep-water docks to the ships. Lothern boasted hundreds of such ports, and all were filled with ships. Yet the arrival of the ironclads still astonished the onlookers, some of whom even prepared for battle—until they realized the arrivals were human… and Dwarves.
However, the appearance of Korhil, the captain of the Phoenix King's personal White Lion Guard, put everyone at ease. Korhil stood in full ceremonial regalia, flanked by his trusted warriors. These champions from Chrace had proven their loyalty and skill countless times, showing they were the Phoenix King's most reliable protect
ors and companions. If Korhil was here, it meant that while the arrivals might not be friends, they were certainly not enemies.
"On behalf of His Majesty, Phoenix King Finubar, I welcome you all, especially King Ryan Macador, Queen Suria-Coumaine-Antaire de Winford, and Lord Fugen of the Ash Legion," Korhil said, his deep voice carrying over the gathered crowd. He was a towering figure, dressed in formal court attire with a lion-skin cloak draped over his shoulders. Two massive axes hung at his waist, reminiscent of Angron's pair of weapons. There was no doubt—this was a seasoned warrior of the highest caliber.
Ryan could sense the hostility in Korhil's tone, especially toward the Dwarves behind him and Olica, who stood smiling behind Ryan.
Dwarves and Dark Elves—the two things High Elves despised the most.
"Thank you, we are honored," Ryan replied, aware of Korhil's animosity. He was just grateful Korhil didn't understand what the Dwarves were muttering, or else it might have sparked another War of the Beards.
"Oh, boy, these Elves are loaded! How much do you think we'd loot if we blew this place up?"
"We should turn every Elven palace upside down until we've wiped our grudges clean!"
"Ugh, I can't wait. By Grimnir, how much of our wealth did we leave behind in this cursed land?"
"Shh, keep quiet. The pointy ears are watching us."
The Dwarves finally fell silent, and Ryan introduced Olica to Korhil. "This is my maid, Olica, whom I purchased from the Marienburg slave market. The Marienburg embassy can verify this."
"Let's hope that's true, King Ryan," Korhil replied curtly. After a moment's hesitation, he added, "Have her remain here. You, Queen Suria, and Lord Fugen may follow me. His Majesty has been awaiting your arrival in the Phoenix Court."
Ryan nodded, and the three followed Korhil, while the rest were escorted to the Foreign Quarter to settle in.
Everything seemed to be proceeding smoothly, until the High Elven band began playing music to welcome Ryan and his companions. The finely dressed Elven musicians lightly tapped their drums and blew their trumpets, as the choir started singing the welcoming song.
The lead singer opened his mouth and, in a bright voice, sang:
"Doodle urbem vectus venit simia elephantus!"
"Pluma in hat et vocavit illud, et adhsit COLLYRA!"
…
Ryan's face turned dark. This song…
Fugen and Suria's expressions also soured, while Teclis could only shake his head. He knew Tyrion far too well—this was just the first of many subtle jabs to come.
Tyrion, meanwhile, was feeling quite pleased with himself. He observed the reactions of Ryan and his companions, testing their patience and cultural sensitivity. Tyrion knew that if they were wise and cultured enough, they would endure this. If they could, then cooperation could proceed. After all, in an alliance, both sides had to make concessions.
The Asur had already stepped back considerably—now it was time for the humans to show their sincerity.
When the song ended, Tyrion approached with a smile. "So, King Ryan, Lord Fugen, how was it? Did you enjoy the song?"
Ryan stifled his laughter. In this situation, saying the song was beautiful would be wrong, but saying it wasn't would also be wrong. Tyrion was clearly trying to give them a hard time.
"Of course, it was quite pleasant," Ryan said with a raised hand, signaling for things to proceed. As they continued following Korhil, he added, "A lovely tune. I imagine the Asur were singing it as they sailed away from the Old World?"
Now it was the High Elves' turn to frown.
"Please, enter. His Majesty awaits you inside," Korhil said, blocking their path with a raised axe. "But before you go any further, you must leave your weapons behind. It is forbidden to carry arms before the Phoenix King."
Ryan and the others complied, handing over their weapons before entering the grand reception hall.
The Phoenix King stood before his diamond throne.
"Welcome, far-traveled King of Knights," Finubar said.
Ryan was about to respond when suddenly, a cold gaze fell upon him. It wasn't filled with malice, but neither was it friendly. The presence that watched them through Finubar's eyes was not of this world. It scrutinized both Ryan and Fugen, impassive and detached.
Something—or someone—was using Finubar as a vessel to observe them.
In the realm of the gods, a platinum phoenix formed of heavenly fire stood against a brilliant golden figure.
"The Lord of Men, hmm? Civilizations like yours, the Eldar Empire has destroyed countless times before! Do you wish to be next?"
"Asuryan, it seems you've learned nothing from the Fall of the Eldar!"
"You dare to lecture me, young one? You are not yet qualified."
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