A platinum phoenix and a golden figure confronted each other in the void. The gaze of the Lord of Humanity was filled with contempt and disdain, while the Phoenix Lord was haughty and dismissive.
In some sense, the Emperor could indeed be considered a junior compared to Asuryan. No one knew the Emperor's exact age, but it certainly didn't exceed 50,000 years. In contrast, Asuryan's age could be measured in the millions, as he hailed from the same era as the Old Ones. When Asuryan and the Old Ones conversed, the Emperor was yet to exist.
Moreover, during Asuryan's prime, he was far stronger than the Emperor—significantly so. During the Eldar Empire's Heaven War, Asuryan had the power to align nine stars and detonate a supernova, severely wounding the C'tan Nightbringer. This was a feat the Emperor could only dream of. Only those who had truly faced the C'tan could understand the vastness of its power.
However, those days were long past. Now, Asuryan was but a shadow of his former self. The current Phoenix Lord could no longer match the Emperor's strength.
Yet, even in his diminished state, Asuryan remained a God of Gods, and his true power remained unknown. As the Creator God, Asuryan undoubtedly had hidden reserves of strength and cards yet to play. Furthermore, this was Asuryan's domain. Just as the Emperor would never lose to a Daemon Prince within the light of the Astronomican, Asuryan's power was unparalleled in his own realm. The Emperor understood that if a battle broke out here, he might not be able to win—and could even lose to Asuryan. Were it not for the significance of Ryan and Fugen's mission, he would not have revealed himself.
Likewise, Asuryan's cold, emotionless eyes, hidden behind his black-and-white mask, watched the Emperor with uncertainty. Here, in his own domain, Asuryan feared nothing. However, if he truly opposed the Lord of Humanity, it would mean Asuryan could never again leave his domain. While Asuryan had not left his Phoenix Pyramid since Aenarion's death, the difference between choosing not to leave and being trapped was profound.
For a moment, they faced each other in the void, neither able to overpower the other, neither choosing to strike first.
The Emperor's icy gaze lingered on the Phoenix Lord. Seeing that Asuryan had no intention of attacking, the Lord of Humanity understood his hesitation. His voice was colder than the harshest winter, and even the Phoenix Fire trembled at its sound: "χωμιαπρταση."
Asuryan remained silent for a long time. His Phoenix Fire flickered unsteadily as they continued to stand off in the void.
Finally, he gave his answer—without words.
Ryan and Fugen both felt the icy gaze upon them, causing a brief moment of pause and hesitation. To Phoenix King Finubar, this could be excused as country bumpkins being awestruck by the grandeur of the royal court.
The furniture in the Phoenix King's audience chamber was crafted from imported Cathayan sandalwood, intricately carved with ancient stories and exquisite patterns. While the decorations seemed simple and unremarkable, their deeper meanings were beyond the grasp of such a superficial race as humans. When the Elves, led by Aenarion, had fought the Daemons of Chaos in a war that defined their civilization, humanity had still been swinging from trees, plucking fruit to eat.
But Finubar was not a harsh or arrogant Phoenix King. In fact, he was known for his tolerance and affability. When a servant approached to point out the humans' apparent rudeness, Finubar waved them off, signaling the White Lion Captain Korhil to prepare some cakes and fruit.
Suria noticed Ryan's silence and chose not to speak herself. Instead, she directed her attention to the tapestries lining the walls, which depicted the great deeds of the Elven ancestors. The windows were inlaid with crystal, and thick curtains blocked out most of the view outside. Suria then focused on the embroidered silk curtains, noticing a small inscription in one corner.
"Made in Nuln."
She suppressed a smile. The prosperity of the High Elven economy was indeed due, in large part, to trade with the rest of the world. Naturally, Emilia's Nuln, the largest industrial center of the Empire, was heavily involved in this trade.
Ryan and Fugen's moment of distraction lasted only a few seconds before that strange feeling vanished. Fugen maintained his graceful demeanor, greeting Finubar with impeccable etiquette. He smiled but remained silent, knowing his Eltharin (High Elf language) wasn't particularly good. Moreover, Fugen wasn't the protagonist here—not in the eyes of the High Elves, at least.
Tyrion observed Ryan and Fugen, nodding slightly in approval. These two human leaders clearly understood the depth and strength of the High Elves. However, Teclis frowned. He knew Ryan well enough to suspect that he had realized something.
Ryan had also gathered his thoughts. His eyes were now focused on Finubar—the great Sea King. The first half of Finubar's life had been nothing short of legendary. His voyages spanned the entire world, and he had single-handedly opened trade routes across the Old World. Upon returning to Lothern, he became Phoenix King.
But after that, Finubar's exploits had abruptly ended. He had become a king who never left the Phoenix Court, silently governing Ulthuan from within.
Finubar was tall and imposing, with long golden hair and a finely crafted longsword at his waist. His face, however, was unusually small for his frame, and while his gaze was sharp, it lacked any hint of aggression. He wore a simple robe of Cathayan silk, embroidered with minimalist designs that fell to the floor.
The seemingly simple patterns on his robe were, in fact, intricate works of Cathayan embroidery. Upon closer inspection, one would find that the overlapping designs created the illusion of a single phoenix motif.
The initial exchange of pleasantries passed without incident—diplomatic formalities that need not be elaborated on.
After the customary greetings, both parties sat down, and the conversation became more relaxed.
"King Ryan, welcome to Ulthuan," Finubar began, his voice deep and slightly hoarse—a likely result of his years of sailing. Despite this, his appearance remained youthful and friendly. "It seems you're quite interested in the decor of the royal court. Please, sit."
"No, what interests me more is the power surrounding you, Your Majesty," Ryan said as he took a seat, pulling Suria down with him. He eyed the Phoenix King with curiosity. "You seem to possess a unique power."
"I'm not sure what you're referring to, King Ryan. If I had such power, I'd hope to put it to good use. And if I don't, I'd certainly wish I had it. Otherwise, we might not be meeting here but out at sea," Finubar chuckled like an old sea captain. "I can guess what you're implying, but I can't tell you—unless I'm dead."
"That power has changed you," Ryan smiled. "Just as the Lady's power changed me."
"Similar, but not the same. The Lady's Grail grants you long life and strength, while for me... it's quite different," Finubar nodded. "Asuryan's Phoenix Fire transformed me, gifting me some knowledge—arcane, elusive knowledge. Nothing more."
"Knowledge is power," Ryan responded with a grin. "Cherish it."
"I would like to, but it seems I've misplaced the key. Before, I would lose to Korhil in strategy games all the time, and after the change... I still do, quite often," Finubar chuckled. "And I've lost a fair bit of gold in the process."
"But you possess all of Ulthuan's wealth."
"That wealth belongs to its rightful owners. I, however, have earned their trust."
"Trust is more valuable than wealth."
"I hope so. I often remind myself how hard it was to earn."
"Trust takes a long time to build, but only one mistake to destroy."
"And no one knows when that one mistake will happen. The next time? This time? Or the last time?"
"If mishandled, it could be every time."
Their conversation was peculiar, yet both kings were thoroughly engaged, not allowing anyone else a chance to interject. Back and forth, they exchanged words, the conversation flowing naturally.
The White Lion Guards soon returned with a variety of cakes and fruit. Fugen and Suria noticed that the fruit selection was particularly... specific: large bunches of bananas and enormous slices of watermelon. It seemed the High Elves believed humans had a special fondness for these two fruits.
The food was not immediately served. The Elven maids and servants first tasted it to ensure it wasn't poisoned.
Ryan recalled Lileath's words: over thousands of years, there had been countless attempts to assassinate the Phoenix Kings. Most had failed, but there had been successes—like the poet-king Aethis, who was slain by poison. Because of this, the protection of the Phoenix King had become the top priority within the court, especially for those who weren't skilled in combat, like Finubar. No one trusted Finubar to defend himself. The White Lion Guards never stood more than a few paces from him, and they watched all directions closely. Even with such precautions, Finubar faced at least one assassination attempt every year.
And every attempt was always attributed to either the Witch King Malekith or a Slaanesh cultist conspiracy.
But today, after hearing Finubar's words, Ryan began to wonder—
perhaps not all the assassinations were the work of Malekith or Chaos.
Every Phoenix King had their share of enemies, but Finubar's situation was particularly precarious. A mere seafarer, lacking in martial prowess, military acumen, and magical talent, had been chosen to lead Ulthuan. While most acknowledged the need for a king with deep knowledge of the world beyond Ulthuan, Finubar's rule remained controversial.
Suria crossed her legs, clad in black silk stockings, fully understanding Finubar's high-level diplomatic tactics. He was using this opportunity to reinforce his royal authority and influence. The combined threat of the Undead Pirates and Dark Elves had, for the moment, paused Ulthuan's usual internal strife, and Finubar was quick to seize this chance. He seemed to be conveying something to Ryan, but Ryan deftly deflected the message.
Fugen remained silent, watching his brother's performance as if it were a stage play—one that reminded him of his own interactions with Horus. The Ash Legion's Primarch decided not to speak, quietly peeling a banana and taking a bite. As he did, a distinct "crunch" sound echoed through the room as he snapped the fruit in half.
The noise caused every male Elf in the room to wince involuntarily, even the fearless Tyrion felt a chill pass between his legs. Teclis realized the sound carried a subtle, magical property, penetrating the minds of everyone present and creating a strong psychological effect.
The Archmage shook his head, marveling at the mysterious powers of Ryan's demigod siblings. His gaze shifted toward Finubar.
The conversation between the Phoenix King and the Knight King was becoming a bit too much.
At times, Teclis found himself agreeing with certain members of the War Council—that Finubar, as Phoenix King, should simply serve as a figurehead, leaving matters of state to the War Council, the Mage Council, or the Everqueen. He exchanged a glance with Tyrion, subtly signaling one of the courtiers behind him.
It was clear Finubar wanted to continue speaking with Ryan, but a courtier had no choice but to intervene, reminding him that it was inappropriate to spend so much time entertaining humans—even if one was a king. There was no need to spend more time on diplomacy with these lesser races; they were here to help in the war, and that was all that mattered. The Phoenix King had more important matters to attend to.
A flicker of annoyance crossed Finubar's face, but he quickly composed himself. Only those sitting directly across from him—Ryan, Suria, and Fugen—noticed. Finubar's hand moved to the hilt of his sword, a gesture that felt out of place in a room filled with warriors of such high rank. The White Lion Guards immediately closed in, not trusting their king's ability to defend himself. With a sigh, Finubar conceded, "Forgive me, but I must take my leave."
"No problem at all, Your Majesty," Ryan replied with a slight hint of regret. Finubar had a magnetic quality, a strong charm that made conversations with him feel relaxed and unguarded. Ryan now understood how Finubar had navigated so many international relationships with ease.
"But before I go, I have a gift for you," Finubar gestured for a servant to bring forward a velvet-lined tray. Upon it were three ornate phoenix brooches. "Normally, visitors are confined to the foreign district, but you and Lord Fugen are our honored guests. These phoenix brooches represent our friendship. While wearing them, you are free to explore Lothern beyond the foreign quarter."
"Thank you." Ryan accepted the brooches, then asked another question, "What about our plans for joint military operations?"
"I've delegated full authority on that matter to my appointed War Leader, Tyrion, and the War Council," Finubar replied, gesturing toward Tyrion. The War Leader stepped forward. "As for military strategy, we will hold further discussions. The Dark Elves and Undead Pirates pose a serious threat, and we must prepare accordingly. Once we've finalized our battle plans, you will be informed immediately."
Informed, not consulted. Ryan remained expressionless. "Understood. Thank you."
"And one last thing." Finubar ignored the impatient glances from the courtiers as he summoned another servant. "During your stay, I hope you'll take the time to enjoy the beautiful sights of Lothern. This is Arsena the Scholar, a trusted courtier of mine. He'll accompany you and assist with anything you need. He'll also ensure you're aware of any local customs or restrictions. I wish you a pleasant stay."
"It is an honor to serve, King Ryan, Queen Suria, Lord Fugen. You may call me Arsena," said the elf, dressed in fine High Elf noble attire. "Please, follow me."
With that, Ryan and his group left the Phoenix Court.
As they walked back, Ryan leaned in and whispered to Suria, "He reminds me of someone."
"Who?" Suria pondered. "Richard?"
"Yes," Ryan nodded. "They share similar struggles."
"We should be careful not to get involved in the politics of the High Elves, my dear," Suria quietly warned. "It would do us more harm than good."
"I understand."
Meanwhile, deep within a small palace in a hidden district of Lothern…
"The monkey armies of the humans have arrived in Lothern, and based on the reports, these monkeys are quite formidable!"
"We must report this to the Witch King and the Witch Queen immediately!"
"Dispatch agents to keep them under surveillance!"
"Yes, sir!"
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