Готовый перевод История Королевы Эльфов / The story of the Elf Queen: 3. Глава третья. Первые шаги Героя Королевы Эльфов

Chapter Three. First Steps of the Hero of the Elf Queen

* * *

After rereading his status, Cyril mentally hid it and turned his attention to the elf queen and the rest of the firstborn gathered in the office. They were all looking at him intently, waiting patiently for him to finish. No one even tried to hurry the young man along. A little embarrassed that such important people, or rather elves, had to wait for him to read what the System had given him, Cyril coughed and tried to say in as solid and calm a voice as possible:

"I apologize, honored ones, I have been studying what the System has bestowed upon me."

The queen again smiled faintly with the corners of her lips and nodded just as faintly:

"We understand you, honorable Cyril, so we did not rush you. Now that you have finished, may I ask how you are feeling?"

"All in order, thank you, honorable Sivila. I am literally full of new energy and feel just fine."

The elves exchanged brief glances, after which the queen asked politely:

"In that case, if you're not tired and feeling well, I suggest we take care of your personal safety right now, Honorable Cyril."

"Uh... Okay. But you said I was perfectly safe here, didn't you?"

A smile tugged at the corners of Sivila's lips, and her expression became caring and involved. It was like a patient mother explaining something obvious to a small child:

"You must understand that security is never perfect, honorable Cyril. And in your case, especially. Yes, we are making every effort to protect you. Mirael."

At the queen's request, the chief local sorceress looked at Kirill, and her gray eyes flashed with fire for a moment. In the same second, he felt his body enveloped on all sides by both dense and barely perceptible warmth. And after a moment Kirill saw with his eyes how he was surrounded by a faint glow, covering naturally his whole body. The knowledge received from the system suggested that it was a variant of a magical barrier. No, it was more like a field. A constant, and very dense, surrounding him entirely. But underneath it, if you looked closely and strained hard enough, you could see, but feel, a thin but very strong barrier covering him like a second skin. Satisfied with the effect produced, the queen continued with a charming smile, which quite beautifully colored her powerful face:

"As soon as we realized who we found in the Master's lair, we immediately took the most serious measures to protect you, Cyril. The best specialists in the Forest were involved, and the most powerful artifacts were used. I won't disclose the details, I'll only say that you are continuously guarded by three separate complexes of protective stationary artifacts. And this is not counting the protection of the palace premises we are in, as well as the enchantments on your clothes."

"Wow,” Cyril managed to squeeze out.

He closed his eyes and tried to listen to himself. Unfortunately, only a two in Sensitivity did not allow him to feel the magic of others. Until the head (or is it senior?) sorceress Mirael literally lit up his defenses, he hadn't even been aware of it. Though even if he had put all the characteristic points into the Sensitivity and brought it up to ten, he would hardly have noticed anything. After all, no one could be made the chief mage of an entire kingdom. Although, maybe she “ sucked up” her position.....

Frightened by his thought (or what if they could read his mind too!), Cyril hurriedly asked:

"Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but wouldn't such a defense be enough?"

The queen shook her head slightly and replied in an equally polite voice:

"Certainly not, honorable Cyril. Such a defense is not sufficient in your case. We have explained to you where we found you, and in whose hands you were. Do you think Master, in all the years that you have been in his power, has not prepared various ways of your elimination?"

From what he heard, Cyril naturally froze with his mouth ajar, paralyzed by a sudden conjecture. What if this creep had implanted an analog of a microbomb in his brain? Or something else like that? A vial of some kind of deadly poison or virus?! What if, uh.

"Cyril!"

The queen's calm, yet incredibly commanding voice quelled his panic and forced him to turn his gaze to her. He stared into her emerald eyes for a few seconds, then Sivila said calmly and clearly:

"There's no need to worry so much. I didn't mean to imply that you were in danger of immediate death."

Embarrassed by his own fear, which turned out to be clearly visible to everyone, the young man said, trying to make his voice firm:

"Forgive me, Honorable Sivila, but I was just wondering if this Master had placed some kind of exploding chip inside my head... I mean, a very small amulet or artifact. I'd heard that my home world had this secret technology where people had special very small artifacts placed in their brains that exploded inside their heads on command. The explosion was very weak, but it was enough. Or he could have implanted a poison capsule in my brain..."

Listening attentively to his hurried speech, the elf queen smiled with the corners of her lips for the umpteenth time and shook her head slightly:

"I can assure you, honorable Cyril, that similar methods of control or elimination exist in our world as well. I also dare to assure you that we first of all thoroughly checked you from head to toe, literally shining through your material and subtle body. The best specialists of the Forest have given me their guarantees that there is nothing of the kind in you."

In the last sentence, the queen casts a strange meaningful glance at the main sorceress and another elf, seemingly also a mage. Then she turned to Cyril and continued:

"I can also say with certainty that our healing magic is far superior to the medical capabilities of your home world. Even if you are mortally wounded, our healers have a significant chance of saving your life. But that doesn't mean we should make Master's job of eliminating you any easier. According to our analysts, it is highly likely that he has an artifact doll of yours, like the ones he used to control his slave girls. He's definitely had samples of your blood and casts of your thin bodies prepared. Probably more than one. For a good Maleficar, that's more than enough for a personalized curse."

"It's not a very cheerful arrangement," Cyril could only squeeze out.

The realization that they might not just try to kill him, but would definitely try to kill him, and with a very high chance of success, made him look at his situation differently. The elf queen continued:

"And in order to protect you from a personalized and precisely targeted strike, you need the same personalized protection. tailored to your specifics. We didn't create it while you were unconscious. And as it turns out, we did the right thing."

"What do you mean?" Cyril didn't understand.

"The power granted to you by the Soul Tablet has changed your subtle bodies very... significantly. If I had been shown the casts of your aura before and after you received the class and the distribution of characteristics, I would confidently say that they are two completely different gifted people. In the first case, we were talking about a barely awakened and just-formed magical gift. To use an analogy, before you were like a seed that had just sprouted its first stub, looking for soil and moisture. Now you are a full-fledged sprout that has taken roots and grown its first leaves. This in no small measure devalues both your past casts of subtle bodies and the defense created on their basis. Or a prepared attack."

"I see,” Cyril said slowly.

It wasn't particularly clear, but the details of whether he was a seed or already a seedling worried Cyril far less than something more specific:

"And what will you do? I mean, how will you strengthen my defenses, honorable Sivila?"

Turning to the head enchantress, the queen spoke briefly:

"The honorable Mirael, you may speak."

She nodded briefly in response and turned to Cyril.

"First of all, honorable Cyril, you need to create a lightning rod. This is the name of a special protective artifact, which should take the blow. In your case, it will be personal, and therefore much more effective. In addition, we will prepare a set of protective amulets, designed specifically for your subtle bodies...."

It took more than an hour to explain all the details and clarify a number of questions, such as the design of future amulets in the form of jewelry. Then Cyril was once again thoroughly examined with the use of various artifacts and amulets. During the examination, the elves extinguished the lamps several times, and the sorceresses examined the young man in the light of precious stones of their diadems. Then they took blood from Cyril's hand with the help of some special amulet that looked like a fantasy analog of a syringe. It was just like in a polyclinic, except it didn't hurt. But at the same time, the young man suddenly felt a part of his new strength leaving him with the blood. When the small crystal vial was filled with dark maroon liquid, Mirael healed the tiny wound with a single touch and turned to the young man:

"Honorable Cyril, I will ask you now to infuse this blood with your power as much as possible. But don't overdo it, blood is a very energetic substance. To do so, concentrate and..."

Without listening to the sorceress, Cyril stretched out his hand and formed a simple weave-bond. It was as easy and natural as if he had been doing it for years. A moment and a direct channel was created between him and the vial filled with his blood. Cyril could clearly feel his blood as if it were still a part of him. And just as clearly he could feel a part of his new power in it. The lightest effort and the energy flowed into the vial through the created channel. It was unexpectedly easy, but Cyril immediately felt his not-too-large reserve was emptying. The blood turned from dark maroon to bright scarlet and began to glow.

The system's knowledge made him realize that it was no longer just the blood of a gifted person, which was valuable in itself, but blood infused with his power to the utmost. For all sorts of vampires, the lower undead, some monsters, and practitioners of blood magic it was especially valuable. When the reserve was one-third empty, and his legs and arms suddenly became cotton, the sorceress Mirael quickly took him by the wrist, and the connection with the vial was immediately interrupted.

"Enough, honorable Cyril. That's more than enough. How are you feeling?"

Cyril, who had settled back into his chair, licked his parched lips and answered honestly:

"Okay, but my legs are a little woozy now. And my hands. Also, I can clearly feel my blood in this vial now. Can I have some water?"

The head enchantress nodded and personally handed him a glass of pure cool water:

"That's the way it's supposed to be. Blood is one of the best stores of personal energy, and very capacious. That's why it's ideal for creating artifacts for personalized curses or other magical strikes."

Carefully putting the vial away in a special case, Mirael said:

"We will begin creating a lightning rod and a personal set of protective amulets now, honorable Cyril. In the meantime, I think we should move on to the second part of your defense, the discussion of your legend."

"Legend?" The young man didn't understand, having finished greedily drinking the incredibly delicious water.

The elf queen, who was watching Cyril from her seat, explained in the same polite voice:

"The thing is, Cyril, we are the only ones who know of your existence right now, aside from your former captor. Given the threat Master poses, we've reported him to everyone we could think of. He is now being hunted down. But we haven't informed anyone about you, Cyril. I hope you understand why?" The queen looked at the young man carefully.

"Well... So that no one would want to take advantage of me the way he did,” Cyril said uncertainly.

The queen nodded affirmatively:

"That's right. Not all races have the foresight and wisdom of the elves. Many people of other races, once they heard about you, would surely try to get the power you have been given. Even if they had to dissect you on a medical bed to do so."

The image of him lying on a medical table with his chest open appeared in his mind. It was so realistic that Cyril involuntarily swallowed:

"I wouldn't want to..."

"So do we," the queen nodded. "As I told you before, the Elven folk are counting on your help in the fight against Master and hope for a mutually beneficial long-term partnership. But to gain the necessary strength and experience, even with the Soul Tablet, you will need time. And to give you that time, we must conceal your existence. To my great regret, it is impossible to hide you completely.”

For a moment, a shadow ran across the queen's face.

"For despite our best efforts, even in the Royal Palace, there are outside ears. And even though all those involved are under strict oath, it's not an absolute guarantee. Hiding you in a locked part of the palace isn't a good idea either. Not only will it complicate your training, but it will also draw unnecessary attention to you. Therefore, our analysts have come to the conclusion that the best solution is to hide you in plain sight."

Seeing the incomprehension on Cyril's face, the queen explained:

"We will pass you off as the illegitimate son of a high-ranking gifted elf and a mortal woman. According to the legend developed by our analysts, you have a real talent for magic, so your father decided to bring you to the palace for personal training. But in order to avoid scandal and publicity, you will arrive here incognito. Such a legend will not take suspicions away from you completely, but at least it will direct them in the wrong direction."

"I see... How will you disguise me? Put on an illusion? Well, I don't look much like a half-elf."

And that was putting it mildly. Cyril didn't consider himself handsome, rightly estimating his appearance as average. Well, maybe a little above average. But against the background of the elves gathered in the office, even the handsome models from the covers of glossy magazines would look pale and dreary.

A slight smile touched the queen's lips again:

"Of course not. An illusion, even the most skillful one, can still be noticed and recognized. Not to mention the fact that in your case it requires constant maintenance, which is an additional hassle and risk."

"Then how?"

The queen's smile grew wider. Just a little, but wider.

"Rely on our masters of magic, honorable Cyril. And also our masters of beauty. I assure you they will not disappoint you."

* * *

And the queen did not lie. Two servants took Cyril, a little stunned, to another neighboring room, which was a huge bathing room, combined with a local analog of a beauty salon. Like all the previous rooms, this one was the same as his own apartment in every respect. An elf, with short blond hair, impeccably white clothes, and a set of pots, vials, and jugs spread out on several tables, was already waiting for them there. After greeting Cyril politely he pointed the servants to a bathing chamber full of water, which was steaming. Still a little sluggish after the blood draw, the young man was helped to undress and get into it. As soon as he was in the hot water, Cyril felt incredibly blissful. He also felt his strength returning to him.

For a few minutes, he just soaked in the hot water, enjoying the sensations. But then Cyril realized that his strength was returning not figuratively, but literally. The reserve, which had dropped by a third after giving blood and drinking it with power, began to replenish a little faster in the bath. Turning to the elf, who was preparing some creams and ointments, the young man asked:

"It's magic, isn't it? Well, water? I can feel my strength returning faster."

Breaking away from mixing the contents of the two pots for a moment, the elf nodded briefly and replied:

"That's right. The water for most of the baths is drawn from one of the springs that originate in the part of the Underworld beneath the royal palace. It is infused with natural magic, but before the water enters the baths, it is carefully purified and, if necessary, discharged to a safe state. Too strong a concentration of natural magic can be very damaging, especially to the young gifted."

After finishing mixing the two powders, the elf added some liquid from one of the jugs.

"This particular one has been purified and processed to be as safe and neutral as possible for any gifted person. In addition, several sets of restorative herbs and natural salts have been added especially for you."

Cyril listened to the elf's last words half-heartedly. Although the reserve continued to recover steadily, an incredible bliss came over the young man, and with it drowsiness. He didn't want to do anything but lie in this hot water and rest. What a high... In his native apartment, he did not have a bathtub, only a shower cabin. Cyril was so relaxed that he did not even pay attention to the moment when two servants, also dressed in bathing attire, began to wash him in four hands. Only in the back of his mind was the thought that it would be cool if it were not men, but those pretty maids. Or maybe their bosses...

The lukewarm and thoroughly washed man, immersed in his fantasies, was carefully moved to a comfortable wooden bed covered with soft towels, where the elf in white robes took care of him. Cyril was already in a semi-conscious state, and he listened to his words but did not hear them. Apparently, the monstrous shocks and worries of the day had affected him. At some point he dozed off, feeling through his slumber how his head was being massaged and something was being done to his hair. And then some sort of facial massage, which gave him a pleasant warmth. He was literally carried to the bed in his arms, and as soon as his head touched the pillow, he fell into a deep and deep sleep...

* * *

Sivila turned to Luaval, stopping the three-dimensional image that was projected on the wall of her office with a special amulet. The dark elf stood behind her with a thoughtful expression, arms crossed over his chest, looking at the projected young human.

"What do you say?"

Turning to Sivila, he grinned crookedly and answered honestly:

"I want to kick him in the jaw with all my might. Maybe even with a running start."

Squinting, the queen asked with interest:

"Are you jealous of him?"

Luaval raised his eyebrows defiantly in response:

"Jealous? What are you talking about, Sivila? What envy? I was jealous of my cousin, who inherited from my aunt on my mother's side a magical gift and talent for creating illusions. They were incredibly easy for him and turned out to be surprisingly believable and persistent. Which he loved to use, the lucky asshole. I envied my eldest kin, a sibling on my father's side, who was the best shot and knife thrower among the young Hunters. From any position, in any direction, and always precisely on target. He was an incredibly agile and accurate little bugger."

Taking a step toward the queen and looking intently into her eyes, Luaval continued:

"I envied them. Because they were given by nature what I was not. But I could make up for it with a lot of hard training, quality equipment, or alchemy. And this,” Luaval pointed to a stopped image of a young human with illuminated thin bodies, ”is not envy, Sivila. This is. Fucking. FUCK!!!"

At the last phrase, the Dungeon Hunter snapped, and his violet eyes flashed angrily.

"In a matter of moments, he got what takes others years of labor! For no reason at all! Without making any effort, but only at the whim of some demiurge who decided to have fun! And he'll get even more!"

Exhaling heavily, Luaval managed to pull himself together and spoke in a calmer voice:

"I'm beginning to understand why our ancestors decided to make the Exodus and move to this world. I'm afraid to imagine what life is like where the likes of this human are regularly encountered."

Nodding in agreement, the queen turned to the frozen image of the isekai:

"If you're interested, you can request the archives from Third. There is a lot of quite interesting information there."

Grinning, Luaval shook his head:

"Thank you, but I have other, more important things to do."

He approached Sivila from behind and wrapped his arms around her, immediately penetrating the neckline of her dress with his palms. He pressed his thumbs to her nipples and whispered in her ear, squeezing her breasts as she threw her head back:

"I love that new dress you're wearing. It highlights your boobs. Wear it more often."

Smiling broadly, Sivila said in a satisfied voice:

"It's not new. It is just a very good reason to take out of the stock of more frank dresses than are commonly worn now. The fact is that our dear guest has a mixed view of our kind."

Gently pulling the dress down a little, Luaval released Sibyl's breasts and continued to play with them, squeezing and stroking them. At the same time, he pulled the queen closer to him and kissed her neck.

"Which one?"

With a snap of her fingers, the queen lit up another three-dimensional image. It was an elven woman, dressed in light-colored robes and with light-colored hair. Luaval frowned, forgetting even important things like the queen's tits for a moment, and took a closer look at the image:

"Is this some kind of relative of yours?"

"No, the image is taken from our guest's memory."

"Didn't you say his home world was inhabited only by humans?"

"That's true. But they have legends and tales of other races. Most likely distant echoes of one of the Conjugation Spheres. But that's not the point. It's about the fact that some of his tribesmen represent our people this way."

After assessing the image of the unknown elven woman, clearly a light branch, Luaval continued to stroke Sivila's breasts with one hand, and with his other hand slid downward, sliding his palm through the slit of the dress on the side of her stomach.

Quite authentic.

"I agree. The other part of his tribesmen, on the other hand, have a slightly different view of the firstborn...."

At the queen's click, another three-dimensional image appeared. Two, in fact. The first was of an elf, judging by her dark skin color and dark hair, a half-breed of light and dark parents. She had long, slender legs, a narrow waist, and very large breasts, the size of which could only fit the Matriarch of the House. Her attire also matched the matriarch's - not full clothes, but some purple-colored overlays that left most of her body exposed. The second image also showed an elven woman but definitely light-colored. Long golden hair, green eyes, innocent face. She was not inferior to the half-blood in shape nor in the frankness of her outfit, which was, in fact, a set of white and green ribbons that barely covered her nipples and pussy. Luaval hummed his tongue approvingly and spoke in Sivila's ear, his lips almost touching hers:

"I love their outfits. I want both, for you and for Sierra."

The dark elf accompanied his words by stroking the queen's pussy with his middle and index finger. With his other hand, he continued to caress her breasts. Sivila only snorted softly in response:

"I have a dress that looks like a light one. The last time I wore it was 40 years ago."

"I don't remember it."

"You were away with Twilight at the time."

"Oh, right. Then wear it next time you come to my house for a visit."

"I can bring it with me and change in your chambers."

"That's fine with me. So what was your point?"

"On the advice of our analysts, we decided to partially combine these two perceptions of our race. And judging by the first communication, the result was quite justified."

"You bet. That human tried his best not to stare at your tits."

"Is it only mine? I thought he was looking at Mirael, too."

"Because her dress was thinner and her nipples were more visible. But most of all, he was looking at you."

With a heavy sigh, Luaval held Sivila tighter against him, his cock in his pants against her buttocks. She placed her palm on top of his hand that continued to squeeze and stroke her breasts the queen said quietly but firmly:

"You're not allowed yet."

A groan of unbearable pain and annoyance came in response. Luaval sighed heavily and hissed:

"I know, I know."

Leaning over, he kissed Sivila's neck and whispered in her ear:

"It requires special compensation..."

To herself, the queen rolled her eyes. Who could doubt it? Out loud, however, she asked for something else:

"Any special requests?"

Smiling predatorily, Luaval replied:

"You'll know when the time is right. And don't forget to visit me and Diarval. Sierra can't do it alone."

Whereupon, with visible regret, he left the queen in peace.

"If I'm not needed anytime soon, I'll be at my house."

"You can be free for now, but be ready, I may need you at any moment."

"As always."

When the dark elf was gone and the office doors closed securely behind him, Sivila let out a weary sigh. On the one hand, Luaval could only sympathize. He's going through worse than poor Fiorel after the masquerade ball. Fortunately, Mirael and the other magic masters have confirmed that the consequences of the destruction of the Master's artifact are not critical and will pass with time. But in order to prevent the heightened sensitivity and the excessive lust tied to it from getting stronger, it was necessary to abstain from bed pleasures for a certain period of time. With a young and completely submissive wife, and the reward he was entitled to from Sivila... One could only sympathize with Luaval.

After adjusting her dress, the queen returned to her desk, her lips pressed together in frustration. The arousal caused by Luaval's caresses required release. Should she call Fiorel before it was too late? Or use Astra? It had been a while since she'd gotten her into bed, for a change... The queen's musings were interrupted by an incoming call. Quickly making sure she looked decent, Sivila awakened the artifact mirror. After a moment, Third reflected on it. The current head of the Secret Guard looked completely unperturbed as always. But Sivila, who knew him well, could see in his eyes how tired he was over the past few days.

"Greetings,” he got straight to the point, ”The first contact went well, which is encouraging. But there are a few things. First, I was alarmed by his panic attack when he found out he'd lost some of his memories, and you had to use compulsion to calm him down."

"It's an expected reaction, given what he's heard. Personally, I was expecting a much more violent display of emotion."

"He reacted less sharply to information about a possible assassination attempt. You can see it in his aura."

A pair of projections of Cyril's subtle bodies appeared next to Third's reflection. A knowledgeable gifted person could tell by a single glance at them how the owner was feeling unless he was deliberately hiding or distorting his aura. Though not an active practitioner, Sivila was well-versed in this area of magic. In the first image, the fear, or rather, the attack of real horror turning into panic, was noticeably more pronounced than in the second.

"We need to find out exactly what it scared him so much. I doubt it was the memory loss itself. But we have to do it carefully."

"It would be easier to carefully read his mind,” Sivila suggested.

"First is strongly against such a thing because of the specifics of our foreigner," literally cut off Third.

After another moment, the queen's mirror reflected a few lines of text written in the elven calligraphic alphabet.

"Here are some excerpts from the archives. Examples of what Cyril's patroness can bestow upon him. And we won't find out until it's too late."

Sivila quickly ran her eyes over the excerpts that had been sent. These were descriptions of the properties and operation of some of the gifts obtained with the Soul Tablet.

"A Sensitive Mind. When your mind is being influenced, you are immediately aware of the fact that the influence has begun.”

Note: the object becomes aware only of the fact of influence on the mind. It does not know who and how it is influenced.

"Mutual Mental Communication. When someone tries to read your mind, you begin to hear their thoughts.”

Note: only works with direct contact. If you use a telepathic proxy whose thoughts will be suppressed, the object may not realize that its thoughts have begun to listen. Important: Effectiveness is significantly reduced at higher levels of the object.

A Prickly Mind. Your mind acquires a defense of many mental needles. Even if they cannot repel or injure someone who tries to invade your thoughts, they will let you know of the attempted intrusion.

Note: as the strength of the object increases, the effectiveness of the defense increases, as well as its invisibility. Gaining this property at high levels can be completely invisible from the outside.

After waiting for Sivila to read the excerpts sent, Third continued:

"This is only a small part of what Cyril's patroness can reward him with if she wishes. Not to mention the possibility of a direct conversation. That's why First is strongly against any unnecessary interference in his mind, so as not to get unforeseen complications."

"Good,” Sivila nodded, ”We'll try to question him carefully when he's a little more settled and used to it. Any other points."

"Otherwise, everything else is within the expected range and our forecasts. However, our analysts assume a high probability that as the object's strength grows, its ambitions will also grow. So far, he is clearly depressed by the situation in which he has fallen, the surrounding luxury, and attention to his own person. But as soon as he gets a little used to it, problems may start to arise. There are numerous examples of this in the archives."

"I know, I've had a chance to check it out. Any suggestions?"

"Analysts are working through several options. The most optimal one will be calculated based on further observations."

"All right. What about Master? Any updates?"

"A few. Just now, the Matriarch of House Sheonar reported that a squad of hunters under Nydira's command had not made contact or returned to their hometown. They had left it on a routine mission just as Master and his underlings struck in Iyastar. As soon as the Matriarch learned of her subordinates being processed by the Master, she immediately attempted to contact them to take control. Alas, this failed."

"Unfortunate, but expected. I'm sure he pulled together and prepared all possible puppets in case of possible failure."

"I agree. We also managed to open one of the chests we captured from him unharmed. Inside were several crystals containing imprinted memories. Presumably the consciousnesses of one of his puppets. Now, our experts are beginning to work with them, but it's going very slowly. They're well protected, and there's a high risk of being trapped."

"I see. What about Master himself?"

"Nothing so far. We couldn't find his trail, he had very intelligently thought out his escape route. Attempts to “find” him with the help of magic have not yielded tangible results so far either. However, our dear northern neighbors managed to discover one of the deceptions created by him, just in case of such targeted searches. Unfortunately, the shelter in the Wild Lands of the North, where they found it, self-destructed during an attempt to open it, and the deception could not be captured. At least, that's what the Hierarchs of the Sun Face told us."

"I don't think they'd lie to us, given the situation. It's possible, though."

Leaning back in her chair, Sivila said thoughtfully:

"To be honest, I didn't believe that the Master could be caught, even with the efforts of the inhabitants of almost all inhabited continents. But I hoped that we could at least get on the trail....."

"Me, too. He never ceases to amaze, though. Here, take a look at this. It's the Andarial report, just received tonight."

On the mirror in front of Sivila, another smooth line of calligraphic text written in the elven alphabet appeared. The queen ran her eyes over them and spoke slowly:

"I wonder... Is she sure?"

"I have no reason to distrust her word."

"We'll have to talk to her in person. Anything else?"

"Nothing urgent yet."

"In that case, I won't bother you any longer."

Saying goodbye to Third, the Queen extinguished the artifact mirror.

* * *

Cyril woke up as the morning sun began to shine on his face through the huge windows. For a few seconds, he lay on the luxurious double bed, stretching and yawning. It had been a long time since he'd had such a good... Fuck!

Abruptly sitting up in bed, Cyril looked around, eyes wide and mouth open. The events of the past day flashed through his head like lightning. And it wasn't a dream. Cyril was lying on the same luxurious double bed, tucked in silk linen, in a huge bedroom. The sun shone cheerfully through the high windows, and he could see the blue sky with sparse white clouds and the neighboring wing of the royal palace. Except that there was no welcoming delegation headed by the entire elf queen.

As if listening to his thoughts, there was a knock at the high door of the chambers. Cyril looked around quickly. He was wearing a light silk nightgown and equally light pantaloons. All in all, quite decent. Coughing, he said loudly:

"Come in!"

The doors opened, and an elegantly dressed elf entered the bedroom, accompanied by a pair of maids in black and white dresses. One of them was a pretty girl, very slender, with neatly brushed blond hair gathered in a tight bun at the back of her head. She looked as if she was younger than Cyril, with a clean, almost doll-like face and light blue eyes. Her black-and-white dress perfectly emphasized her slender waist, and the relatively short skirt allowed him to fully appreciate her long straight legs in snow-white stockings and black shoes with medium heels.

The second maid was half a head taller than her companion and of a thicker build. Not fat, but thick, as if she'd been to the gym regularly. However, the black and white maid's dress fit her as perfectly as her blonde colleague. It favorably emphasized her high and large breasts. But Cyril did not pay attention to her first of all, though her cleavage was noticeably more revealing than the first one's. And not on the luxurious mane of hair of rich red color that sparkled and shimmered in the sun. But on the long cat ears with tassels on the sides of her head and bright yellow eyes with vertical badges. And on the gorgeous long tail, the same rich red color and very fluffy was visible from behind the girl.

The trio froze in front of Cyril's bed. The elf bowed politely, and the maids made synchronized curtsies. The catgirl flashed her cleavage quite successfully. Straightening up, the elf said in a polite voice:

"Good morning, honorable Cyril. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Fiorel, I am a trusted servant of the honorable Sivila. The Queen has entrusted me to assist you in any way I can. If you have any questions, I will be happy to help you and will do everything in my power."

"Uh. Thank you, honorable Fiorel."

Taking a half step to the side, the elf pointed at the red-haired catgirl and then at the blonde girl:

"Let me also introduce you to Gata and Armina."

Both maids once again performed a synchronized curtsy.

"In addition to the standard maid training, they have successfully completed specialized training in the Secret Guard. The honorable Sivila vouches for their reliability and professionalism. They will assist you in everything you do, and will be able to protect you if necessary."

Both girls bowed their heads and also said in sync:

"It is an honor to serve you, Master Kirial."

Such a twist... Cyril stared at the guests for a few seconds. At least he didn't drop his jaw. The thought that if he were a stupid hero of an anime harem movie, he was bound to say something stupid now. Something like: “Directly at everything?” Of course, he didn't say anything lewd, instead turning his attention to other things:

"Thank you, but my name is Cyril."

"Not anymore,” the elf shook his head with a slight smile.

In response to Cyril's puzzled look, he pointed to a tall mirror that stood against the wall. When he looked into it, the young man was stunned, and almost dropped his jaw. Because the mirror reflected a young half elf sitting on the bed with a dumbfounded and rather stupid expression on his face.

"Wow," the young man could only utter.

Fiorel, allowing himself a faint smile, said in a polite voice:

"The honorable Tearal did a great job last night. You can appreciate his work up close."

Without saying a word, Cyril got out of bed and walked over to the mirror, looking at his new self. No, of course, his face hadn't changed completely, and he still recognized himself. It was more like his appearance had been run through a neural net and told: make him an elf. His hair went from light blonde to just blond. Cyril's gray eyes took on a deep blue hue. Just like a true Aryan, from the posters of a startup by a young Austrian artist. In addition to the above, Cyril also lost any hints of beard and mustache. And his skin itself was clearer and lighter. When he opened his mouth, he realized his teeth had also changed! They weren't completely white, but the slightly wrong bite had become perfect.

And, of course, the ears were sharpened. They weren't as long as the local elves' ears, but they couldn't be mistaken for human ears. Kirill couldn't help himself and gently touched his ears, making sure it wasn't a dream. He did. And at the same time, he found that touching the pointed tips was unexpectedly pleasant. And a little arousing, so Cyril hastily lowered his hands. The changes in his appearance could be summarized as follows. Cyril was prettier. Noticeably prettier. All he could squeeze out was this:

"Wow..."

Turning back to Fiorel, he saw a slight smile on the elf's face:

"I see you appreciate the work of the honorable Tearal."

"It's just overwhelming...I...there are just no words....."

Nodding understandingly, the elf said politely:

"I understand. If you need time to, uh."

"No, no, it's all right, honorable Fiorel! I'm fine. I just didn't expect... well... such speed."

"When the honorable Sivila said that we take your safety very seriously, Honorable Cyrial, she wasn't kidding," the new variant of the young man's name he particularly emphasized, "If you are well, I will ask you to dress and follow me. I have much to explain to you.”

Pointing to the screened off closet, the elf continued:

"If you wish, Gata and Armina can help you get dressed."

"No need, thank you, I can manage on my own,” Cyril said somewhat hastily.

It was one thing to have male servants helping you, but another to have a couple of such pretty maids. His maids... Shit! By sheer force of will, Cyril, or rather, now, apparently, Cyrial, pushed his vulgar thoughts away and concentrated on getting dressed. To his credit, he was able to manage the elf-Victorian outfits he had been given quite quickly. Stepping out from behind the screen, he stopped in front of the rostering mirror, assessing himself. The dark green suit, decorated with silver, fit him perfectly.

"Allow me, master."

Cyril turned around and saw a blond maid silently approaching him from behind. Before he could say anything, the girl adjusted his clothes with a few subtle movements. As she did so, he smelled a light floral scent coming from her. A very pleasant scent.

"That's it,” the girl took a step back and allowed herself a modest smile, ”Now your appearance is flawless, sir."

"Thank you,” Cyril said, a little embarrassed.

He tried his best to look at her face and not at the neckline of her dress, even if it was more modest than that of her fellow catgirl.

The smile on Armina's face grew a little wider. Coughing, Fiorel, who was standing a little to the side, said politely:

"Follow me, honorable Cyrial."

"Of course!"

When they left, the maids began to clean up. They exchanged a few meaningful glances and discreet gestures.

* * *

The young man was fed first. The breakfast was as sumptuous as the day before. This time Cyril chose a fruit and cheese assortment. In the first, in addition to familiar apples and pears, there were unfamiliar fruits, as well as a lot of berries. The choice of cheeses was also huge. In addition to them came several varieties of honey in small pots. When Cyril was refreshed, Fiorel escorted him to the office where the meeting with the queen had been held yesterday. And who was already there waiting for them at the head of the table, along with several other elves, including the head sorceress. She was dressed today in a beautiful white and silver dress. It was not inferior in beauty to yesterday's dress, but more revealing. And Cyril had to make an effort to force himself to look into her emerald eyes, not a little lower. Where there was a rather deep neckline.

"Greetings, honorable Cyrial,” Sivila said hello, pointing to the chair across from her, ”I dare hope you are well rested?"

"Thank you, honored ones, I slept just fine."

"I'm glad to hear it. How do you like your new look?"

"To be honest, I was blown away when I saw myself in the mirror. In a good way,” the young man added quickly, ”But it was very unexpected. To become a half-elf overnight, that's cool...."

Smiling with the corners of her lips, the queen replied politely:

"As I said before, your safety is one of the Forest's top priorities, and slowness in this matter is absolutely unacceptable. However, I want to warn you right away. Any changes to your appearance are cosmetic. Simple life magic combined with Biomancy. Albeit performed by a true master of the art."

"Ah... okay, well, that's pretty great too,” Cyril tried to hide some disappointment.

Well, it was a good start! If the queen said it was the simplest life magic, there must be more complicated ones.

"If you don't mind, we'd like to discuss further your safety with you. Fiorel."

The queen's servant, who had taken a place behind her, took a small flat box of varnished wood from the table. Gently placing it in front of Cyril, he opened it in one graceful motion. Inside the soft lining lay several pieces of jewelry. A massive round gold locket on a thin chain with a large red stone in the center. A pair of massive gold rings with dark green gemstones. A thin gold headband decorated with foliate ornaments and several deep blue gemstones.

"Wow,” Cyril could only exhale.

He didn't know anything about jewelry at all. And he was not a fan of all kinds of trinkets, unlike a fellow classmate who adored all kinds of ringlets and rings. But from one look at these masterpieces of jewelry art, in another way language did not turn to call them, in his head immediately arose a clear thought: I WANT! Even his two in Sensitivity was enough to feel the magic embedded in the jewelry. Which, in turn, was literally reaching out to him. The elves watching him exchanged satisfied glances, and the queen said in a courteous voice:

"Our finest artifact experts have designed them specifically for you, honorable Cyrial. Feel free to try them on. They are completely safe for you."

"With great pleasure! Thank you!"

Very carefully, the young man put on the offered jewelry one by one. When the hoop was on his head, the rings on his index fingers, and the medallion on his chest, he closed his eyes and tried to tune in to them. Cyril felt the weaves embedded in them at once. Some of them were ready to respond to his will. The other part, on the contrary, was completely inert. There was more of the former in the hoop, more of the latter in the locket. The rings, as far as he could sense, were mostly storage devices, and they felt like they had a huge volume. Like more than a few of his current reserves. In each one. The system's gifted knowledge of handling the simplest amulets told him briefly and succinctly one simple thing about his new gifts. Expensive. Or rather VERY expensive! Cyril would have strongly doubted, even without the knowledge he had been given, that most of the local magicians could afford such jewelry.

And even that basic knowledge, loaded in him by the System, was enough to understand the essence of some of the weaves embedded in the same hoop. One of them was quite recognizable by Cyril's now magic vision. Or, as it was called, true sight. He managed to activate it with the lightest effort, literally with a single thought and a drop of reserve. At the same moment, the surrounding world was transformed. Magical auras of enchanted objects became visible, and there were plenty of them in the office. Starting from magic lamps, ending with some paintings hanging on the walls. And if the lamps stood out brightly and clearly, then the glow of the paintings was noticeably muted.

In addition to the objects, the elves sitting at the table had changed. Each of them was enveloped in a translucent glow. Its center, the brightest and densest, was located in the middle of their chests. And if you looked closely, you could see thin glowing lines inside their bodies. Waves of light traveled along them, converging at various points throughout the body. In many ways, they resembled the body's circulatory system. Cyril's gaze involuntarily slid to the queen sitting opposite him.

Her aura, as well as the auras of the other elves at the table, were noticeably muted. Against their background, the queen's servant, Fiorel, literally glowed, and his thin body was visible quite clearly. The knowledge Cyril had gained suggested that it was customary among any trained and skillful gifted to conceal their auras as much as possible. Simply for the sake of banal safety, not to give unnecessary information about themselves to enemies. And in theory, the aura of an entire queen should be completely hidden. As well as the aura of the main sorceress. However, Kirill distinguished, though rather faint, but distinct lines running inside Sivila's body, from one point to another. Energy channels and energy nodes, the bestowed knowledge suggested.

So, either they were opened on purpose, or his hoop was just mega-cool by local standards since it allowed him to see even through the protection of such high-ranking elves. Cyril would have bet on the latter. Suddenly, he realized he was staring openly at the queen sitting across from him. In particular, looking at the energy channels that went, apparently, exactly to the nipples on her breasts, and those that went from her head and the middle of her stomach, converging in a small bright point in the area between her legs. Holy shit! This had to be indecent, and he was basically staring at the entire queen openly right now, like some teenager staring at a porn actress on a smartphone screen!

Fortunately, his brain immediately came up with a rescue plan. Without averting his gaze or changing his face at all, Cyril whispered admiringly:

"Wow... I can literally see the magic! Are those your auras? Subtle bodies, huh? And these are the enchantments on the lamps... And that painting right there... It's so cool!"

Apparently, the elves believed his sincere admiration and the fact that magical vision had completely fascinated him, like a small child who had been given a new toy. Well, or pretended to be. The Head Enchantress nodded and confirmed:

"That's right. There are several basic vision-related weaves embedded in your hoop. Classic magic, a few more specialized modes, and simple magnification. You will get the hang of them very quickly, honorable Cyrial. However, I wouldn't advise you to use it for too long right now. It can give you a headache when you are not used to it, and in addition, the hoop uses up your energy to maintain your vision, even if only a little."

Cyril listened to himself and realized he had spent a little less than a tenth of his reserve. Suppressing his magical vision by an effort of will, he nodded hastily:

"Yeah, yeah, sure. It's just so new to me...."

"Of course,” Sivila nodded, ”but we're sure you'll get used to your new powers very quickly. We'll help you in any way we can. But first, we need to close at least the basic issues of your safety. Here,” the queen handed her assistant a crystal glowing with white light, ”are the images with the basic information on your legend, honorable Cyrial. Read them in detail. In general terms, you are the son of a gifted sorceress from the north of the continent. After the fall of the Northern Kingdoms, there are a fair number of small settlements and towns. Which, in addition, sometimes perish under the onslaught of monsters, neighbors, or raiders."

When Cyril took the crystal from Fiorel's hands which was unexpectedly heavy and cold, he felt the energy embedded in it. And something else.

"You don't know who your father is. Or pretend not to. In any case, your magic abilities attracted Forest's attention, so you were offered to move to his homeland and begin your full training here."

"I see,” Cyril nodded, tucking the crystal into the inside pocket of his... jacket, perhaps?

"I'm asking you to take this very seriously. While we'll try to minimize your contact, we can't isolate you completely. And there will probably be people who will be interested in you and will try to verify your story."

"Of course, I understand perfectly well, honorable Sivila!"

The queen bowed her head slightly and smiled with the corners of her lips:

"I'm really glad to hear that. In that case, unless you have any questions, we'll turn you over to Fiorel. He'll give you a little informative tour of the royal palace. Feel free to ask him anything you don't understand or are curious about. The better and faster you get acquainted, the safer you will be."

"After thanking the queen and the other elves, Cyril, accompanied by Fiorel, left the office and headed for his first, albeit small, journey through a new world. Although, no, this was his second journey. It's just that he doesn't remember anything about the first one. At the thought of stolen memories, Cyril mentally shuddered. It was better not to think about it. At least for now. Otherwise, one could fantasize..."

Of course, his consciousness immediately pictured to Cyril a gloomy dungeon, lit by dim torches, and a couple of jocks dressed in leather harnesses and muffled masks, glistening with oil. As well as a rack, a Georg's cross, and other torture and BDSM paraphernalia... Dammit!!!!

Cyril forced himself to concentrate on Fiorel's words. To be fair, the excursion he had arranged was really interesting. The royal palace of the elves turned out to be truly huge. And, as Cyril realized, it was not the dwelling of the elves' rulers, but, in fact, a whole city. There were, if to speak English, all the main ministries of the elves. As well as craft workshops, magical laboratories, educational institutions, and at the same time a major logistics hub. Without a guide, he would definitely get lost in all these buildings. Fortunately, he had one. Fiorel's orientation in the palace was excellent, so he could concentrate on his explanations without fear of getting lost. And also admire the beauty.

Everything around it was clean, well-maintained, and elegant. It was an amazing place. On the way they occasionally came across either human servants or elves. All of them were hurrying about their business, and most paid no attention to Cyril and Fiorel. Some of them, though, and the young man noted it to himself, cast attentive glances at his guide. Oh, right, he's Sivila's trusted servant. Surely many people know him. Especially considering how long elves lived. Speaking of which.

"Excuse me, Honorable Fiorel, may I ask you a personal question?"

His guide nodded and replied politely:

"Of course, honorable Cyrial. But I can't promise I'll be able to answer it."

"If it's no secret, how old are you?"

"The full - four hundred and thirty-two."

"Wow... Ah, is that a lot or a little by elf standards?"

"Very few by the standards of the firstborn, but not that few. Among the elves, anyone under two hundred years old is considered a youth."

"Wow, the youngsters... And if it's no secret, how old is the honorable Sivila?"

"Three thousand nine hundred and fifty-nine."

"Wow... That must be a respectable age, by elf standards?"

"Quite. However, the Queen is far from the oldest of the firstborn. There are those among us who are much older. Though, most of them have long since retired from active life, preferring a quiet, measured peace....."

The rest of the day passed with similar conversations and explanations from Fiorel. Only when the sun began to sink and they returned to Cyril's quarters did the young man realize that thought had suddenly occurred to him. He had been wearing his jewelry all day! And they are so expensive even by local standards! It would be like if he came to his native university for classes with the latest iPhone, bought right on the day of release, some Rolex on his wrist, and ordinary clothes.

"I beg your pardon, honorable Fiorel, but weren't my amulets supposed to attract attention?! They're very expensive!"

To his surprise, the elf reacted completely calmly:

"Don't worry, all your amulets have mutually reinforcing diversionary weaves. In addition, each has a masking enchantment that makes it look like quality and not cheap, but generally quite affordable amulet."

"Oh, I see. Oh, good, because I was afraid I'd failed the conspiracy on the first day!"

Fiorel allowed himself a small chuckle in response:

"I can assure you, honorable Cyrial, that your safety is being handled by the best specialists of the Secret Forest Guard. They have vast experience, and they do not make such childish mistakes. Please."

When they went inside the chambers Cyril had been given, the queen's servant handed him two small amulets. One was a gold ring decorated with filigree carvings. The other was a small circular disk with a matte dark blue stone in the center.

"This,” the elf pointed to the ring, ”is the control amulet for your chambers. The honorable Sivila assured me that you know how such amulets work."

"Yeah, I know.".

"This,” the elf pointed to a round disk.

"A communication amulet,” Cyril beat him to it.

"That's right,” Fiorel nodded, ”it's configured for me, your maids, and the queen herself. There's also an emergency mode to call for help. If you need anything, call me or Gatha and Armina. The Queen is of course also available to answer you at any time, but I recommend that you only bother her for really important reasons. The honorable Sivila has a lot on her mind. She may not look it, but she is responsible for the good of the Forest."

"Of course, of course,” Cyril nodded.

He's not a fool to bother such an important person for nothing.

"Thank you Honorable Fiorel, your tour was very interesting."

"Glad to be of service. Good night, Honorable Cyril. Get a good night's rest. Because tomorrow, at last, your training begins."

"I'll look forward to it."

After saying goodbye to the queen's trusted servant, Cyril used the ring to close the doors without touching them. It turned out to be surprisingly amusing, controlling the doors and some of the furniture with just mental commands, with the help of the ring. For a few minutes, the young man had fun using the control ring he had been given. But then fatigue made itself felt, and he decided to go to bed. After all, he had been on his feet all day, and tomorrow the training should start. I wonder what it would be?

After undressing and climbing into bed, Cyril quickly ran his eyes over his status. It hadn't changed in the past day. However, and this he noted to his amazement, he had gained experience from somewhere. Not much, not even a tenth of a second level. But still. Hmm, I wonder why? Maybe it's like in WoW, where experience is given for opening a new section of each location. Or is it given for manipulating the given amulets? Cyril's thoughts were suddenly interrupted. An inscription appeared in front of his eyes:

A new system assignment has been received!

Author's Note:

The chapter again turned out to be mostly lore and conversation, and there was only the smell of fruits left. But it should be discounted that Cyril is literally taking his first steps in a new world. It will be more fun from now on.

My traditional thanks to the waiters, the commenter, the editors, and in general, all the readers!

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Переводчики: Camrad_RIP