Готовый перевод История Королевы Эльфов / The story of the Elf Queen: Глава четырнадцатая. Отдых Героя Королевы Эльфов

Chapter fourteen. Rest of the Hero of the Elven Queen

* * *

The spacious and secure office where the top brass of the Secret Guard Corps met to search for Master had become almost a second workplace for Sivila. The Queen of the Forest spent more time in it than she did in her home office. The fact that it wasn't just for her was little consolation. In addition to Sivila, the next urgent and unscheduled meeting was attended by nearly a third of the Forest's top leadership, who had been forced to postpone their current affairs. Sitting in the center of the large conference table, First, clasping his hands together in front of him and staring intently at the volumetric projection of the “Guest”, said in a dry and infinitely tired voice:

"So, let's sum it up. What do we have?"

Looking around at her relatives gathered at the table, who were in no hurry to speak, Sivila coughed and said:

"First. Master is alive. Second, he knows that the "Guest" is alive. Third. For some reason, he decided to tell us about it by sending a message using the power of the Soul Tablet."

First, who still hadn’t taken his eyes off the projection of the “Guest”, asked laconically:

"Conclusions?"

The Queen exchanged glances with the Elder Enchantress sitting next to her, and she cautiously suggested:

"Perhaps the power of the Soul Tablet had gone to his head too much and he had become overconfident?"

"Or, he want to provoke us into some kind of response" Ziandar suggested.

"Or, he wanted to provoke the "Guest" to certain actions, taking into account... the "peculiarities" of the gift sent," Darendil suggested.

After listening silently to a few more suggestions, First asked briefly:

"What do you say?"

Third, who was sitting to his right and was also carefully examining the projection of the "Guest", said slowly and thoughtfully:

"I don't like all this. I really don't like it."

First, who nodded to himself barely noticeably, continued to say briefly:

"Explain."

His student and protégé looked at the other elves, who were looking at him with interest, with a keen gaze and began to explain:

This whole situation looks, in my opinion, very strange and completely illogical. After the battle with the Terror of Diyarten, which almost ended in disaster for us and our allies, Master's fate was not known for sure. We assumed that he had either died or managed to escape, but there was no guaranteed confirmation of either. And none of our allies, who are also searching for him, could say anything about it with certainty.

Leaning back in his chair, Third continued to develop his thought:

"We've been searching hard all this time. We did a lot of work. But there were no results. No trace, no leads. Nothing. Suppose Master survived and managed to escape through the portal. What is the most logical and correct thing for him to do?"

Sivila, who had already understood what Third was getting at, answered in a thoughtful voice:

"Lay low."

The current Head of the Secret Guard nodded in agreement:

"Exactly. Find yourself as safe a hiding place as you can and lay low. Wait for everyone to believe he's really dead. Wait for the search to die down. At the same time, he would gradually master the power of the Soul Tablet and accumulate its gifts. With the powers he already had, he would be able to entrench himself in the right place for a few years, so that he would be no easier to smoke out than Reistar the Apostate from his Dark Tower."

First, who had been listening to his student, continued to look at the projection of the “Guest” and again nodded faintly to himself, while Third continued:

"But instead, he suddenly sends “The Guest”, and in fact all of us, a message. And one that's so, uh. strange, let's call it. I could still understand the secret offer of negotiation. I could understand the threat to stop looking for him and stalking him. But something like this... outright mockery? It just doesn't make sense. Giving away your survival just for the sake of mockery? It's not even stupidity, it's sheer insanity. It doesn't fit with what we know about Master."

The frowning Elder Enchantress, shifting her gaze from First to Third, asked in a strained voice:

"What are you trying to say?"

Throwing a brief glance at his mentor, Third said in a confident voice:

"Perhaps the message was not from Master."

There was silence in the office. A very tense silence. The corners of First's lips trembled faintly, forming a distant semblance of a smile. Or maybe it was just the play of shadows on his aged face. Meanwhile, Third continued to develop his thought:

"Yes, I agree, it seems, at first glance, rather absurd. But what do we know for sure? Only one thing. “Guest” received an anonymous gift and a message from another owner of the Soul Tablet. That's it. There was no signature on the message. There's no way to know who “The Guest” said it was from. So how can we be sure it was from Master? There's no proof of that."

The silence in the study became even more tense. Mirael asked incredulously, glancing at the queen and her fellow magicians:

"Are you now really suggesting that there is someone else endowed with the Soul Tablet besides Master and the Guest?"

Third nodded briefly in response:

I'm not ruling out that possibility. Yes, I agree, it is negligible, but we cannot dismiss it as impossible until we get convincing evidence to the contrary. Just as I don't rule out the possibility that the Tablet's power really did intoxicate the Master so much that his self-confidence exceeded all common sense and caution. And so he decided to, uh... to taunt the Guest and challenge us at the same time.

Silent sighs and barely audible curses and swear words, even to elven ears, were interrupted by First's voice, in which there was barely audible approval:

"I see that you have learned something after all."

Looking around the rest of the elves at the table with a cold and endlessly tired gaze, he continued in a dry voice:

"From this moment and until we can reliably find out who sent the message to the "Guest", we will also consider the version that there is another owner of the Tablet."

Turning to his student, he began to give instructions:

Have the analysts check the reports of our intelligence agents working in the lands of the lesser races over the past few months. Have them look first for any unusual occurrences. As a reference point, let them rely on the selected examples of the most common patterns of behavior of other-worlders, which I have prepared. Guests from other worlds, who have received the power of the Soul Tablet, almost inevitably leave behind them noticeable traces. They gain power, in one form or another. If there is someone else besides the ‘Guest’ and Master, he or she should have most likely left traces behind.

"It won't be easy, the analytical teams are already very busy, and it will take a lot of time to process all the reports we've received over the past few months," Third said thoughtfully, already estimating the amount of work to be done.

"Then they'll have to do their best,“ said First, ”We should also instruct our intelligence agents to send separate reports on any unusual occurrences that they may have heard of but didn't mention because they weren't related to their work...."

"Honorable First..."

The Supreme Emissary's voice was full of respect, but extremely firm. Looking carefully into the eyes of First who turned to him, the chief diplomat of the Forest continued:

"With all my boundless respect for your expertise, it seems to me that you are looking for secret meaning where none exists. What are the odds of even one otherworlder showing up in Beriadon? Extremely small. The likelihood of two at once is negligible, especially without us noticing. So I'm personally inclined to think that the message came from Master. Especially given its, uh... content."

After looking carefully at the rest of his colleagues, the Supreme Emissary continued:

"Also, think about this. A considerable amount of time has passed since we informed literally the entire world about Master and the secret of his power. Now, he and his "feat" are known in Iyastar, perhaps, everywhere, except for the most remote corners. There is a total hunt for him. I would even say that it is not so much for him, but for his power. Through my Emissaries, I have already received more than one report, about which I also informed you all, that some of our "allies" participating in the search for Master are very interested in the opportunity to do what Master himself did with the "Guest". To gain the power of the Tablet of the Soul themselves. And these are only those about whom my subordinates became aware. And such desires suddenly became noticeably more noticeable after information surfaced from somewhere that someone with a sufficiently developed power of the Tablet of the Soul can partially bestow it on others. Although we did not report this information from our archives to anyone."

"I suppose we have our dark sisters to thank for that," Sivila put in.

In response to her nodding, the chief diplomat of the Forest leaned forward and looked very expressively at the founder of the Secret Guard of the Forest and his student:

"Do you seriously think that under such circumstances, a potential third possessor of the Tablet of the Soul would risk making his existence known, and in such a way? Knowing that there is a worldwide hunt for the possessor of such power? Who do you think he must be to commit such a stupidity?"

Without blinking an eye, First pointed his hand at the projection of the "Guest" and said in an indifferent, tired voice:

"For example, a young human boy, completely intoxicated by the power given to him."

For a few moments, the Supreme Emissary looked into the eyes of First. Then he turned his gaze to the projection of the "Guest" and looked at it for a few moments. Then he let out a heavy sigh and said:

"I will instruct my subordinates to prepare reports on all unusual incidents over the past few months."

First nodded slightly in response:

"Thank you."

"I would also like to clarify one point. Should we inform our allies of this message? We have made rather strict agreements with some of them about mutual assistance in the search for Master. This includes the need to share any information received about him."

After thinking for a moment, First shook his head:

"For now, we won't notify anyone about this. And it won't be a violation of the agreement, because we have no proof that the message was from Master. If it had his signature on it, then of course."

"Speaking of the message," Sivila spoke up, "or rather, about the 'gift' that came with it, which, in my opinion, is quite in the spirit of Master. What will we do if the "Guest" himself starts receiving similar... gifts from the Tablet?"

"The very existence of the Tablet of the Soul is already a source of great threat. In comparison to it, the "gift" he received is essentially quite harmless," Third shrugged.

"That's what you think?" the queen asked meaningfully, looking him intently in the eyes.

Third one withstood her gaze completely calmly and replied:

"If he had been given the gift of subjugating the will of a chosen mind, albeit for a limited time, but as undetectable and irresistible as this gift, I would be the first to sound the alarm. In this case, however, I believe there is nothing to worry about."

"So this is nothing for you to worry about?" The Elder Enchantress inquired in an ingratiating voice, making a brief gesture with her hand.

The volumetric projection of the Guest was replaced by an equally volumetric projection of his mentor, dressed in her everyday paramilitary costume. The only difference was that the top part of it was completely pulled up, exposing Diantrel's considerable breasts, under which she folded her arms, thus raising them slightly. Such an obscene appearance did not fit with the serious and collected face of the elf, as if waiting for something. The elves sitting at the table turned to Third, looking at him intently. The head of the Secret Guard of the Forest remained completely unperturbed, and in a calm voice, Mirael answered:

The ‘Guest’ described to us in detail all the properties of the ‘gift’ he received.

With a snap of his fingers, Third changed the projection of Diantrel's flashing bare tits to a scene of her and a couple of other Secret Guard agents talking to the ‘Guest’ in the mansion he'd been given on the shores of Azure Bay.

"And afterwards, at our request and with the full consent of his mentor, ‘Guest’ allowed us to test and confirm them, for which purpose they moved to one of the training grounds."

Several projections changed one after another, depicting the Guest's mentor in different situations. In the first one, Diantrel was simply standing in the middle of an empty room, her bare tits on display. In the second, Diantrel was standing in the middle of the same room, covered in protective amulets, in the centre of several protective barrier circles, and also with her bare breasts on display. On the third projection, Diantrel was captured standing in a protective stance, with a battle staff in one hand and a protective amulet in the other, turned towards the corner of the room where a medium-sized hole was smoking in the wall, punctured by battle magic. It was quite sudden for the elf.

"Yes, the use of the 'gift' could neither be tracked nor recognized without direct instructions from the Guest," Third continued, "but it could not be used for anything other than downright vulgar pampering. In the event of a threat, the effect of the gift ceased immediately, and its victim fully regained consciousness.

"If, of course, our valued ‘Guest’ was honest with us when he described the gift he received," the Suoreme Treasurer grinned.

"He was absolutely honest with us," First suddenly spoke up, "unless, of course, the Tablet of the Soul has gifted him with the ability to lie so skillfully that he is now able to deceive even me."

With a brief gesture, the founder of the Secret Forest Guard changed the image of the projection again. Now it was again showing a volumetric recording of the conversation with the ‘Guest’ the next morning, after he had received the message and the gift. Zooming in on the face of the young man, skilfully disguised as a half-elf, First continued:

"This too cannot be ruled out without the use of serious interrogation techniques, which I strongly advise against. But assuming that the ‘Guest’ has not yet acquired the ability to lie as if he were the first priest of Lortan, I can tell you with certainty that he was absolutely honest with us when he told us about the gift he had received."

There was a noticeable sigh of relief in the office. As it turned out, it was premature.

"Except for one moment."

The elves, especially the female elves, who had managed to relax, suddenly tensed up.

"I can say with almost complete certainty that he lied about the number of possible uses for the gift. And he did it relatively well for someone with no professional training."

A tense silence fell over the office again. Frowning, the queen peered at the recording of the conversation with the Guest, trying to understand what First meant. She had watched it along with everyone else and hadn't noticed anything suspicious. She felt like the boy was being sincere. Where was... Aha!

"When he described the gift he received, he emphasised that it was completely similar to the other Tokens he had received earlier. But he didn't say directly about the number of uses available....."

"Right," nodded First, "and he never once explicitly confirmed that there were ten, or that the tenth use of the token during our tests was the last."

The elves at the table looked at each other, and many of them, especially the elven women, looked grim and tense. With her arms folded across her chest, the Elder Enchantress asked in a serious voice:

"And what are we going to do?"

“Nothing,” First answered briefly and completely casually.

In response to the raised eyebrows of some of the tribeswomen and surprised and displeased faces of others, the oldest elf present at the meeting let out a long and heavy sigh. Then, looking round his kin with no less heavy gaze, he explained in an infinitely tired voice:

"A human boy, who is not even twenty years old, has the opportunity to look at the naked tits of any woman he likes with impunity, and perhaps to touch them. Nothing more, nothing less. Do any of you really think this is a serious problem at all, and especially in the current situation?"

First's answer was only silence. Not very satisfied, but still complete silence. A semblance of a smile flitted across the elderly elf's face. Or maybe it was just a play of shadows and light from the magical lamps.

"I thought so."

"For my part," said Third, "I consider it a success that the Guest told us about the gift. He could only have mentioned the message and not the gift. The fact that he chose to keep silent about the number of possibilities for its use is easily justified by his age and his undiminished interest in the opposite sex. I'd be much more wary if he'd completely rejected such a gift. But, if any of you are so concerned, you can always make changes to your appearance. ‘Guest’ honestly said that the effect of the gift is directly related to the size of the target body part."

The elves present at the meeting gave Third very meaningful looks, in which many different things could be read. And which, however, he endured with an invariably indifferent face.

"Since the question of boobs is closed, I propose to discuss the proposal for the beginning of the next stage of the "Guest" training." First closed the topic.

Sivila suddenly became extremely serious, frowned, and glanced first at Mirael, then at First:

"Do you think it's reasonable to involve her, given... the circumstances of their first meeting?"

"More than that. Moreover, if the assumption that the message was from Master turns out to be correct, and he is not only alive, but also knows that the "Guest" is alive, then he must begin to be taught methods of protecting his mind."

Folding her arms across her chest, Sivila said skeptically:

"I agree with this. But I see the problem in the fact that by understanding the methods of protecting the mind, you will inevitably gain an understanding of the methods of influencing it. Which, given its strength, can pose a potential threat."

"His falling under someone else's influence represents an even greater potential threat," Third retorted, "and Master's attack confirms this best of all."

The Queen opened her mouth, but before she could answer, Darendil's communication amulet emitted a quiet trill. Considering the importance of the ongoing meeting, this meant only one thing - the call was urgent. With a gesture of apology, the Secret Guard agent accepted the incoming call and listened to it silently for a few moments. Then his face suddenly darkened and he turned to Third:

"We have a problem..."

* * *

The medium-sized room looked like something between a bedroom and what non-magical people would imagine a witch's dwelling to look like. A couple of wide worktables littered with witchcraft items. There were many dried bundles of various herbs on the beams under the ceiling. A separate table was dedicated to alchemical practices, and the equipment, such as various flasks, bowls, and a small cauldron, was of high quality, purchased from the Alchemists Guild, albeit not directly. In short, this room was a suitable workplace for a strong specialist in the field of magical craft, with a strong bias towards witchcraft. There was only one thing missing. That specialist.

While a couple of agents of the Forest Secret Guard searched the room with grim faces, Anrieta stood at the door, her hands folded across her chest, biting her lips nervously. The face of the Night Mistress of Midtown and owner of one of the best brothels in Morgrave was grim and worried. Things had been going pretty well lately, all things considered. Legal business was booming, and the Vicious Rose was blossoming and blooming as never before after its expansion. Her position was as secure as it could be under the current circumstances. Even the Great Disturbance had hardly affected her subordinates directly. It would have been nice to get rid of Lame, but the new Catcher was much smarter than she had thought, and he had managed to hold on to his position as well as she had to hers. His connections on the Islands and in the Caliphate were too useful, too convenient. And then, all of a sudden, it came out of nowhere.

In the hallway, Henrieta was waiting for Lada, the faithful one who had first informed her mistress of the witch's disappearance, and another of her most trusted assistants, still holding the communication amulet. He looked even more nervous than his mistress. And he had reason to be. Anrieta's bloodhounds had been scouring the Middle City all day, even the Upper and Lower Towns, to no avail. The Vicious Rose's pet witch had vanished without a trace. And this despite the fact that her leash was very short and her collar was strong and strict.

Obviously, all of this worried Henrieta very much. As soon as she learnt of Draga's disappearance, she immediately called out to her immediate patron and put her residence under siege. There was a reason why folk wisdom said that if you wanted trouble, you had to quarrel with a witch. Henrieta doubted very much that Draga had any warm feelings for her. So, in addition to her usual work clothes, the Night Mistress of Midtown was now wearing all the protective amulets she had. In her bedroom, she was wearing a personalised artifact and amulet, designed to draw out the negative influences that were wasting her resources, which was not recovering quickly. But Anrieta didn't care. As soon as everything was clear, no matter what the result, she would definitely order new sets of personal protection through Twilight, and at the same time update the general defence of the Vicious Rose.

In fact, her immediate curator and patron was standing beside her now, grim and also with a communications amulet in his hand, watching as his subordinates searched Draga's former home. And, judging by the increasingly grim face, the elf clearly did not like what his kin were telling him through the amulet. At one point, he turned sharply to Anrieta and asked:

"Did you request books on love magic for her?"

The quadroon, startled by surprise, hesitated for a moment, and then nodded:

"Yeah, shortly after you handed her over to me. She wasn't very knowledgeable about love spells, so I requested..."

"Which ones exactly?" Twilight interrupted her sharply.

Instead of Anrieta, who had not had time to say anything, one of his subordinates answered him, pointing to the missing witch’s desk:

"This one. It has the stamp of the Special Forest Library on it."

Quickly approaching the table, Twilight read aloud:

"Love Magic. The Main Types of Love Spells and Methods of Application"

He took the book and began to leaf through it with his right hand, at the same time making strange manipulations with the fingers of his left hand, as if he were moving something in the air above it. With a trained eye, Anrieta recognised a technique that could be used to understand which pages were opened and read most often. Having found, apparently, what he was looking for, Dusk stopped abruptly. He stood motionless for a few seconds, then ordered in a grim voice:

"I need a list of the materials she has requested recently."

Annrieta, who had prepared a list of everything the cursed witch asked for for her work, immediately handed it to one of her patron's subordinates and then to her superior. Darendil gave a heavy sigh and cursed softly as he quickly ran his eyes over it.

"It's clear. In the name of the First Tree, what in the name of the First Tree..."

The wary and tense quadroon asked cautiously:

"Did you manage to figure out who helped her escape?"

"Yes."

"May I know who it was?"

"Selendine."

Hearing the elven name, Anrieta froze in surprise. And, apparently, Twilight's subordinates were no less surprised than he was. One of them asked incredulously:

"Why would she..."

"Draga bewitched her."

"What?!"

In response to a simultaneous surprised shriek-question from Anrieta and the subordinates, Twilight stepped aside from the table and pointed to an open book:

"She bewitched her. Through a familiar. Selendina had left her one of her hand snakes to keep the damned witch on an extra short leash. But any familiar is a link that can be used to influence the host. It's not easy, but with the right skill, it's devilishly effective. And apparently, the damned witch had been very diligent in her mastery of love magic, so she could pull off such a trick undetected."

Sighing heavily, Twilight massaged his tired eyes with his hand. As if he didn't have enough problems... Out loud, he said something completely different:

"Search the building, the witch may have left gifts, though it is unlikely. I've already notified the Forest, and they've already started looking for Selendina, but it won't be easy; she's experienced in the Secret Guard, knows how to hide, and knows how they'll look for her."

//"Third will be so delighted... Such a blunder... Oh..." Turning to Anrieta, Twilight briefly ordered:

"Come to my office, let's talk."

The Quadroon only nodded silently, signalled to her assistants, and followed her patron, anticipating an impending reprimand. When the doors closed behind them and the defences of the room allocated to Twilight for his private office were at full capacity, he gave a short order and pointed:

"Take off your clothes and sit on the table. Completely."

For a moment, Henrieta was stunned, not expecting her patron to ‘punish’ her in such a way. She even thought for a moment about how she could save some of his seed so that she could bear his child. But when she saw Twilight carefully pulling out his belt pouch and spreading it out on the table, the Night Mistress of the Middle City felt a mixture of disappointment and childish resentment and began to silently undress. She took off all her clothes and sat naked on the edge of the table. Darendil, with an indifferent and tired face, proceeded to examine her with an array of magical amulets like an experienced, gifted healer. But he wasn't looking for sores, he was looking for any trace of a possible parting gift from the witch.

Having carefully examined Anrieta from head to toe, and even taking a blood sample from her, he gave a short verdict:

"Clear. You can get dressed."

The Quadroon nodded silently in response and began to follow the command. But she felt a twinge of irritation: he could have at least ‘casually’ appreciated her body! He hadn't even groped her tits. Or was he only attracted to pure-blooded tribeswomen? She doesn't believe it. Or maybe she wasn't exactly his type? While Anrieta was dressing and thinking about her patron's preferences in bed, he took out from a small stash built into the wall and laid out on the table in front of her a solid set of various amulets. Some of them were quite classic, some of them were made in the form of women's jewellery.

"Here, use this set for now, and later I'll give you a new one, made personally. Get rid of your old amulets, especially your personal ones. I'll reimburse you for your expenses. This pair of amulets in the form of rings does not take off at all and regularly replenishes the reserve in both rings. Fence your room with this set, place one in the centre of each wall, on the ceiling, and floor. Check all food and drinks with this set, both individually and in combination. In general, in the near future, refrain from complex dishes and especially condiments. The simpler the food, the harder it is to hide alchemy in it. And have my agents check your kitchen and food storage."

“Okay,” nodded the quadroon, sincerely touched by her boss’s unexpected concern.

It's still nice to see how he values ​​and protects her! If only he'd fucked her too...

I will check your personal quarters myself now. In any case, treat all linen, especially bed linen and underwear, with this composition. Check your assistant properly too. What she eats, what cosmetics she uses, and her bedroom. Make sure the witch did not leave you a deferred gift through her.

“Of course,” Anrieta nodded, finishing getting dressed.

"Okay, then let's go to your chambers..."

Looking at his granddaughter and realising what she was thinking after that phrase, Darendil sighed wistfully to himself. She had to have this whim, to conceive a child from a firstborn... Of course, there are plenty of brainless fools of two hundred years old, and one even nearby right now is very diligently playing the role of a deeply embedded agent to avoid meeting the grateful relative of his ex-passion. Who is also nearby, and is already twisting ropes from the beard of her ‘master’. But you don't want to put anyone under your granddaughter, she's a clever girl after all.... Oh, how many worries, as if it was not enough for him, Master and ‘Guest’, and now also to look for Selendina ...

* * *

A trio of solid-sized barges crept slowly up the Dantra, even though they had no oars, masts, sails, or sailors. But they didn't need them. A river caravan of this size, equipped and financed by several trading Houses, could not physically do without a group of skilled mages. Their leader, trained partly at the expense of his parents and partly at the expense of the Morgrave Mages' Guild at the Neirat Academy, had learnt elemental magic, particularly the Element of Water, quite well. And in the few years he'd been working on this river caravan, he'd become quite adept at navigating the deceptively calm waters of Dantra. On the stretch between Morgrave and Dantmark, on which the river caravan travelled, carrying goods and passengers, he knew all the difficult places and overcame them with confidence.

The knowledge of the water element, multiplied by the skill of shipbuilders, as well as the good capacity of the ship's energy storage, allowed the sluggish and slow-moving barges to move upstream of Dantra without the aid of sails or oars. The waters around them seemed to carry them onwards, pushing or bypassing the main current. It was not very fast, but it was reliable and relatively safe. The overland route between the two Free Cities was far less reliable than the river route. Of course, the tranquillity of Dantra's waters could be deceptive, but the horses of the Steppes and the packs of wargs that the green-skinned people loved and knew how to breed had not yet learnt to gallop along the river's surface. The Great Steppe was much further to the East, but steppe men were steppe men, and for them the distance from Dantmark to Morgrave was like a walk to the neighbouring village.

And in order that the goods lying in the holds of the barges would not be stolen by dashing people who owned river horses, the caravan was accompanied by a reliable guard, stationed both on the barges and on a couple of faster and more predatory sailing ships. Of course, some might say that it was a long and unnecessary journey to literally walk against the current. After all, it would be possible to get from one city to another with a portal in the blink of an eye. But such an instantaneous transition was not available to everyone. After all, a portal is a very expensive pleasure. Especially a powerful portal capable of travelling from one city to another. It takes a long time to build and set up such a portal, and then you have to take care of it carefully, so it doesn't fall into disrepair. In addition, it has a clear schedule of work, scheduled for many weeks or even months in advance, and a place in the queue for the necessary transition costs not a small amount of money.

Also, any portal is a threat. Who could come through it and from where? History knows examples when even very good fortresses were taken not by bloody storm or long siege, but by skilfully selected keys to the portal arch and bribed or drugged guards. That is why inter-city portals are always very strictly watched, and a close look is kept at who is going where, and what he is carrying or bringing with him. In this respect, the barge was much safer for those who didn't want to draw attention to themselves or couldn't afford the price set by the Portalists' Guild. It was also a much safer place to disembark, if one wished to do so and had the skill to do so unnoticed.

The two female passengers, sharing one small cabin, didn't need any extra attention. They hardly ever left the cabin, and the crew didn't even think about them. A couple of not too old and not too wealthy women decided to visit their distant relatives in another city - it was their right. The main thing was that they had paid for their places on the barge, and the fact that they didn't show their noses out of their cabins, it's even better, less trouble for the crew. However, if right now one of the crew went into their small and, to put it bluntly, rather cramped cabin, he would be very surprised at what he saw there. If not to say that they'd be fucked. Because instead of a couple of unattractive human aunts, there was a slender elf with a trained body and a long dark braid up to her tailbone lying on a cramped bed, in the arms of a very attractive middle-aged woman with gorgeous breasts, long dark hair, and clear pale skin. They were also naked, a very seductive sight.

But to prevent outsiders from seeing this spectacle, the cramped quarters of the cabin were securely locked from the inside and protected by a quality set of homemade amulets of woven twigs and herbs that kept out any sounds and, when viewed with magical vision from the outside, created a picture of two peacefully sleeping middle-aged women. Their protective and camouflaging weave was further enhanced by a small white flower growing through the floorboards in the corner of the cabin. All of this protected the peace of the contented couple lying in each other's arms. Only the elf was really happy, and she was almost purring as she snuggled up to the human woman and stroked her belly with the palm of her hand, now and then crawling up to her big tits. The latter was not in a happy mood.

No, in the first hours, just breaking free, Draga had been over the moon, almost unable to believe her happiness. The incredibly daring, but impeccably executed escape plan had worked! For months she had endured the humiliation and abuse of living among the whores under the heel of a quadroon mistress. For months, she had been submissive and meek, doing whatever the arrogant bitch-quarterback told her to do. She treated her ‘rosy’ girls' shattered holes, rid them of the filth they had picked up from their insufficiently clean customers, tolerated being groped for her enlarged tits or butt, all the time. She ignored lewd suggestions that she ‘earn some money’ on the floor below. And all the while, being outwardly submissive and broken, she was slowly, step by step, getting closer to one full-fledged, sharp-eared bitch.

The bitch whose small but poisonous viper had braided its rings around Draga's heart all this time. And who was still there, and would be there for a long time to come. It took a lot of time and effort to be able to reach the big-eared bastard through her small viper. Every step she took was carefully calibrated and calculated three times, because she had no margin for error. Her jailers were not stingy in providing her with educational materials; the book provided by the elves was very informative. But knowledge alone was not enough, she had to work out and prepare the ritual, gather the necessary materials. All this took a lot of time. After all, we had to be careful, disguising key reagents in general orders. Fortunately, there were enough of the latter. Anrieta did not hesitate to use Draga to create love alchemy to bind wealthy clients to her ‘roses’ more tightly. And not only love alchemy, which, however, is not important now.

Because in the end, Draga was able to find her way to her pointy-eared jailer. First, the witch carefully penetrated into her dreams, using the elf's connection with her snake-familiar. The action had to be very careful not to leave any traces in any way. At first, for the most part, the witch was only an observer in the firstborn's dreams. But even the smallest crumbs of influence on the sleeping elf's mind were enough to understand where her jailer was and what she was doing. Gradually Draga got used to her new field of magic and trampled a neat path into the elf's mind. Quite inconspicuous, but quite reliable. And then the hard part began. One had to wait for the right moment to strike. Yes, Draga could cast a spell on the pointy-eared creature at any moment, once she had found her way to it. But she had to do it without her kin noticing the effect. And they would certainly notice a spell of such power as was needed to guarantee the elf's subjugation. It could not be hidden from the outside, at least Draga was incapable of it now, and would hardly ever be able to do it while in captivity. One could try to stretch the effects, gradually building up its effects. And if it was someone else, the witch could take the risk, but not when dealing with an agent of the Secret Guard of the Forest.

They're tested too often. And the elf could have suspected something was wrong, because they don't hire complete idiots to the Secret Guard. Therefore, Draga had only one option. The only carefully calibrated and most powerful blow, which was to make the elf woman fall in love with the captive witch so much that her feelings completely overshadowed any logic and manifestations of reason. All-consuming passion and adoration, the purest desire! And after that, an immediate order-command-command-command: save! Help me escape! At any cost! And the witch waited for the right moment, when the pointy-eared wretch was given a short rest from duty. As soon as she heard about it through her dreams, Draga struck, realising that she might not get another chance for several more years. Which she would certainly not be able to endure in this whorehouse, which she already hated with every fibre of her being!

And she did it! She did! The witch's magic, carefully targeted through her mistress's connection with her familiar, covered the sleeping elf entirely, instantly making Draga the most beloved and desirable person in the world. Having received clear instructions through the dream from her new lover, the elfess immediately sprang into action. Selendina turned out to be a very clever agent of the Secret Guard. She managed to leave the Forest so that she was not immediately missed, quickly made her way to Morgrave, and managed to get Draga first out of the disgusting brothel and then out of the city. After all, most of the defences at the Vicious Rose were put up by elves, and Selendina was familiar with the basic principles of how it worked. Of course, when leaving the brothel, she wanted to thank its hospitable hostess, but there was no time or opportunity to do so. The short-eared bitch was far too protective of her safety and kept Draga on a very short leash. So the witch wasn't taking any chances. She didn't give a damn about it, let her die in her whorehouse, or better yet, get a job there herself! The main thing was that she, Draga, was saved! And one pointy-eared slut, who was now completely at her mercy, thanks to her kin for teaching her, would be enough to satisfy her sense of revenge, ha-ha! That's what she thought for the first few hours.

But on the barge, as they settled into their cramped quarters, one very unpleasant thing came to light. The witch was ready to tear her hair out and scream. The amulets hung by the pointy-eared bitch would have hidden everything. Completely enchanted by her, Selendina was ready to fulfil Draga's every request. She did a good job covering their tracks, keeping herself and Draga as safe as she could from searching by blood and the cast of her magical gift. She got rid of the witch's beacon jewellery so the alarm wouldn't rise early. But Selendina was physically unable to do what was beyond her power. In particular, to rid the witch of the cursed branding on her buttock that the bloody dark elf had put on her! And it was a natural disaster! The damned underworld scum, who had humiliated and groped Draga like the cheapest of harbour whores, knew what he was doing, and to hell with it!

The brand imposed allowed the witch to be tracked. When activated, it literally crippled her subtle bodies, almost completely depriving her of the ability to use her magical gift. The elven druid could not remove it, at least not without seriously damaging Draga's subtle bodies in the process. Wrong specialisation, wrong knowledge. The only thing Selendina could do was to put a very high-quality seal on the brand, which was a common enough solution for such problems. A temporary solution. Because the branding itself wasn't going anywhere! Moreover, at some point it had become active, and if the plug removed for even a moment, the dark elf's cursed gift would immediately cripple Draga's magical gift. And for the plug to come off, it would be enough for any strong tension of subtle bodies!

In fact, Draga has lost the ability to use most of her magical powers. Any kind of complex manipulation was forbidden for her until the brand was removed. And to remove the brand, she needed, according to the same pointy-eared bitch, at least a master of magic, well versed in the treatment of subtle bodies. And where would you find such a person?! And once you find him, how do you negotiate with him?! How do you pay for his services?! She didn't risk taking anything with her, even her clothes, left in the brothel. She doesn't want to take some trinket with a hidden beacon-mark of elves.

And now the most valuable thing she has is her former sharp-eared jailer. And the witch was completely dependent on her, because without the elven slut, Draga was no different in terms of magical power than some village witch doctor or whisperer! And therein lay another problem. If Draga could subdue Selendina's mind with classic Mind Magic, everything would be just fine. Sharp-eared would be a submissive and uncomplaining plaything in the hands of the witch, who could do whatever she wanted, and would fulfil her every request without question or hesitation. But only Love Magic was available to Draga. Thousands of times sung and just as many times cursed by the spells that witches are so famous for. And a spell doesn't work with the mind. It works with feelings. And the stronger the spell, the stronger those very specific feelings.

The spell Draga had used on Selendina was very strong and of high quality. A weak one simply did not make the Secret Guard agentess fall in love with her captive. Moreover, Draga was forced to maintain it constantly, continuously fuelling it through the serpent on her heart, which she did not allow the elfess to take away. ‘I want a piece of you to always be with me’ - ha ha ha ha, it would be funny if it wasn't so sad! Although the small snake on her heart was no longer a threat to the witch's life, the constant maintenance of the spell through the connection between her and her mistress was using up the last crumbs of magical energy available to the witch.

It was inevitable that the feelings that had taken over Selendina's mind would not go away. And feelings had to be given an outlet. Otherwise the damned pointy-eared creature could go mad! And there was only one way out for these particular feelings, which was further compounded by the place they were in. Draga was, in fact, locked in a cramped quarters with an elven woman, whose lust and desire for the witch was constantly fuelled by the witch herself!

No, the first few times when one of her former captors had gone to great lengths to please Draga with her unexpectedly long, split tongue like a snake's, had been very pleasant. Though the witch was not a big fan of ‘girlish fun’. Watching Selendina's submissive and lustful face as she knelt before the witch was also a separate pleasure. And if that was all there was to it, there wouldn't have been much of a problem. But that wasn't enough for the bewitched elf, she wanted affection in return! It was not in the witch's plans to please her former captive, but to calm her down, she caressed the elf a couple of times with her fingers. It was even fun to make Selendina lick her own juices off them afterwards.

But if on the first day Draga still managed to keep her quiet, and even at night the sharp-eared witch only approached her once with caresses, then in the morning of the second day the witch woke up to the fact that the elf was methodically playing with her enlarged breasts, pulling up her nightgown. Draga had no time to be outraged, for as soon as she opened her mouth, the bewitched idiot shut it with a kiss, penetrating it with her snake-like tongue. Simultaneously, she wrapped her arms and legs tightly around Draga, beginning to move her hips so that her pussy rubbed against the witch's leg. The trained Secret Guard agent could only break free from the tight embrace when she had satisfied her lust, drenching both the sheets and Draga with her love nectar. The witch's mooing and attempts to break free were ignored by the desire-absorbed elf, and the witch had the feeling that her attempts to resist only turned her on. Selendina had time to explore the witch's mouth with her serpentine tongue and give her brothel-enhanced tits a good thrashing before she finished and let Draga go. She also rubbed her tits, which were a couple of sizes smaller than Draga's.

When she was free, the spooned and disgruntled witch tried to reprimand the wretch, whose lust had clouded her brains, for her arbitrary behaviour, and she even made a guilty face, but Draga didn't believe her. In any case, she saw no remorse in the yellow-green eyes of the elf with vertical pupils. But there was plenty of lust and desire. As an apology, Selendina obediently pleasured her with her tongue, kneeling in front of the bed, skilfully bringing Draga to the finish line. But even here she did not stop when the witch poured her love nectar all over the bed, not letting her go and continuing to wield her serpent tongue, making Draga twist and scream all over the cabin. So the elf had to dry the bedclothes with household magic afterwards.

After a rough morning and a modest breakfast, they spent the rest of the day discussing further plans, but it was not very productive. Because the damn charmed elf was always kissing Draga, or trying to hug her, or groping her, or with some other nonsense, like discussing a potential young man, from whom Draga would give birth to a boy. And from him, she would give Draga a granddaughter. It could be the other way round, but it would be better to look for someone from among her kin. The witch tried her best to hold back, because her life literally depended on this damned lustful pointy-eared idiot! But a normal conversation with Selendina on a really important topic (getting Draga rid of the brand and organising an asylum) was not going to work at all! ‘We'll get to Dantmark, then we'll see where and how we go from there. In the meantime, come to me!’ Arghhhh!!! The constant harassment from the elven woman was annoying Draga wildly. She even thought of tying her hands and feet and gagging her, but she would twist it - a lustful snake! After lunch, the witch could not stand it and gave in to Selendina, allowing her to pleasure herself with her tongue again. She wished she hadn't...

The pleasure from Selendina's split tongue was unexpectedly strong! Much more intense than the last time! As soon as it penetrated the witch's pussy, the excitement immediately overtook Draga, and she did not notice at what moment she began to respond to the elf's caresses, moving to meet her. Moreover, when the oyster-eared woman, drenched in love nectar, kissed the witch, Draga eagerly responded to her caresses, savouring the taste of her former prisoner. It took the witch an hour to come to her senses, lying in Selendina's arms on the wet bedclothes, mostly not from sweat. She had to dry it again and freshen the air in the cabin.

Barely recovered from the unexpected attack of love passion, Draga tried to put her pointy-eared captive in her place, but she simply stopped all her attempts to resent her with another kiss with her tongue, which again penetrated the witch's mouth and dominated it for quite a long time. After that, Draga felt her body become cotton-like, and the discontent and irritation along with all the thoughts went out of her head. They were replaced by lightness and calmness, and an all-consuming negativity, the centre of which was Selendina, charming in her perfect beauty. Time seemed to disappear for Draga. For her, everything merged into one continuous cycle of intercourse with the enchanted elf, who turned out to be quite a trickster in bed.

The poses changed. The roles changed. It seemed that the whole cabin was soaked with the smell of their sweaty bodies and love juices that could never be expelled. During one of the breaks, lying on the freshly dried bed, Draga realised distantly that she hadn't even noticed that she'd stopped bothering with not only her outer clothing, but her shirt as well. Selendina had gotten rid of her tight-fitting garment, which resembled dark snakeskin, seemingly back on the first day. It seems... And what was the point of wearing clothes if they only interfered with pleasure? No sense at all...

The witch's mind was lazy and sluggish. She did not want to do anything but lie in bed and enjoy the closeness of Selendina, who was so pleasant in every way. After the elf had brought her to orgasm once again, making her squeal all over the cabin, the exhausted but satisfied and fucked witch thought it was funny. She had managed to live in captivity for almost a year in a brothel and avoid the fate of a whore. And now that she was free, she behaved like a slut, all she did was fuck, fuck and fuck again.... And with one of his ex-prisoners! Draga didn't have time to finish this thought, because Selendina, lying in her arms, wiped the witch's love juices off her predatory face and, without ceremony and shyness, climbed on top of the witch and started kissing again. As soon as the druid's snaky tongue penetrated Draga's mouth, all her already few thoughts flew out of her head....

* * *

With a satisfied lick of her lips, Selendina made herself comfortable on her sleeping and breathing lover, admiring her tired but contented face and savouring the scent of her body. How delicious she tasted, how sweet she was, she wanted to squeeze, squeeze, and lick her continuously! HER cutie! Her tongue, which had changed due to the chosen job, could smell the witch's flavour incredibly clearly. Gently brushing a strand of sweat-slicked hair away from Draga's face, the elf smiled contentedly and broadly. If the witch had been conscious at that moment, she would have seen that the firstborn's fangs in her mouth had noticeably lengthened and thinned, becoming snake-like. And on their sharp tips appeared a pair of murky droplets. Carefully catching them with the tips of her bifurcated tongue, the elfess leaned forward and slipped them into her lover's ajar mouth. Let her rest properly, after all, she was a little too much with the stimulating composition, not calculating the power and dosage. Well, she was not a specialist in honey tasks, but in weeding and pest control. She was more accustomed to synthesising poisons, sedatives, and paralysers than aphrodisiacs.

But Draga was so cold and stiff after her captivity in the brothel, and it was unbearable to see her like this, so Selendina decided that a few drops of passion wouldn't hurt her. The concentration was a bit off, but that was okay. There was nothing to do while they were travelling anyway. This way, the journey would be faster and much more pleasant. The main thing is to remember to watch the defences of the cabin, because the kin will be looking for Selendina to take back HER cutie, but she won't let them! No way! It's hers and no one else's! Once they get to her private lair in Dantmark, which she set up during one of her missions a couple of decades ago, they'll have to deal with that damned branding! It won't be easy to get it off, but they'll get it off, she's sure of it. They'll also have to find the right boy for HER cutie. Ideally, of course, one of her kin, but it could be a human. As long as he's a good match for HER cutie! She don't want to share her with anyone, but for the sake of the future baby's health, she can be patient. And when HER cutie's baby grows up, she will have a baby with him! And if they are lucky enough to find a really good boy, they can both bear children by him! And then she'll have a baby with Draga's son, and Draga with her son! Oh, that's so wonderful! It's all about finding a good hiding place and a good boy, because she's not gonna let just anyone in with HER cutie!

With these contented thoughts, the elf herself fell asleep, hugging Draga tightly and throwing her leg over her, and resting her head on her soft and large breasts...

* * *

Azure sky with sparse white clouds. Hot southern sun. Fresh and salty sea air. Crystal-clear water. Clean sandy beach. A luxurious three-storey mansion near the shore. A personal maid in the person of two young beauties. And a complete all-inclusive in terms of delicious food. Cyril had never had such a luxurious holiday in his life. And on his native Earth, it could never be, because he had the wrong surname and was born in the wrong family. In general, the last time he was at sea was in the summer after the ninth grade with his parents, on the beaches of sunny Antalya in Turkey. The hotel they had was quite decent, the food was delicious, and there was an aqua park right on the premises. But that holiday was not in any comparison with the current one, organised for him by elves. However, the holiday did not start very cheerfully and pleasantly.

The next day, after receiving the message from Master, several agents from the Secret Guard arrived at Cyrill's house and had a long conversation with him and his mentor, asking him about all the details of the message he had received. Along with them, the Queen and the Elder Enchantress participated in the conversation via local analogue video link. At the end of the conversation, Cyrill and his mentor moved back to the Royal Palace, or rather, to one of the closed training grounds run by the Secret Guard. There, with her full consent, he demonstrated to Diantrel the ‘gift’ received from Master, having previously honestly described to the elves all its details. Well, almost honestly. One could even say, not lying directly, but only delicately silent about such a detail as the number of charges in the token ‘Awesome Melons’. At the end of ten checks, the elves were convinced that this ‘gift’ was at best a vulgar amusement, calmed down, and returned Cyril and Diantrel to the Azure Bay to rest.

The elves politely but firmly replied to the young man's question ‘What to do with Master?’ and his message that HIM had nothing to do. A huge team of the best specialists of the Forest is searching for Master. They will deal with this matter as well. If they needed any help from him, they would inform him immediately. Until then, they urge him not to take any independent action in case he receives another message through the Soul Tablet, and immediately report such a message to his mentor or someone else from the elves. As Diantrel explained to Cyril, it was possible that the point of the message was to provoke him into some rash action.

Cyrill agreed with her, after which he started his well-deserved holiday at what was probably a six-star resort. For the first couple of days, except for the agreed hours of lectures with his mentor, the young man openly idled and relaxed, swimming in the sea, and in the breaks, having fun in the company of also extremely satisfied Gata and Armina. Both girls also did not hide the fact that they were very happy to be able to relax in such a luxurious resort. Even Diantrel, who kept a little apart from them and did not interfere with the young people's rest, was openly enjoying the warm sea. Cyrill literally knew it, thanks to the Chosen One's Mark. The only thing that distinguished this holiday from the earthly version of spending time at the sea was a point about tanning.

The first day Cyril decided to sunbathe on the beach, the maids and his mentor looked at him square-eyed. They didn't mind lying in the sun, Diantrel even practiced certain techniques of sun reserve replenishment, reminiscent of yoga, but sunbathing - no! And he was also strongly advised against it by all three of them. Because here tanning is the domain of peasants working in the fields, or simple sailors sailing the vast waters of the hot seas. And given the legend of Cyril, as the illegitimate son of a human maiden and a powerful firstborn, who provided his offspring with excellent education and maintenance ... Let's just say that tanning in his case would look very strange, the mentor delicately explained to the young man.

To his question, “What's he supposed to do, use some kind of alchemy?” Diantrel shrugged and said that if he wanted to, he could use alchemy. But personally, she preferred to cover herself with a special invisible protective barrier that let sunlight through but made it completely safe for her skin. It was not too difficult to weave, it did not require much effort to maintain, it was not physically felt, and the young man quickly mastered it, covering himself, Gata, and Armina at their request. Although, in his personal opinion, a good tan wouldn't hurt the girls and their mentor. As well as earth swimsuits, because local swimsuits, like the one that Diantrel used during training, were still too closed. Cyrill even thought for a moment whether to buy a couple of them at the Auction, but for some reason, the image of Erandril with kind eyes but a very bad squint appeared in his mind. So Cyrill temporarily gave up the idea of seeing the maids, and maybe even the mentor, in a bikini.

If he had been a character in some Japanese anime, he would now have a classic beach episode, which is pure fanservice. The only difference is that, unlike the vast majority of CJS in beach episodes, Cyrill had the opportunity not only to admire the sight of his maids in swimsuits but also to physically enjoy the slender and trained bodies of both girls. And not only their bodies. After the accidental use of the gift of the cursed Master, Cyrill honestly held on for two days, although he was tempted every time he saw his mentor in a swimsuit, walking barefoot on the beach, or out of the water. But on the third day, his Conscience gave up, spat, waved her hand, and temporarily went somewhere on more important matters. It happened in the afternoon, during the agreed-upon daily lecture. Sitting at the table in one of the rooms of the mansion assigned to him, Cyrill listened to Diantrel telling and showing on the volumetric projection of the map about the lands lying to the east of the Forest and their inhabitants. It was foolishly interesting, he honestly listened and memorised what his mentor said, but at some point Cyrill caught himself thinking that looking at the elfess he constantly imagined her with her tits bare. Once again, having stopped, just for a second, at the sight of Diantrel's breasts covered with green fabric, the young man spat and made up his mind. Because, why not? It wouldn't do any harm, would it?

A mental command to activate, no external effects, and now the mentor continued the lecture, but only with the top of her garment pulled up and her tits flashing. Just like on the testing ground, not realizing the abnormality of what was happening, and not paying attention. At the careful request of Cyril, who swallowed from this exciting spectacle, to manually “evaluate” her twins, the elf only sighed, and then came to him and sat right in front of him on the table, giving the young man freedom of action, which he gladly took advantage of. Which, however, he regretted a little.

So it was not only very pleasant to squeeze, kiss, and just bury his face in the gorgeous elf's tits, but also very exciting! Because of that, of course, I immediately wanted more - to fully enjoy the elf's body! And how do I get one?! Cyril didn't have a token that would allow such a thing with Diantrel, and even if he had one.... well... he probably wouldn't use such a token on his mentor after all... It would be a little too... too much. It was one thing just to touch her tits, but it was another to actually rape her.... No, his conscience was not completely gone, so if he was going to get his mentor into bed, he would do it fairly. Well, maybe relatively fair...

He liked Diantrel, after all. And even if to put aside the legendary elven beauty, to which the young man could not help but be physically attracted, there was also sincere gratitude for saving his life. If it hadn't been for his mentor, he would have been killed by the fucking Master, damn it. And that's why you're enjoying her tits right now, without her knowledge, huh? Cyril pressed his lips together and gave a mental smack to Conscience's voice, still fondling and massaging Diantrel's breasts. Let's consider it a small compensation for giving her the Tablet's Power? Cyril's conscience would have smashed his face with his hand at such an excuse, had it been a personified entity. And then would have walked away, leaving him to deal with one small problem. Well, not so small, don't say that!

Because after enjoying Diantrel's breasts for about ten minutes, Cyril had to urgently eliminate the consequences of this pleasure, in the form of a rock-hard boner. Thanks to his skills in controlling internal energies, which allowed him to solve this problem. And after the lecture, having said goodbye to his mentor, who went for a swim, Cyril went to his chambers, in the arms of the quite purring Gata and slyly smiling Armina, who understood perfectly what the master wanted from them. Having quenched their passion, they also went for a swim, because the water in Azure Bay was at a very comfortable temperature. It was about twenty-five degrees, according to Cyril's sensations.

It was just right for him, considering the hot southern sun. Again, with his new powers, swimming in the sea was a pleasure, and the young man did not hesitate to have fun using his newfound magic. It was possible, for example, to walk straight through the water from the shore, as in training with Diantrel, and then plunge sharply and vertically into the water with his head already at a relative depth. Only to then climb out to the surface of the water, as if on stairs. It was possible to create a barrier weave, supporting the body in the water, and just lie motionless, swaying on the waves. And it was possible to create analogs of magical flippers, using the same barrier weave. This idea came to Cyrill's mind the next day, after he had allowed himself to estimate the upper volumes of his mentor for the second time.

And, as it turned out, creating magical flippers using barrier magic was quite a practiced technique. Diantrel eagerly showed it to Cyril when she noticed his independent attempts to create the necessary weave. And it wasn't the only thing she had shown him. It was also possible, without much difficulty, to create a protective barrier around the eyes, which was analogous to underwater goggles. As well as additional barriers-flippers on the hands, which further increased the speed of movement in the water. And with the right skill, it was possible to cover the whole body with a thin barrier, which worked as a wetsuit, also reducing the force of friction with the water. You could also control the water, creating currents that pushed or carried you.....

In general, the mentor, in addition to the agreed oral lectures, gave Cyril a few practical lessons that day, and as a result, he began to swim with her in the waters of the Azure Bay just like Ichthyander from the Soviet movie. It was very great, fun, and cool! It turned out that Diantrel was a great swimmer, and in the water, having surrounded herself with appropriate weaves, felt no worse than some mermaid. And after they took a break for lunch, the mentor unexpectedly provided the young man with a whole set of equipment for scuba diving, with which Cyril was completely delighted! Gloves and special shoes, with built-in amulets, allowing you to easily form fins and fins of the desired shape. A tight-fitting face mask that held and purified exhaled air, and created a barrier-glass around the eyes, with which you could swim underwater without interruption for about ten minutes. And that was despite the fact that this set of equipment, as the mentor had said, was a training kit, and thus far from the most powerful. The Forest Guard and the Forest Secret Guard had much better sets of magical equipment for underwater operations at their disposal.

But Cyril was quite satisfied with this set, and with it he finally felt himself in the water as in his native element, splashing through the crystal-clear waters of the Azure Bay with Diantrel. However, unlike the Red Sea of his native Earth, where Cyril had visited with his parents in the summer after, I think, fifth grade, there was nothing to look at underwater here. There were no corals, but only a clean, literally polished sandy bottom. Apparently, everything interesting was outside of Azure Bay, where he wasn't going to go. Although no, there were still some things to see here. For example, the slender bare feet of his mentor, who was usually ahead of the young man during joint swims. She preferred not to use the equipment and shoes. It was a very seductive sight to watch Diantrel in a tight-fitting bathing suit, moving in the water column, her white hair fluttering behind her like a plume. It was good that the water was still relatively fresh, otherwise, there could have been an embarrassment. And if Cyril hadn't been able to suppress his erection by controlling his internal energies.

When he and his mentor took a second break from swimming in and under the waters of the Azure Bay, Cyril asked her where she had learned to swim so well. She smiled slightly in response and told him that water exercises were part of the standard training for any Guard, even those of the Underground Corps. And she, as a gifted one, had an advanced course of training. The mentor was telling all this while sitting with Cyril right on the surface of the water, and there were practically no waves. From the outside, this picture must have looked very surreal. The half-elf and the elfess were sitting directly on the water, dangling their feet in it and swaying slightly on the rare waves.

Listening to his mentor's story about her water training, Cyril glanced at her bare feet, which were clearly visible to him in the clear water. And in general, Diantrel, all wet, in a closed but tight-fitting swimsuit, looked very seductive. Under the heavy sigh of Conscience, Cyril could not resist, and once again mentally activated the token received from Master, damn him! But the token is cool... But still, damn him... The warmest thoughts about Master went out of his head when Diantrel, not stopping to talk about how she and her fellow soldiers were practising exercises on working at medium and shallow depths, pulled up the top of her swimming costume, exposing her breasts to the public again.

Or rather, for Cyril to see, because no one else could appreciate this beauty. At the sight of his mentor's bare tits, on which the drops of sea water glistened, a stray thought flashed in his head. What if...? Licking his lips, Cyril cautiously asked Diantrel, who was waiting for his actions, if he could appreciate her breasts, but not from the front, but by hugging his mentor from the back. It would just be more comfortable for him that way, honestly, honestly. The elfess shrugged and nodded as if nothing had happened. Swallowing, Cyril carefully got out of the water, walked around the mentor, who remained sitting on the sea surface, carefully, so as not to fall into the water deeper than necessary, and settled down behind her, hugging her from the back closely.

He reached forward, running his hands through the elf's armpits, and gently cupped his hands around his mentor's breasts, squeezing them lightly. Then he stood still, feeling his heart pounding frantically in his chest from excitement. He was sitting close to Deantrel, so that his cock was pressed against her back, and she couldn't help but feel it. But because of the token, the elf did not react in any way to this openly intimate intimacy with her student, continuing to sit quietly while he squeezed her breasts in his hands. It was the first time his mentor had been this close to him, and even in this way. Cyril could clearly smell the scent of her skin and hair, mixed with the scent of sea salt and some flowers. He felt the silky smoothness of her skin. He wanted to put his head on her shoulder and kiss her, but he realised that the token would not do that. It was all so amazingly unnecessary that for about a minute, he sat motionless, just enjoying the situation. He was taken out of his stupor by the voice of his mentor, who asked in a mundane voice, with a touch of a chuckle:

"Are you going to sit still like this, Cirial?"

Shuddering and even a little embarrassed, the young man involuntarily squeezed the elf's breast a little tighter and said in a guilty voice:

"I'm sorry, I was just too captivated by your beauty. Especially the beauty of your breasts."

He couldn't see Diantrel's face from behind, but he was sure she smiled slightly.

"Do you like it more than the breasts of your maids?"

Smiling, Cyrill slightly lifted his mentor’s breasts up, pressing his index fingers on her erect nipples and answered honestly:

"I like yours much better, honorable Diantrel. Perhaps it is because it is not always available to me."

And, obeying an impulse, he asked his mentor, without ceasing to caress her breasts:

"Do you like it when I touch your breasts?"

Somewhat to his surprise, Diantrel answered honestly:

"Your caresses are quite pleasant to me, Ciriall, and give me pleasure."

"What do you like better, when I caress your breasts with my hands, or when I kiss and lick them?"

"Second. It was especially nice when you suckled on my breast like a baby. It reminded me of when I helped my relative breastfeed her baby."

Well, well, that's interesting.... Who would have thought that a seemingly purely entertaining and funny Token could be used for this kind of questioning? Although it probably plays a role, Cyrill is not a stranger to her. They actually have a Chosen One/Companion bond. It is unlikely that a complete stranger would be so frank with him. And she probably wouldn't let him paw her boobs like that either, only allowing him to admire them. Or a little stroking. I wonder what if... Cyrill did not have time to finish the thought that flashed in his head, interrupted by the inaudible signal of receiving a system message.

Attention!

You have been given an assignment (minor): Bring Diantrel of the House of Winterblooms, daughter of Edenril, to orgasm while she is under the effect of the "Awesome Melons" token, by caressing only her breasts.

If successful, Diantrel of the House of Winterflowers, daughter of Edenril, will not realize what has happened, nor will anyone else, unless you choose to tell them yourself.

In case of failure, Diantrel of the House of Winter Flowers, daughter of Edenril, will also not realize what happened, but she will be granted one random token similar in properties to the “Awesome Melons” token, which she will automatically use against you. You won't remember or realize it, and neither will Diantrel be aware of the token, which won't prevent her from using it against you at will, until the token's charges are used up. The realization will be granted to you after the last use of the token.

Reward: ten standard daily amounts of currency for the System Auction and two random Tokens.

Note: After accepting the quest, the ‘Awesome Melons’ token on Diantrel of the House of Winter Blossoms, daughter of Edenril, will be renewed. Repeated use of the Awesome Watermelons token will result in automatic failure of the quest.

For a minute, Cyril read the lines of the assignment he had received. If the help didn't say that it was impossible, he would have suspected that this assignment, as well as a couple of previous ones, had also been sent to him by Master, for fuck's sake. His first thought was to delete the assignment, but after thinking it over, Cyril licked his lips and pressed the confirmation button, ignoring the inarticulate sounds his Conscience made again. As soon as it happened, an invisible stopwatch appeared in his head, measuring the time until the token expired. It was just over ten minutes. Shit, I hate, I hate, bitch, time quests! Fortunately, Cyril had a plan of action, and he immediately started to implement it.

Thanks to his mentor, her lessons had not been in vain, so he began not only to massage Diantrel's breasts more vigorously, but also to concentrate the energy in his palms very carefully. Simply caressing her tits would not bring her to the finish line, no matter how hard you tried. But with the presence and proper use of magic, a different matter! Having accumulated enough of it in his palms, Cyril simultaneously tuned to the subtle body of his mentor, who did not interfere with it in any way, just enjoying the caresses of his student, thanks to the action of the token. Enjoying it for sure, the young man could see the elfess flushed, and her breathing became heavier. Having attuned to Diantrel's delicate body, which was not difficult to do, given their connection, mark and previous training, Cyril did not stop massaging his mentor's tits and began to gently pour his energy into them. Thus, gradually increasing their sensitivity. The already horny elf did not react to such a blatant invasion of personal space, thanks to the same action of the token multiplied by the connection. Though Cyril was sure that if he tried, say, to reach out his hand to her pussy and massage it, she would have immediately cut him off and asked him what he was doing?

Having increased the sensitivity of his mentor's tits to the necessary level, Cyril squeezed her nipples with the fingers of both hands, twisting them slightly, and at the same time sending a point energy impulse. It went through the energy channels from her breasts down to her abdomen, and from there even lower. To one particular energy node located exactly between.... With a low moan, the elfess threw her head back and covered her cloudy violet eyes. Biting her lip in pleasure, she placed her palms over Cyril's hands, guiding his movements. He even flinched from surprise, but fortunately, Diantrel did not take any more action, just enjoying her student's caresses and getting more and more heated. The young man, watching the clock ticking, continued massaging his mentor's breasts, never ceasing to infuse his energy into her, occasionally sending stronger and stronger impulses through her nipples. He brought her to orgasm when there was about a minute and a half of time left.

The elf let out a loud moan and arched her back, throwing her head back, pressing her back against her student even tighter, and straightening her legs sharply. Diantrel stayed in such tension for a few seconds, and then just completely collapsed in Cyril's arms, not reacting to anything. Somehow, he was sure that now he could kiss her, caress her pussy, and she wouldn't pay attention or even realize it. But that was too much for him, so the young man, feeling his heart pounding frantically in his chest, only exhaled heavily in relief. It worked! And he was already afraid that he would not have time to bring the mentor to the right condition. I don't even want to think about what kind of badge the System would give her.... Okay, well, what did they give him as a reward besides currency? О... Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever the assignment, whatever the reward.

The first Token was called ‘French Kiss 25/25’ and it fully corresponded to its name. Its functionality and limitations were exactly the same as those of the “Awesome Melons”, only it did not force the chosen woman to bare her tits, but allowed Cyril to suck her with his tongue. And the prettier the woman was to Cyril personally, the longer and deeper the kiss would be. Though... In theory, this token could be useful. Yes, it could not be used on a frankly hostile target or on the territory forbidden for Cyril, but in a peaceful or neutral situation, it was possible, having smeared his lips with some alchemy, to bewitch or put to sleep the lady who was kissing. And if you think about it, in theory you could do the same with Melons, having smeared your hands with a suitable composition....

The second token was called Naughty Tongue 3/3. It had only three charges, and it was as ultimatising as Melons and Kisser, but its effect on the chosen victim was well aware of. It was as follows. Each of the three charges had exactly one hundred uses in relation to the chosen target, a woman beautiful in Cyril's opinion, which were activated by Cyril's mental command. And each application caused the target to feel as if someone had licked her pussy and clitoris. It was possible to use up even a hundred applications in a row, guaranteeing to bring the target not just to the finish line, but to unconsciousness. Or you could tease her with single applications or short bursts. The victim would understand and feel everything perfectly well, but would not be able to track, block, or in any other way interfere with the use of the Token. It was a perfect tool for bullying the women that piss you of, especially high-ranking ones. There were several restrictions. First, as it was already mentioned, the target had to be a woman attractive to Cyril. The target's life must not be in danger at the time of application. To activate the Token, the target had to be within Cyril's line of sight for the first time. Then it could be used at any distance.

While Cyril was pondering and evaluating the award, Diantrel came to her senses, carefully got out of the student's embrace and tidied herself up, hiding her gorgeous elf tits. At that, her face was strangely blank. But as soon as she cleaned herself up, she came to her senses, and as if nothing had happened, she continued to tell her student about the details of underwater training practised by the armed forces of the Forest. At the same time, Diantrel did not forget to remind her student in a stern voice that he should not even think of swimming beyond the breakwater walls enclosing the Azure Bay. Anyway, Cyril wasn't going to! Because he had had enough of his mentor's lectures about the local seas and oceans, especially about their inhabitants, which he told her about. And in general, how could people and elves in Beriadon risk going into the open waters, considering what was in them?

His mentor smilingly invited him to move to the room they had set aside for the class, where she gave him a detailed answer that would make for a full lecture. The vast majority of small and medium-sized ships preferred to travel only along the coasts, never venturing into the open sea. Those who ventured into the open sea, where any land was out of sight, usually relied either on strength and numbers or on speed and stealth. A small and fast ship travelling over the waves is unlikely to attract the attention of large predators, and again, it has to be spotted and chased. A small ship is much easier to hide from the eyes of others than a large ship, and it can be accelerated much faster. And large ships, as a rule, do not need to hide.

Because big ships do not sail alone. And a well-equipped and armed naval flotilla with skilful and experienced crews, among which there are necessarily strong mages, is a formidable force that can stand up for itself even in a fight with a leviathan. In addition, many of those who go to sea in one way or another offer prayers to the Lady of the Seas. In almost all large naval fleets maintained by the Trading Houses and/or various Guilds of the Confederation, one ship is assigned to be a floating temple to Calisto. And all large enough ships often have altar rooms dedicated to her, albeit small ones.

It was not a complete guarantee of protection from trouble, but it was a great help in case of it. The grace of the Lady of the Seas could protect from a storm, and send another monster from the depths of the sea back to these depths, given that with the patron and ancestor of the latter, Calisto, as Cyril knew from his mentor's lectures, had very strained relations. As well as with the elves themselves, who did not build temples to the Lady of the Sea and did not offer prayers. In general, as Cyrill noticed, the worship of local gods was very complicated among the firstborn. There were very few elves who had chosen the priesthood among the elves, compared to the same humans. And those who were, for the most part, tied their eternity to the Ancient God, the Lord of the Forests, who patronised the elves. He, too, had no warm feelings for Calisto and her island wards.

Diantrel had described the story of the Forest's attempt at expansion to Cyril during one of her earlier lectures in great detail, especially the deaths of the ten Trees of Life, so laboriously grown by the elves and put on ships by the islanders. She chose only censorious expressions, as befitted a firstborn, but Cyrill could literally physically feel how much “warm” feelings Diantrel had for the Islanders and their divine patroness. The same warm feelings were evident in her words when she mentioned the leaders of the “expansion party” behind the whole “adventure”.

However, the mentor did not develop this topic too much, and to Cyril's questions about the latter, she briefly answered that among the leadership of the Forest at one time prevailed supporters of the idea of expanding the territory, who pushed the decision to found another Forest. Diantrel did not go into details, but from her reservations, Cyril realised that the topic was obviously a sore subject for the elves and did not insist on further questions at that time. Returning to the topic of sea journeys, the young man asked if elves do not pray to the Lady of the Seas, what do they use to support their ships on the open sea?

Diantrel replied with unexpected amusement, if not with mockery, that the Forest Guards prefer not to sail too far from the shores of the Forest. And she even told him in confidence that the Forest Guard preferred to call their colleagues not the Sea Guard, but the Coast Guard. The only waters that the elven navy really tightly controlled were a large bay in the north-east of the Forest, which most sailors called Elven Bay. It was relatively shallow, well-studied in terms of magical anomalies, and considered quite safe, unlike the waters of the open sea that washed the rest of the Forest's coastline. White Harbour, also known as the Eastern Sea Gate of the Forest, was located on the shores of Elf Bay. In fact, it was the only elven city fully open to the representatives of the lesser races, where they had their permanent trade and diplomatic missions.

Cyril was surprised to hear this, and Diantrel reported it to him. It seemed to him that elves did not tolerate the constant presence of strangers on their land. His mentor, sighing heavily, confirmed that this was true, but in this case, the Forest had no choice. Either the elves would open their, in fact, only port on common terms with the rest of the maritime players in the Southeastern Seas, or they would find themselves in a naval blockade. Or, at best, their merchant ships wouldn't be allowed in either. So, despite the displeasure of the Forest and especially the Secret Guard, White Harbour was an open port, where any ship flying the flag of a ruler or organisation with whom the Forest had a treaty to that effect could enter. There were, of course, plenty of restrictions in those treaties, but in general, access to White Harbour, by the standards of other elven settlements, was practically free. But it was clear that no one allowed guests outside the city walls, unless they were in transit through the portals.

White Harbour was also the main base of the elven fleet, both military and merchant. From there, the first went to patrol the coast of the Forest. However, even here, Diantrel again allowed herself an unconcealed chuckle at her colleagues in the military craft. Most of the ships that went to patrol the coast were staffed almost entirely with crews of the lesser races, mostly humans, who either simply had the status of ‘Forest dwellers’ or were bound by strong oaths and treaties with the elves. Things were similar on the ships of the Forest's merchant fleet, as well as in the ranks of White Harbour's city guards. In the first case, it was due to the fact that the firstborn did not like to risk their eternity in sea voyages, preferring long-distance travelling through reliable stationary portals. The second was the unwillingness to distract the elven warriors from the primary task of protecting the Forest, not the city's law and order. Although there were elven units in the city guard, as well as ships with fully elven crews, of course. But the former preferred not to leave the elven part of the city, and the latter preferred not to leave the Elven Bay.

There were plenty of threats in the open waters, and not only from the Lord of the Deep's spawn. There were no fewer people in Beryadon than in Cyril's native Mother Earth. One of the permanent threats, about which the mentor told with no less ‘warmth’ in her voice than about the inhabitants of the Islands in the Middle Sea, were the inhabitants of the Ice Islands in, who would have thought, the Ice Sea. And it would seem, looking at a map, where were those Ice Islands and where was the Elven coast? To get even to the Middle Sea from the Ice Sea, you have to go halfway across the continent! And to reach the Southeastern Seas, one had to sail the other half of the continent first, and then swim back in the opposite direction.

But as it turned out, the local Vikings had their tricks up their sleeves. Their gifted had developed their branch of Spatial Magic, thanks to which the ships of the Ice Islanders appeared not too often, but disgustingly regularly everywhere. Their swift and daring raids affected literally everyone: the black-skinned inhabitants of the southern continent, the lizards, the Gem Cities, the merchant ships and coastal settlements of the Eastern Empire and its vassal satellites of varying degrees of control along the coast east of the Forest.

And of course, the elves also sometimes suffered from the raiders from the Ice Islands. What was especially annoying was that the local Vikings prayed to the local God of War and Battles, which made it impossible to pay them off with gold. They recognised only one payment - blood. However, Diantrel did not conceal it, the Northmen could give life to the one who bought it with blood. According to her mentor, they were fond of dueling with prisoners, or before the battle began, if the enemy had time to take the defence, to offer the strongest of the defenders to go one-on-one with the best of the raiders' warriors. True, a life bought never meant salvation. Diantrel gave Cyril examples of how people and non-humans who bought their lives with blood were left alone on a robbed ship in the middle of the sea. Or even on a small dinghy if the raiders decided to take the ship for themselves. Unless, of course, the man who bought his life decided to join the Northmen, swearing an oath to Khorgval on his own blood. Such cases were also known...

Listening to Diantrel's lectures about the peculiarities of local navigation, Cyrill involuntarily thought that the sailors of his native land had it easier than the locals. Although... It depends on how you look at it. On the one hand, there were no giant sea serpents, leviathans, and other deep-chthonic creatures in the Pacific or Atlantic oceans. There were no magical anomalies of various types in their expanses. But on the other hand, the same Earth sailors didn't have magic, which made life VERY easy for local sailors. The ability to purify and desalinate water, freeze and preserve fresh food, much wider possibilities of navigation and ship control, constant communication with the land, if there are good enough communication amulets. It is really impossible to say what is better, to suffer from scurvy in the middle of the vast Pacific Ocean on a ship caught in the doldrums, or to rush briskly through the waves towards a thirty-meter long scarecrow straight out of Lovecraft's fantasy....

Fortunately, Cyril was not going to become a local Columbus or Magellan, and who would let him? So let his acquaintance with the local seas continue to be limited to the safe and completely comfortable waters of the Azure Bay, Cyril was more than satisfied with it. As well as the fact that for the joint water training with his mentor, which he agreed to without a second thought, and for her lectures, he received experience. Not much at all, not even a tenth of a tenth would have been gained in the whole vacation at this rate, but still not bad. And even managed to get “Basic Underwater Skills”, which was also very nice! So the young man went to bed in a great mood, which was additionally facilitated by the hot embrace of Gata and Armina....

* * *

The small room was brightly lit by a ceiling mosaic in the form of a sun, with a human figure on the background of a solar disc. In a comfortable chair that looked like a gynaecological chair sat a dark elf, dressed in white and gold clothes and with golden eyes. Even her white hair looked golden in the light of the mosaic. She was sitting in the chair with her legs and crotch spread wide, while the young human girl sitting in front of her, in the same white-gold clothes, was painting with a thin brush on the elf's pubis the same solar disc with a human figure as on the ceiling. They exchanged comments of varying degrees of vulgarity. When the drawing was finished, it glowed for a moment and then was imprinted intentionally on the elf's dark skin. Not just a drawing or a tattoo, but rather a symbol-print, something remotely similar to the mark he had put on Diantrel's pubes, Cyril suddenly realised clearly. At the artist's satisfied laughter, the obviously equally satisfied dark elf left the chair.

The next moment, Cyril saw her fully dressed in another room. The dark one stood with her arms folded at waist level in front of a rather attractive middle-aged human man, fair-haired and also dressed in white and gold robes. Only clearly military in cut. The elven woman somehow managed to look both humble and incredibly seductive at the same time. Her white and gold clothes, tailored to maximise her figure, fit her perfectly. In a pleasant voice, she was singing about how grateful she was to the man for saving her eternity and giving her the opportunity to serve the cause of the Eternal Sun. He listened to her with a modest smile, clearly embarrassed, occasionally managing to get in a rare word, until another man approached them, also in white and gold military robes. Only noticeably younger and rather handsome, if not feminine. At least in face, not in figure. He greeted them both and immediately embraced the older man, who glowed at the sight of him. His eyes sparkled with sunlight for a moment.

After that, the couple thanked the elf once again for the warm words and left, hugging each other by the shoulders and talking quietly. The dark one remained standing with a petrified face. The next moment, Cyril saw her sitting at the table, in front of her was a jug of wine and an ordinary clay bowl of wine. And on her face it was clearly read that a part of the familiar and understandable universe had just collapsed into the abyss. Somehow, Cyril clearly realised that she knew the power of her beauty and how to use it when she thought it was necessary. It happened that the chosen target did not succumb to her feminine charms. Or that it was simply not to one's taste. But never until then had her beauty left a man completely indifferent....

* * *

Another dream, but again a dark elven woman, only now in an underground hall plunged into almost total darkness. The trained and athletically built body moves silently, completely merging with the surrounding rocks. Cyrill sees the dark one clearly, but several light elves in dark grey armour moving through the underground hall do not. The elusive shadow easily bypasses them, literally slipping through the blind spot that appeared for a second.

And now she is already standing on a well-lit height, without hiding, with a smug grin on her face, while a dozen light elves, in dark grey armour, with stone faces, are listening to their commander, who is reprimanding them for failing the test. But the dark one doesn't pay any attention to it, completely absorbed in the conversation with her kin, who calmly congratulate her on passing the next test. He does not pay any attention to his tribeswoman's blatantly ambiguous comments.

A new shot, and now the same dark elf is lying in a luxurious bath, putting her foot on the edge and soaking in hot water, obviously with the addition of some herbs or salts, which gave her an unusual pink colour and fragrance. Next to the bath was a small table full of juicy and ripe fruit, which she gorged on with gusto, juice running down her chin and then her chest. She ignored another dark elf glancing at her unkindly as she washed a loudly humming infant in a separate small bath.

A new shot, and another elf is literally twirling around the dark elf who was congratulating the first one in bed, clearly whispering something bad to him about her mate. He only smirks in response and openly gropes the dark one by the buttocks and breasts. But at the moment when he turned her over on her back and climbed on top, a loud childish scream was heard in the bedroom, coming from the amulet standing on the bedside table. After which, a continuous tired groan was heard.

* * *

The spacious room, furnished with good dark wood furniture, was immersed in an intimate semi-darkness created by magical lamps in the form of faceted crystals. A tall, dark elf with violet eyes and long silver hair walked along the polished slabs of dark marble, swaying her hips. Her face was both commanding and haughty, yet aristocratic and beautiful. She had a slender body, long straight legs, and, of course, solid breasts. She wore only a net of thick threads of silver silk, not counting the silver jewelry, which had a powerful magic, as well as the elven woman herself. From the outside, it looked as if someone had drawn a web of spider webs all over the elf's dark skin.

Clearly, the outfit, if it could be called that, didn't hide anything. Two strands of her long hair covered the dark one's nipples. But her pussy was not covered at all, and the dark one's lower lips, framed on the sides with silver threads, were clearly visible to Cyril. In general, in this dark elf, the young man felt something predatory, giving the image of a large and deadly poisonous spider. He defined her that way: Spider. A moment later, he corrected himself: Silk Spider. Slapping her bare feet on the marble slabs, she approached the two other dark elves kneeling in the center of the darkened room.

Unlike Spider, they were both completely naked, not even wearing jewelry. Their long hair was gathered in tight bunches at the back of their heads, and their slender bodies were entangled in fine ropes of the same silvery silk as the spiderweb netting on Spiderwoman's body. And not just entangled. The sight of their bound naked bodies caused the young man to clearly associate them with examples of such a wonderful Japanese art as shibari, seen on the Internet.

They looked outwardly calm at the approaching Spider, but Cyril could clearly sense that the two bound dark ones were nervous. And rather intensely so. When the Spiderwoman approached them, she slowly walked behind their backs and made a short, barely perceptible movement with her hand. At the same second, the silken ropes entangling the captives moved as if alive. Before Cyril's eyes, they began to slide down the bodies of both elven women, changing knots, lengthening, and then both ends rushed sharply upwards. A moment, and now both captives were on their feet. Or rather, each on one leg, the one that was closer to her neighbor. Because the other leg of each of them was bent at the knee and pulled aside, thus opening access to the elven women's bosom and exposing it to view. And to keep the dark ones from falling, the same ropes were securely braided on a beam somewhere below the ceiling, keeping them upright.

Standing between the bound and helpless tribeswomen, Spider put her arms around them, pulling them close to her, and murmured affectionately that they had both upset her very much. And therefore must be punished. And her sweet, maternal voice, full of maternal concern, did not match the expression on her face, which did not bode well for both of them. And both dark elves understood that perfectly well. But they, Cyril felt it clearly for some reason, did not even think of objecting or contradicting the Spideress. She lowered her hands from the tribeswomen's shoulders to their waists, so that her palms rested exactly on their flat bellies without a drop of extra fat. Stroking them, the Spiderwoman murmured that they would pay for their misdeeds with their wombs. And she had already chosen who would be the “executor of the punishment”

The words made one of the bound dark elves, the one on the left, who looked older than her friend, shudder slightly. But it did not escape the Spider. Forgetting about the other one for the moment, she turned the shuddering tribeswoman around to face her, grabbed her by the hair with one hand and pulled her head back, and with the other hand took her by the throat. Still in the same ingratiating voice, Spider asked if the bound had anything against her decision. Or had she already forgotten to whom she owed her life? At that, Spider ran the pad of her index finger across the tribeswoman's throat. Very affectionately and gently, but she turned visibly pale, making her dark skin grayish. Cyril looked closer and recognized a thin scar on her throat. She shook her head, as far as the Spider's grip allowed, and hastily declared that she had nothing against it, that the Matriarch's will was law, and that she was eternally grateful to her for saving her life, and....

Cyril didn't know what else the frightened dark one wanted to say, for the Spider put her finger to her lips, and she was instantly silent. She leaned forward and said in the same affectionate voice that they were saying the same thing. And that's how it ended. For a few seconds Spiderwoman stared into the eyes of the visibly frightened tribeswoman, who dared not even move, and then she took her finger from her lips and kissed her, literally sucking her in. With one hand she continued to hold her hair, and with the other she hugged her tightly, pulling her close to her, so that their tits were pressed against each other. The kiss lasted for quite a while, and when Spider broke it, a thin string of saliva stretched between them. When she pulled away, she licked her lips predatorily and murmured that she would hate to find a new Elder over Slaves. The bound darkling, breathing heavily, nodded hastily, causing the Spideress to smile broadly. She kissed her again, but this time quickly, and then playfully pinched the nipple of her left breast before turning to the other dark one.

The Spider stood motionless but watched her closely. The Spider pulled her to herself, grabbed her by the hair, and pulled her head back, then whispered in an affectionate voice in her ear that what had been said earlier applied to her as well. The other dark one, who bore a certain resemblance to Spider, nodded hastily and whispered that she knew her place, had learned her lesson, and had always been a good girl. Or rather, a daughter. This brought a wide, but for some reason not at all kind smile to Spider's face. Leaning toward what appeared to be her daughter, she said in a voice full of distilled maternal concern that she said the same thing to her mother. And, without letting her daughter say a word, she kissed her affectionately, also on the lips.

Spider kissed her less than she had with the Elder over Slaves, but just as passionately and tongue-tied, and when she broke the kiss, she murmured that she hoped she really knew her place and would be a good daughter. Whereupon, taking a step back from the bound tribeswomen, Spider made a brief gesture with her hand. Immediately, from somewhere in the depths of the room, several ribbons of black silk flew into her hand. Cyrill thought that she had pulled them by telekinesis, but at the last moment, he noticed the shine of a thin thread stretching from the index finger of the Spider, with which she had picked them up. With these ribbons, she blindfolded both tribeswomen. They did not even think of resisting, though the young man felt sure that neither of them liked the action.

Cyril also realized that the way the ribbons were tightly braided around the dark elf's eyes, they were obviously not simple. When he looked closely, he sensed magic in them but had no time to understand its nature, because the Spider moved on to the next stage. With the same thread, she drew from somewhere a small statuette of dark polished stone, depicting a nude standing elf with a rounded belly. With one hand, she covered her breasts, the other her crotch. And in this statuette, the power was felt very clearly. But the power was affectionate, and not once evil. Touching the statuette, Spider pointed at the bound dark ones. For a moment, the statuette was illuminated by a gentle golden light, and then the same light illuminated the elven women. Specifically, their bellies and crotches.

The Blessing of Fertility - came from somewhere, understanding. It is intended to facilitate the conception of new life, as well as to protect the future child and ensure its health. With a satisfied nod, the Spiderwoman took two small vials of golden liquid that appeared in her hand and gave them to the bound tribeswomen to drink. As soon as they had swallowed their contents, their bellies were again illuminated with a golden light, and Spider, with a satisfied face, carefully tied another pair of silk ribbons around their mouths. Then, swaying her hips slightly, she stepped aside, admiring the results of her labors. When she appraised the two helpless and bound dark elves, she nodded contentedly, then snapped her fingers. Nothing happened for a few moments, and then a half-blurred figure appeared from somewhere in the darkness. Cyrill easily recognized the active cloaking field.

When the unknown dark elf approached the Spider, it disappeared, and the young man saw a young dark elf. At least he looked the same age as Cyril, and he didn't have the same maturity and wisdom as the Supreme Treasurer, or any of the other light elves he had met. Even Fiorel felt more mature than this dark one. And a moment later came the clear realization that he was indeed young, albeit by elven standards. Except this was a case of small but mighty. He was slender, with an athletically built body, well-built muscles, short snow-white hair, and violet eyes, just like Spider's. And there was a noticeable family resemblance in the other features of his face. And also in a magical gift was felt, but it was developed, according to Cyril's feelings, strangely. As if... Exactly, as if the emphasis was not on the magical characteristics, but on the physical. In any case, that was how the young man formulated the feelings that arose when looking at the young dark elf.

He approached the Spider and immediately knelt before her, bowing his head almost to the floor. She smiled broadly, and this time, as it seemed to Cyril, really sincerely, gestured for him to rise to his feet, then pointed her finger at the bound Elder over Slaves. He gave her a surprised look, slid his eyes over her companion, surprised even more, and then turned back to the Spider with his eyes goggling. She smiled even wider and nodded faintly. He stood motionless for a moment, and then knelt before Spider again and began kissing her, starting at her feet and moving upward and upward until his face reached her crotch, which he licked with his tongue, holding her hips with his hands.

The Spider standing over him closed her eyes and stood motionless for a few seconds, enjoying the licking from the young elf, perhaps even her son. Then, gesturing for him to stop, she held out a small vial of the same golden liquid that had appeared in her hand, again inexplicably from nowhere. He accepted it with a grateful nod, drank it in a gulp, and then hurried to the bound Elder over Slaves, unbuttoning his dark robes embroidered with silver as he went. He picked up the twitching and mewling tribeswoman and dragged her a little away from the Spider's daughter, the silk ropes caught in the ceiling beam allowing him to do so. He immediately got down to business, kissing her neck and rubbing her breasts with his hands. He could feel that he was burning with impatience and passion.

Cyril, who was watching this scene, had a strong association: a teenager, who was overflowing with hormones during the transition period, had a pretty girl at his full disposal. In this case, however, it was more like a woman. After watching this scene for a while, the Spider made a short gesture with a faint smile. The Elder over Slaves and the young elf were surrounded by an impenetrable black barrier, which also cut off all sounds. And then the barrier became invisible, completely hiding the couple from prying eyes. The same barrier surrounded Spider's daughter, covering her as well. After waiting a few seconds, she snapped her fingers again. After about a minute, another dark elf appeared next to the first dark elf. This one, unlike the previous young man, was clearly an adult, and he had the experience of many years, if not centuries. He was athletically built, with muscular muscles, many healed scars, a stern face, short light gray hair, and cold scarlet eyes.

He bowed briefly to Spider, and she responded with a playful expression, pulling him to her, embracing him, and kissing him passionately. For a few minutes, they stood kissing, and the elf who had arrived allowed himself to explore Spider's body with his hands, sliding his palms over her buttocks and breasts. But when he pulled away and pointed his head questioningly toward the bed, the elfess shook her head and pointed with a sly grin in his direction, where a moment later her daughter appeared as if out of nowhere. Bound and ready. The newly arrived dark elf gave her a surprised look, then looked questioningly at the Spider, got the affirmative nod, and smiled predatorily, releasing her from his embrace.

When he received the same vial of golden potion, he drank it while unbuttoning his clothes. When he came up to Spider's daughter, he ran his hands over her body, assessed her breasts and buttocks, which caused her to moan helplessly and displeasedly, and then got down to business. Spider winked cheerfully at him, and then with a flick of her finger, she surrounded them again with a barrier. After ensuring the magic was stable, she slowly stepped aside and sat in a luxurious chair. Once she was comfortable in it, she snapped her fingers again. A moment later, the barriers that had just disappeared, hiding the two couples of dark elves already copulating, became translucent. But only from the outside, Cyrill guessed. From inside, they could not see what was going on around them. Watching the performance, Spider put one foot on the wide armrest, put the other one aside, and snapped her fingers. A couple of moments later, a naked human youth, looking a little younger than Cyril, appeared inexplicably from nowhere. Quite handsome, one might even say cute. With slightly curly shoulder-length blond hair, a clean face, smooth skin - if it weren't for the manhood between his legs, Cyrill could easily have mistaken him for a girl from the back. A very pretty girl....

From somewhere came a clear understanding that this appearance was not an accident, but the result of the use of alchemy and healing magic, which specifically changed the appearance and physique of the young man, who was wearing only a thin silver collar. Without saying a word, he immediately knelt in front of the first elf and began to gently, with the very tip of his tongue, between her lower lips, which caused a satisfied smile on her face. Spider put her leg on his back and began to enjoy the sight and oral caresses of her personal slave.

* * *

All good things tend to come to an end, especially a luxurious vacation by the sea. The two weeks given by the elves to Cyril flew by so imperceptibly that he realized only on the penultimate day. However, it was sinful to complain, because during this time he had a great rest, restored moral and physical strength, even gained a little experience, and was ready to continue to conquer new heights of magic. What was especially happy was that he wouldn't have to pack his suitcases and deal with all the hassle that inevitably accompanies air travel for commoners. Step into the portal and you're home, in the sense, in your quarters in the Royal Palace. But that won't be until the day after tomorrow. In the meantime, you can enjoy the warm sea and the sandy beach. And a few other things.

Standing in the dining room of the mansion assigned to him, Cyril took several generous handfuls of juicy and ripe cherries and dropped them into the barrier-formed cylinder without an upper plane. From the outside, it looked as if the berries were floating directly in the air, resting against invisible walls. Adding a few more handfuls, Cyril formed an upper barrier-press and, with a couple of gestures, set it in motion. It passed through the cherries that had turned to mush, squeezing the pips. The barriers forming the cylinder were designed to hold the juice and pulp of the berries, but let the hard pips through. A few moments later, all of them crumbled into the plate standing on the table under the cylinder, where there was already a fair number of different pips, not only from cherries. And the pulp and sweet juice were left floating in the air.

When the last seed was squeezed out, Cyril with a few manipulations formed another pair of barrier-type weaves, only in the form of planes-blades, located along the central axis of the cylinder. A moment, and they began to rotate rapidly, turning the cherries into a smooth puree. And all this was still happening in the air, which from the outside looked quite surreal and cool! When all the cherries turned into a homogeneous mush, Cyril carefully merged it into another cylinder floating in the air, also formed by barrier weaves. There were already several portions of other fruits and berries, turned into puree in a similar way. A couple of manipulations, and the contents of the cylinder went into motion, mixing into a homogeneous mass. Great, now cool and... done! With a couple of precise movements, Cyril poured the result of his labors into four crystal bowls and said in a satisfied voice:

"Please, everything is ready!"

Gata, Armina, and Diantrel, dressed in bathing suits, accepted the cups with grateful nods, picked up silver spoon,s and sampled the wine.

"Mmm... so delicious! What do you call this dish, sir? Sou-vi?" the catwoman asked, licking her lips.

"Smoothie. Smoo-thie."

“It sounds funny,” Armina said, taking another spoonful, “but it’s tasty.”

"I agree, the taste is very pleasant, agreed Diantrel."

“That’s nice to hear,” the young man smiled in response and ate a few spoonfuls of the fruit and berry delicacy.

The idea of using magic for culinary purposes came to him at the end of the first week of Azure Plant's vacation, when, after a swim in the sea, Gata and Armina had set him a table of fruits and berries. At first, neither they nor his mentor understood what Cyrill was up to, and when he explained, there was a noticeable skepticism on their faces. But it disappeared completely when they appreciated the result. And the young man was willing to bet that even Diantrel was a little, but impressed. Yes, of course, he had not achieved the desired result from the first time, but as soon as the necessary parameters for the weave-barriers were determined, it was on!

In the first moment after the success, it was even a bit frustrating that there were no achievements in his System like in the same WoW. ‘Invention of the magic mixer!’ Or ‘First step in mastering magical cookery!’ But what's not there is not there. Besides, it turned out later that magical variants of mixers and other kitchen appliances were still available in Beriadon, but Cyril just hadn't come across them. After all, he had never had to cook on his own here before. And so, according to his mentor and his maids, magic was quite actively used in cooking among those who could afford it. From banal amulets that heated or purified water to complex cauldrons as functional as food processors and multicookers of his native Earth. A skilful, gifted cook is a very valuable and well-paid specialist.

After finishing his fruit and berry smoothie, the young man set the bowl aside and was about to suggest that everyone go swimming, but he froze in place. A silent notification about receiving a system message sounded in his head. Having accepted it, Cyrill began to study the invisible lines with his eyes.

Attention!

You have been offered a system assignment.

Difficulty level: medium.

Conditions:...

While Cyrill was reading the invisible lines of the proposed assignment, the maids, who had already understood what his glassy gaze meant, froze in anticipation. Having finished reading, Cyrill raised his eyes and immediately met Diantrel's gaze. For a few moments, they looked at each other in silence.

* * *

Frowning, Sivila folded her arms across her chest and said in a thoughtful voice:

"It's too risky. I don't approve of it."

Third, sitting to her right, spoke slowly:

"I disagree, we can easily arrange this, even with limited forces. Besides, this territory is almost completely under our control."

“Precisely ‘almost’,” the Elder Enchantress retorted, “and not ‘completely’ under our control.”

Shrugging, the Head of the Secret Forest Guard replied:

"Let's pick the best of the best. After all, we're not talking about the Wild Lands."

Pursing her lips, Sivila said:

"I still don't approve of it. In my opinion, the risk is not justified. And given the circumstances..."

The discussion, which had been going on for almost an hour, was interrupted by the First, who silently raised his hand. Siмvila, Third, and Mirael, the only ones who participated with him in this latest urgent meeting, immediately fell silent. With an inscrutable, thoughtful face, he said in a calm but tired voice:

"Organize it for him. But do it this way..."

* * *

“Well, how do I look?” Cyrill asked.

“Wonderful, sir,” Armina smiled modestly.

"Your appearance is impeccable, sir," Gata supported her.

The young man, standing in front of the tall mirror in his room, turned to it first one side, then the other, and recognized that the maids were not flattering him at all. Cyril was wearing a clean summer suit, tailored according to all the canons of elven fashion. White and green colors prevailed, and they were accentuated by a bit of golden embroidery. It sat perfectly on the young man. Looking around once more, Cyril made sure he hadn't forgotten anything. An additional set of protective amulets, in addition to the personal medallion, was to replace the one lost during the assassination attempt. A storage ring filled to the brim. Diadem. Wand. Communication amulet. All in place. Plus a small bag of light leather, enchanted for durability and to conceal its contents from prying eyes, with an elegant brass lock in the shape of a leaf from the Tree of Life, worn over the shoulder. In it was neatly folded another set of amulets, a spare set consisting of several protective, healing, and one signaling and binding amulet. Also in the bag was a six-pack of magically charged storage crystals, and several vials of healing and stimulating alchemy. And in it there was a purse with full silver elven florens, which had been given by the mentor and was pleasant in its heaviness.

The girls were dressed in light-colored street dresses, light enough, but closed. Everything was as decent and even modest as possible, as befitted the servants of a respectable man. A half-elf, in a sense. Each of them had a bag like the one Cyril had been given, but with an enchantment for additional volume and weight reduction, which made them comparable in price to other amulets of master level. The appearance of the maids had also changed. Gata, a redhead, became light gray with flecks of white. Armina, from blond and blue-eyed, became a brown-eyed, brown-haired girl. However, both girls did not lose their beauty, they just became... different. Once again, making sure that he hadn't forgotten anything, Cyril took a final look at himself in the mirror, satisfied with the handsome half-elf reflected in it, and nodded affirmatively:

"In that case, we can move forward."

Fiorel, who was standing at the door, nodded briefly:

"As you wish, Cirial."

Turning to Diantrel, who was standing next to him, he politely clarified:

"Did I understand correctly that you are staying here, honorable Diantrel?"

Cyrill's mentor nodded in response:

"Quite right. I've discussed it with the honourable Sivila and Mirael several times, and we've all concluded that, given the circumstances, my presence would only complicate things. I would be attracting unnecessary attention to myself, and therefore to Cirial. After all, a lot of people know me by sight. And Cirial won't want that kind of attention. So I'll stay here, which is fine with me."

For a moment, a faint smile touched Diantrel's lips:

"I will spend my last day of holiday in the peace of Azure Bay. It is unlikely that I will be here again in the next decade."

Turning to her student, she made a stern face and said in a stern voice:

"Remember everything I taught you, Cirial, as well as today's briefing."

The young man quickly nodded in response to her:

"Of course. Have a nice rest, venerable Diantrel. See you tonight."

"I look forward to your return."

After saying goodbye to his mentor, Cyril and the maids, accompanied by Fiorel, left the mansion by the sea. Half an hour of time, two portal crossings, and Cyril, together with Gata and Armina, found himself in a medium-sized room with no windows and a single door. No furniture - the only thing in the room was a semi-circular portal arch made of seemingly monolithic stone, similar to dark marble. Its exterior was engraved with intricate geometric reliefs that glowed with blue light. After the portal closed behind Cyril and his maids, they began to fade rapidly, and the powerful weave embedded in the archway went into a dormant mode.

The guests were met by an elf in completely un-elven gray clothes, with an equally expressionless face that seemed to slip from memory. He nodded briefly to the young man and his companions in greeting and said:

"Please follow me. Don't lag behind."

He let the trio of guests out of the room, behind which there was a wide and long corridor, lit by high-quality magical lamps on the walls and under the ceiling. There were enough elves and representatives of the younger races that entered or exited such doors, but Cyril didn't have time to get a good look at anyone. His escort led them almost immediately into another, much narrower side corridor, which was hidden behind an unremarkable door with no signs or plaques, which had a good protective enchantment. To be fair, the powerful protective magic could be felt everywhere. Cyril could feel that the walls here were not simple but very well fortified and protected. Quite quickly, the elf in gray robes led the young man and his companions to another door locked with a key and magic. Turning to them, he slid his gray eyes over all three of them, handed them three small scrolls written in calligraphic elven handwriting with magical seals, and began another briefing:

"Here are your identification documents, confirming your right to stay freely in the city territory. Beyond this door begins the outer area of the Portal Complex. Exit calmly through the main gate and show your documents to the inspector. Answer any questions briefly, politely, and as honestly as possible. In the city itself, you can move freely, but in no case should you leave its borders, and in general, it is better to stay in the central part. Just in case. One more thing. Keep in mind, most of the city is under Forest rule, but the territories of the diplomatic and trade missions of the lesser races are beyond our control."

“I got it,” Cyrill nodded briefly.

The elf quickly glanced at the young man's face, then at the faces of the maids frozen behind him, apparently deciding something and saying one last thing:

"Incidents are rare in the city, but still, be vigilant. This especially concerns you," the last phrase was directed at the maids.

They nodded their heads synchronously. The elf opened the door in front of them. The elf opened the door, revealing a green and colorful garden surrounded by a solid-sized building of light stone. The garden was surrounded by a high stone wall, which served as the basis for a powerful barrier-dome that covered the entire building. The elves took the security of this, no exaggeration, palace very seriously. After all, it was the equivalent of a government airport. This particular Portal Complex, as Fiorel explained to Cyril, was intended for traveling only VIP persons, as they would say on his native Earth. The rest were content with the main city portal.

They walked through the garden and came to the tiled road that led from the main entrance of the complex to the gate in the wall that surrounded it. It was not even a gate, but a full-fledged checkpoint, as they would say on Earth, at which there was a small queue. Fortunately, it moved very quickly, and by the time Cyril and his maids reached it, there was only a single middle-aged human woman in a luxurious dark blue dress with a deep neckline. She was accompanied by several servants in impeccable black-and-white suits, one of whom held a tall and wide umbrella over her, and one stoutly built, two-meter-tall man with light green skin, an extremely unfriendly face, fangs protruding from his lower jaw, and arms as thick as logs. He was also dressed in an immaculate black-and-white servant's suit.

Not a pureblood orc, not even a half-breed, more like a quarteron. He glanced at the trio, noticed Cyril's wand partially hidden by the upper part of his clothes and hanging in his belt holster, decided something for himself, and then lost interest in the young man. But the woman, who was quietly talking to one of her servants, cast a much more interested look at the young man, or rather, from her point of view, at the half-elf. She looked about thirty-five years old, quite attractive, with high breasts a little larger than average and luxuriant brown hair gathered into a high hairdo. From the way her brown eyes sparkled for a moment, Cyril realized that she was looking at him with magical vision. If he hadn't been wearing a disguise that hid the true power level of the artifacts he'd been given, she would have been surprised. Such things were not the status of a very strong, but still adept. The woman lost interest in him almost immediately and returned to her quiet conversation with her servant. The woman lost interest in him almost immediately, returning to her quiet conversation with her servant. The words were indistinguishable, clearly the work of an amulet that absorbed and twisted sounds.

The young man also looked at her with his tiara and saw nothing special. But not because there was nothing, but because the woman and her companions were surrounded by a good quality subtle body masking field. It was immediately clear that the lady was no ordinary person. For a moment, the young man even had a funny thought of using Master's gift on her, but Common Sense and Conscience immediately slapped him on the back. You're here on a mission! And a pretty serious one at that! You can have fun at home! Although there is a lot to see there....

The young man did not have time to receive a second slap from Conscience and Common Sense. Standing on guard, a pair of men in shining in the sun polished armor and light green tabards with the emblem of the Forest briefly called the woman and her companions, and they quickly went inside the gatehouse. And just a few minutes later, the guards gave a short signal to Cyril as well. The young man and his maids went inside, where he was met by an elf in white and blue robes, sitting at a table, in the company of a human assistant-writer and several human guards, among whom there was a gifted girl with short dark hair, a beautiful but stern face and a good staff in her hands. Nodding briefly to the guests, the elf held out his hand, and Cyrill handed him the scrolls and documents he had received earlier. The elf quickly ran his azure eyes over them, then slid them over the faces of the three guests. When he caught hold of Cyrill's amulets and wand, he looked more closely at the young half-elf from head to toe, then asked politely:

"Is this your first time in the city, honorable Cirial?"

Nodding in response, the young man spoke in perfect Elvish:

"Absolutely right, honorable..."

"Danrial. In that case, let me inform you, honorable Cirial, that the city has a serious list of restrictions on magical practice in public places."

"I am familiar with the city's rules, I assure you, and I do not intend to cause any inconvenience to anyone, honorable Danrial. I merely wish to take a short break from my studies."

Apparently, the elf expected such an answer, because he nodded slightly in response, made a mark in the ledger lying in front of him, and said politely:

"Welcome to White Harbor, venerable Cirial. Enjoy your stay."
* * *

Author's Note:

39 Ficbook pages. Yes, by Avada standards - not even funny. In my defense, I will say that initially I planned one very large chapter, but in the end I decided to split the episode with Cyrill's vacation at sea and his first adventure into two parts.

So yes, this chapter turned out to be filler-lore again, but with some fruits. But the next chapter will be more fun. Because Adventures Are Coming! Cyrill must finally justify the high title of the ISEkai?

All the best, especially to those who comment, ask questions, correct typos, and likes :)

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