"Sit here, Caliburn," Man beed, tapping the spa the edge of the bed beside her.

  Ah, Man's humble abode, fit for royalty—or not. With its cozy fines and utilitarian furnishings, it was a wonder how she mao host esteemed guests such as Elves. Oable, two chairs, and a bed doubling as seating—truly a throne room fit for a queen.

  As Burn was about to take oep into the tent, he suddenly heard Man effortlessly weaving her words in Elven tongue, her voice a mesmerizing melody of entment and grace. The guests, of course, responding in perfect harmony—

  Realizing he was missing out on this riveting linguistic spectacle, Burn swiftly about-faced and summoned Landevale, who was vely l nearby unoccupied.

  She immediately responded, “Yes, sir?”

  "Fetch me the box beh my bed. Chop-chop," Burn urged.

  He immediately darted bato the tent, eagerly taking his designated spot as instructed by Ma there, trying to read the atmosphere between the blonde haired witd the two, seemingly high ranked, Elves.

  "Mír shí eth. Thé losstil ravélin Caliburn Pendragon," Man said in Elven, her voice melodic like a whispering breeze through arees, her hand slithered to grasp Burn’s left hand on his p.

  "Narín dasai," one of the elves replied, the words flowing with a hint of curiosity. They inquired, "Eth garien amin haryat eth th memin?"

  "Ed eth lá. Min nótima sí i'ó," Man responded, her tole but firm, ending the chit-chat with a certain finality.

  As the words danced in the air, Burn observed the two Elves before him. They might as well have been mirror images, resembling a pair of overly eager siblings separated at birth.

  From their matg pale blonde locks to their matg emerald gazes, a's not fet their charmingly synized expressions and quirks.

  It was almost ical how one mimicked the other's every move; one could almost mistake them for a well-rehearsed theatrical act. Ah, the wonders of kinship or perhaps just a case of copy-and-paste by nature herself.

  If they had been any more identical, they might have merged into one being by sheer force of habit.

  "This is Rekre and Yukre Emer. Rekre, the father, and Yukre, the son. They hail from the royal lineage of the Elves," Maed them to Burn, who immediately raised his eyebrows.

  Well, of course, they are father and son. They share that timeless elvish charm that makes it a tad hard to tell their age—he almost thought they were twins.

  A timid voice quivered from outside the tent, "Y-Your Majesty…"

  It was Landevale, clutg the box Burn had requested. The young dy couldn't help but wonder why Burn , imagining a romantic gift for his newfound love i. Her curiosity had been piqued after all, evident from her lingering presenear the tent previously.

  As Burn prepared to invite her in, Man swiftly intervened, cautioning him, "No one in this camp is aware of Rekre and Yukre. I snuck them in."

  "This is Landevale. She has pledged her loyalty to me," Burn reassured her, with a nod from Man validating his words. Giving a signal, Burn beed the female knight to enter, "e in, Landevale."

  As Landevale stepped in, her blush drained from her face, leaving her looking like a startled rabbit. To her surprise, there were not one, but two Elves present in this rather unassumi!

  “Landevale,” Burn’s voice broke through her shock, coaxio hand him the box. Despite her initial bewilderment, she quickly regained her posure upon seeing Burn disentangle his hand from Man’s grasp to receive the box.

  "Kór shal sih. Eth érsha mír drósí kal shaín belóreí," Man's words flowed smoothly, assuring the elves that Landevale was no cause for .

  Burn opehe box, revealing a mishmash of tools, stationery, and everyday essentials. Among the assortment, he found a small futuristic gadget and pressed the button in the ter, instrug Man to "Say something in Elvish."

  “Eth… mélem?” Maioned, her tone ced with curiosity.

  Burn dohe other devi his ear, arg an eyebrow in surprise as it seemed the elusive Elvish nguage had been cataloged in the tral system.

  It was a home version of the transtion device he had purchased from the outsiders. Disc that the nguage had already been preloaded, Burn couldn't help but feel a twinge of irony.

  Even the most reclusive ra hermere, the Elves, had apparently crossed paths with these outsiders.

  After making a few adjustments, Burn hahe box back to Landevale, who suddenly grasped the depth of her misuandings. He transted his words into Elven tongue.

  "Please, speak. I prehend you now," Burn stated, the device spoke on behalf of him.

  The elves exged ed gnces. Rekre piped up, "This is a traption from the outsiders, correct? Aren't you worried about it being promised?"

  The words were being transted well.

  "Don't fret. I had the traitors of the outsiders ihem, and it appears there's no issue," Burn reassured them. Indeed, he had tasked Dirk's tech ckeys with scrutinizing all signifit devices from the outsiders, ensuring no leaks of information occurred.

  Despite being lio the tral system, the AI in charge was designed solely for dishing out nguage services.

  Sure, it could have had the capability to eavesdrop, but Dirk, the experienced merary, lent his expertise to Burn, cog a clever cocktail of signal addresses to maintain anonymity and keep prying eyes at bay.

  It was the usual basic operational requirements for meraries like them after all.

  “Then, I will trust you,” Rekre said.

  “I appreciate it,” Burn nodded.

  Burn wasly thrilled about being on the bad side of the non-human unities. Dealing with beings who could outst his race was like pying a never-ending game of catch-up from birth, with them being strohan he was in this age before he was even born.

  So, he was being more careful around them, always mindful not to step on any immortal toes.

  And hey, keeping them on friendly terms was a no-braihose supernatural folks had stash of goodies that put human resources to shame.

  Thus, why pick a fight with Vd when you could potentially team up for some mythical bes? Burn wasn't that dense.

  As for duking it out with any non-human races, well, let's just say Burn wasn't eager to enroll in a disadvantageous battle. Even if he managed a victory, what's the prize? Probably just a headache and no golden ticket.

  Same old story with those pointy-eared troublemakers.

  In a world where each move could meaernal sequences, Burn figured it’s best to steer clear of unnecessary drama with creatures who had more millennia uheir belt than he had brain cells.

  Who needs enemies when you've got turies-old beings with a knack for holding grudges? Not Burn, that's for sure.

  Thus why, even in the previous loops, Burn dodged shoith them until the eleventh hour. If not for those magical roadblocks, he could've quered Inkia quicker than a squirrel on a nut hunt. Them, added with the likes of Wintersin and Inkia’s deck stacked with surprises.

  So, he actually already knew what they were about to say today—the reasons they had for being vigint with him from the start and how Inkia blew over the fme of discord between them—

  "We are shocked that Her Holiness has apparently found her mate. gratutions on your union," Rekre suddenly annouossing Burn's expectations straight out the window and into the realm of pure disbelief.

  Burn, utterly fbbergasted, slowly turan, who smiled.

  Rekre and Yukre respectfully bowed, expressing, "After turies of anticipation, we're thrilled to witness your long-awaited happily ever after, Your Holiness."

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