"How do you fare?" Elin asked.

Walter sighed but didn't open his eyes, "Drained. Still. It's getting better, though. I think my mana is recovering."

Elin cooed and worked her head into his shoulder. "We have to get up."

"Trying to convince me? Or yourself?"

She giggled. "I will not deny I enjoy laying here with you. However, beloved, rise or I will help you do so."

"Well, I mean, you're laying on top of me."

She giggled again before she rolled to the side.

The tent they rested in outclassed the shelter at Camp Wolf. Prince Wilhelm wanted to house them in a grander tent than his own, which, in a way, matched how they respected their heroes. The prince relented and ordered a smaller tent, but it still stood half-as-big as the main house of their property. The spacious interior was also stocked with all manner of furniture, food, and comfort.

It must have been a lot of effort to move it in one day.

Elin banned all servants and ignored their routine complaints. They petitioned Prince Wilhlem for redress, who smiled apologetically and replied, "I mean, I could attempt to duel her." The complaints quieted.

Many of the royal servants were children of seated nobility. Walter figured most wished to get in Walter's good graces, and Elin's demand for total privacy undermined their politicking.

Walter anticipated Elin's territory marking. At home, she did the same. No one entered the main house without her permission. While she adopted his 'hands-off' opinion regarding how others lived on the property, in their own areas, she reserved the legal rights to dictate their conduct. This included Sister Lora, who helped raise her, and Laira, and neither objected nor grumbled about her relentlessness. She got her way when she pointed out they were the sole bearers of the law as landowners. If they failed to uphold their authority, then the situation could degrade.

He couldn't blame them, and he also couldn't blame Elin for her behavior. After all, this was how they survived for centuries. The strong protected the weak, and the weak obeyed the strong. His magic could, under the right conditions, obliterate an army or slay a dragon. Who else should they placate?

Walter experienced a low-mana situation after the war, and he promised himself never to suffer it again. When he looked at it logically, it made sense. Elin drew upon her body's overall stamina pool to perform her warrior abilities. The first time he witnessed her fight, she became pale, and he figured it didn't draw upon her stamina selectively but comprehensively. Her muscles fatigued, her blood pressure dropped, and her immune system weakened, all simultaneously.

So, as a mage, the source of his mana derived from mental fortitude and intelligence. During his recovery, Elin tended to him, and he felt like a drunken dementia patient. He hated it.

But, he had to ask the question, 'What exactly is mana?' It seemed, ultimately, the value displayed by a "Scan" spell reported a potential ability and not an actual substance, esoteric as it might be. The best theory he had was mana is the result of a 'Maxwell's Demon' siphoning his concentration to reshuffle reality. He tried asking Rabecca, but she had no concrete answers. Most mages concerned themselves with getting the spell right, surviving it, and then increasing its power since they prioritized killing monsters over hypothesizing. If he wanted scholarly knowledge, then Walter would have to join the Mage's University.

He didn't have the time. So, legally, he was a 'black mage,' or someone that used magic outside the certification of law.

So, he cast 'Scan' and peaked at Elin's stats for clues. Her stamina reservoir was smaller than he expected, though several times greater than the average warrior's. What made her stamina phenomenal was the recovery rate. If she didn't use her 'Righteous Judgement' too often, then she might never fatigue. His mana pool, however, performed the opposite. Its depth was absurd but refilled slower. Their abilities contrasted as their personalities hinted they should, and, in a way, confirmed Walter's epiphany they were meant for each other.

"I have a gift for you," Elin said, dragging him to a sitting position.

"Bacon, I hope."

Elin thought a moment before tilting her head. "I have two gifts for you."

She fried the meat after Walter lit a fire in the brazier. While she worked, she wore his gambeson, as she usually did in private. It was worn out, and they resized it twice now to fit his changing physique. Monster hunting was strenuous exercise and, while he didn't enjoy preternatural strength, his body still shed fat and developed muscle. Before, it looked a little too big for her, and, now, it hung on her, oversized.

Two patches covered the holes in the front.

He peeked at her bare legs.

When she caught him, she smiled, then asked, "How do you do that?"

"What?"

"Start the fire with one strike of the flint and steel?"

Walter stared at the tool in his hand before he shrugged, "Lucky, I guess."

After wolfing down the bacon, Walter planted a greasy kiss on Elin's cheek. She accepted the reward, then wiped her skin clean.

"Now, for your other gift," she said.

"Sex, I hope."

Elin bit her lip. She pushed him back to the bed and straddled his lap. "Very well, once again, I have two more gifts for you. One will have to wait until after the summit. I mean, if we choose to, they have no right to stop us. We should not, but we could." After internally debating, she concluded, "We should wait, beloved."

"Are you sure you're free of the 'Scales of Love and Lust?'"

She rolled her head back and laughed, "Oh, I am happily subjected to a much worse curse, now."

"Oh?"

She unbuckled the staps on the gambeson. "My heart."

"Didn't you say we should wait?"

Elin grunted to reign her passion in. "You are not supposed to say that to a girl when she confesses her love, and, yes, I did. Make it up to me later."

"No, you make it up to me." Walter reached behind her, grabbed her rear, and pulled her closer. "I'd bet holding off is more painful for me than you."

"I will gladly correct that."

"So, what about this gift?"

Elin hovered on his lap a moment before reluctantly pulling away. She picked up a soft paper package wrapped in twine. After untying the knots and unfolding the paper, she revealed a new set of clothes.

A black suit, in sharp contrast to her white armor. A black cloak and a hat completed the ensemble and gave it a mild 'mage' appearance.

"You mentioned you liked this style?" Elin asked.

"I did. Can't help but notice we look like two of a kind like this, night and day."

She smiled, and Walter's heart seized. He still, to this day, found it amazing she felt happy when he did. Then, she snatched his shirt and tugged it off.

"Hey, what, I can get dressed on my own!" Walter, powerless, attempted to pull her hands off.

"Do you not remember how much you teased me when you gave me my armor? Turnabout is fair play!"

By now, Walter has seen the honor guard.

The women Prime Minister Asibridel selected were veterans, and they fought the worst the northern peninsula offered and survived. Their courage and ability stood indisputable, and their sacrifices honored. Yet, they were not suitable for the posts the prime minister ordered them to.

Many were scarred.

Elves, as a rule, only put their best foot forward to take advantage of the immaturity of the younger races. Beauty, in many ways, functioned as well as pure might. So, when she ordered the roster change, the veterans candidly argued against the counter-intuitive decision. Ultimately, Ms. Robin, trusting her superior, threatened them with dereliction of duty before they took up the role.

She knew they would object, and she knew Ms. Robin's reply, as she could trace the branches of a tree to its leaves. This was the advantage of her long life and accumulated experience. Asibridel also anticipated Walter's reaction as clearly. His mouth would drop, but then he'd tilt his head, as if studying an alchemical problem, to spare the elves embarrassment. Then, he'd pretend not to see anything.

But he did see.

Now, it will be up to Don Undmuth's delivery. After that, I will have to do something shameful.

The dress Asibridel chose looked pseudo-bridal. Once again, she selected her own clothing, rather than allowing an objective viewpoint, and the attendants hesitated. Her actions continued to stray further from established precedent. Moreover, she chose something modest instead of exposure.

"Your selection is a bit on-the-nose, don't you think?" Ms. Robin chided.

Asibridel ignored her assistant's underhanded comment. Instead, she forbade additional attendants from being assigned to the summit, as the other nations did.

"I'm confused about how this will gain Walter's favor," Ms. Robin said. She pressed her glasses up her nose, then spent another moment gathering her words before sharing her thoughts. "We've shown marred beauty, will not present him a gift, and, on top of it all, you're making no attempt to be enticing. We will have no voice at the meeting. Explain it to me in a way I can understand, prime minister."

"Well, as the humans say, elves are to be seen and not heard. Besides, you're confused if you believe anyone will have a say," Prime Minister Asibridel said.

"I'm certainly at a loss."

Asibridel sighed, "Walter is immature, like most humans, but he's not stupid, and he's uncommonly open-minded. His heart is completely bound to his woman, and--"

"--then why send Don Undmuth--"

"--There are many forms of seduction, Ms. Robin. I'd think you understand that by now." When Ms. Robin's outburst passed, Asibridel continued, "Walter knows most communication is nonverbal. If we don't show him we need help, then he'll never think we will."

Seconds passed before Ms. Robin retorted, "Lord Walter, you mean."

"Come again?"

"You've been calling him 'Walter,' and not, 'Lord Walter.'"

"So I did. What of it? Has Don Undmuth moved?"

Ms. Robin bristled when the prime minister ignored her correction. "Yes, he has. Honestly, what you asked him to do--"

"Good. Handle the cultural display." Prime Minster Asibridel twirled on her white high heel and glided out of the tent, and left behind a fuming Ms. Robin.

Prince Wilhelm provided every camp with a schedule regarding the order of ceremonies and rules during the summit. As per Walter's, Asibridel then mentally revised her thoughts to 'Lord Walter,' no gifts would be accepted. Furthermore, the conference would begin with due diligence.

Unfortunately, this would not be to Asibridel's advantage, so she sought a loophole in the explicit wording.

Each nation brought a flame to one of six braziers surrounding the statue of Zeus, then they petitioned for peace and order. Each brazier was held by a smaller carving of their nation's host deity. Gaia represented Wilmand as their dominant goddess, and Ares represented Rangville. The blindfolded Alune, the tortured obsessor, sat cross-legged in her fire. A brazier rested on a coiled dragon for the United Barbarian Tribes, and Poseidon pointed his trident into the brazier for Bartgoria. Then, last and least, Hera, regal and proud, spread her arms before The Sanctuary's flame. They prayed to their deities, and their gods prayed to Zeus. Such was law satisfied.

Next, the officials proceeded inside, in that order, though Walter, Lord Walter, and Lady Elin would enter last. She made eye contact with Walter, who matched her stoicism before she turned and moved inside.

Once inside, Don Undmuth made his move. Asibridel's instructions were clear, and he followed them to the letter with the confidence of a scam artist.

Gifts were prohibited if they were directed at Walter.

"I couldn't help but be overcome by your beauty," the don said, "Please, accept this token. Lord Walter is a lucky man to possess you."

His elf slave presented Lady Elin with a dress, similar to the style Asibridel currently wore but more elegant. The two conspired to combine the fabrics of The Sanctuary with the ocean valuables of Bartgoria to create something breathtaking. Though they worked together, Don Undmuth would take all the credit.

The slave was Asibridel's selection, a maiden with the same height, body, eye color, and hair as Lady Elin. Bartgoria and the Alune Theocracy often traded in such commodities, and beautiful elves were often highly prized. Since many were prisoners of war or punished with slavery as a crime, Prime Minister Asibridel had no legal recourse to recover them. Don Undmuth, as a collector, most likely acquired this particular woman when he learned of Lady Elin's physical traits. From the intel the prime minister gathered, Bartgoria didn't abuse their slaves, as an unspoken rule. She preferred Bartgorians owned the women rather than the theocracy. It must be tantalizing for Don Undmuth to fantasize about conquering and owning Lady Elin.

Prime Minister Asibridel clenched her fists on her dress while she watched. How long has it been since I felt anxiety? If this doesn't work, then there is nothing else.

"I don't think I should," Lady Elin said. She glanced at Walter.

He tore his eyes from the slave and shook his head to confirm her suspicion. Once Don Undmuth understood there to be no repercussions, he relaxed, bowed, and stated he definitely overextended his hand.

No one noticed or sympathized with the slave. After all, this is a fundamental truth of Eovamund. The elf maiden remained poised with her eyes downcast, no doubt restrained by the theocracy's magic. Wayfarers detested a loss of freedom.

No one noticed, except for Walter. Between the misfortune of the honor guard and the similarity between this slave and Lady Elin, Walter's thoughts splashed across his face like droplets of rain, and, as a thinker, he drew naturally falling connections. That could have been Lady Elin. While everyone laughed off the inappropriate behavior of the don, he continued to perform as an emotionless scholar, but, from his depths, Asibridel could hear a roaring.

Since taking on the name 'Asibridel,' this was, perhaps, the biggest gamble she remembered attempting.

Perfect. Now I have a chance. Now, all I need to do is be enslaved.