Just being a dark elf in Warhammer

After taking a quick look, Eltharion walked to the seat next to the main seat, sat down steadily, leaned back slightly, put his elbows on the armrests of the chair, and looked calm, as if this meeting was ordinary and just a part of daily life. But he knew that the weight of this meeting was heavier than the night sky of Tor Yvresse, and he would play a vital role in this meeting.

Bel-Ahol was busy. He walked to the corner slowly, opened the heavy iron buckle with both hands, lifted the lid of the box, and rummaged around in it skillfully. He first took out a long paper package, and then took out a pot of green plants from the other side of the box. He placed the pot of plants steadily in the middle of the table. The slender leaves trembled slightly under the light, as if sensing every breath in the room.

Elardesi and Morarion's eyes fell on him involuntarily, and Serion, who had been lowering his head in thought, also raised his eyes, and the look in his single eye was deep and inquiring.

However, he didn't care about it at all, his movements were smooth and skillful, he unwrapped the paper package and revealed two cigarette boxes. He threw one of the cigarette boxes at Eltharion.

Izarion raised his hand almost subconsciously, and steadily caught the cigarette box with one hand. He flicked the package with his fingers, tapped it on the table twice, then tore open the seal and took out a cigarette. He glanced at his father and Elardesi who were sitting opposite him, and handed the cigarette box forward. Seeing that they did not respond, he took out the lighter in his pocket and lit the cigarette.

The smoke rose up, spreading in the air with a faint scent of grass and trees, but before the smoke could spread, the plants nearby absorbed the smoke silently, as if the smoke did not exist.

Eltharion tumbled the lighter in his hand, then put it on the table and pushed it towards his father. He then glanced at Bel-Ahol, his mouth twitching slightly, with a hint of helplessness on his face.

Bel-Ehor shrugged his shoulders, with an expression that said, "I am like this, what can you do to me?" He lit up a cigarette, exhaled a leisurely puff of smoke, and continued to work. He put the things he brought back from Naggaroth in order, and even carefully adjusted the angle of the plant so that its leaves were facing the intersection of light and shadow, perfectly blending into the layout of the entire room.

Eltharion looked at his meticulous actions, sighed slightly, and finally stood up, walked over and joined the busy work.

As the two of them fiddled with the items in the box, more and more participants took their seats and the atmosphere in the room gradually became calmer as time went by.

The door was pushed open, and Marlene walked in with a steady and light step. She glanced at the various odds and ends on the table, then walked straight to the seats where the two brothers sat, picked up the cigarette box on the table, took out a cigarette, put it under her nose and sniffed it gently, then she revealed an intoxicated and enjoyable expression.

When she saw her father and Morarion looking at her, she nodded in response. Then, she picked up the lighter that Bel-Elhor had placed on the table, lit the cigarette in her hand, and took a deep puff. The smoke lingered between her lips for a moment, and then she slowly exhaled and dissipated into the air.

She sat down, next to Bel-Ahol's seat, and the whole process was done in one go without saying a word, but her attitude was clear enough.

Her silence is more powerful than any words.

Finarfin stepped in, quickly scanned the room, and then repeated Marlene's actions. However, he did not rush to sit down, but leaned forward slightly and cast a glance at the busy Shengsi brothers.

He narrowed his eyes, exhaled a wisp of mist, and his eyes lingered among the bottles and jars. Then he squatted down and slowly took out a glass bottle from the box. His fingertips gently stroked the bottle, as if confirming some subtle touch. After a moment, he put the bottle back to its original place, but he did not stop there. Instead, he picked up the box containing the bottle.

Standing up, he glanced at the table, a faint smile appeared on the corner of his mouth, and then he shook his head slightly. He took a step forward, put the box of bottles next to Marlene, and then sat down again. He reached into the box, picked up a bottle of drink, and casually handed it to Marlene.

Marlene took it, her eyes lingered on the bottle for a moment, and then nodded. She placed the bottle cap on the edge of the table with her right hand, exerted force on her wrist, and with a crisp sound, the bottle cap fell to the ground. She exhaled a puff of smoke leisurely, raised the bottle, and gently touched it with the bottle in Finarfin's hand, then raised her head and generously poured the drink into her mouth.

Fortunately, they both maintained the last bottom line as nobles and did not burp or let out a sigh of relief.

In the conference room, participants were still taking their seats one after another.

Morarion sat there from beginning to end, his eyes sometimes falling on the lighter in his hand, sometimes drifting to the opposite side. The silver-white lighter turned between his fingers, and the metal cover popped open from time to time, making a crisp sound. His brows were slightly frowned, and his mind was full of questions, but these questions were not blurted out. In the end, he just shook his head slightly, played with his fingers lightly for a few times, and then handed the lighter to Elardesi.

Aislin, wearing a navy blue robe, sat beside Morarion. He stood straight and his eyes were sharp, like a cold blade unsheathed, exuding an oppressive feeling that could not be ignored. As the supreme commander of the Asur Navy, he did not need to speak, and his mere presence naturally exuded an aura of majesty without anger. His eyes slowly swept across the people across the table, and his deep eyes seemed to be able to see through everyone's mind.

Kaiya walked into the room, glanced around casually, took the cigarette handed to her by Marlene, sat next to Finarfin, lit it skillfully, and took a deep breath. As the smoke slowly exhaled, her expression became more and more relaxed.

Unlike Kaia, who started smoking after meeting Dacus, Aedanna didn't smoke, but she didn't refuse the drink offered by Finarfin. Alaros beside her was completely different, holding a pipe in one hand and a bottle in the other, puffing away at the smoke in a relaxed and comfortable manner, occasionally taking a sip and immersing himself in it.

Finnubar looked normal, but there was a hint of fatigue between his brows, as if he was overwhelmed by the heavy workload. After he came in, he sat directly on the main seat near the door, clasped his hands on the table, and looked at everyone present calmly. He glanced at the cigarette box handed to him by Alaros, and finally raised his hand to refuse.

To be honest, he wanted to smoke, but he couldn't.

At this moment, the cigarette is no longer just a cigarette, but carries a deeper symbolic meaning. Just look at who is smoking and the way they sit, and you can tell at a glance.

Yelian sat beside his father, arms folded across his chest. However, his attention was not on any of the participants, but on his busy brother. His brows were slightly furrowed, and his eyes were full of inquiry and confusion. He was a familiar yet unfamiliar brother, a brother he could not see through.

Eltharion's brother, Alagaron, was also there. His eyes were wandering, and his thoughts seemed to have not yet recovered from the aftermath of the Ascension Ceremony. He looked a little dazed. Next to him was Darolan of the Kingdom of Cosqui. Darolan's eyes were as calm as water, and he seemed to know what was about to happen.

Archmage Seraphim sat silently at one side of the long table, his eyebrows slightly furrowed, his eyes fixed on a certain point across the conference table, his expression solemn, as if he was trapped by some complicated thoughts. His palms gently stroked the edge of the table, his fingertips slowly sliding, feeling the delicate touch of the wood grain, his eyes deep as the abyss, hiding unspoken doubts.

The archmage Anurion next to him was holding a ceramic cup, but his eyes were moving among the crowd. The corners of his mouth were slightly raised, revealing a look of enlightenment, as if he had already foreseen the entire process of this meeting.

Morian sat upright in a chair, his eyes sparkling and a cheerful smile on his lips, as if he was not here to attend a meeting, but as an elder, attending a family gathering, looking at his children and grandchildren.

Of course, he is not now. The most authoritative person now is Fenrir, although Fenrir did not deliberately study the Lizardman language...

Unlike other mages, he is sharp, ambitious, and politically savvy. When Marlene was in the White Tower of Hoeth, he served as a mentor to guide Marlene's studies. Not only that... in a certain timeline, he was also the mentor of Teclis.

Archmage Bell-Tanya seemed much more relaxed. Her eyes flickered as she stared intently at the bottle in her hand, her sight moving back and forth between the bottle and the person drinking the drink opposite her. She tilted the bottle slightly, sniffed the slightly unfamiliar but attractive smell, and then slowly took a sip. The moment the drink entered her mouth, her eyes suddenly brightened, and she was amazed by the unexpected flavor.

As for Italis, he still maintained that meaningful smile, his fingers interlaced and gently placed on the table, his eyes sweeping across every face present, as if he was watching a drama slowly unfolding.

However, his attitude was soon interrupted by Bell-Tanya's action. The latter unceremoniously handed the bottle in front of him, with a sincere recommendation in her gesture. He was stunned for a moment, then smiled slightly, took the bottle, and took this opportunity to slowly taste the flavor of his hometown.

Others, such as Ahail, Perion and other young nobles, Alicia, Alasya, Merelia and other unaware nobles and the core generals of the navy faction did not participate in the meeting. This meeting was too heavy for them. Everyone here either shouldered a heavy responsibility, or was well aware of the current situation, or was bent by the weight of reality. And they could still stay out of it temporarily and did not have to deal with this invisible struggle.

The atmosphere in the conference room became increasingly heavy, as if even time was slowly flowing with the weight of thinking. The lights illuminated the scrolls, maps, and books spread out on the table, the scattered cigarette ashes, and the bits and pieces that flickered in the mist of wine, all of which invisibly outlined a certain heavy sense of oppression.

The night outside was already deep, and Tal Iris was still immersed in the carnival, which formed a sharp contrast with the silence in the conference room.

Eltharion sat down again, slowly exhaled a puff of smoke, and tapped the table with his fingertips. From time to time, people around him looked at him, and each look carried its own emotion. Some were probing, some were wary, and some were mixed with suspicion and hesitation, or a hint of expectation.

But he didn't care. On the way back, he knew that he would be one of the protagonists of this meeting.

Finnubar slowly raised his head and looked at everyone present. His knuckles tapped lightly on the tabletop, the rhythm steady and calm, like a bell, penetrating the silence of the conference room and officially announcing the start of the meeting.

"Everyone, let's get started."

After these words were spoken, the conference room fell into a deafening silence.

No one responded immediately. Everyone seemed to be waiting for something, or perhaps weighing how to start the conversation.

Finnubar took a deep breath, a hint of fatigue appearing on his face.

To be honest, at this moment, he was also a little confused and felt at a loss.

Many words flashed through his mind, thinking about how to start this meeting, how to greet his son and Eltharion who came today. However, just as he was about to speak, his eyes suddenly caught a slight movement.

He saw his son Bel-Ahor and Isharion look at each other. It was just a glance, but it seemed that they had exchanged some kind of tacit understanding. He had an illusion that his son and Isharion seemed more like brothers. Then, his son lowered his head and fumbled for something under the seat.

A moment later, when Bel-Ehor sat up again, there was something extra in his hand - a silver hammer.

The atmosphere in the conference room froze for a moment, and the lights flickered slightly, reflecting the metallic luster of the hammer. It was quietly held in Bel-Ehol's hand, and the silver hammer exuded a cold and solemn aura, as if carrying a meaning that could not be ignored.

"You guys should see this."

Bel-Ahol slowly raised the object in his hand, looked around, and spoke in a steady and firm voice. Then, without hesitation, he placed the object in his hand on the table and pushed it hard with his palm, letting it slide to the center of the table.

The sound of metal colliding with the wooden tabletop was particularly crisp in the silent conference room. The light fell on the object, reflecting the cold and hard metallic luster.

"hammer?"

The one who broke the silence was Serion Goldwing. He frowned slightly, stretched out his hand to stop the object from sliding, grasped its handle, turned it over a few times and looked at it, with a puzzled look between his brows. But soon, he realized something, and a gleam of light flashed in his one eye.

"No…it's not a hammer."

He held the metal handle with his right hand, and held the connection of the hammer head with his left hand, and twisted it tentatively. At the moment of rotation, the metal friction sound of the mechanism loosening was barely audible.

In the next second, he easily removed the hammer head from the metal handle.

An incredible look appeared in his one eye. After Aislin took the hammer away, he continued to look at the steel pipe in his hand and found that there seemed to be a rotatable part at the bottom, so he twisted it again...

"Here's another one." Bel-Ahor said calmly, and at the same time took out a second identical "hammer" and handed it to Marlene beside him.

Next, this originally serious and tense meeting was completely led astray, and was successfully led astray by him.

The hammer that was taken out last was passed around, while the hammer that was taken out first was completely disassembled, with its parts scattered on the table, like a carefully designed puzzle, waiting to be put back together.

"This was Daxus' idea, right?"

Finnubar folded his hands on the table in silence, his eyes slowly swept over the disassembled metal parts, with a complicated look on his face. After pondering for a moment, he raised his head and looked at Bel-Ahor, his tone slightly helpless.

"Yes and no." Bel-Ehor exhaled a puff of smoke, with the corners of his mouth slightly raised. "When Daxus visited the factory, he thought it was interesting to assemble this thing, so we used our imagination to assemble a batch of them, as... a toy? We privately concluded that he has not lost his childishness. In his words, he is still a teenager."

"So...what is it?" Alagalen looked at the metal parts on the table, and after a moment he finally couldn't help but speak.

He didn't use the word "hammer" because he knew that the thing in front of him was definitely not an ordinary tool. It looked more like a water pipe? But he was not sure. It was too unbelievable, so unbelievable that he didn't want to believe that it was a water pipe, but rather some kind of weird weapon.

"It's just a water pipe." Bell-Ehor shrugged and spread his hands casually. "Of course, it can also be used as a hammer when necessary."

Morian picked up one of the tubular parts, closed his eyes, and slowly stroked the texture of the metal surface with his fingertips, using magic to sense every inch of the metal's structure. After a moment, he sighed and handed the part to Anurion beside him.

At the same time, Morarion picked up the two identical parts that had been removed and compared them carefully, looking for differences. But in the end, he shook his head in disappointment, and he found that the two parts were... exactly the same, as precise as a mirror image.

There were no whispers, no discussions, and no one questioned. All participants studied the metal parts in silence, as if they revealed some unspeakable reality.

Eltharion sighed deeply. He knew that all this was too cruel for Asur. Water pipes, such common things, can be seen everywhere, connecting thousands of households to supply water. They are almost taken for granted in the streets and alleys of Naggarond. But here, it has become a shock, a shock that is hard to accept.

He shook his head, unwilling to look at the parts anymore, picked up the drink on the table, raised his head and took a sip. Perhaps, with this sip of drink, he could temporarily escape from reality.

"Water pipes... Water pipes that can be found everywhere. They are used to supply water. They are ordinary water pipes. They can be found everywhere in Nagarond. There are special hardware stores that sell them, and residents can buy them and replace them themselves."

Bel-Ahol's words echoed in the smoke. His tone was neither light nor heavy, but it was like a stone thrown into a lake, causing ripples.

"You mean..."

Finnubar narrowed his eyes and tapped the tabletop lightly with his fingertips. He hadn’t finished speaking, but his tone already revealed deep thought.

"Yes, my father." Bel-Ahor's voice was steady, but there was a hint of heaviness in his words that could not be concealed. He raised his head and looked around, sweeping his eyes from the faces of Finnubar, Morarion, Elardesi and others one by one, and finally landing on the pile of disassembled metal parts on the table. "This is not a weapon, it's just a water pipe. There are a lot of such water pipes laid in the military camps, apartments, and factories of Naggarond to supply water."

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There was a brief silence in the conference room, followed by a uniform gasp.

Most of the Asurs sitting at the table were high-ranking people. Each of them was well versed in worldly affairs, accustomed to power struggles, and had experienced countless storms. At this moment, their faces were not filled with anger, but with worry. Everyone's mind was working rapidly, deducing the far-reaching impact that this incident might bring.

The same thing, the same words, have completely different meanings in the eyes of different people. For ordinary people, water pipes are just a part of daily life, water supply and drainage, nothing special. But for them, these parts are not just as simple as water pipes, but mean some profound changes.

These parts are mass-produced, with standard sizes and tight threads, and can be replaced and spliced ​​in various buildings at will. What does this mean? This shows that Nagaros has mastered mature mass production technology and has the ability to manufacture components on a large scale. If these things are only used for water supply, then what about their weapons? What about their ordnance?

Once this thought emerged, it swept through everyone's minds like a tide, making people shudder.

"What did you do while you were in Naggaroth?" Finnubar asked, breaking the silence.

"Following Dacus as an ordinary clerk."

Bel-Ahor raised his head and met his father's gaze. The corners of his mouth slightly raised, revealing an expression that seemed to be a smile, but there was no smile in his eyes. He paused, and when his father motioned for him to continue, he slowly added, "I usually run around outside, as an extension of Dacus's will, visiting and supervising various places on his behalf. I have witnessed many things from scratch, and countless buildings have sprung up."

His voice sounded nonchalant, as if he was just casually narrating a trivial matter, but everyone present could hear that the meaning contained in it was far more profound than it seemed on the surface.

"Sometimes, I would take the train to Gollond, Hag Graves, Clar Karond, or take the boat to Karond Kar, but more often, I would ride a two-wheeled vehicle through the city. Of course, sometimes I have to carry it, because the weather in Naggaroth is like that."

"Two-wheeler?"

"Yes, a two-wheeler, a Phoenix two-wheeler. I saw it in Chapeuto." This time it was not Bel-Ahor who answered, but Finarfin.

As soon as he finished speaking, he felt a sharp gaze falling on him. He didn't need to look to know that it was his immediate superior, staring at him coldly. Perhaps, if the occasion was not wrong, if he was not of noble birth, Aislin would have scolded him long ago, or even expressed his dissatisfaction in a more direct way.

But he just shrugged, ignored Aislin's gaze, and continued to speak nonchalantly. While speaking, his hands were still holding the non-existent handlebars, "I have not only seen one, I also own one. Two-wheeled vehicles are a very interesting means of transportation. They are light and fast. As long as the road is flat, almost anyone can control it."

After the quest to find the Sunfire Amulet was stopped, his life became extremely empty. Thanks to the Stormweaver Cult's headquarters in Chapeiuto, he went there frequently as a follower of Maserlan under the pretext of going on quests.

Sneak in secretly through a line known to both parties, a line for communication between both parties.

Chapeuto almost became his third home. While wandering around there, he saw many strange things, including the two-wheeled vehicle he used exclusively and the drink he was holding in his hand.

"Are there a lot of them?" Seeing that the topic had gone a little off track, Finnubar stepped forward and tried to adjust the direction and get back on track.

"At first, there were very few of them. Only some high-ranking officials were equipped with them. Malekith and Dakwus would occasionally ride them." Bel-Ehor tapped the table and glanced at everyone present. "But now... there are a lot of them. There are enough of them that they can be seen everywhere on the streets of Naggarond."

Finarfin could not help laughing out loud. He had ridden a two-wheeled vehicle before, so he could naturally imagine Malekith riding that thing, the Witch King in black armor, holding the handlebars, pedaling, and speeding on the streets... The scene was so absurd that he couldn't help laughing out loud.

But the expressions of other Asur were completely different. They had never seen a two-wheeled vehicle in person, and their concept of a two-wheeled vehicle was still based on Finarfin's brief description. Now, they needed to simultaneously construct the shape of a two-wheeled vehicle and the scene of the Witch King riding a bicycle in their minds. For many people, this was a difficult imagination challenge.

"There is a cross road in Naggarond. To the north is the military camp, to the south is the industrial area, to the east is the port, and to the west is the noble area." Eltharion took over the conversation, his voice steady but with an unquestionable certainty. "Forty years ago, when the third five-year plan began, two tracks were laid on the road for north-south travel, and trams driven by steam engines traveled on them."

The atmosphere in the conference room changed again, and everyone's attention was quickly drawn.

"The rules of operation of this thing are very simple. Under normal circumstances, it runs every half an hour and is free to use. It is mainly used to provide convenience for soldiers on leave or civilians who want to go to the Northern Stadium to watch the game." Eltharion continued, "And during peak hours, when soldiers start to take leave in large numbers, the interval will be shortened to every five minutes."

"The problem is, the steam engine driving method determines that these vehicles cannot stop at any time, and can only travel at a very slow and constant speed, which means that users can jump on and off freely." Issarion paused and looked at everyone. "This is also the reason why there is no charge. In the words of the soldiers, walking is faster than driving a car."

The great wizards exchanged glances, as if to confirm whether they had heard correctly.

"As for the carrying capacity... it can only carry a maximum of 100 people at a time." Eltharion tapped the table lightly, his tone calm, "The holiday is short, and every minute and every second is extremely precious to the soldiers. They are either rushing to the northern commercial district to grab a seat, or rushing back to the south to reunite with their families. Therefore, in order to meet the demand, Dacus placed a large number of two-wheeled vehicles at the entrance and exit of the military camp for soldiers to rent."

There was silence in the conference room as everyone digested this information.

No one interrupted, and no one raised questions. Because everyone present knew that the intelligence from Naggarond was extremely valuable, and any detail could affect the future decision-making of Ulthuan. They needed to listen, remember, and analyze the hidden meanings.

But not everyone can accept these facts calmly.

Italis' fingers gently stroked the edge of the table, his eyes hidden in the shadows. He was no stranger to Nagarond, after all, he was a native of Nagarond, he was born in Nagarond, he lived there for a long time, he knew what Nagarond was like.

But the scene described by Eltharion was completely inconsistent with the Naggarond he remembered.

In his perception, Nagarond is a cold and harsh place, where power struggles follow one after another, and blood and betrayal are intertwined in daily life. But now, the Nagarond mentioned by Eltharion actually has an orderly rail transit, soldiers can rent bicycles freely, and even have time to go to the so-called commercial district to spend money?

Did Dacus actually achieve this?

He was so anxious that he tried to look calm, even though his heart was already in turmoil. He wanted to know more, to piece together the true appearance of Nagarond, but due to his identity, he could not show anything, let alone ask.

Asking isn't revealing.

By the way, Italis has another name: Julian Venomblade. He is the second son of Hirsis, the Night Warden of Naggarond, and the brother of Asheril Valahardorion Silverblade.

"What about its application in the military field?" Serion, who was sitting across the table, finally spoke up. As a soldier, he was naturally concerned about how the army operated. "Have two-wheeled vehicles... been put into use on the battlefield?"

"Of course, even Malekith can ride it." Hearing this, Eltharion curled the corners of his mouth slightly. He put down the cigarette in his hand, tapped the table with his fingertips, and then spoke slowly.

After giving everyone the most intuitive and impactful reference, he continued, "Two-wheeled vehicles are suitable for short-distance mobility, but if there is a road, they can also be used for long-distance marches. Weapons and supplies can be fixed on the support frame and the cargo rack on the rear wheel. You should know what this means." He swept his eyes over the people present, and his tone was neither hurried nor slow, but with an unquestionable affirmation, "I can tell you clearly that two-wheeled vehicles have been officially distributed to some large legions for use."

"In terms of production, the parts of two-wheelers are produced by various factories and finally assembled in the assembly plant. On average, one two-wheeler can be assembled in one minute. There are currently three such assembly plants, and the reason for the three is... the demand is there, not the problem of production capacity."

The meeting room was silent for a moment as they sang in unison, like brothers. Then, there was an extremely subtle but suppressed gasp.

Ulthuan is not short of roads. In fact, most of the kingdom's towns and settlements have well-built roads between them, which keep the entire kingdom running. They certainly know the significance of this tool, and also know what kind of impact it will bring if Duruchi masters this ability. A group of fully armed black-armored warriors riding two-wheeled vehicles quickly shuttled across the battlefield. Such a scene is even hard to imagine, but it has become a reality.

Kaia and Alaros who attended the meeting seemed very calm, as if nothing had happened. One of them was Ainel and the other was Aslay. The application of two-wheeled vehicles in the military field had little to do with them. Maybe they could even benefit from it.

Especially in Laurent, with the steel support provided by Drucci, the bridge originally guarded by Asanoak was rebuilt. In order to improve the material transportation capacity, the road running through the entire forest was also repaired. In other words, the Ainel can use two-wheeled vehicles to move on the road or in the settlement in the future.

As for Athel Loren...

"How is my cousin Adrel now?" Seeing that the Asur were still in shock, Kaeya tapped the table lightly, leaned out and looked at Eltharion.

"He used to raise dogs and train military dogs." Eltharion raised his eyebrows, poked his head out, and responded in a friendly manner, "Before we set out, he had just been promoted to a mid-level dread lord and commanded a large army. However, his large army belongs to the twelfth wave, and it is currently just a framework and is still being formed."

Seeing that Kaiya still had a questioning look on his face, he naturally understood what Kaiya meant. He knew that Kaiya should be familiar with the situation in Nagaros. After all, Lauren and Nagaros maintained close ties, and in the past fifty years, many Enil went to Nagaros to study and cooperate. He also understood why Kaiya appeared in this meeting and why he asked such a question.

He did not keep anyone in suspense, but revealed everything he knew all at once.

"In the entire military system, Talos was the first to be promoted. He is now a high-level dread lord, commanding an army group with three large legions under his command. His number is "Thorns", and he ranks fifth in the army group sequence. It is one of the earliest formed armies and is extremely powerful. It can be said to be the elite among the elite." He paused and glanced at Kaia. "Adrel's large legion is not in this army group."

Kaia nodded, motioning for him to continue.

"Karahil has been learning from Dakwus and was promoted to high-level Dread Lord fifteen years ago. However, he does not command the army, but is in charge of the army's logistics. His position is quite high and he has great power in the entire military system." He paused, glanced at the shocked expressions of the Asur, and then added, "Tolandil is in the Oracle House, serving as the Oracle Director, responsible for propaganda. Slogans and slogans fill the streets and alleys of Naggarond, his martial arts songs are sung by children, and on important occasions the Duruch will sing in unison. As for the others... most of the Ainel serve in middle and senior positions in the military system, filling the military framework."

The Asur who were still digesting the information had no time to do so. The amount of information was too great, so great that they had no time to digest it at all.

The diplomatic relationship between Ainel and Drucci was self-evident, but they never imagined that the logistics dispatch of the Drucci Army was actually in charge of an Ainel.

what does that mean?

Everyone knows it, but no one is willing to speak up.

In addition, there are too many things worth exploring in Eltharion's narration just now. The army organization, battle order, large army, twelfth wave, army group... These words all indicate that the military system of Naggaroth has undergone earth-shaking changes, becoming more complete, more efficient and more dangerous.

"My brother... what were you doing in Naggaroth?" After a moment's silence, Alagalon finally spoke. His voice was a little dry, as if it was squeezed out of his throat with difficulty. His eyes were fixed on Eltharion, with a complicated expression.

He wanted to hear an answer, one that he could understand.

"Something worth doing was done." (End of this chapter)