Chapter 14-385: ?lfheim (1/2)

I was in a good mood as I ‘ported with Sleipner into the Baltic Sea, heading for the shore of Sweden. The area I was heading for was known the world over for its inhabitants. The slender beauty and natural magical ability of the Ælven people was a byword, and the supernatural allure of the woods where they’d chosen to found their magical kingdom was acclaimed everywhere.

But it was a kingdom, not a Kingdom.

With the advent of the Racial Classes, the elves had come swarming out of their homelands and thrown themselves into fighting the Shroudzones, determined to reclaim their place of elitism among the Powered Races. They were naturally heavily outnumbered in this endeavor, but it was true that on an average, the elves had the highest Levels of any species, since every single bloody one of them had magical ability.

I suppose halvyr did too, so I couldn’t complain.

I didn’t really need to be meeting with them personally, but it was a show of their status that I would. Queen Huellia was one of the few natural Tens on the planet, and didn’t need to de-Level to stay there. With the help of the Allegiance that had rapidly formed among her people after knowledge spread, she would be able to break Ten easily enough... as long as she pressed on.

Even with the Double Helix method, you still had to pay to truly pass Ten, and in the meantime, she could at least acquire Foundation Levels.

Getting the first news of the Monarchy system, even with just a week’s advantage, had given her an unmatched lead in acquiring Vassals directly and forming her Allegiance. I was not at all surprised to learn that the Ælves had different factions among themselves, and indeed there were other Allegiances under enterprising elven nobles who had their own ideas on how things should be done.

They wanted to talk with me, to get an idea of the world outside the Shroud... and maybe find some unity where there were only divides that were starting to manifest now. As the most magically powerful person around and source of so much information, they needed some help to settle things down.

The fact that the Land was not going to like what they were doing to it with their magic was also probably unnerving them. Wot, elves not make enchanted forest without consequences? So unfair!

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I’d only skimmed the fjords and shores of Scandinavia in passing during my scan of the Baltic, I’d not sensed that far inland. The forest of Ælfheim kind of glowed in the Commune with Nature, not hostilely, more... insubstantial and fey, as if it was messing slightly with the will of the world, trying to remove itself therefrom.

That would be par for the course. Elven kingdoms in myth and legend were always isolated from humankind. Aloof snobbery wasn’t going to stop when you were the prettiest and the best Casters in the world, right?

Ælfheim only had one port, Roaringshore (annoyingly and spontaneously renamed from the Elvish despite the elves when The Human Tongue popped up), which saw all its naval traffic, the primary route of trade for the country.

I rode into the harbor, whose magic-Shaped breakwaters held the pounding of the Baltic at bay. The meeting place was the Sea Palace of the Queen, which was in an isolated small inlet connected to the river that emptied into the harbor. One could easily sail right up from the harbor and into it, if they were allowed to.

Riding along the top of the water was pretty much the same thing.

The gates were opened in expectation, as I’d Messaged ahead that I was ‘porting and would be there inside twenty minutes. I could have Teleported right there at such short range, but Lived-Lines were kind of an obsession for me at this time, and for Sleipner too, now.

There were no vehicles around the Sea Palace, and the only land access was a picturesque bridge and walkway arching over from the nearby hills that bordered the lake. It was still cold and icy this far north, of course, but the water was clear despite the chill, which only set off the hanging ice and frost on the surrounding pines and stonework.

The elves spent a lot of time and artistic effort on things, filling up their long years, so there was subtle yet complex stonework everywhere, telling stories and anchoring magical effects in the clever, distracting manner of elven magic. Glamour was mixed heartily in with the Wards, and the whole thing definitely gave off a feel of otherworldly nature and beauty, as if you were walking into another magical realm. The trees on the shore had been Animated and moved around here and there, further adding to the Formations they’d developed, manipulating the real effects of the temperature and weather on things here.

I didn’t have any problem seeing through such effects, naturally enough, but the QL of the work they did was enough for me to admire in passing. It still lacked the true ageless refinement of Tens doing the work, and didn’t have the weight of time and history behind it that it should, which kind of threw off the aura it was trying to display.

Sleipner came rolling up smoothly over the river and lake, passed the open gates raised by the alert sentries craning to get a look at the now-famous Unicorn Motorcycle, and swept firmly around the lake to the main doors of the castle.

The queen and her son were both there to greet me, which was only proper. In terms of both Allegiance Rank and support, I could only rank above her. Be it Charisma, Acclaim, Recognition, Wealth, Bannersworn, or true Vassals in both number and quality, I was above her, despite her having most of a century of a headstart on me in gathering her people.

Indeed, some of her own people had left her to serve under The Jet and Silver, which I knew had to rankle her. They had no plans of coming back, either. My Allegiance simply had too much to do and get done, before and after the Shroud, and our high-minded goals sang to the magical and good of heart.

Sleipner glided up off the water to the wharf there, and delivered me up the steps by Ward-riding just above them, swinging aside to let me off in front of the elves and sole human there.

That last was an older man, at least in his sixties, but still hale and hearty. He had the Aura of a Faux Seven Wizard, so that would make him 120 years old, at least.

Tall human older Wizard living in Ælfheim. I lifted an eyebrow to myself as I stepped off, feet not quite hitting the ground with Footsteps of the Mage, my own Aura plucking at the web of magic all around in subtle fashion, making those assembled to meet me twitch despite themselves.