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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/ralo_ramone on 2026-02-20 22:37:04+00:00.

“By order of the King, you are to cease all exploration of the Farlands and make no attempt to cross this line. Attempts to trespass across the frontier will have consequences,” the older elf said.

The thin red line was deep in Farcrest territory and almost touched Whiteleaf Valley. By any measure, this was a flagrant overreach of their authority, but elves were not idiots. Well, they had been refusing my help and ignoring my warnings for the past two years, but their isolationism didn’t make them politically inept.

I waited for the elven envoy to say something else—something like ‘April Fools' Day’, for instance. Instead, the old elf and the young one studied my reaction with well-practiced stern faces, revealing nothing at a glance. Unfortunately for them, I had [Foresight], and none of them had the obfuscation abilities the previous envoys possessed.

I decided to proceed with caution.

“That’s Ebrosian territory. It is not up to me to decide its frontiers, but you might try with Lord Gairon or Elemer of Cadria, who resides at the Osgirian capital,” I replied. “Both claim they are the rightful heirs to the kingdom. Pick the one you like the most.”

The elves exchanged a confused look, enough for [Foresight] to read them. Either the King of Tagabiria had told them that I was the one who needed to honor the new border for the diplomatic mission to succeed, or they expected a violent reaction on my part. They were getting none.

I examined the map once again and wondered if my attempts to form an alliance with him had painted me as a needy bootlicker.

“If we were to move the red line, let’s say, fifteen kilometers to the north, I believe we can figure something out,” I said after a moment of silence. “But I’ll charge you for each monster that trespasses into my territory from yours.”

The older elf frowned and tapped the map with his bony finger.

“The line must be obeyed as it is.”

I turned my back to the duo and poured myself a glass of water. It was warm, but I didn’t bother to cool it down. Slowly, I let the water wash away the dust of the road from my throat. My mind was elsewhere, studying different theories and calculating outcomes.

The elves’ proposition was strange.

By customary law, the Farlands belong to no one.

I could understand the elves wanting to fully control the trade route. Even with Cadria turned into a hotbed for corrupted monsters, there were still six powerful dukedoms to trade with. However, the red line didn’t make sense for that goal alone. They wouldn’t need to have it so deep in Ebros to control the trade route.

“It is not about the trade route,” I muttered, turning around to face the envoys. “What did you find?”

The young elf remained unfazed, while the older one showed a hint of doubt. 

Jackpot.

There was a reason why nobles employed either experienced statesmen or utterly ignorant rookies to relay their messages. Information was everywhere for those who knew where to look: in the posture, the expression, and the hand movements. Experts were meant to be impossible to read. Rookies had nothing important to reveal. 

I closed my eyes and expanded my authority to examine the elves’ mana pools. I did it softly so as not to alert them. The older one was a Gilded Warrior, an elven System user of the higher caste. The younger one must’ve been a squire, a non-user like Pyrrah and Hallas, although his pouch had no strengthening fruits.

I examined the Gilded Warrior’s Character Sheet.

He was a warrior and a dangerous man.

“What did your people find in there, Aurelion Bloodrose?”

This time, the squire was shaken.

“How dare you use a detection skill on my—!”

“Lord Clarke used no skills on me, Rhysse,” the old elf said with a cold voice. “People say he knows everything.”

The squire looked at Aurelion, even more confused than before. There was a lot one could learn from reading a person’s mana pool. Aurelion was a Lv. 51 Thorn Sage, and given the size of his mana pool, he must’ve been an accomplished warrior with dozens of titles under his name. [Crown of Thorns] and [Thousand-Needle Bloom] looked like especially dangerous skills, although I couldn’t tell what they did at a glance.

“What did you find?” I asked again.

“Nothing,” Aurelion lied.

I mindlessly tapped my lips with my fingers.

“Let me see. The Elven King sent a warrior and his squire to kick the wasp nest. Not just any warrior, mind you, a Lv. 51 Thorn Sage. Why?”

Aurelion remained silent.

No other envoy had arrived unannounced, much less walked into my house uninvited. Elves were nosy, but their meddlesomeness was limited to sniffing around from the diplomatic shield of the Farlands. They knew how to behave in a foreign country… unless they received explicit instructions to do otherwise. It would make sense to send a high-level warrior to cause a ruckus given their endurance.

I had theories.

Confirming them would depend on how much Aurelion knew.

“I think the Elven King wants me to kill you, either because he wants a casus belli or because you are a thorn in his side,” I said, but quickly discarded the first option. Their reactions made it obvious. “Do you happen to be an important person, Aurelion? High in the military ranks? Related to someone important, perhaps?”

The squire broke out in a cold sweat.

Aurelion didn’t move a muscle.

“Hey, if killing you will give me an audience with the king, I might as well do his dirty work. Your squire will be able to return home with the news,” I continued.

The room suddenly became tense, but I didn’t see confirmation on Aurelion’s face.

None of us moved.

"No? Maybe you are the important one, squire?" I asked, looking at the boy. 

The squire didn’t look like he had even turned eighteen yet, but with elves it was hard to tell.

This time, Aurelion leaned forward in a protective gesture, even if it was a fraction of a centimeter. His expression, however, was that of a guilty man betraying his morals. The squire was the important one, and Aurelion wasn’t supposed to protect him.

“...and that’s a bingo!”

Aurelion moved his hand towards his sword, but I projected my authority forward before he could even grab the handle. The old elf froze in place, his eyes widening in terror as an invisible force gripped his arms and legs. I sensed his attempt to summon his skills, but I squeezed his mana channel so that not even a single drop of magical energy could pass through.

Aurelion brought a hand to his throat as he gasped for air. The influence of my authority over him must’ve felt like I was strangling him. I knew from experience that the brain came up with every strange method to attempt to process what happened in the magical plane.

I wondered how he saw me. Was I a huge creeping shadow? A monster? A non-human intelligence wearing a human appearance? I sighed in disappointment. Even high-level elven warriors were not a good target for practicing my natural magic. 

At least my self-teaching was starting to yield results. 

Aurelion was nothing but a worm in the palm of my hand.

The squire drew his sword and pointed it at me.

“Rhysse, was it? Look. The thing is, your king wants you dead, and he sent Aurelion to ensure that happens. I am unsure if he wants to blame your death on me, but that isn’t important for this conversation,” I said, looking the squire directly in the eye. “Aurelion wants to kill you. Do you want me to kill Aurelion?”

The funny part was that I hadn't moved from my spot across the room, and I still had the glass of water in one hand and the vase in the other. 

The squire remained petrified.

“Do you want me to kill Aurelion? Yes or no. Answer.”

Suddenly, the young elf seemed to awaken from a trance.

“No! Don’t kill him! He wouldn’t want to kill me! He wouldn’t!”

“I never get these things wrong, kid. This is Snow White all over again, and Aurelion’s knife is going to tear your heart out of your chest soon,” I said. 

The squire shook his head.

“He wouldn’t!”

My authority pulled back, and Aurelion fell to his knees, coughing and gasping for air. The younger elf knelt by his side, rubbing his back while giving me quick glances to make sure I was standing still in my corner. The warrior trembled like a leaf. For him, I was a monster.

I watched the scene in silence, wondering what to do.

The Elven King had found something in the Farlands, and he wanted to get the kid killed. That only left one question. Was I just a useful fool, or did he really want a reason to wage war against Ebros?

“Don’t try anything funny, because I swear I am capable of much worse,” I said, pouring myself another glass of water.

I wished I could turn it into scotch.

I rubbed my left temple and said, “I have enough problems, so please don't kill that kid in Marquis Kiln's territory.” 

A migraine was certainly coming.

“Aurelion isn’t going to kill me,” the young elf said in a serious voice.

“Is it as he says, Rhysse. The king wants you dead,” Aurelion said. “But Lord Clarke could—”

“No, I can’t,” I cut him off before he could finish the sentence. “Do you know how many responsibilities I currently have? Loans, taxes, budgeting. Keeping everyone safe and well-fed. Prepare for the advent of a second Corrupted Ancient. I’ve been fighting for two years with the orcs to make their women stop drinking alcohol while pregnant, but nobody listens to me! So, no. I don’t care who you are. Unless you can get me an audience with your king, you are leaving....

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