Lady Miraith

"Three of my great-grandchildren are about to bloom into beautiful flowers. Don't you think it's time for me to seek their future spouses? Our kind has always been elusive in producing offspring. Mostly one child for a couple. I don't care if there will be crossbreeding. It won't matter. It's always the case that a half-human elf is still an elf."

While her thoughts brought her to express with an amused face as if she was daydreaming of the possibility, she began to notice her equal in the dwarf tribe.

"Lord Andvari, what do you think? Huh?" The gregarious elf elder was stupefied when she passed her eyes to the elder dwarf. "What's happening to you?"

"How did Sigmund produce those lads? I mean, he said those were his students, but they are too pretty!" Andvari Jari's reddening face was beaming and so were the glints in his eyes.

"Aren't you too enjoying too much of this banquet?" The grand elder remarked but it fell on deaf ears as they simultaneously heard the announcement of a battle royale.

"Huh!" the elder dwarf rose from his seat but his height was enough to see three participants from the human mage adventurers. "Next time, they should also invite any of the dwarf warriors. Umph!"

"We are not informed of this during our invitation. It seems Sigmund is playing favoritism here." Lady Miraith smiled in derision.

"One of his sons informed me and the village chief about this. We didn't exactly approve it but seeing that it's also part of their repertoire for tonight's banquet, we can't do anything about it." Zemeni expressed her response to help enlighten her friends in the council.

"Just what level exactly is he?" The elf asked with more confusion as she absorbed in the opulence of the venue and even the organized banquet which was outside of her bounds of expectation. "I am more astonished that we have them in our midst but this is really beyond my scope of awareness as an elf."

"Ricaford Berry informed me that their level cannot even be measured. So we are not aware of what level they are at exactly. The system in our crystal tablet of this village can only measure until level 10." Zemeni's looks became increasingly pale as she remembered receiving that information.

"Perhaps, I can lend our crystal ball to measure their exact level. Our elf clan, if not for that ominous jinx, should have mages reaching beyond level ten in my lifetime." Miraith's gorgeous face was looking forlorn despite her attempt to forget the past hapless circumstances.

The village elders momentarily halted their conversation as they were watching the battle of three human mages.

"I am wondering how Sigmund knew of that tempo of drumbeats that used to be the traditional sound of our village." The grand elder's voice was almost drowned out by the cheers of the guests spectating the battle royale.

"It is a puzzle how they knew about it. It is only exclusive to the high-ranking elders during a certain ritual." The elf lady responded while her eyes were glued to the development of the fight.

"Woah! That Sword Ice Dance technique is a potent technique if employed well." Lady Miraith commented as her focus was still on the female mage fighting two male mages. "That girl must have been a descendant of my clan. She does not have our pointy ears now, but I sense some aura similar to elves when she releases mana."

"Shura is helping her in cultivating that technique." The grand elder nonchalantly replied while the elf elder almost gasped.

"Your grandchild is a descendant of my clan?" The elf almost yelled as she looked askance at the grand elder.

"I found out that my grandchild has an elf aura when I looked at her maternal grandmother, who bestows her that technique as an heirloom of some sort," Zemeni replied while she continued observing the battle. "This kind of competition can be a good practice to improve their combat abilities."

"I agree but they have places where they can have sparring matches among themselves so having this place for a battle competition is not an original idea. In my clan, we have an area in our district where warrior elves can practice and spar with their teammates. It is just that many of them are too arrogant to place humans in their eyes." The elf elder signed as her job in the clan included diplomacy to harmonize the different tribes of the village.

"Many of the human mages compete among themselves so most sparring matches are not limited to their teams. I have learned some reports that deaths are inevitable in some sparring matches where they held them inside the primeval forest."

When they observed that the battle was rapidly reaching its peak, they heard another elder cheering loudly when the female mage yelled in concede.

"That's my grandson!" Ricaford Berry laughed in joy and excitement when he heard the announcement of the winner.

"Yeah, yeah!" The dwarf elder downed his glass of wine while gloating over the fact of the absence of dwarves during the match.

"Congrats Ricaford!" The elder elf sent her greetings while wearing a flirtatious smile.

"The lady is as beautiful as ever!" The elder Berry seemed to redden as he noticed the subtle intention.

"Stop flirting, you jerks! Let's see what prizes are in store for them!" The grumpy dwarf chided them as he attempted to find faults in that banquet.

Momentarily, the other elders heard someone exclaim, "What?"

"Your grandson is surely lucky for receiving those rewards, Ricaford. By the way, didn't we have an agreement of marrying one of our descendants? That grandson of yours is a good…" Lady Miraith was surprised when her words were cut off.

"Not now, Miraith! I wish my descendants to find the right mates for them. We are not into this arranged marriage thing." Ricaford muttered as he brought his glass to sip the wine. "This juice wine is simply heavenly."

"Indeed! I am thinking of approaching Harry to trade with us again. We ordered ten crates of bottles but they are exhausted in three days! Those scums!" The ill-tempered dwarf fumed as he remembered his clan, consuming wine like water.

"Even those losers get prizes. Sigmund is simply magnanimous! Haist! If only I was younger…" The elder elf was again daydreaming as her inebriation manifested despite being an elf.

"Lady Miraith should be controlling your intake of wine. You're getting tipsy. You're now saying nonsense." Zemeni let her voice rise as she scolded the drunk elf.

"I like this feeling… Aaah!"

The elder elf suddenly shifted her mood when she was astounded by the increasing flux of energy in the area of the village chief.

"He's almost there now!" The grand elder commented with a look of concern.

__________________________

Rafa Libera's clothes were torn during the process of ascension. With the help of his wife, a new set of garments was delivered to cover the dignified chief.

"You may rest for a minute as you perform a breathing exercise," Gary advised as the crucial aspect of the ascension process had passed.

"Congratulations on your ascension, Master!"

"Congrats Old Chief!"

Other elders began to approach the village chief to send their good wishes in unison.

"You have reached… what?" The elder elf yelled, expressing her surprise at the outcome of the ascension.

"Why?" Someone asked.

"He ascended to level 7! That's a big leap!" Miraith was too astounded her intoxication was almost relieved.