Chapter 332: The Distinguished Guests Arrive

The breeze of midsummer swept through the small pavilion as Ryan pondered Morgiana's proposal.

The Lake Fairy had given Morgiana a unique method for training a griffon that would allow it to harness magical abilities, much like Francois' pureblood elven pegasus which could gather energy and emit a burst of white light. If trained according to the Lake Fairy's method and fed her divine energy supplemented by Ryan's spiritual power, the young griffon could become a formidable magic-wielding creature.

This was the gift from the Lake Fairy. Training such a magical beast would consume a vast amount of divine power, but for a knight, a good mount was worth any sacrifice. Without much hesitation, Ryan nodded in agreement, "Then I entrust it to you."

"Indeed, the lady has arranged everything," Morgiana replied, pulling out a gem infused with potent divine power from her bosom—another item given by the Lake Fairy to accelerate the griffon's growth and awaken its magical abilities.

Ryan smiled and nodded, picking up the small griffon and stuffing some delicious venison into its beak. The griffon squawked joyfully, quickly gobbling up the meat. After affectionately pecking Ryan's face, it fluttered its wings and flew up to the top of the pavilion.

"It already has a good grasp on flying," Teresa commented, noticing Morgiana's odd and somewhat unfriendly gaze towards her as she stepped out of the pavilion and joined Ryan.

The summer-clad sorceress wore a water-blue Yunxiang Mogui classical print dress that barely reached her knees. Her shimmering black hair was adorned with a white rose, adding to her striking beauty. Her fair, long legs were bare, and her feet were clad in white, soft sandals, her toenails painted in enticing red. As she approached Ryan, she said, "By the way, I've chosen the location for my wizard's tower."

"Where did you choose?" Ryan asked, leading over a mixed-blood elven warhorse and carefully grooming its mane.

"I've chosen a valley within the Charlon Forest, not far from your brother's cabin. It's a serene spot," Teresa explained with a wistful expression. "I plan to lay the foundation before your wedding starts. The dwarves have already taken up the job and are ready to begin construction."

"It's a good location, safe," Ryan repeatedly nodded, pleased with Teresa's choice for her wizard's tower. He was about to say more when his warhorse, named Grape, licked his face with its tongue, leaving him covered in saliva.

"Grape! Of all things, you choose to be a lick-dog!" Ryan exclaimed, wiping his face as he stepped back awkwardly, causing Grape to neigh happily at his discomfiture.

Both Teresa and Morgiana couldn't help but laugh at Ryan's plight. Teresa, taking out a towel, helped him clean his face, "That's Grape showing affection."

Grape was quite a challenge for Ryan. This pureblood elven warhorse, already haughty by nature, had become even more so since being ridden by a champion like Ryan. It had a temper, often kicking people, and many a serf had been sent flying several meters while tending to "Lord Grape." Fortunately, Grape knew these were Ryan's people and generally didn't kick them to death, but the serfs often needed several days of bed rest.

Rumor had it that the castle's soldiers and knight attendants secretly placed bets on who would be kicked by Grape next.

When Sulia arrived, Grape ended up impregnating her pureblood elven mare named Richt. This left both Ryan and Sulia amused and exasperated.

Ryan had no choice but to seek the help of the wood elves, asking them to assist in breeding elven warhorses.

Asking the wood elves wasn't without reason. When the second Knight King Lewis negotiated peace with the wood elves, it included a provision for the elves to offer advice on breeding elven warhorses to the people of Britannia.

True to their reputation, the wood elves' intervention proved highly effective. Within just a year, Grape had sired numerous offspring, nearly filling the stables.

The mixed-blood elven warhorses, while not matching the purebloods in burst speed, endurance, carrying capacity, or intelligence, were still valuable. The original purebloods had been captured by the Britannians as they crossed the Grey Mountains, abandoned by retreating elves and left to roam freely, eventually falling into Britannian hands.

After establishing the kingdom, Britannia had made it a policy to prohibit the export of pureblood elven warhorses, a policy that remained unchanged to this day. Ryan had made a substantial profit by selling just a few mixed-bloods.

After cleaning his face, Earl Glamorgan handed the reins of a mixed-blood elven warhorse to Teresa, "I

 give this to you, dear Teresa, as your new mount."

This was a nearly two-meter-tall brown mixed-blood elven warhorse, not yet fully grown but already looking quite majestic and imposing, with an especially long mane and a white spot on its forehead.

"Is it just for me?" Teresa unhesitatingly took the reins, admiring her new mount.

"For now, it's just for you. I think you need it the most," Ryan said, setting down the towel. "If there's anything you need, just let me know... By the way, is there enough funding for the wizard's tower project? Do you need a loan?"

"How would I repay you?" Teresa shot Ryan a look. "Don't worry, I've gathered some funds on my own. My mother contributed a bit, and I've taken out some loans from the Garon Council. Veronica has also offered her support."

"Veronica? She's actually helping you?" Ryan was genuinely surprised, pausing his work. "That's unbelievable."

"Well, that's between her and me. You don't need to know," Teresa replied curtly. "You better continue preparing for your and Sulia's wedding."

Ryan nodded awkwardly, knowing well why Teresa was willing to leave behind a promising future in Garon to build her wizard's tower in his territory, "I'm sorry. Let me know whatever you need, and I'll have someone arrange it."

"Money and manpower aren't much of an issue for me. Actually, I plan to take Emma to Bolthro for shopping. Would you care to join us?" Teresa looked up at Ryan, her silver eyes filled with anticipation.

"Today?" Emma was a witch apprentice recently taken under Teresa's wing, and the locals were now quite accustomed to the presence of witch apprentices.

"Yes, today," Teresa continued, sensing Ryan's hesitation. "We'll ride there, stay overnight, and return by horse tomorrow. It won't take much time."

"Um..." Ryan considered his schedule, since accompanying Teresa meant all shops would offer them a twenty percent discount due to his status as a Grail Knight. Just as he was about to agree, a harsh voice interrupted their conversation.

Dressed in a shoulder-slanted lily ruffled blouse, Morgiana approached unnoticed, her golden tiara and bare feet slowly advancing, her beautiful face marred by a slight frown and impatience, "You still have not mastered the High Gothic language, Miss Trovick. Today, you must swiftly master the sixth and tenth battles of Arthur's founding wars and recite them to me in High Gothic by sunset."

"Princess Morgiana, but today's lesson was supposed to be..." Teresa started, genuinely puzzled, but Morgiana cut her off.

"As long as you are learning from me, I decide the schedule. Clearly, Miss Trovick, you have not met the expected standards, so please dedicate more time to it!" Morgiana chastised the sorceress, her tone less than pleasant.

After a stern look at Ryan, who was about to interject, Morgiana signaled for Teresa to follow her back to the pavilion, indicating the end of their break.

"As you wish, Princess Morgiana."

Meanwhile, at the Port of Bolthro, a mid-sized dwarven ironclad ship docked, surrounded by dozens of long-bearded dwarven warriors and hammer-wielding soldiers. Stepping onto Bolthro's soil, an elderly dwarf with a face as rugged and firm as stone sighed lightly, "Five hundred years, and the outside world has indeed changed."

"Master Clark, we've arrived at Bolthro. The humans who invited you to craft weapons are inland. We still have a journey ahead," said a long-bearded dwarven rune craftsman, also over four hundred years old, but still respectfully childlike before the elder.

"Alright, we'll proceed to the given location," said Clark the Stern, the president of the Dwarven Rune Craftsmen's Guild, carrying his Doomsday anvil and wielding his large hammer as he moved towards the shore.

The dwarven procession followed closely behind him.

"This... dwarf... sir, that... at the port..." Bolthro's Duke's dock tax officer followed the dwarves with a nervous smile, whispering, "You need to register your names and... and pay taxes for disembarking here..."

"Hmm?" Clark the Stern paused and glared at the tax officer.

Dozens of long-bearded warriors and hammer-wielding soldiers raised their weapons, staring down the officer.

"Ah... I mean, welcome to Bolthro, dwarf brothers!" the tax officer quickly straightened up, shouting, "I hope you enjoy your stay!"

"Hmph~" Clark the Stern grudgingly understood the human's words, nodded, and continued on his way.

"Chairman! Look over there!" Just a few steps into their walk, a rune craftsman pointed towards the coast, "What is that?"

A massive ship appeared on

 the horizon, approximately 130 meters long and about 23 meters wide, with the flag of the High Elven Kingdom of Safrui painted on its giant sails, depicting a phoenix in flight.

"It's the pointy-ears! That's a High Elven ocean-going vessel! Just my luck to encounter these pointy-ears as soon as I descend from the mountains," Clark the Stern muttered about the bad omen, yet he stopped in his tracks.

The dwarves also halted, watching curiously.

The High Elven vessel moved swiftly, taking just a few minutes from its appearance to docking, aggressively "squeezing" many merchant ships aside as it moored at Manann's dry dock with imposing dominance.

The hatch opened, and droves of High Elven soldiers emerged, led by plumed helmet-wearing, breastplate-clad elven archers and spear-wielding elves in scale mail skirts. They quickly and fiercely secured the dock, signaling everyone to clear the area.

As the human onlookers were driven off, more High Elven soldiers, armed with great bows and carrying long spears and shields, poured out. These elves, dressed in blue and white half-plate armors and cuirass skirts, formed neat rows, their movements fluid and aesthetically pleasing.

Following them were the elite High Elves, fewer in number, wearing pointed red plume helmets and red and white enchanted plate armors. These elites, less than a hundred, each radiated a legendary aura, indicating that all were of legendary rank.

Each elite wielded a greatsword over 1.2 meters long.

On the docks, all the humans were stunned, and Bolthro's Duke-appointed tax officer turned pale, unsure of how to proceed now that a High Elven army had appeared in Bolthro.

"Can I still be a dock tax officer?"

The dwarves remained at a distance, watching the scene unfold. The tax officer, gritting his teeth, stepped forward, attempting to speak in his broken Low Gothic, "Um... High Elven sir?"

Dozens of High Elven spearmen and archers focused their attention on him, causing the tax officer to tremble and retreat, "Um... what brings you to Bolthro?"

Silence followed as a few High Elves glanced at each other, ignoring the human.

Embarrassed, the tax officer wasn't sure whether to retreat or approach, so he loudly repeated his question, "What brings the High Elves to Bolthro?"

Fortunately, someone understood him.

"Step... step... step..." The last to disembark from the High Elven ocean-going vessel was a figure wearing the Safrui Crown of Conquest, wielding the Lilith Moon Staff, and dressed in a blue and white High Elven Grand Mage robe. He walked down from the ship, parting the waves of elven soldiers like ripples, clearing a path for himself.

Clearly, he was the leader of this army.

This individual approached the dock tax officer and spoke in fluent Low Gothic.

"I am Tegris, the Supreme Archmage of the High Elven Safrui White Tower Mage Council... Who are you?"

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