Chapter 181. Elven Lord

“The war for Argaria rages on,” Lord Aethon said. He and Damian paced slowly through a large hall in the palace; his white hair and robe glimmered in the sunlight that shot through the large glass wall to their left, and the patterns embedded into the silver pieces that sat on his shoulder and around his wrists shined even more beautifully. Damian wore his black cloak. His violet eyes held no warmth even under the rays of the morning sun, and his hands hung at his back as he stared down at the elf maids walking about in the front yard.

“Figures. Father won’t stop until every king in Sun-World bows to him. He doesn’t mind starving everyone and destroying everything for the sake of his cause,” Damian responded, his voice low. “He’s not completely to blame, though. I was the one who slaughtered all the Argarians and handed the seven fields over to him, thinking such a move would help me find my mother’s killer.”

“You don’t believe in the Valtorian ideology, do you?” Aethon