Chapter 264: Phoenix Court

Sinuoli reiterated his stance to the Elf mage: High Elves were forbidden from entering the Southern World's Edge Mountains without invitation, whether from the sky, the ground, or underground. Of course, he still promised not to take the initiative to march south and invade Liming Yaosai.

The literal "defeated phoenix" and its master crouched on the ground, unable to muster any toughness; they nodded like chicks pecking at rice. The mage knew in his heart that being able to escape death just now was the result of that old Dwarf with the long, dragging white beard holding back.

The prerequisite for a phoenix to be reborn is that the atmosphere is filled with magic; if the Winds of Magic weaken, they will head toward death just like all living things. And that old man clearly had the ability to drain the Winds of Magic in the vicinity; during the War of the Beard, the Dwarfs had already mastered this way of countering phoenixes.

Watching the Flame Phoenix, no longer as elegant as when it arrived, sway as it carried the mage and the prisoners of war into the sky and away, Sinuoli finally loosened his grip on the rune collar. The first requirement he had for a giant beast was that it must be able to fly; the phoenix satisfied this point and could also perform magical attacks, so he had once harbored the intention of capturing one.

However, Sinuoli calmed down afterward; it wasn't because of the subsequent repercussions of capturing one, but because he knew the Flame Phoenix was only the lowest grade among all types of phoenixes.

Above them were Frostheart Phoenixes, Arcane Phoenixes, and god-chosen phoenixes like the Omen of Asuryan; in a situation where there was only one chance, there was no need to save that chance for such a "little brother."

The Dwarfs certainly would not believe that things ended just like that; they had a steady stream of reinforcements from the various states of the Old World, so did the High Elves not have the ten kingdoms of Aosuan? Sinuoli passed down the order for martial law, telling his subordinates to be prepared.

The Archmage did not delay after returning to Liming Yaosai, directly communicating with Aosuan through communication magic. After receiving the report, the Fenghuang Wang Tingyuan at the Sea Gate of Lothern became lively.

This was a magnificent place, with white marble, golden ornaments, and matching greenery. The Elves were a race that loved art, and Lothern was the most important trading port, exceptionally wealthy.

The Phoenix Court was the political center of the High Elves, where the talents from the ten kingdoms would come to petition and pledge loyalty to Finubar, as well as to deploy their own political schemes. A long lifespan combined with frequent intermarriage meant that almost any decent Elf had a weak claim to some kingdom, but wanting to cash it in undoubtedly required quite a few methods.

Unlike the Dwarfs who liked to sit for meetings, the High Elves often stood during meetings, except for those in high positions. Sitting on the throne in the center was an elegant male, and the years had left no trace on his face.

This was Finubar the Seafarer, an outstanding diplomat and navigator. Before he served as Phoenix King, he traveled throughout the entire Old World, even venturing deep into Aisuoluolun Senlin and the Dwarf Shanbao.

The previous Phoenix King Beier-Haduo'er discovered that the Humans of the Old World were rising rapidly; this Saphery Prince, known as the Zhezhe, realized that the Elves would face a brand-new era and that they needed an enlightened king, so he gave his full support to Finubar on his deathbed.

Finubar still maintained his love for sailing, but the internal and external troubles of Aosuan left this Elf, who was not particularly good at fighting, exhausted. Fortunately, he had two helpers who were capable enough.

"This is a provocation! My Majesty! Those bastards who drink heavily, don't bathe, reek of a pungent stench, and only know how to dig tunnels and fiddle with their beards, actually dare to attack, detain, and torture the subjects of the Phoenix God! They must have forgotten the taste of the Asur spears and arrows!"

Before his throne, a male was giving a loud speech; he possessed a trait rare among Elves—heroism. His shoulders were broad, and his waist appeared slender, constrained by the armor he wore, which in turn set off a standard inverted triangle. He wore a golden battle helmet inlaid with rubies, and the phoenix wings on both sides were flamboyant and fierce.

This was Prince Tyrion, the most renowned warrior of the ten kingdoms of Aosuan. He was a descendant of the first Phoenix King Aenarion and had much of his ancestor's style. Tyrion had just debuted when he saved the Everqueen from an attack by the Dark Elf, and subsequently fought a great battle against the Greater Daemon of Slaanesh, N'Kari.

"I support Prince Tyrion's decision!"

Before Tyrion's voice had faded, a female Elf in military uniform beside him immediately spoke up in support. She was Princess Aitila of the Tailuoluoke kingdom; after her father died in battle, she came to the Phoenix Court to seek to inherit her father's position.

Undoubtedly, the reception she initially received was not friendly; although the Tailuoluoke kingdom had suffered heavy losses in the great schism triggered by Malejisi, there were still enough Elves qualified and willing to become the Prince of Tailuoluoke to line up from the gates of the court to the Sea Gate of Lothern.

The young Princess was no match for the political veterans; she could only flee with moist eyes, filled with anger and humiliation. After Prince Tyrion learned of the news, out of friendship for her late father, he found and helped her, appointing her as his attendant adjutant.

The Princess's passionate support only received sparse echoes; the High Elves had never really liked war. Appreciating art, studying poetry, singing and dancing—wasn't that better? Why take the initiative to go to a place even the phoenixes thought was too far to stir up trouble?

Most Elf nobles did not express their stance; those who could enter the Phoenix Court to participate in the war council were all political veterans, and how to hide one's attitude and not take sides too early was a skill that must be learned for long-lived species.

Finubar, sitting on the throne, supported his forehead with his left hand and remained silent; he had been on the throne for over two hundred and sixty years. He often wondered if the Elf gods had opinions about his rule, because in these years, the invasions Aosuan had suffered were more than all his predecessors combined.

War was not an easy thing; it required long preparations before the war, and compensation and recovery after the war. Finubar was exhausted by all of this. Now, he sometimes didn't even attend the war meetings.

The Councilors present saw the situation and knew that His Majesty the Phoenix King could not be counted on this time either; they turned their gazes to a male standing on the other side. Contrary to Prince Tyrion, his first impression was that of being frail—frail by Elf standards.

This Elf held a long staff, and anyone with a discerning eye could see that he had shifted his body's center of gravity onto the staff. He also coughed lightly from time to time, looking as if his lungs were not very good.

Despite this, no noble dared to underestimate him. This was Prince Teclis, the Archmage of the Tower of Hoeth, the chosen of the maiden goddess Lilisi, Tyrion's younger brother, and also a descendant of Aenarion.

"Brother, in my view, it is better to recuperate and build up strength for now; the Asur have other things to do." He caught his breath and said slowly.

"Why?" Tyrion turned to stare at his younger brother; in his memory, this was a rare instance of Teclis directly expressing opposition to him.