Author's Note: The elves in this book are actually very ...... Being a dualistic creature that pursues idealization and perfection, getting along with them - in the short term, you will find them really good and tolerant, and in the long term...... You'll know that that's actually just a subtle form of distancing, especially for disobedient idiots who have to deal with.

The disobedient fool with whom the elves had to deal was sitting in her room, the lord's wedding was supposed to take place in her main castle, but Demont thought that the White Tower, which had gone through a riot, needed to be pacified even more. Tournaments, juggling, prostitutes, and free wine and meat could make the people of the White Tower forget that terrible night as soon as possible, and come out of the grief of losing their loved ones, he did not need a group of useless people who lived in grief and fear all day long - trade with the elves had stopped for more than a month, and Demon's several requests to meet with the elves Perante, the keeper of the Grey Ridge, were denied, although the latter's reasons were not inadequate - the Grey Ridge, which had been attacked by orcs and giants, also needed to be repaired, but it still humiliated him.

The merchants and parliamentarians didn't care much about that, they gathered together like fleas and whispered. Of course, they were dissatisfied with the inaction of the elves in Demon's mouth, but they valued more the benefits brought by all the elves' pure gold Mithril, square lead red, and winter maple candy, those gold coins that rolled like a river of stars, and privilege and power, and in the outside world, there were not a few knights and mages who were willing to deign to serve the merchants in order to obtain a pure gold dagger, a pure gold sword, a bottle of winter honey, and a box of maple candy.

They gave Demon gifts, each time more valuable than they were, but Demon was no longer as happy as he had been when he first received the expensive gifts, and he knew that he was going to pay for them, they were silent urgings, and they were tangible shackles.

The excitement and novelty of being the owner of the White Tower are gone, and all that remains is exhaustion and frustration, and then the wrath that these two have transformed.

He took out his anger on the servants of the mansion, his subordinates, and An Rui.

Every request made by Anrui was denied, and she was not allowed to leave the room or speak to anyone other than her valet - but she didn't know what to say to her valet. Her favorite and bravest maid was beaten, raped, and had her tongue cut out, and he did not allow her to summon the priest, so they had to cool her fever victim with cold water, remove and grind pearls and coral to stop her bleeding, and put a garnet in her mouth to heal the wound as soon as possible. Thanks to Angelis, the god of life, she survived, only because her tongue had been cut too deeply, and when she healed, her lower lip swelled and turned outward like an orc.

De Mont ordered her to go to the kitchen, for he did not want to see such an ugly monster around his wife, and the maid obeyed this order in silence and humility, and as she left, she kissed the horn of Anrui's skirt, and Anrui only held her hand tightly—for the first time she felt that she had done something wrong.

Anrui's supplies were still the best, and all kinds of extravagant gifts were never stopped, and before dinner, Demont also sent her the clothes to be worn at her wedding, according to custom, which was probably worth the tax of a whole year in the White Tower.

She sat alone in front of the dress, and since it had happened, she had not allowed her maid to be by her side except if necessary, and she told Demon that it was out of jealousy, and it was ridiculous that Demont believed it.

Then she heard a very soft laugh.

At first she was frightened by this, but as it appeared more and more often, now she couldn't even beat her heart faster: "Aren't you going to serve your master?

The little devil emerged from the shadows, and with its tail and wings folded, it looked like a fluffy black ball, which was quite cute.

But Anrui had seen it kill.

"Demont doesn't like to see me in front of people. ”

"Really?" said Anrui, holding out her long, snow-white finger and nodding to indicate that it was sitting in front of her, on her wedding gown.

"You are none other than you," said Asmodeos, rightly, "but you are my mistress." It moved so quickly that Anrui knew it was a bow if she thought about it—after all, it looked like a ball rolling forward slightly and back to its original position.

"I don't have what you want. "Anrui knew that Demon had fed the little devil with soul gems, and the blood of the elves was churning in her body, making her want to vomit.

"You have," said Asmodeus cheerfully, sticking out its tongue and greedily licking at Anrui's pain and remorse, "dear mistress, you have," said in a soft voice, "wait, I will ask for it from you, in the future, but from now on you may consider what I can give you." ”

A bard sang loudly as he walked out of his tent, singing of his bravery, of his kindness, and of his selflessness and justice.

Because his song explicitly mentions Berdwin's name, and his fiefdom of Thundercastle, he politely paused to bid farewell to Kerry and Cremar, and respectfully invited them to listen. He was a strangely dressed bard, wearing a brown tunic with a belt made of numerous knotted ropes, black leggings and a pair of brown boots with copper tips, and he was dressed in a brown turban that was usually used by women, and his hair and eyebrows were tightly hidden, and he had a headdress and ornament made of silver coins hanging from his forehead, temples, and chin, and black and white ostrich feathers on either side of the headdress.

Every line he sings is related to Birdwin, from his ordinary origins, his extraordinary talent, his loyal heart, to his sharp mind and inexhaustible courage, and every battle that is bound to end in victory...... He described them in a rich, sonorous, irresistible baritone voice, but the lines and tones were unpretentious, but they were just what Baldwin wanted, for Kremar heard Baldwin instructing his servants to fetch the box containing the gold coins from his tent.

However, when the box was brought in, Berdwin changed his attention again, for the bard was imitating the tone of his fellow Tyre Knight, asking him, "Baldwin, give me a sword...... Baldwin, give me a helmet...... Give me a horse...... "This was originally just a small episode added by the bard to enhance the atmosphere of the battlefield, but it certainly gave him a good inspiration, and he apologized briefly to his guests, told him to put down the box, put on his armor, helmet and neck guard, took his broadsword and spear, jumped on his horse and galloped away, and challenged one of the knights of the opposing camp.

The battle ended quickly, and not every knight had the courage to be as brazen as Baldwin's previous opponent, and the knights of Tyre won back a complete set of equipment, as well as a horse, and gave them all to the bard with the ostrich feathers.

"It's a real windfall," Carey said, teasingly, "and it seems that the bard's handbook has added another verse about you." ”

"That's exactly what I mean. Baldwin said honestly.

The well-rewarded bard stood still and bowed deeply to Baldwin, his expression as always, that is, not as ecstatic as one might have thought, his eyes dark brown, like a white-cheeked bird with two deep dark circles, his face pale, but his lips as red as clotted blood.

He might have wanted to say thank you in words, but just then, a herald in a red velvet coat rode into the arena on a spotted stallion, conveying the message of the White Tower and the Partridge Hill Lords and the Archon of the White Tower, who were about to visit the knights to see the knights' fearlessness, and bestowed the prize on the victorious knight of the tournament - an enchanted Mithril chain mail that automatically resized to fit the wearer and kept the wearer's body temperature.

The reward was not invaluable, but Baldwin only grimaced in his displeasure, as the master of Thundercastle, the king's vassal, an ally of the elves, and a near-invincible knight, armor was never something he lacked.

When Anrui and Demon appeared side by side in front of the people of the White Tower, the people cheered and threw flowers at them.

Strangely enough, both of them, who should have been satisfied, were a little absent-minded, and Dermon anxiously dusted off a bunch of lily of the valley flowers that had fallen on his black robe, and grabbed Anrui's hand.

Anrui meekly let her hand ache as it hurts, and the pain is no more unbearable than the clothes on her body, which, according to Demont, are worth a year's tax from the White Tower, and where the nobles are tired of the square-like robes and burqas, and their women prefer clothes that show their status and figure better. A long silk undergarment, which fell to the top of the feet, had a wide hem, but the cuffs were tightly tied, a round or square neckline, exposing part of the breasts, and various ribbons were tied around the waist, the ends of which hung pearls, and then a long velvet tunic with a wide leather tunic was draped over the garment, the sleeves suddenly lengthened and widened from the elbows, and the tail was enough to kiss the ground, and the sleeves and hem were to be intricately and beautifully embroidered, and the back robe was dragged nearly six feet, and buttoned and embellished with precious stones. It was matched by two buns held in place by a gold-filigree hairnet on either side of the head and a double-horned hat, the tip of which cast a shadow almost past the back of the hem, and a thin veil as thin as a cicada's wings hung from the tip.

They are more like shackles adorned with silk and jewels than new ones.

But now Anrui must be happy and grateful, and it is conceivable that this will continue for a long time to come.

"You still have me, my dear mistress...... There's me. Asmodeos said, the invisible little devil crouched on Anrui's shoulder, no more than an inch from her ear, but just as it was about to inject more of the venom of words into the half-elf's heart, a black-haired, white-robed figure brushed the corner of its eye.

Swearing to the Endless Abyss, the little devil thought, I must have seen this man. Thank you again for your tips!!!

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