399 Suspicious Of His Uncle
In front of the grave of the High Elves, there were two males who seemed to be in their own quiet world, unaffected by the bustle of their surroundings.
“How are you feeling?” Draven asked, his voice as usual dignified but held genuine care for the young elf who he raised like his own family.
“I am fine,” Erlos replied.
Silence enveloped the two.
“Have I told you before that you look just like your father now, the leader of the High Elves, Elror?”
Erlos looked at Draven. “Really?”
Draven nodded. “But your personality is like your mother’s, Alarielle.”
“That’s good to know.”
“You are brave and strong like your parents. They would be proud to know you grew up this well.”
“I am sure they will give that credit to you.”
“I would have accepted it gladly as raising a trouble into a fine young elf was not an easy task,” Draven said, only to have Erlos narrow his eyes at him.
“Sire, when have you learned to be shameless?”
“I speak the truth.”
“Raising trouble you say, Sire? You are lucky my parents can’t see how you have raised this trouble. Otherwise, they would have lodged a complaint to the council.
“How dare you treat a noble High Elf so poorly? I’ve been with my family for more than a decade, and my mother won’t even let me stain mud on my clothes. Yet Sire, what about you? Hanging a High Elf upside down on the tree for an entire day, making him clean all those useless weapons in the palace which never come out to be used, making him clean your room, wash your clothes, bring your meal for you—-“
Draven knew he had to cut him off at this point. “They would have thanked me.”
Erlos scoffed. “Who would want their precious only child to be treated as a manservant?”
“Correction: A King’s personal servant.”
Erlos’ pointed ears twitched in dismay. “I…I can’t simply digest this level of narcissism…Who are you and in which underground cave did you bury your shame?
The young elf walked away, intending to visit his acquaintances among the Wood Elves. Draven smiled as he watched his retreating back.
“Still a kid.” Draven could not help but chuckle, but he was glad that he could make Erlos forget the sadness he was feeling, even if it was only temporary.
Just then, Draven felt something and turned to look at the faraway mountain north of Netherfields.
‘That feeling… Divine power? Is…is it what I am searching for?’ He extended his senses towards that direction, and the more he focused, the stronger the feeling was. ‘I need to go and check.’
Meanwhile, Morpheus managed to separate Aureus from their clan members and brought him to the side.
“Were you troubled?” Morpheus asked.
“Not exactly, but I am not used to having many people surrounding me and asking me questions at the same time.”
Morpheus patted his nephew’s shoulder. “They are like this since they are curious about you and the world outside Agartha. You might not know, but only the scouts have special permission to leave the kingdom, and even then, there are only a few spots available for them to fight over.”
“So this will stop once they get used to me?”
“Well, if you tell Uncle Agraleus about it, he can tell them off so they won’t trouble you much. Also, when you officially ascend to be the Lord of the Feathered Races, the young ones will be on their knees and won’t dare look into your eyes. The only ones you’ll need to deal with are the handful of clan elders. I mean to say, you will be less troubled then.”
As they were walking, they spied a certain silver-haired elf coming in their direction and he was sulking.
“What happened, kiddo? Where is your master?” Morpheus asked.
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Morpheus’ gaze moved towards a particular snow-covered mountain north of the Netherfields. He stared at that mountain for a while. ‘Seems like the plan has started. He must have gone over.’
Aureus followed his uncle’s gaze. Morpheus turned his attention back to Erlos, then heard the elf mutter in confusion, “Could he have met with Elder Leeora—”
“If he said something that upset you, ignore him.”
“That’s between Sire and me and I don’t need your advice on it, Commander,” Erlos retorted with a roll of his eyes.
“Fine, kid!” Morpheus didn’t argue with him and looked at Aureus. “Stay with this noisy brat. I have things to do.”
“Where are you going?” Aureus asked. He would not normally question Morpheus, but he didn’t get a good feeling about his uncle’s sudden plan to depart.
“Your uncle is the commander who is handling the peace and order of the kingdom. Of course, I need to go on rounds and check on things.”
“Then let’s go. I will come with you.”
“What?”
“I will come with you,” Aureus insisted.
“You can’t,” Morpheus rejected him in a firm voice which startled Aureus. It felt strange to hear Morpheus speak like this, but then heard him continue, “I mean, this is your first time experiencing the day of mourning. You should spend more time with our clan members. Also, aren’t you familiar with witches? Take this chance to mingle with them. As the future Lord of the Feathered Races, you should know how important this kind of occasion is.”
Morpheus then looked at Erlos. “Take care of him for me. Don’t let the people swallow him whole.”
“I know what to do,” came the usual annoyed reply from Erlos, which Morpheus didn’t mind. The gray eagle flew away from the two youths without a second glance.
Aureus saw that his uncle was not heading for the mountain up north he was staring at earlier. He was going the opposite direction, towards the central regions of the kingdom.
Was he mistaken about his uncle?