Difficult to Explain II

The royal family had finally left the Divine Beast's Lair using teleportation . They took the dying dragon with them, as leaving it in the lair would have been a certain death sentence at the hands of the beast. Maedhros, aware of the dangers that lurked, had made the decision that it was no longer wise to remain away. His castles were usually hidden in remote forests, but recent events had shown him that it was a mistake to remain apart from his main force. Thus, he decided to return to the capital, the place where the king and his family belonged.

The reason he and his family had avoided living in the capital was simple: it was an easy target. However, given the current circumstances, that no longer mattered. Their enemies had managed to penetrate even the strongest defenses and most hidden places. Hiding was no longer of any use; it was time to adopt a new strategy: the offensive.

Once the royal family arrived at the castle, located in the heart of the capital of the elven kingdom, everyone was able to admire the imposing structures that surrounded them. They had been teleported directly to the castle gardens. Almost immediately, six figures emerged from the shadows. They were the guards in charge of guarding the teleportation magic circles . The six of them quickly approached the royal family and knelt before them.

"Welcome," they said in unison.

Among the guards, one stood out for his presence. He was an elderly-looking elf with a beard that reached his chest and piercing green eyes. Although he looked frail, Maedhros knew that the old man was a hellish beast on the battlefield. At over five hundred years old, he had dedicated most of his existence to serving the royal family with unwavering loyalty. The only reason the king had not taken him with him in the past was because the old man had sworn loyalty to another member of the family.

"You should get some rest," the old man said, his voice calm but firm. "You look exhausted. I'll order the best available rooms to be prepared and call the healers."

His green eyes fell on the dying figure of the dragon. He needed no explanation to understand what had happened; his intuition was so keen that he seemed able to see the future. Before the king could utter a single word, the old man was already giving orders that Maedhros would surely have requested. This elf was someone to be feared.

Once the chambers were ready, the royal family retired to rest. The dragon was taken to a special room, designed to speed the recovery of those who lay within. Soon after, a group of elves skilled in healing magic arrived to tend to the wounded dragon. However, Maedhros had given them clear instructions: they were to heal him only enough to keep him alive. He could not allow the dragon to fully awaken, at least not until he was sure he posed no threat. Letting the dragon die was not an option either; if others of his kind discovered that they had killed one of their own, they would seek revenge. And Maedhros was not about to risk a dragon laying waste to the entire kingdom.

...

At seven in the morning, in the king's office, five people gathered around a large wooden desk. Maedhros, sitting in his chair with an imposing posture, observed those present: Naida, Keijo, Eru and his father, Angrod . They all wore serious faces, aware of the gravity of the situation.

Eru was the first to break the silence.

"According to the latest reports, at least 2,913 people have fallen into a state of sleep from which it seems impossible to wake them," he said in a tired voice, as if he had spent hours dealing with the discontent of those affected.

"Continue," Maedhros urged, his tone cold and calculating.

"Humans took advantage of the panic generated by this strange wave of energy to invade several territories. They managed to kidnap several elves, some of them members of the nobility."

"Tsk," Maedhros clenched his fists. "They just happened to be kidnapping nobles. It's definitely those bastards from the Lawless City. They're pushing their luck."

But that wasn't all.

"Furthermore," Eru continued, "the humans have been using poison magic on a large scale. They have poisoned the rivers and it seems that they are also trying to contaminate the trees. No doubt they are seeking to create a famine to force us to abandon our territory."

"Let me guess," Maedhros interrupted, his voice thick with anger. "It's not just the Lawless City. The neighboring countries are supporting them as well."

"That's right," Eru confirmed.

Maedhros slammed his fists on the desk so hard that it cracked in two. His face was one of suppressed anger, but after a moment of silence, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. Finally, he spoke with a coldness that chilled the blood.

"We've been too soft on these scumbags. I'm fed up with them. If we carry on like this, they'll annihilate us. I have no doubt about it."

"Are you going to abolish that law?" Angrod asked, his tone slightly worried.

Maedhros replied without hesitation. "We no longer have a barrier protecting us, and we do not know how to repair it. Coexistence is no longer an option. Humans are a race of scoundrels. I will abolish that damn law, and I am sure most will agree."

Angrod remained silent. The elves, though generally peaceful, harbored a deep hatred for humans. No wonder: they had kidnapped, murdered, and raped countless elves in the past. That hatred, built up over centuries, was about to explode.

The conversation continued for hours, with Maedhros and the others analyzing every detail of the situation. The reports were grim: not only had the humans intensified their attacks, but they were also using increasingly ruthless tactics. The possibility of all-out war seemed inevitable, and Maedhros knew he must act quickly and decisively. Meanwhile, elsewhere in the castle, an equally tense scene was unfolding.

In a large, well-lit room, ten high-level healing mages were concentrated around a bed where the unconscious individual lay. The atmosphere was charged with magical energy, a vibrant aura enveloping the room. The healers, with serious faces and sweat on their foreheads, channeled their powers in a coordinated effort to keep the dying dragon alive. Their hands glowed with a faint glow, and they murmured words in an ancient language, while the spells engraved on the floor and walls of the room pulsed in rhythm with their magic.

The dragon, though in human form, gave off a powerful aura even in its unconscious state. Its breathing was shallow, and its pale skin reflected the severity of its injuries. The healers worked tirelessly, knowing that a single mistake could be fatal. One of them, a silver-haired, golden-eyed elf, acted as the group's leader. With a calm but firm voice, he directed the others, making sure that each spell wove perfectly into the others.

"Keep the energy flow steady," the leader ordered, adjusting the pace of his own spell. "We cannot allow its life to fade away. If we fail, we will not only lose this dragon, but we could trigger a catastrophe."

The other healers nodded silently, focused on their task. Though they did not say it out loud, they were all aware of the political and strategic implications of their mission. Not only would the dragon's death be a tragic loss, but it could also provoke the wrath of others of its kind. And no one wanted to face an enraged dragon.

…

Meanwhile, Maedhros:

"We must ensure that the dragon survives," Maedhros said suddenly, interrupting the discussion. "We cannot afford to lose him. If he dies, he will be a burden we cannot bear."

The others nodded, understanding the gravity of his words. Meanwhile, in the healers' room, the atmosphere remained tense. The mages worked tirelessly, knowing that the fate of the kingdom could depend on their success. And at that moment, amidst the magic-laden silence, the dragon gave a slight breath, as if struggling to return to consciousness. The healers exchanged looks of concern and hope. The battle for his life was far from over.