18- We shall see, human. We shall see...

The Matron held Liam's gaze without flinching, her luminous green eyes unyielding.

Liam's oppressive aura continued to weigh on the assembly, but she remained unshaken, her regal bearing intact. A faint, almost imperceptible smile brushed her lips.

"Quality, you say," she replied at last, her voice as calm and clear as a stream. "A bold answer, human. But boldness alone won't suffice against a dragon king."

She rose slowly from her throne, her gown of plant silk rippling around her.

Descending the platform's steps, she stopped a few paces from Liam, who didn't retreat an inch despite the power she now exuded in turn.

"You possess strength, that much is clear," she continued. "A rare strength. But a dragon king is no mere beast. It is a storm incarnate, a living calamity. Two humans, no matter how powerful, cannot hope to triumph alone."

Liam tilted his head slightly. The suffocating aura emanating from him began to dissipate, allowing the warriors and councilors to catch their breath. Some rose shakily, their faces marked by a mix of fear and suspicion.

"Matron," Liam replied, his voice firm, "I don't claim this task will be easy. But we didn't come here by chance or misplaced pride. My superior and I were chosen for a reason. If I say there are only two of us, it's not to insult you but to show we're staking everything on this mission."

A subdued murmur rippled through the assembly, less hostile now, tinged with cautious curiosity.

The Matron narrowed her eyes slightly, studying Liam.

"Chosen, you say," she echoed, almost to herself. "And who made this choice? Your kings? Your generals?"

Liam hesitated, his features hardening briefly. He opened his mouth to respond, but the Matron raised a slender hand, silencing him before he could speak.

"No," she said. "Don't answer. Not yet. Words are weapons, human, and I sense you wield them with as much care as the power you just displayed."

She turned slightly, her gaze sweeping the hall. The councilors straightened, the warriors resumed their stances, but all awaited her verdict with palpable tension. Then she returned to Liam, her expression once more unreadable.

"You speak of an alliance, implicit or otherwise," she resumed. "You come bearing news and a show of strength, yet you ask for nothing in return. Not yet. So I will ask you one question, human, and I demand a clear answer: if we, the elves, choose to support this madness—for madness it is—what would humans offer us?"

Liam met her gaze, shoulders square, breathing steady.

"Matron," he began, his voice resonating in the oppressive silence of the hall, "humans have little to offer that you don't already possess. Your forests are ancient, your knowledge profound, your warriors formidable. But what we can give you is a chance. A chance to not face the coming stampede alone. A chance for your millennia-old trees to keep growing, your stars to keep shining in your skies. We don't ask for your aid to save us. We seek an alliance to save this land—yours as much as ours."

An absolute silence fell over the hall. Councilors exchanged glances, some visibly shaken, others still skeptical. The warriors, hands tight on their weapons, watched their Matron, awaiting her judgment.

She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, a new glint shone within.

"Very well, Liam, bearer of news," she said at last. "You've piqued my curiosity, and perhaps more."

She ascended to her throne and sat, an edge of displeasure flickering across her face, briefly cracking her serene mask.

"Human," she said, her voice sharp, "you come to my domain, speaking of news and alliance, yet I cannot overlook an offense. If your mission is as grave as you claim, why is it not your superior standing before me? Is this a slight? Do you deem me unworthy of his presence?"

Liam, still poised at the throne's base, blinked. He shook his head firmly. "Matron, there's no slight, I assure you. I'm here of my own initiative because I believe in this alliance. My superior… let's just say he doesn't show himself unless absolutely necessary. It's not disrespect toward you or your people."

The Matron raised a brow, her expression hardening. "Not absolutely necessary?" she repeated, her voice rising a notch. "You speak of a dragon king, a stampede threatening our lands, and you deem that insufficient to warrant your leader's presence? If humans seek an alliance with elves, let your superior face me in person. Otherwise, I see no reason to continue this discussion."

A murmur of agreement rose among the councilors. One, an elf with gray braided hair and a gold-embroidered sash, stood abruptly, slamming his fist on the table before him. "The Matron is right!" he declared, his voice echoing. "Why should we deal with a subordinate? If this human speaks true, his superior should stand before our sovereign to prove their sincerity."

Another councilor, an elf with stern features and skin etched with plant-like tattoos, added, "Exactly! Do humans take us for fools? Sending a second-rate emissary for such a grave matter is an insult to our people! Let this superior come, or let them face their war alone!"

Liam opened his mouth, a flicker of frustration in his dark eyes. "Please, hear me out," he began, raising his hands in a calming gesture. "My superior's absence isn't arrogance or disrespect. He follows his own rules, and I'm here to lay the groundwork for our cooperation. If you'll let me explain…"

But his words drowned in a fresh wave of protests. "Excuses!" the gray-haired councilor shouted. "Always excuses with humans! We want actions, not words!" The warriors in bark-and-steel armor along the walls exchanged tense glances, their hands tightening on their spears.

Liam sighed deeply, letting his arms fall to his sides. He glanced at Rilléan, who stood beside him, arms crossed and lips pursed. Then he turned back to the Matron, who watched him with icy intensity.

"Fine," he said at last, his voice low but resolute. "You want my superior? I'll get him."

Without waiting for a reply, he raised a hand. The air around him vibrated, as if an invisible wave rippled through the hall. Councilors held their breath, and warriors drew their weapons in a nervous reflex. A blue light flared from Liam's palm, tracing a shimmering circle in the air. The circle widened swiftly, forming a swirling portal with crackling edges. A cold gust burst from the opening, making the assembly shiver.

The elves recoiled instinctively, eyes wide. Even the Matron narrowed her gaze, her fingers tightening slightly on her throne's armrests. Liam turned to her, his expression grave.

"I'm going to fetch my superior, Matron," he said, his voice carrying over the portal's hum. "But I warn you: he's not like me. He's… particular. Be ready."

Without another word, he stepped through the portal with purpose. The blue light swallowed him, and the gateway snapped shut behind him with a sharp crack, leaving the hall steeped in oppressive silence.

Councilors exchanged incredulous glances, while warriors slowly lowered their weapons, still reeling.

The Matron remained still, her eyes fixed on where Liam had vanished. A faint, almost amused smile touched her lips.

"Particular, you say," she murmured to herself. "We shall see, human. We shall see."