Chapter 99. Iowen
Logaris pointed to the badge.
“If your daughter has enough talent, I can personally ntor her. If her talent is average, as long as I write a handwritten letter, that old man of a principal will still give so face and arrange the best preparatory class for her. That will not be a problem at all.”
“Consider it an employee benefit. What do you think?”
The study fell into complete silence.
Cicero stared blankly at the badge on the table that symbolized the highest honor in the academic world.
Then he looked at the man standing before him who was far too young.
He had originally thought that Logaris was rely a favored young aide or perhaps the heir of so great family.
He had never expected that the other party was actually a professor at the kingdom’s highest academy, Saint Arcadia Academy.
The money had been offered.
The authority had been offered.
Even the future of his daughter, which worried him the most, could be solved with a single sentence from this man.
At that mont, the last trace of hesitation in Cicero’s heart completely disappeared.
He suddenly stood up from the chair, straightened his collar, and then bowed deeply toward Logaris and Sylvia.
The movent was precise, and his expression solemn.
He was no longer that worldly rchant.
He looked more like a warrior about to use his own body as a sword to sever the chains of the old order.
“I am honored by your trust.”
Cicero raised his head.
Ambition flickered in his eyes.
“Bosses, give three days. I need to return to Seabreeze City and bring my wife and daughter here.”
He grinned, revealing a row of white teeth.
“After all, if I am going to make a grand career in the Northern Territory, I should first settle my family here, shouldn’t I?”
After successfully tricking Cicero, this “willing sucker,” onto the pirate ship, Logaris felt as if every bone in his body had beco lighter.
The feeling was like soone who had been constipated for a week finally finding relief.
Or like finishing a thesis after staying up late for half a month, only for the advisor to approve it without even reading it.
Refreshing.
He humd an unrecognizable tune and strolled back to his private alchemy workshop with his hands behind his back.
He pushed open the door.
The familiar scent of alchemical herbs, the sour sll of magical solvents, and the laboratory table that looked like a garbage heap made him feel incredibly comfortable.
This was life.
This was where he truly belonged.
Logaris casually picked up a half-finished magitech core from the table and was about to continue the charging experint he had left unfinished earlier.
But his movent suddenly froze in midair.
Wait.
It felt like he had forgotten sothing.
He frowned, unconsciously rubbing the cold tal core with his fingers.
It was not the unfinished funding application. He had already thrown that to Grayson.
It was not Sylvia’s damned etiquette lesson either. He had skipped that long ago.
So what was it?
Logaris’s gaze swept across the workshop before finally stopping at the partially dismantled security array in the corner of the wall.
The boorang of mory suddenly smacked him right in the forehead.
That thief they had captured earlier.
The elven bard nad Iowen.
At that ti, the army of the Demi-Human Empire had been pressing at the border. They had been busy preparing for war, so he had casually thrown the fellow into the dungeon.
And that casual decision had lasted for more than half a month.
“I almost forgot about that.”
Logaris tossed the core in his hand aside, turned around, and headed straight for the underground prison.
…
The underground prison of Winter City was not in terrible condition.
Although it never saw daylight, at least there were no rats or sewage.
Sylvia had a slight obsession with cleanliness, and even her prison carried a sense of cold tidiness.
At this mont, outside the innermost cell.
Lilith was squatting beside the iron bars, holding a freshly baked buttered bread that was still steaming.
The aroma of the bread was particularly overwhelming in the chilly air.
She slowly tore off a small piece and placed it into her mouth.
She chewed slowly and even deliberately made exaggerated smacking sounds.
Inside the bars.
A young elf with dark green hair and a face even more delicate than a woman’s was sitting there while holding a lute that had appeared from who knew where.
He stared longingly at the bread.
His Adam’s apple moved up and down, and his handso face was filled with desire, yet he still tried to maintain a certain dignity known as elegance.
“Beautiful Miss Lilith.”
Iowen plucked the strings of the lute, producing a crisp “ting.”
His voice was so magnetic that it could srize young girls.
“Considering that we both share the blood of the elven race, could you spare a bite? Just one bite.”
He had been locked in the dungeon for half a month.
Every day he received only hardened rye bread and water.
There was not even any alcohol.
For Iowen, this was pure torture.
Lilith swallowed the bread in her mouth and tilted her head while looking at him.
A trace of teasing and… deep malice flashed through those dark green eyes.
“Sa race?”
Lilith sneered and waved the remaining half of the bread in her hand.
“Do not try to claim kinship with . You are a noble pure-blood elf who lives beneath the World Tree, drinks morning dew, and looks down on the mud beneath your feet.”
She pointed at her own pointed ears.
Her tone suddenly turned cold.
“And ? I am a mixed breed. A filthy thing born between a human and an elf. In your society, soone like would not even qualify to sweep the temple floors. People would spit on just for walking down the street.”
Lilith spat on the ground.
“And now you want to talk about bloodlines with ? Get lost.”
Right in front of Iowen, she threw the remaining half of the bread onto the ground and even ground it slightly with the tip of her shoe.
“Hey, hey, hey! Do not do that!”
Seeing the bread now covered with dust, Iowen’s face twisted with pain.
But his reaction was extrely quick.
The thick skin and opportunistic nature unique to bards erupted instantly.
“A misunderstanding! A huge misunderstanding!”
Iowen grabbed the bars and wore an expression of heartfelt sorrow.
“Sister Lilith, you have been hard by stereotypes! The ones who look down on half-elves are those ‘Golden Elves’ over in the riga Federation. Every one of them walks around with their noses in the air. I do not like them either!”
He patted his chest and spoke solemnly.
“I am different. I am a ‘Nature Elf’ from the southern Elven Royal Court. We advocate equality for all living beings and embrace nature. In my eyes, half-elves are the future of evolution. They are the perfect combination of human resilience and elven agility!”
“Really?”
Lilith looked at him suspiciously.
“Truer than gold! I swear to the lamp!”
Iowen pointed dramatically at the air.
“If a single word I said is false, may I never play music again in this lifeti!”
Lilith was montarily stunned by his speech.
At that mont, unhurried footsteps sounded from the end of the corridor.
Lilith instantly dropped out of her bossy posture and stood obediently to the side.
She even guiltily wiped the crumbs from the corner of her mouth.
“Bo… boss.”
Logaris ignored Lilith and walked straight to the front of the cell.
He pushed up the rimless glasses on his nose, and the lenses reflected a cold glint of light.
Iowen suddenly felt a chill run down his spine.
He was very familiar with that kind of gaze.
It was the gaze of a hunter looking at prey.
A butcher looking at a fat pig.
Or a deranged scholar looking at a laboratory mouse.
“Oh, is that not our respected professor?”
Iowen imdiately switched to a flattering smile and hid the lute behind his back.
“What wind has blown you here today? Do you wish to hear so music? I have just composed a new piece called Hymn of Winter City specially for you and Her Highness the Princess…”
“Put away that act.”
Logaris’s voice had no emotion whatsoever.
“I do not have ti to listen to your nonsense.”
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