Chapter 1158: 1159 Tragedy...?

Chapter 1159 Tragedy...?

The mention of the soul-strengthening pill cast a momentary shadow over the room, evoking memories of its intended purpose. Lyon's gaze shifted into the realms of contemplation as he recalled the significance of the pill—a measure designed to fortify him against the impending deluge of memories should he choose to reclaim them.

"Any idea where Tasya might keep these pills?" Lyon inquired, glancing around the room.

Cecile, the strategist of the group, arched an eyebrow. "Considering she followed Maria closely, it's probable she has some in her personal stash."

Kesya's eyes lit up with excitement. "Let's raid her bedroom! She must have a treasure trove of goodies!"

Selena nodded in agreement. "It's worth a shot. Maria always had a penchant for keeping important things close."

Liu, ever the practical one, chimed in, "If we're lucky, she might have some in stock. Let's not waste any time."

The group dispersed with a common goal: find the soul-strengthening pills. Lyon couldn't help but appreciate the diversity in their approach. While Liu methodically combed through the main area, Kesya charged into Harvestasya's bedroom like an eager adventurer. Cecile and Selena worked with a seamless synchrony, checking every nook and cranny, and Karina moved gracefully, leaving no stone unturned.

The room hummed with a purposeful energy. Shelves were scrutinized, cabinets were opened and closed, and drawers were pulled out. The occasional exclamations of discovery or frustration added a dynamic rhythm to the search.

As Kesya ransacked the bedroom, Lyon couldn't suppress a smile. Her enthusiasm, though a tad chaotic, was infectious. "Found anything, Kesya?" Lyon called out.

"Just a bunch of interesting trinkets," Kesya replied, holding up a peculiar-looking ornament.

"Keep at it. The pills might be hidden somewhere unexpected," Lyon encouraged, appreciating her thoroughness.

Meanwhile, Karina approached a small, elegant box on a shelf. With delicate hands, she opened it to reveal a collection of carefully arranged items. Lyon's eyes widened as Karina picked up a vial containing the familiar soul-strengthening pills.

Lyon's amusement lingered, finding the parallel between their search and a police raid amusing. Selena, ever perceptive, noticed Lyon's suppressed laughter. She inquired, "Darling, what's wrong?"

A playful grin played on Lyon's lips. "Oh, nothing much. Just had a thought that we're like a bunch of detectives on a mission to find some illegal stash."

Selena raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Illegal stash? Lyon, you know our quest is far more significant than that."

Lyon chuckled, realizing the futility of trying to explain his comparison. "True, true. But you can't deny the similarities in the approach."

Selena nodded in agreement, her eyes gleaming with determination. The search for the soul-strengthening pills resumed.

---

The moon hung high in the celestial tapestry as Lyon and his companions delved into the mysteries of Golem City. Meanwhile, back at the elven palace, Elandril, having bid Lyon farewell, reentered the grand council chamber. The discussions among the elders were far from settled, tensions rising with each passing moment. As Elandril stepped into the room, the elders' eyes followed him, seeking answers to the questions that lingered in the air. The intricate dance of alliances and doubts unfolded against the backdrop of elven politics, casting a shadow on the fate of their kind.

"Emperor," Ithildir began, his tone measured but assertive, "we have observed a series of events that lead us to question the path our great empire is treading."

Elandril, seated on his regal throne, regarded them with a mix of curiosity and wariness. "Speak, Ithildir. What troubles you?"

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The elder, chosen as the spokesperson, stepped forward. "The recent developments with the orc and the unexpected visit of the golems have left us perplexed. We fear that your decisions may lead us astray from the course our ancestors envisioned."

Elandril leaned back in his throne, his eyes narrowing as he studied the gathered elders. "Explain yourselves. What is it that you believe I have misjudged?"

Ithildir, a silver-haired elder with an air of malevolence, stood as the chief provocateur. His voice, like a venomous serpent, slithered through the hall as he expounded his vision for the elves' future. "Our alliances with other realms have only brought strife and discord. It is time we withdraw into the sanctuary of our own realm, forsaking these tenuous connections that have proven detrimental to our people."

Opposing him was a coalition of elders who believed in maintaining the elves' alliances and engagement with the broader world. Their arguments were grounded in a pragmatic approach, emphasizing the benefits of cooperation and shared resources. The intricate carvings on the pillars seemed to absorb the echoes of their verbal clashes, becoming silent witnesses to the ideological struggle.

As the debate escalated, Elandril maintained a composed facade, his piercing blue eyes carefully observing each participant. The clash of ideals echoed through the chamber, threatening to fracture the unity that had held the elven council together for centuries.

Ithildir, reveling in the chaos he had orchestrated, continued his rhetoric. "Our resources are squandered in these ventures. Our people suffer while we extend our hands to those who offer nothing in return. It is time we prioritize our own well-being and prosperity."

A counterargument arose from an elder known for wisdom and diplomacy. "Isolationism will only lead to stagnation. Our strength lies in unity, and by severing ties, we risk becoming vulnerable. We must adapt and thrive within the evolving landscape, not retreat into seclusion."

The chamber reverberated with the clash of opposing viewpoints, the weight of their words creating an almost palpable tension. Elandril, though wearied, knew the importance of maintaining a delicate balance in the face of such ideological discord.

Just as the verbal sparring reached its zenith, the heavy doors swung open with a creak, disrupting the debate. The guard, visibly distressed, entered the chamber, setting in motion a chain of events that would shift their focus from political wrangling to a grim and immediate reality.

Just as the verbal sparring reached its zenith, the chamber's heavy doors swung open with a creak, interrupting the proceedings. The guard, visibly distressed, stumbled into the room, his armor clinking with each hurried step. The abrupt entrance startled the council, diverting their attention from ideological clashes to the urgent matter at hand. n)(o-(V-(E//l-(b/-1-.n

Ithildir, his skepticism evident in a disdainful snort, couldn't resist a taunt directed at the guard. "What, another visitor? Speak quickly; we have more pressing matters to attend to."

The guard, undeterred by the condescension, approached the Emperor and knelt before him. Beads of sweat lined his forehead as he delivered the unsettling news, "My lord, a grave matter requires your immediate attention. There has been a murder – a child found lifeless near the outskirts of the capital."

Elandril's impassive expression softened with genuine concern, his eyes reflecting the gravity of the situation. The guard's revelation cast a somber pall over the chamber, momentarily extinguishing the fires of political discord.

Ithildir, ever the cynic, couldn't resist a disdainful chuckle. "A murder, you say? This is likely another ploy to divert our focus from the real matters at hand."

The guard, however, maintained his composure, "My lord, I witnessed it with my own eyes. It's no ruse; the child's death is a grim reality."

Elandril, rising from his throne, gestured for the guard to stand. "Take me to the site. We shall investigate this matter promptly. Ithildir, assemble a group of our most skilled trackers and investigators. We need to uncover the truth behind this tragedy."

Ithildir, begrudgingly acknowledging the gravity of the situation, nodded in agreement. The council, now set aside, shifted its focus to the ominous event that had transpired on the outskirts of their capital.

Elandril arrived at the scene, where a collection of people had gathered. His gaze fell upon the lifeless body of an elven child, a citizen of Eldora, whose innocent curiosity had met a tragic end. The air in the hall was heavy with sorrow, and the usually composed leader found himself grappling with a surge of grief.

Beside the deceased child stood Yala, Elandril's daughter. He approached her, his expression a mix of sadness and concern. "Yala, what happened?" he asked, though he could already sense the weight of the tragedy that had unfolded.

"Nerri? NERRI?!" an elf woman's cries carried the weight of a mother's grief, and Elandril could feel the searing pain that echoed in her heart.

The elf woman, Nerri's mother, rushed to the scene with a desperate hope that defied the reality before her. Her cries of anguish joined the chorus of grief that echoed through the grand chamber. The father, now faced with the incomprehensible reality of his daughter's demise, joined his wife in mourning, their sorrow reverberating through the once-hallowed halls.

As the grief-stricken parents mourned their child, a sudden revelation pierced the air. A witness, amidst the collective sorrow, uttered, "It was a non-elven!" The words hung in the air, casting a shadow over the tragic chapter of the day, and adding a layer of complexity to an already somber atmosphere. The elven community, grappling with loss, now faced the unsettling realization that an outsider may have played a role in the heartbreaking demise of one of their own.

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