Bear School Astartes

Chapter 1080 - 1062: Supreme Venerable

"We have found the master once again, Elf."

A hoarse, unpleasant voice reverberated through the hall, carrying a tone of smugness.

In the Woodland Kingdom, the architecture is closely intertwined with the ancient trees of the Dark Forest.

The Elves, with their artistic sensibilities, blended trees and stones to construct the Woodland Kingdom in a winding and graceful manner.

Thranduil, the Elf King of the Woodland Kingdom. His name in Elvish means ’bountiful spring’.

Therefore, he wears a different crown in each season.

Now, in the autumn season, on his smooth, waist-length white hair, he wears a crown of red pearl-like berries and twigs.

An Elf was escorting the captured Beastman, who knelt before the King to receive questioning.

The Beastman’s words could not stir any psychological waves in the graceful and delicately-featured Elf King.

Although he was a ’relatively’ young Elf King, he had witnessed quite a lot.

"This is the nature of evil," Thranduil explained, pacing as if instructing, and addressed the Elven Warrior pressing the Beastman.

"Because people have become numb to evil, it can always gather its strength once again in the open wilderness under people’s very noses. Until no one can address it any longer, then they reveal themselves openly, running rampant everywhere."

Thranduil’s temperament and appearance were even more striking than his son, Legolas.

At this moment, he was observing the captured Beastman on his land with an emotionless gaze, as if examining an object.

According to the reports from the patrol members, his son Legolas, and the captain of the guard, Tauriel, had gone to Long Lake Town, after handing over the captive.

Claiming they were going to ’curb the spread of evil’.

Thranduil knew very well that this was due to the young and spirited Elves’ discontent with his inaction lately.

Yet, this did not prevent him from having a bad mood when facing the captured Beastman.

"You filthy rats from the gutter always find a master, that’s nothing remarkable. Even a speechless Ogre can become your master. I don’t care about that, Beastman."

Thranduil spoke unhurriedly, unaffected by the Beastman’s ugly, dirty face and uneven sharp teeth that could not even close.

"Tell me why you invaded my land on a large scale. Speak the truth, and you’ll gain your freedom."

Expecting evil creatures to have integrity is a luxury. At least, this Beastman had no integrity or persistence.

Upon realizing he might survive, he had no intention of hiding anything.

"We chased those Dwarfs, that’s why we intruded in."

"Don’t be vague!" This time, Thranduil did not need to speak; the experienced Elven Warrior holding the Beastman to kneel intercepted promptly.

He immediately caught the key in what sounded harmless at first.

"What are those Dwarfs up to, what identity, that makes you send so many people and put so much effort into chasing them?"

The Beastman bared his uneven teeth but ultimately spoke truthfully.

"Sorlin Oak Shield."

Thranduil, originally standing nonchalantly behind the kneeling Beastman with his back to him, suddenly widened his eyes and turned to stare.

The Beastman continued speaking, oblivious.

"Sorlin Oak Shield formed a Reconquest Expedition Team, but that Dwarf beast will never become a king in his lifetime!"

"Are you referring to the Lonely Mountain Kingdom? King Under the Mountain?"

Thranduil inquired softly.

"But there’s no King Under the Mountain or Lonely Mountain Kingdom anymore, as long as Smaug remains, no one dares to approach Elbo by a step!"

"Heh." The Beastman’s unpleasant voice sounded as if his throat was filled with phlegm, laced with disdain. "You know nothing, Elves!"

"This world will burn! Our era has returned!"

"Do you really think we just obeyed some uncommunicative Ogre? Made him our master?"

The Beastman let out a strange laugh, his body trembling excitedly.

"My master serves the Supreme Venerable! Do you understand, Elves? War will ignite across the entire... si!"

With his face completely cold, Thranduil drew a sharp, gleaming blade from his luxurious robe.

The blade flowed smoothly through one side of the Beastman’s neck, stopping at the other side.

The Elven Warrior, holding the Beastman down by the scalp, had no time to react; all that remained in his hand was the Beastman’s head.

The body lay on the ground, legs twitching like a fish out of water.

"Your Majesty, you promised to set him free."

The Elven Warrior said in disbelief.

"I did." The Elf King made a graceful flourish with his sword and sheathed it. "I freed his wretched head from his filthy body."

Thranduil walked down from his throne’s high platform without looking back, giving orders as he went.

"Assemble the troops! Follow me to Long Lake Town!"

Though his expression remained calm and stern, many Elves familiar with Thranduil could tell... he was anxious.

This situation was unlike the minor skirmishes of the past, and his son Legolas was still in Long Lake Town!

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"There’s no way!" Bard continued explaining to Dwalin, "These are the only weapons I could get. The real military weapons are in the Master’s armory and won’t be open to anyone, understand? He’s always on guard against us townsfolk!"

"I’m lucky I could even manufacture these in secret!"

Dwalin, a stout Dwarf with a balding head but an impressive bush of hair elsewhere, is a veteran Warrior from the Dwarf squad, part of the Dwarven military since the Lonely Mountain days.

"Why don’t you just let us die then!"

He angrily slammed the spear in his hand again.

By now, the sun was already well past noon, casting its golden light on the Long Lake.

The large blocks of floating ice in the waterway had smoother edges now, reflecting the sunlight with a shimmering sparkle.

Many small boats in the waterway, along with the buildings of Long Lake Town, emitted a light wooden collision sound as they were nudged by the gentle waves.

"Are there fighting tools only in the Master’s armory?"

Sorlin stepped forward, staring at Bard for confirmation.

"Then we go find the armory. We’ll steal a batch out! Whatever happens, Durin’s Day is just around the corner! We must be ready by Durin’s Day!"

"You guys? Steal armory? Among the fourteen of you, you can’t even gather ten pounds of iron altogether, no weapons, no armor. Are you going to take this risk with the guards possibly discovering you at any moment?"

Bard did not understand why this group of Dwarves was in such a hurry.

"Alright, don’t be so anxious, Sorlin."

Lann waved his hand at the Dwarves, halting their rash intentions.

"If you need weapons and supplies, maybe I could find a way when I go see the Master in a moment."

The Demon Hunter stroked his chin, pondering.

"Can you really do that?" Bard looked at Lann uncertainly, "The Master doesn’t trust anyone other than himself."

"Hard to say, but we have to go see him, explain the situation with the Beastmen."

After that, Bard and Lann instructed the Dwarves to stay put temporarily and remain with Rong Buqiu and the kids.

Earlier, when Bard smuggled the Dwarves into Long Lake Town, quite a few townspeople saw it, leading to many whispers around Long Lake Town.

The townsfolk of Long Lake Town did not have an easy life, and in front of the Master’s mansion in the town, there was an utterly useless yet solid and expensive tall statue.

Bard seemed like a prestigious figure, supported by the people. He and Lann walked on the narrow and slippery wooden paths of Long Lake Town, and people would always greet him first, or at least nod in acknowledgment before looking at the Demon Hunter with curious and amazed eyes.

The reason the Master of Long Lake Town had targeted him, Lann took no long in this journey to see clearly.

The Master apparently did not want to see his position destabilized, after all, it was obvious the townsfolk were already grumbling against him.

While following Bard to the Master’s mansion, Lann’s keen hearing frequently caught the townsfolk enthusiastically discussing parts of a poem, or rather, a prophecy.

"Master of Silver Springs, King of Stone Carving. King Under the Mountain, shall return to the throne..."

Bard also heard the repeatedly mentioned poem in the townsfolk’s mouths, frowning, seemingly remembering something but not fully recalling it.

But before Bard or Lann could fully hear the poem, they had already arrived at the Master’s mansion.

This was one of the few constructions in Long Lake Town built with bricks, stones, and sand.

Two guards stood at the entrance, but Lann glanced around, deducing there was likely a guard rest room nearby.

If anything happened at the door, within half a minute, a squad of guards would rush out.

"You’re not planning to knock them out again, are you?"

Bard cautiously led Lann closer, whispering back.

Lann smirked.

"Please, Master Bard. Do I look fierce and brainless?"

He came to persuade the Master to strengthen town defenses, not to dismantle them personally.

Besides, excluding violent measures, his capability was not bad, right?

Bard’s heart was uneasy, but at this point, he could only brace himself and lead Lann forward.

The Master’s mansion... if not for public opinion matters, Bard had no doubt the Master would’ve taken care of him long ago.

Exile or execution.

And now, for Long Lake Town, he had to meet him.

Sure enough, the guards at the door recognized Bard. Shocked as they saw him approach, they gripped their spears tightly.

Bard opened his mouth, but before he could speak.

Lann stepped forward, cutting in front of him.

And seemingly inadvertently brushed aside his silvery hair, burying his ears within.

The Demon Hunter’s expression was indifferent and calm, taking the initiative.

"Is this the Master’s mansion? Where is your Master?"

"..."

The guards at the door, previously ready to question Bard, were now completely at a loss.