Seo Jiwoo

  I sat inside Ramus’s study, one leg mounted atop the other as I watched the old elf fiddle with some old parchments in his hands. He wore a frame, neatly rested atop his nose bridge, taking a peak between everyone one of them quietly.

  I gave Mordian a side glance, sat silently beside us, his expression unreadable, but he too understood the gravity of the situation that we will be walking into a just moments from now.

  The festival felt like a distant dream now, the relaxation it brought was just as fleeting as I’d first thought. And now, four days later, the elders of the elven council had been gathered for finally have the meeting that we’ve been preparing for.

  Ramus turned his head, took off his framed glasses and brought a piece of paper forward. I took it without a word to him and skimmed through it. The ink had been dried and the paper was old, but its contents were something absolutely important for me.

  “These are the names of the council men and women that will be attending today’s meeting on Neil and my request,” he said, adjusting in his seat, the old leather seat made a few shrill noises from its age, but the seriousness on Ramus’s face didn’t disappear once.

  “You ought to remember if you don’t want to make those arrogant members embarrassed for not even doing the effort of remembering their names.” Finally, a smile bloomed across his face, lifting the atmosphere, just a bit.

  I took a breath, biting the inside of my cheek. “How many do you think are interested in the proposition of bringing the humans into the alliance?” I asked, not out of curiosity, just to get an idea of what to expect.

  I waited for his response, keeping my eyes on the paper, over the names written.

  Ramus leaned his head back for a split second, his lips pursed for a moment, bringing his glasses close to his lips, thinking, no, his expression told me he already had an answer, he was just delaying it for my sake.

  He straightened, I saw his shoulders sink a little. “Very few.” That’s all he said, but it spoke volumes of our dire situation. He massaged his temples, keeping his expression even. “You already know, Jiwoo, how distrustful they are of people they have a bias against.”

  Among the many council men, we only had a few people who even fancied the idea of having humans as their ally, but even then, it wasn’t agreed yet whether they will support us or not.

  Things seemed more complicated here than they were in the orcen world. But, in the end, the circumstances played well in our favour with the orcs, I can’t just go in, ask for their charity and expect to come back with a smile and all approvals.

  For them, an alliance was nothing more than politics—mutual interests based on power, resources and how well they could pull the strings in their favour to downplay the other.

  I massaged my temples, feeling a headache coming.

  “You don’t have to think too much about it,” I looked at Ramus, his hand steadied on the armrest, silver hair loosely flowing behind his back. “Both Neil and I will try our best to persuade the council, but in the end, even if we succeed here somehow, the final verdict will probably be given in the meeting of the tri-union council.”

  I sank deeper into the leather seat, feeling my muscles ache for some reason. Politics always got the better of me. That’s why I was never interested in it in the past, I just focused on what I could do.

  But now, it was different. It wasn’t just my life on the line, but an entire race. I wasn’t ignorant anymore about the races that existed outside the plane of our world. I had learned about things that I was kept in the dark about—things that not even the ash’ari knew—, even now, I knew almost nothing about our enemy’s true nature and what they wanted to accomplish through all this death and wars.

  I tried to be a nobody in the past, but perhaps, a nobody doesn’t stay a nobody forever. I felt a sigh building up, as I straightened, holding another piece of paper that Ramus had placed on the table regarding the meeting.

  ‘You look nervous,’ Mordian said in my mind. ‘A seraphim didn’t shake you, but a group of politicians do.’ I could feel his mock amusement building up.

  I shrugged, not giving him a reply, but just a side glance for a second too long.

  I closed my eyes imagining the hardships I would have to go through, listening to the members of the council as they threw around their useless opinions that could only benefit themselves.

  Ramus turned slightly, looking at a hanged clock on the wall, it was past noon, little time left until the meeting.

  Ramus steadily gathered the documents on the table, brought them together and stood, both hands steady by his sides. “Let’s go. I believe they should have arrived by now. Even if it’s still a national holiday, certain things can’t wait.”

  I rose my brows, Ramus gave me knowing look, signalling that celebration could be delayed. Diplomacy could not.

  With a nod, we all exited his study, he was in front, Mordian and I following him.

  ‘The way how calm you look, I’m starting to believe you would make a great politician yourself.’ I sent, getting a glance of scrutiny from Mordian.

  He walked a few more steps before answering. ‘Yes, I would make a better politician than any of those greedy, ignorant men who fancy power and pleasure over true leadership.’

  I didn’t say anything, just whistled with a raised brow. Ramus looked above his shoulder, but quietly moved through the long hallways of the palace, soon, we entered a more decorated wing of the palace, immersed in the theme of the verdant moon festival.

  We had taken just a few steps, before I registered Aurora talking to an older elven woman. She was mature for how her features looked, but her charm still spoke for itself. She wore the usual maid attire, but there were certain changes in it, clearly telling that she was ranks above the other workers here.

  Aurora saw us approaching, waving a hand in our direction, Ramus waved back with a smile, stopping only a few steps away from his granddaughter.

  The maid stepped in line, bowing her head. “Good afternoon, Lord Ramus.” Her gaze turned to Mordian and I, and she gave the same greeting.

  Ramus nodded. “Aurora, you aren’t bothering Verma again?” He said accusingly, but his grin was evident.

  Aurora looked at her grandfather with betrayal in her eyes. “Why do you always think I am up to something? I’m already mature enough to know when to bother someone.” She said, her amusement written over her face.

  Aurora exchanged a glance with me, then spoke. “Are you all going to the council meeting?”

  “Yes,” Ramus answered. “It’s finally time for it.”

  Aurora shows no change in expression, but I could tell that she wanted to take part too. But, knowing it wasn’t are place to be selfish, she hadn’t spoke a word about it.

  Way to say she has grown mature in her own way.

  “I see,” she said. Then a smirk replaced her previous expression. “And Shun, don’t set someone’s hair on fire just because they don’t agree with something you say.”

  I looked at her for a moment, and before I could reply, Mordian spoke.

  “You don’t have to worry. I will be there, so he doesn’t pull off something like that.”

  I snapped my head at him, looking at him with an expression of hurt. ‘You sure are having fun. Should I throw some more taunts for shits and giggles?”

  Everyone laughed, just a few words with Aurora had calmed me down, the nervousness was gone.

  That night when we both were standing alone on the balcony, I thought she was holding back from saying something, but I think it was just my own mind making things up.

  But, I had bigger issues to deal with after the meeting. I hadn’t gotten a single gift for her. It had already been four days since here birthday passed, but with all the tasks at hand, I wasn’t able to go to town to buy anything for her.

  I even asked Vaerin for help regarding that, and he had told me about a few good shops around the capital that had things that she might like.

  “Then, how about we go the festival after you both are done with the council stuff and all the preparation?” Aurora proposed, and I gave her a thought glance.

  Honestly, I was curious to go the town for even once. I didn’t have the chance to explore the elven world with all my responsibilities. So, this could be a good change in pace.

  I shrugged. Well, whatever, it wouldn’t hurt to entertain her idea for once.

  “Sure,” I said. “But that will depend on the tasks themselves.”

  Aurora inclined her head, a mocking expression replaced her face. “Now you’re talking just like Grandpa do. You men sure love your politics.” She gave a side glance to Ramus, and he awkwardly looked at his granddaughter.

  That got a laugh out of everyone, even Verma, the composed maid made a stiff sound close to laughter.

  After a few more words, Aurora gave us a one more look before we parted ways and made our way to the chamber where the elders were.

  ***

  The chamber was abuzz with murmurs and subdued conversation, but as Mordian and I entered alongside Ramus, silence descended like a heavy curtain. Every eye turned toward us.

  The sheer size of the room was imposing, with long, polished wooden tables arranged in an intricate U-shape that divided the chamber into three distinct sections. The elders occupied one side, some young, some old, but their age and wisdom etched deeply into their features. Across from them at the very end of the room, as if to embody neutrality amidst the power struggles, sat King Neil.

  Neil’s demeanour was as composed as ever, though his pale blue eyes held a sharpness that saw through pretence. Beside him sat Queen Anastasia Silverlight, Aurora’s mother. It struck me even now how youthful she looked—like a mirror of Aurora rather than her mother.

  My gaze shifted to the empty table. Seated there was Gramps, his silver hair catching the chamber’s faint light, and a few seats away sat Vaerin—the aide of the royal family.

  My gaze went to Gramps, my mentor, leaned back in his chair, his expression a blend of disinterest and acute observation. Despite his relaxed posture, his presence commanded quiet respect. Near them were three empty seats, likely reserved for Mordian and I, while Ramus had already taken his.

  We advanced with measured steps, exuding confidence despite the weight of countless gazes. Mordian’s towering figure moved with the fluid grace of a predator, while I maintained a calm demeanour, my focus unwavering. We settled into our seats, the air thick with anticipation. The silence stretched for a moment longer before I spoke.

  “Thank you, King Neil, and Elder Ramus, for granting my request and convening this council as we previously discussed.” I inclined my head slightly—enough to convey respect without diminishing my stance. Neil and Ramus both nodded in acknowledgment, their faces neutral now.

  The chamber’s tension was palpable as I swept my gaze across the gathered elves opposite us. Some watched me with curiosity, others with open hostility. When their eyes darted to Mordian, however, their expressions faltered. His mere presence carried an undeniable weight.

  Knowing now that he was a dragon, a member of the ash’aran race, they couldn’t dismiss his stance easily. But, it only mattered until they didn’t knew what had become of the dragon race, how he didn’t have a shred of knowledge about what had become of the other ash’ari races in the time of his imprisonment.

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  Even now, the others races, like orcs and dwarfs alike, didn’t know about the massacre that had befallen the dragons.

  I saw an elf looking at me, his face was young, he looked to be in his mid twenties, but looks were deceiving. I gave a side glance to Mordian.

  I remembered who he was.

  Thalor Vaenyra. A young elf who had joined the council only a few years ago, replacing his predecessor, his family held a strong hold in the eleven politics, but, the report that Ramus had given me mentioned, he’s a sharp-minded strategist with a composed demeanour. Known for his willingness to listen to other races and explore change.

  He might be among the very few who could stand with us in our cause. But, nothing was set in stone.

  I recognised the others from the descriptions and names I’d read only moments ago.

  Neil’s voice finally broke the silence. “As agreed, we are here to discuss whether the human race should be brought into the Tri-Union alliance. Let us begin.”

  An elder from the far end of the table, closer to Neil—his long beard flowing like a river of snow—spoke first, his voice measured but firm. “This council meeting was called to consider the inclusion of humans in the alliance—to gain our approval. However, while we have observed their advancements over the past fifty years, it must be said that their strength lies primarily in their technology. They have grown, yes, but they still lack the magical prowess that defines our people. How do you explain this, Seo Jiwoo?”

  Eldros Thandoril...

  The eldest among the seven. Deep voice, bark-like skin, eyes that have seen centuries. He was the oldest member present, even older than Gramps.

  He simply asked, there was no hidden motive in his words, he wasn’t tempting, he just wanted to know what we could bring to the table.

  Several elders nodded in agreement, their wizened faces betraying skepticism. From the side, I saw Vaelena Duskwhisper, an older member—she was stern, but fair in her judgement—chime in, her voice sharp and crackling like dry leaves.

  “Indeed. Their reliance on technology is a crutch, not a strength. Magic courses through the lifeblood of this realm, and yet they seek to supplement it with mechanical constructs. Is this a foundation upon which we wish to build an alliance?” She turned to look around the chamber, eyeing everyone for a second or two. “While we have heard rumours of your great magical talent, is it similar for your kind?”

  “Do you believe that we can win wars and defeat the daemon exidium race through technology while they wield ancient magic? Magic we have yet to even under.” Her gaze was fixed on me now, I looked are straight in the eye, not giving in to her bait.

  The arguments continued, their voices overlapping. One elder’s skin was dry and cracked, resembling ancient bark, while another’s eyes seemed clouded with both old age and doubt. Despite their differing appearances, their shared opposition created a symphony of dissent.

  I waited my turn to speak, looking around the chamber at the elders, then Ramus and Neil.

  Camus, who had been lounging in his chair with an air of disinterest, finally spoke. His voice was calm but carried a weight that silenced the room. “A crutch can become a strength when wielded correctly. Dismissing their potential outright is short-sighted. Look at Jiwoo.” He gestured toward me lazily, bangs covering his face and scars. “He stood toe-to-toe with Beatrix, one of our strongest warriors—one that I had handpicked and trained. If one human can achieve this, imagine the latent potential within their race.”

  The room fell into a tense hush as Camus’ words lingered. I straightened my posture and added, “Humans have indeed relied on technology, but that does not make us incapable of growth. What we lack in innate magical ability, we compensate for with innovation and adaptability. The war with the demons has shown us that no single race can stand alone. Cooperation is our only path forward.”

  I knew that better than anyone else, what the demons were capable of. The destruction they can bring. Because, I had seen the end of my word right in front of my eyes after the second cataclysm.

  Neil raised a hand, silencing the murmurs that began to stir. “I am not blind to the concerns raised here,” he said, his tone measured. “I once shared similar doubts. But as king, I have learned that wisdom lies in adaptation, not in clinging to prejudice. The demons grow bolder by the day. If we are to withstand their onslaught, we must strengthen our alliances. Jiwoo has assured me of humanity’s commitment, and I believe his actions—his commitment and dedication—speak louder than any words.”

  Upon hearing Neil’s words, a female elf with long silver blonde locks, silk robes and a charming face, nodded in thought. If I remembered correctly, she was Seristhae Halayna, her family consisted of diplomats from many generations, while they also shared a strong voice in the council matters.

  A elder elf, who had been quiet until now, leaned forward. His long beard was unkempt, and his sharp eyes glinted with curiosity. “And what of the dragons? If Lord Astrionyx supports Jiwoo, should we take that as an endorsement of dragon-kind as a whole?”

  All eyes turned to Mordian now. He was trying to drag the ash’ari into the matter, as Mordian belonged to a race that had ruled them as leaders. My bond opened his eyes, his vertical golden irises glowing faintly as he met the elder’s gaze. His voice was deep and unyielding. “I stand with my bond. If Jiwoo represents humanity, then I shall bring the best of my strength to his cause. The dragons will not stand idle. And, I believe this war also affects all ash’ari races.*

  Mordian’s voice quieted the entire chamber, the weight of it bearing down on them like a leaden cloud. For a moment, there was silence, the kind that teeters on the edge of confrontation. Then, a female elder with a soft complexion and a gentle voice spoke—she was Ilyara Moontwine—, her eyes seemed dull and hesitant, but there was clarity in them.

  “If Lord Astrionyx vouches for this human, then I too shall lend my support to the proposal. The dragons are not easily swayed, same for their allies, and their wisdom surpasses our own in matters of foresight. I will not dismiss their judgment.”

  Her statement sent ripples through the chamber. A handful of others, seated among the elders alike, nodded in hesitant agreement, but only two openly agreed.

  The one from before, the younger elf, Thalor, and the eldest, Eldros. The tide seemed to be shifting, albeit slowly.

  But just as hope began to spark, a sharp voice from the opposition cut through the air. It belonged to the same elder who had questioned Mordian, his piercing emerald eyes seemed to burn with indignation. “One dragon’s support, even one as renowned as Lord Astrionyx, cannot erase the doubts that plague us. How can we trust humanity based solely on the actions of one man? One piece does not reveal the entire tapestry. The fabric could still unravel!”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but the elder’s gaze snapped to me like a blade drawn too quickly. “Do not presume to speak out of turn, human,” he spat, his tone dripping with disdain.

  Before I could retort, Elder Ramus raised a hand, silencing the tension with an authority that could not be ignored. His voice, deep and deliberate, filled the chamber. “Enough, Eldran. If you have questions, you will pose them respectfully, or you will hold your tongue. This council is not a platform for veiled insults.”

  Eldran bristled but leaned back, muttering something under his breath. Ramus turned his sharp gaze toward me, his expression unreadable. “Jiwoo, speak your mind.”

  I inclined my head toward him in gratitude before addressing the room, my voice steady. “I understand the skepticism. Trust is not given freely, nor should it be. But humanity’s potential isn’t just in its flaws or its reliance on technology. It’s in our ability to adapt, to rise in the face of overwhelming odds. The tapestry you speak of, Lord Eldran, is incomplete—but the same could be said for any race. We all have threads of weakness woven into us, yet together, we create something stronger.”

  I took a breath. “And, the demons don’t want that to happen—Agares doesn’t want that.” Upon his mention everyone’s expression seemed to take a turn.

  A murmur ran through the room, but the elder wasn’t done. “Fine words,” he said, his tone biting. “But words are not actions. What guarantees do we have that humanity won’t turn on us the moment it suits them? I had learned a bit about your people, how your history is filled with bloodshed and tyrants.”

  Ramus spoke before I could respond. “There are no guarantees, Eldran. Not from humans, nor from elves, nor from dragons. Trust is a risk, one that must be measured and earned. Jiwoo has earned mine, and I believe he can earn yours as well—if you allow it.”

  Ramus took a pause between his sentence, then with a short glance at the others spoke. “And, if you speak of tyranny and bloodshed, our history has enough marks felt even now from the past.”

  The tension in the room seemed to shift, not dissipating entirely but softening enough to allow conversation to continue. More questions followed—about humanity’s readiness, their long-term commitment, and their capacity to contribute meaningfully to the alliance. I answered each one to the best of my ability, my words bolstered by Mordian’s quiet but commanding presence.

  Cyrandil Elaren, a young elf like his other two peers, spoke after much deliberation.

  He leaned forward, his browns eyes calm but sharp—the kind that had seen politics for what it actually was, and read every lesson it had to offer.

  “You ask us to consider unity,” he said, voice level. “But tell me, Jiwoo…what can humanity even offer?”

  He didn’t say it with disdain. It was a genuine question—one backed by years of thought. Still, it wasn’t easy to hear.

  He continued before I could answer.

  “Are your people even aware we exist? The elves, the dwarves, the orcs? We the ash’ari?”

  Then, slowly, “If you’ve come this far…does that mean you’ve spoken to them? Have you reached out?”

  I didn’t lie. Because...I couldn’t.

  “No,” I said plainly. “Humanity still isn’t aware. Not of the Tri-Union. Not of the other races.”

  A few of the elders shifted. That silence—it wasn’t comfortable. The favourable expressions had now turned against us.

  And then Eldran stirred, ceasing the chance. The one from before. His bark-like fingers curled over the edge of his armrest, and his voice came like a low crack of dry wood.

  “Then you come here with nothing but dreams and declarations?” He said, his tone laced with restrained indignation. “You ask us to believe in the potential of a race still blind to the world around them?”

  “This is no small ask,” he said, slightly measured. “You’re asking us to open the gates of an alliance centuries in the making…for a people who don’t even know our names.”

  I opened my mouth, but Mordian leaned forward beside me before I could, his voice allowing me to calm my nerves.

  “We don’t ask for blind belief,” he said, his voice cool and steady. “Only time. We can set things in motion—prepare the grounds for contact, for understanding. Before the date of the Tri-Union summit.”

  I nodded. “Give us until then. Let us work. If humanity isn’t ready when the time comes…then we’ll bear the weight of that failure ourselves. I vouch upon my ancestors’ names.”

  There was just quiet consideration—the kind that felt heavier than any outburst. Mordian had put his pride and lineage on the line, which he rarely did.

  Eldran, gaze turned to Neil first, then jumped to Ramus, then at me, cutting through the murmuring silence.

  “And what of you two?” He asked, turning his gaze toward the raised seats again where King Neil and Elder Ramus watched in composed silence. “The way I see it, you knew of this…and yet said nothing?”

  There was no accusation in his tone—not yet. Just the pressure of expectation, sharpened by centuries of duty. He knew where he stood, he may be a council men, but he showed no disrespect to the highest power in this world.

  King Neil didn’t flinch. He shifted with a slow grace, his forest-green cloak settling around him like mist.

  “We knew,” he said calmly. “Because we have witnessed what Jiwoo can do. One of my own, has seen what Jiwoo has done in the Orcen lands. What he prevented in the Esparossa and Tseige fortresses. He’s not just another wandering outsider. He’s changed the course of events in both our worlds already.”

  Eldran’s eyes narrowed, I saw Vaerin nod along Neil’s words, agreeing along.

  “So you vouch for him?” He asked.

  Ramus spoke next, his tone warmer than Neil’s, though no less steady.

  “I do. Not just for him, but for what he represents. Isn’t this enough of a reason, that he has helped us and our allies in ways that we can never repay him for.”

  He looked at the other elders—each one, without flinching.

  “Are you both doing this because he is fancied by Princess Aurora? Because now, he is revered as a hero?” Eldran spoke, his words harsher than before, and I could see some of the elders look at him with perplex, brows twisted in anger.

  He kept looking at Neil, his expression stern, but I could feel Neil’s anger rising in his eyes. “Eldran, you have been an elder for longer than I’ve been king, but I warn you, if you dare speak of my daughter in such a manner again, I wouldn’t tolerate any derogatory remarks against her. I may be king, but I don’t like to bring personal matters into court.” Neil’s expression hardened.

  “So, think before you speak next time.” I saw Queen Anastasia’s glare over the man, finishing for her king, her eyes that always looked so gentle, full of warmth, held so much hostility.

  Eldran bowed his head. “Forgive me for my remark, Your Majesty—my tongue outran my better judgment.”

  The silence after that was suffocating, but Ramus was the one to break it.

  “Humanity may be unaware. But so were we, once. We can’t judge a people by the silence of their knowledge. We must judge by what they do once they know. And I trust that they will do good. Because, without any external help, humanity has been able to push against the forces of Agares for almost a century.”

  Neil nodded, speaking after Ramus.

  “They’re not asking for immediate trust. Just time. Let them prepare. Let them open that door to their own kind—on their own terms. To dismiss them now would be to deny an ally before they’ve even had the chance to rise.”

  Eldran didn’t reply immediately. His eyes flicked back to me, sharp and weighing.

  “To risk the balance of three races,” he said, voice low, “on the chance that humanity may one day be ready...?”

  “We’re not asking you to risk the balance,” Mordian replied firmly beside me. “We’re asking you to help us build it. It’s as simple as that, while the whole idea may seem difficult to wrap your head around at once, but with time, we can surely make it happen.”

  A hush settled again.

  The air inside the chamber felt thick with the weight of a decision not yet spoken.

  Everyone gave each other glances full of doubt, Mordian settled into his seat, eyes closed.

  But for the first time since the talks began—I felt it shift. Not fully. Not yet. But just enough to hope.

  A wave of murmurs rippled through the chamber, but Neil’s commanding voice cut through the noise. “Then, for those in opposition of bringing the humans into the alliance, please raise your hands.” Neil asked and I looked at the elders.

  Amongst them, I saw Eldran to be the first, then Cyrandil, they were the only two against our proposition.

  “Now, those who agree to the decision.” Neil’s voice echoed inside the chamber like a final verdict.

  And I saw many hands raised one by one.

  It started from the end of the elders seat, Eldros Thandoril, then Vaelena Duskwhisper following her were Ilyara Moontwine, Seristhae Velarin and Thalor Vaenyra.

  From our side, Ramus and Gramps immediately raised their hands, so did Neil and Queen Anastasia.

  Finally, after what felt like hours, King Neil stood, his pale blue eyes surveying the room. “The decision has been made. We will give humanity a chance to prove themselves within the Tri-Union Alliance. This will not be a blind leap of faith but a cautious step forward. Jiwoo will act as humanity’s representative, and their actions will determine their place among us.”

  A low murmur of dissent rippled through the opposition, but none dared openly defy the king’s decree. As the chamber began to empty, Eldran rushed out with dissatisfaction palpably written over his face

  I caught Mordian’s gaze. His faint nod told me that, for now, we had done enough. But I knew this was only the beginning. Trust wasn’t won in a single day—and I had a long road ahead to prove humanity’s worth.

  The other elders began to disperse. I exhaled deeply, the weight of the meeting finally lifting. Ramus approached me, his expression unreadable, while Camus remained at his side, observing quietly.

  “Politics,” I muttered, shaking my head. “Far harder to grasp than any battle I’ve fought. I feel more drained now than I ever have on a battlefield.”

  Ramus chuckled, the sound low and dry. “It is a battle of wits and control, Jiwoo. And one you both handled well.”

  Mordian turned to me, his expression unreadable. He said nothing, but his presence was grounding. As the chamber emptied, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope amidst the exhaustion. This was only the beginning.