One by one, the carriages rolled up before Renjiro, their wooden fras creaking under the weight of treasure.
Each was piled high with sturdy crates, brimming with gold coins that glead so fiercely they seed to light up the air.
To Lyanna, standing beside the Elf King, it was like watching a dragon’s dream co to life, Renjiro’s eyes practically sparkled as he took it all in. She cleared her throat and gestured toward the haul.
"Your Majesty, you’ve got forty crates here. Each one’s packed with a hundred thousand gold coins. That’s four million, right on the nose."
Renjiro flicked his right hand with a casual grace.
The coins rose in a shimring stream, glittering like a golden river as they flowed into his space ring.
It looked like he was stashing them away, but Lyanna didn’t know the truth: the instant they vanished into the ring, so hidden system whisked them off.
Renjiro’s gaze flicked to an unseen tally in his mind, four million and one hundred thirty-five coins. A few extras had slipped in, and a faint smirk tugged at his lips.
Lyanna tilted her head, puzzled. "Your Majesty, you’re not going to count them?"
He turned to her, his smile easy and warm. "Lady Lyanna, It is a trusted deal and I trust you completely.."
Her chest tightened, a flicker of warmth sneaking through her guard. If this gold-obsessed Elf King didn’t remind her so much of a dragon hoarding its lair, she might’ve even blushed.
"Well... thank you so much for this trust... I assure you that it is all good," she managed, dipping her head.
Renjiro nodded to Selena, his aide, who stepped forward with a bundle of elf-crafted gear—swords, shields, and armor worth exactly six hundred thousand coins.
She handed it to Lyanna without a word. Lyanna hesitated, her fingers brushing the sleek tal. She didn’t count it.
Renjiro hadn’t double-checked her coins, and fussing over the gear now might look petty. Worse, if she ticked him off, he’d hike prices next ti, and her guild couldn’t afford that.
She slid the equipnt into her space ring, the weight of millions in goods settling on her shoulders. She was ready to bid farewell and get moving.
The forest was a long trek from the city, and she still had thirty thousand sheep to herd back from the underground world—bought for four hundred thousand coins and itching to be turned into profit.
Then—smack—Lyanna’s palm hit her forehead. She’d nearly forgotten sothing critical: the other sheep.
Not the ones she’d bought, but the ones bleating pitifully nearby—her guild’s knights and mages, stuck in sheep bodies thanks to Renjiro’s transformation magic.
She waved urgently, and her people hauled them over. The sheep shuffled forward, their big, pleading eyes locked on the Elf King.
The last day and night had been a nightmare for them, trapped, hungry, and too proud to nibble grass. One knight-turned-ewe let out a pitiful baa, and Lyanna winced.
She dropped into a deep, elegant bow, the kind human nobles perfected over generations. "Your Majesty, please, could you lift their transformation? Before I left, my father, Marquis, made promise to apologize. He got swayed by so greedy nobles and lost sight of our true status. But he sees it now—the elves are our real partner."
Renjiro’s smile was subtle but sincere. "The Marquis is a perceptive man," he mused. "Perhaps one day, I’ll pay a visit to your city’s lands myself. You wouldn’t bar the gates on , would you?"
Lyanna’s eyes widened with excitent, and she eagerly waved her hands. "No, no! We’d bring out the finest wine, the juiciest roast, and the warst welco you could imagine. Hosting you would be an honor, Your Majesty!"
Renjiro chuckled, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. "Then let’s hope it happens," he said, his tone light yet laced with a quiet promise.
With a flourish, Renjiro drew the artifact from thin air, a dagger forged of gleaming gold, its odd curves etched with swirling runes that pulsed with eerie power.
He swung it once, a sharp arc cutting through the air. In a flash, the sheep shuddered and stretched, wool lting away as the guild’s knights and mages popped back into human form.
They hit the ground on all fours, blinking in confusion. Gorren coughed loudly, a pointed ahem, and they scrambled upright, brushing off dirt and dignity.
Theron, the Ninth-Rank Great Knight, flushed a deep shade of red, his jaw tightening as he clenched his fists. His voice ca out in a low, dangerous growl. "Not a word about this... ever. If you breathe so much as a whisper, I’ll personally drag you to the God of Death."
The others nodded frantically, their lips clamped shut, unwilling to test his wrath.
Lyanna’s gaze, however, had already drifted to the so-called "dagger artifact." It wasn’t just gold—it pulsed with an eerie presence, sothing almost alive.
The runes etched into its surface seed to twist and slither if she stared too long, as if whispering to her in a voice just beyond comprehension.
A shiver crawled down her spine. She wrenched her eyes away, every instinct screaming that this was no re trinket.
Renjiro tucked the dagger back into nothingness, his expression unreadable as he turned to her. "Lady Lyanna, the city is far from here. I won’t keep you any longer."
She nodded, a flicker of relief passing over her face. "I was just about to say goodbye—"
A piercing scream shattered the air.
Lyanna’s breath hitched. Her blood ran cold. That’s Lyra!
Without a second thought, she spun on her heel and bolted toward the sound, Gorren right behind her.
Theron and the others moved to follow, but before they could take a step, figures lted from the shadows—elf archers and huntresses, their bows drawn, arrows nocked. Silent and unyielding, their gazes pinned the knights in place, a silent warning that needed no words.
Lyanna found Lyra on a small wooden bridge, unhard but wide-eyed, her face lit with wonder. "Lyra, are you okay?" Lyanna grabbed her sister’s hand, breathless.
Lyra pointed across the plaza, practically bouncing. "Sister, look—unicorns!"
Lyanna’s head whipped around. There, by the shimring edge of a crescent lake, stood a herd of snow-white creatures, their manes flowing like silk.
Holy magic rippled off them, pure and radiant, as if legends had stepped into the daylight. Unicorns—dozens of them.
"So many?" Lyanna breathed, her voice trembling with awe.
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