Though long absent from human affairs, the elves now had a reason to erge—and the capability to do so.
The courtier, pale with fear, continued in a trembling voice,
"W-what if… by so chance… the count collaborates with the elven archduke to decipher and study the spellbooks? Could it be possible that human mages might rise again… under the count's rule?"
A cold sweat trickled down the emperor's back. If Sylas's discovery led to the revival of magic, those ancient spellbooks would no longer be re relics—they would beco treasures of imasurable value, returning humanity's lost magic to its grasp.
"Damn it!"
The emperor's grip on the armrest of his throne tightened. As the reality of the situation sank in, he realized this was no trivial matter. It had the potential to upend the empire's entire power structure.
"The magic itself doesn't matter," he thought. "It's a long-lost craft, and even if it were to be restored, it would take generations before it becos truly functional."
In his estimation, neither he nor the crown prince would live to see a fully realized mage. At best, it would take until his grandchildren's era for magic to reach a demonstrable level.
What truly concerned him was not the power of magic itself but the hope it could ignite—the possibility that humanity might reclaim the power of magic.
"The re idea of reviving magic will drive the nobles mad. They'll be lining up to ask Sylas to make their children mages."
Throughout history, mages had been synonymous with power. From the mythical ages to the last mage's decline centuries ago, this truth had remained unchanged. Magic, no matter how minor, was considered the realization of miracles.
The most potent spells were said to have the power to alter the very fate of nations. Naturally, mages were treated with reverence, sotis even holding the highest positions of power. So much so that nations had crumbled under the weight of the political infighting among mages.
"Of course, not all mages were revered. For every great mage, there must have been dozens of diocre ones. But other nobles won't think that far."
To them, magic's long absence would romanticize its return. They would envision their kin as the heirs of ancient power and flock to Sylas for favor, as he alone held the keys to this new paradigm.
Power often lies in perception, not in reality. And Sylas now controlled that perception.
The court remained silent until a noble hesitantly spoke.
"Your Majesty, should we not send a letter to the count?"
"And what exactly would we write?" the emperor snapped.
"Perhaps we could appeal to the historical value of the discovery and request to share its contents?"
"You fool!"
The emperor's face twisted with incredulity as he glared at the noble. Just recently, they had carved up Sylas's lands to humiliate him. And now they wanted to demand access to his private discovery, without any legitimate justification?
"Of course, he'd hand them over willingly! And if he refuses, then what? How do you propose we respond to that rejection?!"
"Perhaps we could…"
"The problem isn't just rejection!" the emperor roared. "Even the act of demanding them tarnishes my authority! Do you not understand that, you imbecile?"
The chastised noble shrank back, and the emperor pressed his hand to his throbbing temple.
"We've already tested the limits of his patience. One more push, and it won't just end in refusal."
The only reason they had managed to divide Drakenfels was because Sylas had voluntarily distributed the lands beforehand. That had allowed them to fra it as a logical extension of his own decisions.
But demanding the spellbooks without any pretext? It might incite Sylas to retaliate—and not just politically. With his extensive alliances, Sylas could easily rally forces from all directions to undermine the imperial court's authority.
"For now, we wait. There's no guarantee he'll actually try to revive magic. He might just collect the books as curiosities."
"Wise words, Your Majesty," another noble said, bowing deeply.
The court nodded in agreent, though their expressions betrayed skepticism. Even the emperor knew his words were little more than hopeful speculation.
All they could do now was hope Sylas didn't act on his discovery.
"Send word to the grand duke of the elven principality—my father-in-law Arathion! Request that he dispatch scholars to examine the spellbooks imdiately!"
"At once, Your Grace!"
Naturally, the emperor's hope was dashed the mont Sylas finished relocating the spellbooks. Wasting no ti, he requested aid from the elves.
Within days, an elven delegation arrived, their eyes alight with excitent. Their leader, a court mage nad Veles, knelt before Sylas, his voice trembling with reverence.
"Greetings, son-in-law of our grand duke! I am Veles, a court mage of the principality!"
"Welco. I've called you here to…"
"You wish for the spellbooks to be examined? We will begin imdiately! Where are they?!"
Sylas was taken aback by the fervor in Veles's voice. The elf's bloodshot eyes and pallid complexion suggested he hadn't slept in days.
"You look exhausted. Perhaps you should rest first? There's warm water for a bath and food prepared—"
"Your Grace's generosity is appreciated, but ti is of the essence!"
"Indeed! How can we rest when such a monuntal task lies before us?"
"It seems you're the ones in a hurry, not ," Sylas thought, stifling a laugh. He led the delegation to the temporary library where the books were stored.
"Here they are—the spellbooks we discovered."
"Incredible!"
As the elves gazed upon the thousand spellbooks, they stood in awe. Veles, trembling, picked up a book.
A soft glow emanated from the cover, and blue letters materialized.
"It's glowing…!"
The elves gawked, speechless, as if beholding a miracle. Veles's eyes brimd with tears as he read the book's title.
"It's real… A genuine spellbook!"
"This… this is a dream co true!"
The reaction of the elven delegation was overwhelming. Tears stread down their faces, and they sobbed uncontrollably, leaving Sylas and the humans in the room bewildered.
"What on earth is going on with them?" Sylas thought, his face puzzled.
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