"Let's go sightseeing now! We have plenty of time anyway!"
Elfihera stretched her arms and laughed energetically. In the afternoon hours, the city was bustling with crowds of people moving about.
Every visible road was perfectly paved, and there was hardly a building less than five stories tall. The occasional massive structures even had small airships docked on their rooftops.
Befitting a race that dominated the skies, cargo unloading didn't take place on the ground. Instead of delivery carriages, small airships buzzed about like bees in a hive, coming and going from above.
As a result, the city streets were rather quiet. Elves weren't particularly fond of traveling on foot. Only a few humans working as laborers walked around with gloomy faces.
"Get lost!"
Turning toward the loud voice, they saw a human rolling on the ground, covered in sewage. He had been thrown out of a small cake shop.
A guard approached the human. The man curled up in fear. Soon, the guards issued him a fine and left. The charge was defiling the cleanliness of the street.
"Hmm..."
Elfihera made a subtle expression at the sight. Though it was an ordinary, trivial incident, she became concerned about what the human beside her might think.
"Lord Yeremov... that's, um."
"I know."
"Pardon?"
"That elves don't officially keep slaves. Those humans are laborers who came seeking the high wages in elven cities. I understand it's a natural social phenomenon."
"Ah, yes, that's true, but..."
"I don't judge an entire race by individuals, Elfihera."
Even on Earth, where brilliant civilization had flourished, racial discrimination and xenophobia often functioned as common sentiments. Even among the same race, discrimination based on class differences was natural.
Fundamentally, social cultures tend to develop based on class and discrimination. All the more so when different species are involved.
Ivan continued walking without changing his expression. Elfihera sighed deeply and followed him.
"Is there anything you'd like to eat? If you have a favorite food, I can guide you to the most delicious place!"
"A place at high elevation with good oversight, close to the center of the island, with secured routes to the harbor."
"That's quite an easy-to-understand preference... You are describing a restaurant, right?"
"Yes."
Elfihera laughed with a sigh at Ivan's response.
"I'm sorry, but this restaurant is for elves only."
"My, I haven't introduced myself yet. I am Elfihera Grikenkos, legitimate daughter of Beolgrin Grikenkos. Would you mind repeating what you just said?"
Despite Elfihera's fiery glare, the elf in formal attire shook his head while maintaining his smile.
"How could I fail to recognize Miss Grikenkos? However, I must ask for your understanding regarding the preferences of our patrons."
"Just how important are these guests that you dare to—?"
"It would be difficult to enumerate each of our customers."
"Ugh!"
In Isabelle's homeland, sure, the nobles might be like that, but they even hosted banquets at her home.
That girl Asidis bragged about how she even invited her father for a formal meeting.
Meanwhile, in her own homeland, even in this street that could be considered her territory, Ivan couldn't comfortably enter a single restaurant.
She had overlooked the fact that finding the finest restaurant would be useless. After all, the best places she could access all had an "elves only" label attached to them.
"This person is no ordinary human. He's not a laborer but a nobleman!"
"Ah, I see."
A sardonic smile appeared on the attendant's lips. In elven expression, it was equivalent to asking about someone's parents—an extremely blatant rudeness. Elfihera felt her hand twitch involuntarily.
Suddenly, someone grabbed her wrist. Turning her head, she saw Ivan who had moved closer.
"Calm down. It's fine."
"Yes, Lord Yeremov."
"Excuse me, elf. I wish you good business."
"Thank you for your understanding, human."
Until the end, the attendant stood there without erasing his smirk. As Ivan turned away, Elfihera carefully followed with her wrist still held.
Anger and shame were instantly bleached away. Her mind turned completely white, and her earlobes seemed to melt and droop.
She felt her lips twitching involuntarily. She felt like she might burst into laughter.
That's when it happened.
"The Grikenkos family has really fallen low. What a vulgar hobby, associating with humans."
A small voice reached her ears. It was the attendant muttering as he turned away. And if the sound reached her ears, it certainly reached Ivan's as well.
His hearing was sharp enough to detect even the tiny footsteps of passing field mice. Elfihera trembled as she looked up at Ivan, who had already released her wrist.
"I'm fine, really fine, Lord Yeremov."
"No. This is not fine."
Ivan turned back toward the attendant. Sensing his presence, the attendant looked at him again with a bright smile.
"Do you have something else to say?"
"Elf. You should have maintained your dignity. You have insulted me and my companion."
"That is most regrettable."
"Indeed. As a visitor to this country, I'll give you one last chance. Apologize to my companion."
Elfihera, who had moved closer, carefully grabbed Ivan's sleeve. She looked up at him with a bewildered face.
Ivan remained expressionless.
"Lord Yeremov, what are you doing? I'm fine."
"It's not fine."
"No, really, I'm fine!"
"Elfihera. You are a member of the Hero Party."
"What?"
"A hero has the right not to kneel even before kings. It's a privilege granted by the monarchs of the United Kingdoms."
They were chosen warriors selected to kill the Demon King. And even such powerful individuals had no guarantee of returning alive from the Demon Territory where the Demon King and the Seven Dragon Generals lurked.
All battle lines had been pushed back terribly, and one-third of the United Kingdoms had fallen in an instant. The population loss was even more severe—projections suggested the population gap created by the war couldn't be recovered for a century.
In such a situation, the only hope for the United Kingdoms was to assassinate the Demon King. Even at the cost of losing the entire Hero Party, they had to kill the Demon King for humanity to survive.
Therefore, the Hero Party had the right not to kneel before any monarch. It was a consideration and respect for those who willingly walked into danger, dedicating themselves solely to humanity.
Now the era when the Hero Party's prestige was forgotten had passed. The United Kingdoms were surviving day by day on what could collapse like a sandcastle at any moment.
Although the current party could hardly be considered prepared, Ivan at least had to respect them. He couldn't ignore insults directed at them.
Hadn't Zil Berg asked him? To help the current Hero Party, hadn't the previous generation acknowledged them?
"Hold your head high. The Hero Party never bowed their heads even before those called gods."
"Lord Yeremov..."
The righteous do not spread slander.
Because even in despair, they had to be an example for all humanity. The Hero Party never—no, could not—bow their heads under any circumstances. That was the duty they carried.
In the dark night, they were the ones who had to move forward with their heads held high toward hope, even if it meant splitting the sky. It didn't matter if no one recognized these youngsters as the Hero Party. He himself was proving it, and he intended to continue proving it.
"Are you, a human, ordering me to apologize?"
And, putting aside all those complicated reasons.
Ivan nodded quietly as he watched the approaching elf's pale face with a smile.
And in truth, simply.
Without any particular reason. It was more because he disliked seeing Elfihera biting her lip and hanging her head dejectedly.
-Crack.
A hand shot out like lightning and firmly gripped the approaching elf's nape. Ivan grabbed the elf's neck with one hand and slammed him to the floor.
-CRASH!!
"L-Lord Yeremov!!"
"It's fine."
"The laws in this country are unfavorable to humans! L-let go quickly!"
"I know."
The elf groaned "kuk, kuk" as Ivan pressed down hard. With his carotid artery blocked and blood flow cut off, the elf soon turned pale and his eyes rolled back.
Ivan dusted off his hands and stood up. The surroundings were quiet. Numerous elves were staring at him blankly.
"I am Ivan Petrovich Yeremov. Is there anyone else who wishes to apologize to my companion on behalf of this one?"
"W-what kind of unreasonable behavior is this?!"
But Elfihera's ears twitched wildly, suggesting she wasn't entirely displeased.
In the distance, approaching guards could be seen.
'With this, at least those watching Elfihera will learn my name.'
The elves knew that Edelplat had been dispatched to Krasilov. They even knew that she had been defeated by some "human."
There was no way the name of that human hadn't been circulated. Elven foreign intelligence was perfect, after all.
Now the elves would learn that the human who appeared in their country was "that" Ivan. Among them, some high-ranking nobles with rich imagination or dense information networks might even guess that "that" Ivan was "Lieutenant Colonel Ivan Petrovich" of the Annihilation Squad, who was reported dead four years ago.
There was no need to complicate things by provoking the Privy Council members one by one, spreading bait, and waiting for them to bite. Wasn't time already short?
No one knew when, how, or in what way events would unfold. The lack of information was at a serious level. On top of that, he had to suspect Beolgrin as well.
It was already sufficiently annoying. Wasn't it complicated enough to make one irritated?
But as Alexander would cut through knots, sometimes complicated situations can be resolved with simple solutions.
"Stop. All of you."
Ivan frowned as he looked at a group of approaching elves. Both the guards and the elves who had been watching from a distance with frowns immediately parted and retreated.
Each of the approaching elves had a sword hanging at their waist.
"Sword Masters...!"
As he had recalled before, elves tend to despise physical training that requires sweating.
In such a social culture, learning swordsmanship meant being that much obsessed with the art.
"This is our guest. Step back."
The man at the front walked forward with a crooked smile. Even the guards who tried to stop him had to frown and step back.
"Or make your complaint now."
"Insolent creatures...!"
"Oh, whoever just spoke, step forward. I'd like to hear that again."
"..."
There's a famous saying among elven noble houses: Don't enter within sword range of an elf wearing a blade.
The man with his hair roughly tied back approached, scanning Ivan with sharp eyes.
"Our master asked me to come, and sure enough, you've caused trouble. Humans, always the same."
"Edel sent you?"
"That's why I'm here. How about you come along quietly instead of cutting up these poor fellows?"
Just the fact that he had won a duel against Edelplat was enough to gauge this man's level. The man looked around and smirked.
This "human" was exceptional. At that time, only a very small number of individuals, including the Hero Party, could match Edelplat.
In the realm of dueling, Edel had never been defeated. Throughout those long years, her nicknames were "The Undefeated" and "The Privy Council's Dueling Proxy."
"In the old days, they say it was not a crime to gouge out the eyes of someone who failed to recognize a superior, but that's not the case now, is it? Let's go peacefully."
Ivan nodded at the man's words. In any case, he had achieved his primary objective—making his name known in elven society.
Now it was time to see how that name would come back to him. If Edelplat's subordinates escorted him with great respect, it would spread even faster.
Not bad.
"Lord Yeremov."
"Hmm?"
"What are your plans for having children?"
Ivan twitched his ear, shook off Elfihera who had come too close and was gripping his sleeve tightly, and continued walking.
"When she said to meet in two days, didn't she mean for you to spend those two days quietly sightseeing or killing time?"
"Hmm."
"But instead, you tried to start a sword fight in the middle of the street?"
"I didn't draw my sword."
"That's boasting, Yon. Just boasting. His Majesty was so surprised that he ordered you to come to the palace first thing tomorrow morning."
"That's good."
Now I can use my time efficiently.
At Ivan's words, Edelplat clutched her chest in exasperation.