Chapter 258: This Topic Feels a Bit Off

The greatest threat facing an elf ranger far from home isn’t the dangerous monsters lurking in the wild mountains or the magical radiation of the ruined lands of Gondor—it’s hair loss. Thus ends the final words of Solderin Frostleaf.

Well, Solderin never actually said that, but Gawain was convinced it must have been the truest thought deep in the heart of this high-ranking elf ranger.

Gawain knew Solderin—well, Gawain Cecil knew Solderin—back in the great expansion seven centuries ago. At that time, the elf ranger was still a nobody, having left his homeland only a few years prior and wandering the northern continent. Though he possessed the strength of a high-level ranger, he certainly didn’t have the grand-sounding title “Golden-Haired Solderin.” Back then, he was unlucky enough to be trapped within the human empire of Gondor when the magical cataclysm struck, severing all ties to his homeland.

The northern human expeditionary forces rescued the lone elf ranger amid the chaos, and Gawain Cecil took him under his wing.

They fought side by side for many years. It wasn’t until the last few years before Gawain’s death that Solderin left the human army to roam the northern continent as a free mercenary.

Almost no one knew why Solderin had left the Silver Empire alone, nor what purpose drove his travels. And now, seven centuries later, no one understood why this powerful mercenary never unleashed more than seventy percent of his strength in battle—except Gawain. Because Solderin wore a wig.

That hapless fellow had only run off all those years ago to find some folk remedy for his hair loss…

Honestly, when these memories surfaced in Gawain’s mind, he had to clench every muscle in his face to keep from bursting out laughing. If he laughed, his image would be ruined, and any chance of rekindling friendship with Solderin would be gone. Their friendship boat wouldn’t just capsize—it would spin wildly, crash down on both their faces, and they’d start fighting on the spot.

So Gawain forced himself to stay calm and, recalling how he had once spoken to Solderin, casually began to reminisce: “Do you remember how I found out your secret back then?”

“How was I supposed to know a top human commander would fight with a hairpiece on?” Solderin rolled his eyes, still annoyed after seven centuries. “Good thing no one else was around, or I’d have spilled your blood right there.”

Gawain shrugged. “You still couldn’t beat me.”

“Couldn’t beat you then, what about now?” Solderin sized him up. “I’m pretty sure you’ve lost a lot of strength.”

“You still can’t beat me,” Gawain replied calmly, regardless of how shaky he felt inside. “When I first woke up, maybe you had a chance. But now I’m almost fully recovered.”

Solderin fell silent, staring unblinkingly at Gawain. After a long moment, as if questioning his own sanity, he finally broke the silence: “I still can’t believe you really came back to life… I heard the news in Typhon, but at first I thought it was some royal farce, some political stunt by the Ansu monarchy. I cursed that bastard king for using his country’s founding hero as a political tool… I never expected it to be true.”

He shook his head. “I wanted to come see for myself, but never found the chance.”

Gawain glanced at him. “So you led this infiltration mission just to verify if I’m real?”

“That’s part of it,” Solderin answered frankly. “I was ordered to command the infiltration in the Dark Mountains. The people in Typhon don’t know about our past friendship seven centuries ago. So I came—to see if ‘Gawain Cecil’ is real. If not, I’ll personally kill the impostor… Honestly, I was ninety percent sure you were fake.”

Gawain was taken aback. “Why so sure?”

“I was at your funeral,” Solderin said, looking him in the eye. “I heard you died on the southern front while traveling near the Holy Spirit Plains. I went to your lands just before your burial. Because of our past, your wife let me observe your… body. I can confirm you were truly dead then. Your soul had left that shell—I’m certain of it. Elves perceive life far better than humans.”

Gawain’s expression shifted slightly, a storm of emotions stirring inside. He suddenly realized how significant this “old friend” was—someone who had witnessed Gawain Cecil’s life, even his death. His words were more reliable than any history book or third-party account.

Though Gawain had inherited most of Cecil’s memories, he always suspected gaps and distortions. Could this elf fill in those blanks?

But to avoid arousing suspicion, Gawain suppressed his inner turmoil and followed Solderin’s lead, asking another pressing question: “How was I when I lay in the coffin?”

Discussing a deceased person’s body face-to-face was strange, even for an elf who had traveled the continent for seven centuries. Solderin’s lips twitched, but he answered seriously: “You died from exhaustion. Your guards fought desperately to retrieve your body, so you had almost no external wounds. The cause of death was total organ failure. I wasn’t on the battlefield at the end, so I don’t know the exact details.”

At the end, Solderin’s expression darkened with regret. It was clear he felt guilty for not fighting alongside Gawain in his final moments—a burden he’d carried for seven centuries. As an immortal elf, dealing with short-lived humans inevitably brought such tangled feelings. Seeing this, Gawain sighed inwardly and smiled reassuringly: “It’s fine. The man’s dead, no need to dwell on it.”

He immediately caught himself. “Well, the man’s alive now, so even less reason to dwell.”

Solderin’s face twitched, but Gawain pressed on: “What about the rest of the funeral?”

“Your funeral went smoothly—very solemn and unforgettable. King Charles himself hammered the first and last steel nails. All the dukes and marquises of the kingdom were present. At the end, elemental forces briefly manifested—the embodiments of the four elements appeared outside your tomb. Scholars say it marked the formal end of your contract with the elements.”

Gawain seized on a key point: “You said the four elemental embodiments appeared?”

“Yes. I personally saw the wind element briefly. A wall outside the tomb was shrouded in swirling clouds,” Solderin nodded. “But the elements didn’t communicate with anyone. They just appeared for less than a minute.”

Gawain Cecil’s legendary pact with the four elements wasn’t just a tale passed down in Ansu for seven centuries—it was a continent-wide legend cherished by bards. And it wasn’t entirely fabricated.

Gawain Cecil truly communicated with the elements. His rise to legendary strength in just thirty-five years was inseparable from elemental power. But the pact wasn’t as simple as most imagined. Even Gawain himself didn’t fully understand what was agreed upon.

The elemental embodiments possessed chaotic, elusive “minds.” Human minds could barely communicate with them. Even shamans claiming to speak with elements couldn’t say they truly understood their language. For most mortals studying elemental paths, “communicating” with elements was just vague guesses about elemental flows. Anyone claiming a rational, logical connection with an elemental embodiment was either a liar, mad, or a fool deceived by the “elemental lords.”

The “elemental beings” living in various planes were not the same as the true “elemental forces.” The former were tangible creatures formed from a single element’s extreme magical affinity, while the latter were more like manifestations of the world’s essence.

The legendary pact seemed to be with the elemental essences themselves, not any powerful elemental creature—this was the most shocking and hard-to-believe fact for Gawain.

But like the memories of the “Eternal Dark Sea” and “Secret Voyage,” the details of how Gawain Cecil made this pact were missing from the memories he inherited.

Now, even if he wanted to ask the elemental wills for the truth, he had no idea where to start.

As Gawain pondered elemental essences and beings, he reminded himself to immediately exclude the deep-sea sirens from his analysis. Though Tyr said sea witches were elemental beings, Gawain felt they were so bizarre they deserved separate discussion. Studying them might just drive one mad…

“What are you thinking about?” Solderin noticed Gawain’s long silence and shifting expression.

“How much do you know about the elemental path?” Gawain asked casually.

Solderin thought for a moment. “I know the four different spellings of ‘elemental path’ in both Common and Elvish, and who wrote the greatest treatise on the four elements, ‘Elemental Theory’…”

“…Then I have nothing more to say,” Gawain twitched at the corner of his eye. “Anything else about my funeral?”

Solderin recalled carefully, then shook his head. “No. You looked peaceful lying there.”

“…Maybe we should change the subject.”

“I think so too.”

(End of chapter)