---

sparkling on the pure white snowflakes on a December night. The fierce wind rattled the windows, while bright moonlight illuminated the city cloaked in deep blue darkness.

The sound of a siren announcing the curfew declared by the Military Government Headquarters echoed through the distant wind, like a haunting chorus.

In this city, crumbled like a forgotten fairytale, Francesca’s white hand grasped a corner of her robe. She wore her robe pulled down low, leading the way as I quietly followed behind her.

The war’s scars were evident in the desolate ruins.

Beyond the chilling echoes and suffocating silence of the alley, a group of goblins, with a warm welcome, opened their door wide for us.

One familiar goblin bent low to greet us.

It was the Deputy Guild Master of the Palm Tree Trade Guild.

“You have arrived. We warmly welcome you back to our Palm Tree Guild.”

“…….”

“Please, come in. Hormoz is waiting for you.”

The goblins gestured with polite hand movements towards the entrance of the building.

Francesca and I followed their guidance, stepping forward to catch the fox pretending to be a tiger.

—

**Episode 12 – The Strongest Magician in History**

The heroes of the Dark World come from countless races.

Humans, Elves, Orcs, Goblins, Dwarfs, Beastmen, Demons, and so on. I think I saw something about Angels or other races in the Online Wiki, but my memory is hazy, so I can’t be sure if that’s a fact.

An infinite number of races live together, whether in harmony or conflict, and among them, the wise tend to isolate themselves in graduate research labs, dedicating their lives to uncovering the secrets intertwined in this world.

In my opinion, the most distinctive race around here is none other than the Elves.

Worldwide, Elves are known as “nature-loving environmentalists who sing of abundance and peace, living close to eternity.” However, here, the Elves are slightly different.

Guerrillas.

Sabotage.

Ecoterrorism.

These are the three words that represent the Elves of this area.

Elves act as terrorists and guerrillas, destroying railways and factories in the name of protecting the environment, assassinating politicians, and attacking humans encroaching on the forests.

Living alongside nature and close to eternity? That’s not entirely incorrect.

As long as you exclude their guerrilla activities for centuries existing amidst the world tree and jungles, that is.

Singing of abundance and peace? That expression is also partially correct.

A magician curses to shrivel ancient trees into firewood, artillery units launch chemical shells, and airships spray defoliants, yet the World Tree and great jungles always maintain their green hue. Even if the army torches the land, lush forests spring back within hours, making it a clear fact that Elves live a life of abundance and tranquility.

Adventurers wielding factory-made swords splash in a world where arrows pierce through bulletproof vests, so being environmentally friendly is indeed accurate. They cherish the World Tree more than their lives, so they certainly are tree-huggers.

Of course, we cannot ignore their environmentalist spirit. All of the Elves’ mischiefs happen under the pretext of punishing destructive humans.

Because of a slight misunderstanding in their direction, the entire race is seen as terrorists and guerrillas, making it nearly impossible for any country to allow the Elves to enter normally.

But that’s not the case with the Dark Elves.

Born in the desert, they are a wandering race.

Merchants bringing exotic treasures from the far East, calling them the quintessence of Orientalism.

With golden riches and blood to measure the value of all things, they sometimes offer cool water to those dying in the desert, and other times chase down their enemies across the continent for revenge.

That’s why the Dark Elves are welcomed, unlike the pale drifters of this region.

However, despite knowing the habits of the Dark Elf race, I was ignorant of Hormoz. I had no information about him.

Was he a fox blinded by gold, reigning over a hole without tigers? Or was he a gambler who clearly understood the cards in his and his opponent’s hands?

Hormoz, who invited us, greeted us with a smile that was difficult to decipher.

“Welcome. I am Hormoz, the Guild Master of the Palm Tree Trade Guild.”

After exchanging greetings, Hormoz gestured towards his home.

“Please make yourselves comfortable. Today, you are not merely guests of the guild but my personal guests, and I will treat you accordingly, honoring our long-standing traditions.”

Though we were clearly in a building, we simultaneously were not.

Where Hormoz’s gesture pointed to the sky, it was not the ceiling but a starlit night above, and where walls would be, a glowing red desert stretched out before us.

We sat in the heart of the desert, surrounded by a gentle campfire while shielding ourselves from sand, wind, and cold with a tent.

The scene could have been one where nomads led camels and mules, capturing Francesca’s gaze, and a sound of exclamation slipped out from her lips.

“…Spatial Transformation Magic.”

Hormoz, who had been smiling, nodded in affirmation.

“You recognize it.”

“Why is this magic here?”

Spatial Transformation Magic literally means changing a particular space into something else.

It can change the interior of a building to the outside world or transform a small cave into an imposing temple. It’s slightly different from the magic that expands space like the Advanced Military Magic Research Institute or other facilities.

Spatial Transformation Magic is made up of much more complicated and intricate spells than spatial expansion magic, and is known to have a higher level of difficulty. Completely transforming properties and shapes is a different matter than simply widening something.

“I’ve never seen an individual own it, except for those from royal families like the Imperial Royal Family or ancient magician clans.”

Hormoz responded matter-of-factly.

“It was a gift from the benefactor who saved my life. It was not acquired by improper means or derived from foul entities, so please don’t worry.”

“Someone gifted a legacy of the Archmages that even the Oracle could not replicate?”

“That is correct. But allow me to correct one thing—rather than say I received a gift, it would be more accurate to say I made a trade.”

A gift is given with no expectation of return or with pure goodwill. Conversely, a trade requires a return for what has been received.

So in that sense, Hormoz could be said to have received the rare magic, owned only by the royal families including the Imperial family and descendants of the great magicians like the Laniere clan, as payment for a transaction.

Does this even make sense?

“…….”

I looked at the unfathomable Dark Elf, but Hormoz merely mumbled with a shameless face.

“It was a good trade. At least, I thought so until recently.”

“…….”

“About this, it seems I may have made a deal where I end up losing out.”

*Clap.* Hormoz’s palms met with a sound.

After breaking the mood with a round of applause, he settled into his seat as the host.

“It has been a while since I welcomed guests, so you might find some lack in my hospitality. I will do my utmost to entertain you, so please make yourselves at home.”

—

As promised at the beginning, Hormoz welcomed us as guests. Following the old traditions of the nomadic Dark Elves, he treated Francesca and me generously during our visit.

Seated in the desert tent, we began by sipping the tea Hormoz offered.

“Lady, would you prefer coffee or tea?”

“I’ll have coffee.”

“And you, sir?”

“I’d like tea, please.”

Hormoz smiled brightly as he received our choices.

“I happen to have some excellent tea imported from the East. It has not been three days since the elders of my tribe sent this tea, so you will be the first to enjoy it, sir.”

As the guild master gestured, the deputy guild master issued commands. Following the goblin, the subordinates in the guild moved in unison to present the refreshments.

Francesca, as expected of a Patalian, requested coffee, and Hormoz poured tea while beginning to speak.

“My home, the Mauritania Continent, is not suitable for growing tea.”

The bizarre-shaped glass was filled with tea.

“Tea requires adequate sunlight and regular rain, as well as a cool climate. It cannot be cultivated in the blazing sun of the desert. Yet, at present, tea from the Mauritania Continent generates more profit than any other product.”

Hormoz took a sip of tea first and then posed a question to me.

“Do you know why that is?”

“Because the Dark Elves brought tea to the Mauritania Continent.”

“Correct. You are well-informed.”

The Dark Elf guild master confirmed the aroma and taste of the tea, pouring it into a new glass—my share.

Was it Jordan? When I visited a Bedouin’s house, the host acted in the same way as Hormoz. They check the tea they offer guests, and if it’s suitable, they serve it to the guests based on cultural traditions.

Perhaps Hormoz deemed it acceptable to offer it to me, as he handed me the tea.

“Thank you.”

I took a sip of the tea that came from the East, which Hormoz mentioned.

A warmth filled my mouth, offering a refreshing sensation throughout, as if…

“…….”

“What’s wrong?”

“…This tea tastes like toothpaste.”

“That’s how this tea is normally. Isn’t it good?”

“…….”

Hormoz smiled while gulping down the horrendous tea that was worse than factory waste. It was a smile that genuinely reflected his appreciation for the taste, not an attempt to trick anyone.

“…….”

Suddenly overwhelmed by fatigue, I began pressing my temples.

Francesca, enjoying her coffee, savored it silently, while Hormoz, unfazed by the unbearable toothpaste-flavored tea…

At long last, he emptied his cup and committed the atrocious act of refilling it with the teapot again.

If I’m going to deal seriously with this little black fellow, it looks like I’ll need to bring Camila along. The British are traditionally known as a hard counter to black folks, after all.

I lost my appetite because of the dreadful mint-flavored tea, but if you ignore that, Hormoz’s hospitality was flawless.

He brought out his finest offerings for us in the desert tent.

“This yogurt is from our Saria Tribe. You must be hungry, so don’t let it cool down.”

The yogurt, made from sheep’s milk freshly squeezed by the dark elves of Saria, traditional bread from the Mauritania Continent, and spiced lamb dishes.

Tearing into the freshly baked bread by hand, I placed a piece of lamb on it and dunked it into the yogurt, savoring the rich Middle Eastern flavors that flooded my mouth. Adding in the succulent bread soaked with the meat’s marinades made it a heavenly delight.

“…Ah, this brings back memories.”

I devoured the simple meal Hormoz prepared in no time.

But the hospitality didn’t end there.

“I’m glad to see you enjoyed it. Do you smoke?”

“Do you have a water pipe?”

“Of course. I’ll have it prepared right away.”

At my request, the goblins of the guild brought out the water pipe. After a hearty meal, I sat around the campfire with Hormoz, enjoying the shisha.

“Suck—”

Taking a deep breath filled my lungs with smoke that carried fruity aromas.

The smoke flowed down through the glass pipe, straight into my lungs, and I exhaled, relishing the flavor of fruits.

“…Oh.”

Is this the desert or paradise?

Special tea, a hearty meal, and a post-meal water pipe.

Hormoz certainly treated us excellently, enough to satisfy even someone who has wandered around the Middle East for years.

Honestly, at this point, I wondered if I could just go home.

“…Colonel.”

Receiving Fracesca’s disapproving gaze made me feel a twinge of guilt.

“I’m sorry. I got a bit carried away, didn’t I?”

“You should certainly feel sorry after smoking for over 30 minutes in the presence of the Guild Master.”

“Ahaha…”

I gave a sheepish laugh and handed the water pipe to Hormoz.

“We are guests here, Francesca. Mr. Hormoz welcomed us as hosts, not just as the Guild Master. He would allow us to rest here for the night and talk more tomorrow. Right?”

“Of course.”

Hormoz smiled contentedly as he took a puff from the water pipe.

The wafting smoke streamed from between the lips of the dark elf, filling the tent with an aroma so soothing it rivaled the best aromatherapy.

After enjoying the shisha, Hormoz spoke softly to Francesca.

“As you mentioned, our dark elf hospitality is tailored entirely to the guest. When welcoming travelers crossing the desert, one inherently learns to consider their guests. If you need to recover from your travel weariness, please do not hesitate to stay comfortably. I will always respect you.”

“See?”

“…….”

Francesca’s cold gaze pierced me.

“…Ahem.”

Clearing my throat lightly to break the tension, I took one last puff from the shisha and exhaled, starting to steer the conversation.

“I get it. We’ve had enough hospitality, so let’s get to the main topic.”

*

The generous hospitality of tea, meal, and shisha had reached its conclusion.

Under a tent set amidst the starlit desert, we huddled around the campfire, ready to talk.

Actually, there wasn’t much to discuss.

“We have urgent matters to discuss regarding your previous inquiries with the guild and recent incidents occurring in the northern regions.”

Hormoz, the Guild Master of the Palm Tree Trade Guild and a dark elf of the Saria Tribe.

As our host, he continued with a serious tone.

“First, I’d like to ask you something.”

“Please go ahead.”

There are various reasons nomadic tribes take in guests, but the two biggest ones are these.

First, the relationship between the host and guest.

The relationship isn’t strictly hierarchical but rather a reciprocal structure.

As nomads, while roaming the deserts of life, one just naturally encounters someone, whether intentionally or not. Since nomads don’t always live in ease, there will come a time when they must rely on others or other tribes.

Thus, when they find themselves in peril, they believe that someone will extend kindness to them, as they once did for others, leading them to generously treat guests. One day, that very guest may also host someone in return.

Second, the importance of the guest themselves.

Living in a tribal community, it’s only natural to become curious about the news of the outside world. A guest from distant cities serves as a window into how the world turns, allowing nomads to learn a variety of news.

However, it’s not like they can just forcefully demand information. As the saying goes, “one should eat before speaking,” nomads express their goodwill by hosting guests, while guests, in return for the food and respect shown, share the information they possess. It’s a sort of unspoken barter.

By the way, obtaining information from travelers has been a favored method of ancient intelligence agencies (originally information activities existed long before the modern intelligence agency that emerged post-world war).

Western intelligence agencies during the Cold War also researched civilians who traveled to Eastern Bloc countries to acquire various information.

With that, Hormoz, in his capacity as a host, posed a question to us, the guests.

“I heard a few days ago that the Military Government Headquarters has cracked down on criminal organizations en masse. All of them were linked to the black market in the northern regions. If my assumptions are correct….”

“Are you asking if we led that charge?”

“Yes.”

At Hormoz’s answer, Francesca and I exchanged glances.

After a brief exchange of eye contact, I turned back to Hormoz and replied.

“We didn’t lead it, but we intended to.”

It wasn’t a problem that the Military Government Headquarters cracked down on criminal organizations. The northern regions are currently in a special situation, and the royal family has given the Military Government Headquarters extensive powers by declaring a state of emergency. And that’s the kind of power that could lead to bullets in citizens’ heads without trial.

However,

“As a diplomat, I have never interfered with the command structure of the Military Government Headquarters. The administrator hasn’t either. We did not directly intervene in the purge operations conducted by the Military Government Headquarters.”

As the Abas diplomat, there could be interpretations that I was meddling, depending on how one looks at it. Nothing major, really—enough for the Empire to possibly expel a few of us Abas diplomats.

It can’t be helped. Though the Military Police executed criminals as part of maintaining public order, if it appears that foreign influence caused their own citizens to have bullets in their heads, it could easily be interpreted as internal interference.

It’s a subtle distinction, but a clear difference exists.

Fortunately, I have a knack for glossing over the facts and dealing with things quickly. Whether it’s disguising an assassination as a regular death or inciting conflict between tribes that have poor relations, I picked up those skills while roaming about, following the orders from the Information Command.

“…I see.”

Hormoz muttered as if he was finally convinced.

As he nodded and fell into thought, Francesca spoke up, and I quickly grabbed the water pipe for another puff.

…Ah, this is heavenly. It hits differently after 30 years.

“Gild Master.”

“Yes?”

“Do you remember the information we requested earlier?”

Hormoz nodded his head.

“It was a request to find someone who could handle dark magic in the north and who could distribute it. Specifically, it concerned the dark magic aura detected at the scene of the terrorist attack in Abas. The identity of the one who passed that on to the terrorists. Am I recalling that correctly?”

“That’s right.”

A suspicious merchant who delivered dark magic to the terrorists in No Man’s Land. Years have passed, yet his appearance remains unchanged, and the strange information regarding taking children somewhere exists, but there’s nothing to speculate about his identity.

Except for one thing. He speaks Kien.

So we came to the north, seeking information from Hormoz. Even though he had already declined once, our day of meeting had come nonetheless.

“…….”

Hormoz puffed on the water pipe, letting out a sound of contemplation. I carefully took the pipe he had set down and took another puff.

“As you said, I’ve done some inquiries. And I have certain findings. I’d be willing to sell that information to you, if you accept my ‘offer.'”

“…Offer, you say?”

“Consider it a price. I’m selling information, and in return, I expect a fair price from you.”

With a serious voice, Hormoz began to shine his golden eyes through the misty smoke.

“What I request from you is quite simple.”

“Please go ahead, Guild Master.”

 

---