Chapter 362: Morning Sun Reappears
The morning light arrived as usual, utterly unchanged by the Southern magician delegation's arrival the day before.
That famous Southern sage was ushered out of the capital of El Country before dawn, under orders said to come from the Emperor himself.
Ever since the Southern Unified Empire spectacularly fell apart, El Country had once again become the most prestigious and powerful nation among all humans, especially after leading the entire human alliance to victory in the war against the Demon Race a few years ago.
News of the banquet reached Leggate's ears almost immediately. He showed Hess no courtesy either, issuing a lifelong ban from the capital on the spot. That was why Hess had slipped out of the city overnight.
Kurtz and Serie, however, knew nothing of the matter and wouldn't have cared if they had.
When the first ray of sunlight slipped through the crystal window, Kurtz was already awake. He lay on his side, arm still around the figure beside him, gaze resting on Serie's face.
The elf miss was never a peaceful sleeper.
Sometimes she curled up like a cat, sometimes she draped a leg across him and clung like a tree-kangaroo. Now she lay facing him, serene, golden hair spilling across pillow and mattress like captured sunlight.
Soft light haloed her small face. Long lashes cast tiny shadows on pale cheeks, and instead of drooling, her lips were gently curved, peacefully closed. Perhaps she dreamed, or perhaps the familiar presence beside her let her feel safe.
Kurtz had once asked the elf miss whether elves dreamed. At first, she'd said no, but in time, he learned she dreamed just as often as he did.
Pity he couldn't craft a spell to slip into another's dreams. He would have loved to see what she saw.
For now, he stayed still, simply watching.
Across a thousand years, there had been countless dawns like this, yet every time he found the same fullness of happiness in that delicate face.
That unguarded, utterly relaxed posture, that expression of peace only he ever witnessed, were treasures beyond price.
Time had granted the elf miss the wisdom and power of ages, yet had left untouched this softness in her sleep.
Or perhaps it was because he was there.
Another half-hour passed. When the light grew brighter, Serie's brow creased. She gave a muffled snort and reluctantly opened her eyes.
Her golden-brown gaze was hazy, still caught in the last threads of sleep. She blinked, unfocused, then instinctively burrowed closer to Kurtz, an old habit born of years sharing a bed.
She rubbed her cheek against his chest, gave a contented hum, and seemed ready to drift off again.
Kurtz tightened his arm, drawing her nearer, and murmured, "Morning."
"Mm~" she answered vaguely, eyes already closing again. Her arm slipped under him to circle his waist, pressing herself almost inside his skin. "Morning~"
Her voice was soft with sleep, nothing like the cool, distant Elf Saint the world knew. Though the saint authority sword Athos had long since left her side, making the title something of a formality.
Only the two of them knew.
And after centuries, the elf race had simply accepted that their ancestral sword belonged to Serie. After all, they were all elves; whoever held it, held it. With that easy logic, the Elf Kingdom had given up asking for Athos back centuries ago.
"The sun is about to tickle my elf's ears," Kurtz said, laughter in his voice as he brushed the tip of the ear peeking through her hair.
Frankly, elves in this world had the longest ears he had ever seen, truly the very image of the ancient race.
As for those short-eared youngsters barely a few millennia old? Here they'd be called half-elves.
"Ngh~" Her ear twitched. Fully awake now, she batted his mischievous hand away.
Yet she didn't leave his embrace, burrowing her face deeper instead. "Noisy! Let me sleep a bit more...yesterday that idiot gave me a headache, and last night..." Her voice trailed off, ears reddening.
Kurtz chuckled softly. After they'd returned, she'd still been irritated, or perhaps starved for his company, and had kept him busy until deep into the night.
"All right, I'll let you be." He gave in, no longer teasing her ear but merely stroking her hair, smoothing an irritable cat.
Serie lay quietly in his arms, breathing evening out as if she might truly fall asleep again. Then she stirred, lifting her face to look up at him, eyes clearer now.
"How long have you been awake?" Her tone was regaining its cool edge.
"Not long." He bent to kiss her smooth forehead.
"Liar." She pouted. "You woke ages ago and have been secretly watching me again."
After so many years together, she knew his habits inside out.
Why watch her only while she slept? She didn't mind him looking, so why the secrecy? Was this some odd human-married-couple quirk?
"I am looking at my own wife, how can you call that sneaking?" Kurtz retorted with perfect confidence. "It's open admiration. Who told my elf miss to be so beautiful?"
Serie gave a soft snort but offered no reply, simply resting her head on his shoulder again, savoring the morning quiet.
Neither spoke. Only their breathing could be heard.
After another quarter-hour, the last drowsiness left her, and she felt fully alive once more. She stretched languidly, the thin nightgown sketching every curve, then sat up in one brisk motion.
"No more sleep," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes, golden hair tumbling over her shoulders. "Plenty to do today. That Hess, whatever, may be expelled from the Association, but the people he brought in still need watching."
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed as she spoke.
Kurtz reached out, pulled her back into his arms, embracing her from behind and resting his chin on her shoulder. "No rush. The sun's barely up, and we haven't had breakfast yet."
Caught in his embrace, she struggled half-heartedly, then relaxed against him.
"You just want to slack off and leave everything to Flamme and me," she accused, though without any real heat.
"I'm the Association's star attraction. Stars don't run errands," he said calmly, tightening his hold. "Besides, I'm making breakfast today."
"You?" She turned in surprise, meeting his eyes inches away. "When did you last cook?"
Serie couldn't recall when Kurtz had last stood at a stove. Ever since they left the secluded forest, he had seldom cooked.
The Association had its own chefs, and once she brought home Flamme, the girl had taken charge of every meal, eventually becoming quite the cook.
"Can't have been that long ago," he said uncertainly, releasing her and rising first to pull on a robe. "Shall we find out?"
Seeing his earnest expression, her eyes lit up, and she hopped out of bed. "Great! I want grilled mushroom skewers!"
"Pick something else. Skewers for breakfast?" he said, half laughing.
"Fine." She didn't press. Whatever he made, she would like, provided, of course, it actually tasted good.
After a quick wash, they stepped into the adjoining cubby that held a small hearth, seldom used but well-maintained.
Kurtz rolled up his sleeves and opened the cold-magic cabinet to inspect the ingredients.
There wasn't much, only a handful of items. Neither he nor Serie ever cooked here. Likely, Flamme had stocked them for just such a morning.
Thinking of his pupil warmed him. He wondered whether Frieren had passed that spell on to Flamme yet.
Serie didn't help. She curled on a nearby chair, chin on the backrest, watching in fascination. She was absorbed in the sight.
She remembered, long ago, Kurtz at a crude outdoor stove making her dinner. A quiet happiness crept through her. Back then, they had no legendary deeds or worry about endless life, just an ordinary moment that made every one of those thousand years worthwhile.
"Done." His voice broke her reverie.
He carried over a tray bearing two fine porcelain plates. On them sat fluffy toast spread with pale-violet jam, small side dishes, and two cups of fragrant blossom tea.
Simple, but appetizing.
"Limited supplies, just a light bite," he said, setting the tray before her.
Serie tasted the jam-topped toast and the accompaniments.
"Well?" he asked.
She chewed slowly, letting his frown deepen, then smiled. "Delicious—but still not as good as skewers!"
"Hi-Hi, Next time," he promised.
"Mm!" She cut another piece, dunked it in jam, and closed her eyes like a cat with a fish. "I never knew you could bake. Why hide it till now? Hmm?"
"Before—" He sipped his tea. "I hadn't worked out a baking spell, and without a proper oven, it was impossible."
Bread required special equipment, hardly something to expect in a bedroom.
"Then I want this every day!" Elf Miss insisted
"Depends on my mood. The spell takes time."
"Stingy," she muttered, and let it drop.
When they finished, a small cleansing charm left the dishes spotless.
Kurtz settled opposite her with a spellbook from the shelf, leafing through it idly. Serie handled routine paperwork. When she set down her pen, she met his gaze over the pages.
"All done?" he asked.
"Just the basics. The rest can wait." She rose and rolled her shoulders. "You're not going to the lab today?"
"This afternoon. Fancy a walk in the Association's central garden? Ayla brought back some cold-resistant magical plants from the north. They've been transplanted there."
"I heard. That child loves collecting odd, pretty things." She offered her hand naturally.
He took it, his fingers interlaced with hers. Her hand was cool and small in his. Hand in hand, they left the top floor and descended the spiral stairs, forgoing teleportation like any ordinary couple on a morning stroll.
[End of Chapter]