Chapter 244 — The Young Wolf General

Winter had come, and a great snowfall had lasted from two days past until today. Before such power of nature, even the Dark Mountains wore a mantle of silver. As the mountain wind swept past, distant snow billowed up, forming a hazy curtain among the peaks that blurred the boundary between mountain and sky.

Anluo Wendell knew that range led to that ancient, decayed, sluggish kingdom, where a pack of mediocre traditionalists squatted upon the land, basking in the shade of ancestral glory and barring the path of humanity's resurgence.

This age ought to belong to the newer, stronger, fiercer reformers—and Typhon was such a reformer. This great empire embodied the glory of mankind, the spirit of the ancient Gondorian Empire; Ansul was all but the reverse of that whole array of shining virtues.

That kingdom was not only rotten and degenerate—it had even devoured her father.

Anluo Wendell withdrew her gaze. Whenever heavy snow fell along the border, she could not help but think of her father, dead these many years. She had been small then, and her memories of him were mostly blurred, but one thing she remembered clearly: her father had vanished after just such a great snowfall, disappearing into the wild land west of the fortress, leaving no word, his body never even found.

No one answered for it. One of the oldest and noblest-blooded families in the history of the Typhon Empire had lost its finest heir ever, and no one answered for it.

Anluo breathed out softly. Every shift of emotion she hid away in those pale gray eyes of hers. She lowered her head and looked at the letter on the desk, opened only moments ago—the seal of Grand Duke Pei Yi stamped upon it, its contents no more than half a page.

As always, there was nothing tender in her grandfather's letter, only admonitions and directives such as a superior might give a subordinate. Anluo had to read those stiff, clipped phrases over many times before she could discern the faintest trace of concern hidden deep within.

This letter, too, reminded her to mind the winter border defenses, though it also touched on some shifts in the capital's situation. The old duke still seemed to regard his granddaughter as a pupil in need of instruction—even though Anluo had already become the youngest Wolf General in Typhon's history, the habits Duke Pei Yi had formed over more than half a lifetime were not so easily changed.

Anluo's eyes swept over the letter, coming to rest at last on the few lines of reminder at its end. They mentioned the "resurrected hero" lately much talked about, and gave instructions concerning Anluo herself. The young Wolf General could not help but frown; at last she gave a faint sigh and said to the courier waiting at the door: "Go and bring Mr. Suojilin to me."

A moment later, a golden-haired elf stepped into Anluo's chamber.

He was a typical pure-blooded silver elf: tall and slender, dressed in a ranger's winter hunting garb, his skin fair, his features all but flawless, a cascade of pale golden hair falling behind his head. Were it not for his Adam's apple and the touch of martial spirit about his brows and eyes that declared his sex, this golden-haired male silver elf might have seemed more like an elegant and beautiful lady—from appearances alone, this "beautiful sir" gave off not the slightest air of martial prowess.

Yet Anluo knew the true strength of this silver elf—a power that awed even her, a human champion who had inherited the title of Wolf General. This elven foreign soldier, who served the Typhon Empire as a free warrior, was the finest hunter and scout in this fortress at present, and the most suitable hand she could think of for an infiltration mission.

"Mr. Suojilin," Anluo said with a slight nod to the silver elf before her, "I have a task for you."

"At your service, Commander," the silver elf Suojilin dipped his head slightly, a faint smile surfacing on his face. "Since winter set in, I have not found a satisfactory quarry for a long while."