At first, Ambrose had believed the Dreamveil Barrier was the great marvel of the Emerald Dreamwood.

Maintaining such an enormous magical barrier had to consume a staggering quantity of resources. Surely the druids had only resorted to something so laborious and costly because of the Lyon Empire's aggression.

But once Ambrose learned that the dream immersion ritual also encompassed the entire Emerald Dreamwood, a new suspicion arose.

The Dreamveil Barrier was likely a modified derivative of that ritual.

The reasoning was simple: efficiency. It would represent less effort, less expense, and less manpower.

The dream immersion ritual required a preliminary "key," likely a prayer unique to druids. If he recited it before he slept, he would enter the natural dream Sares had spoken of.

The Dreamveil Barrier, however, induced sleep automatically the moment one entered its range.

Conceptually, falling asleep and entering the dream itself were two separate components. The barrier forcibly dragged intruders into sleep, but also prevented outsiders from accessing the druids' natural dreamscape.

Ambrose felt that his hypothesis was likely on the mark, but he would need proof.

First, he required a safe environment in which he could fall asleep without risk. His Shapeshifting spell did not require constant maintenance, and neither would it automatically dispel during sleep, but accidents could happen. If the spell failed while he slept, his identity would be exposed.

Second, to test his theory, he needed the druids' exclusive prayer.

It was unlikely that he could casually coax Sares into revealing it. Push too hard, and suspicion would arise, bringing unpredictable consequences as a result.

Ambrose could only pray inwardly, "Catherine, do your part. Dig that secret out for me."

On the other side of the forest, Naomi moved swiftly through the night. She soon returned to Catherine's side.

As the exalted queen of the elves, Catherine received the most exclusive treatment within the Emerald Dreamwood.

Ambrose was housed in a wooden cottage. Catherine resided in a castle grown entirely from living trees, crafted on the spot by several elder druids. They had shaped it after carefully asking about her preferences, fearful of giving offense.

The preferential treatment was hardly surprising. Elves and druids had long been close allies; they were millennia-old friends in the history of the continent. Catherine was an elven queen, and her natural charm was nearly irresistible. Such hospitality was entirely fitting.

Moreover, unlike Ambrose, Catherine did not need to force the druids to withdraw their surveillance. No druid dared monitor her, lest she feel slighted.

Thus, Naomi's return caused no disturbance. At most, the druids might have noted that the elven queen's contracted beast had gone roaming. It was hardly worth their attention.

For a ranger, sending one's beast companion scouting while hunting was perfectly ordinary.

The moment Naomi slipped back into the grand tree-castle, Catherine hurried forward. "You met with him? Did he give you any instructions?"

Naomi glanced at the elven queen, thinking that any eavesdroppers might well faint from shock after overhearing her.

"Master asked you to continue investigating the details of the dream immersion ritual, and to arrange for a three-party meeting..." Naomi faithfully relayed every instruction without omission.

Catherine listened in astonishment.

"A three-party meeting? Wasn't he at sea searching for a divine artifact? How did he suddenly become an envoy of the Ragetide Kingdom?"

Naomi shook her head. "Master didn't explain the situation clearly, but he has the Ragetide princess acting as his bodyguard. His status there must be quite high."

"He even has a princess as a bodyguard?!"

Catherine's eyes widened. This lich was absurd. Wherever he went, power, wealth, and beautiful women seemed to fall into his lap.

The religious zealots of Lyon knelt before him with offerings. The battle-hardened fanatics of Ragetide assigned their princess to guard him. It was so outrageous that even a drunken bard wouldn't dare invent such a tale.

Catherine could only console herself that choosing to travel and train under Ambrose had been the correct decision. She had learned more within a few days than she had in the past century.

So this was how political maneuvering worked. So this was how wealth could be swindled. So this was how complicated—yet malleable—the human heart could be.

Since Ambrose wanted her to keep probing about the dream immersion ritual, she had little choice but to comply.

"But how am I supposed to ask?" Catherine said helplessly. "It's a druidic secret. Even if I inquire directly, they won't tell me."

Naomi replied matter-of-factly, "Catherine, you're overthinking things. If you're the one asking about it, there's no secret they won't reveal."

She wasn't wrong. A certain elder druid was currently pursuing Catherine with devotion bordering on madness. For the past two days, she had been forced to remain indoors to avoid his relentless attention.

If Catherine were to request it of him, none of his secrets would remain hidden.

But she refused to do so.

The last time she had helped Ambrose deceive the paladins of Lyon, the performance had initially felt thrilling. But afterward, she realized she had risked the reputation of the entire elven race. Had Ambrose not salvaged her honor at the end, the consequences might have been severe.

The once naïve queen had learned to consider the greater picture. She would help gather intelligence, but not through deception. She represented the entire elven race.

The elves stood above all else in her heart.

Using seduction to extract druidic secrets was unacceptable. It would stain elven honor; she needed another method.

What would that lich do in her position? 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

Catherine began replaying every interaction she'd had with Ambrose, especially the way he manipulated conversations. She almost wished she had transcribed his words verbatim to memorize them.

Naomi, seeing her struggle, tried to think of a solution as well. But the two young women pondered until dawn without success.

Then came another knock at the door.

"I have brought the most beautiful flowers of the Emerald Dreamwood, and the sweetest honey as an offering to you, my beloved goddess!"

The passionate voice rang from outside the castle. It belonged to Brandir Sanda, a thirty-eight-year-old legendary druid and Catherine's obsessed suitor.

Naomi peered out the window.

Below stood a tall, handsome blond man holding a bouquet. Upon seeing her, he flashed a radiant smile.

He was, she had to admit, rather impressive in terms of appearance, status, and talent. An elder druid of the Emerald Dreamwood had a serious say in its governance, and reaching the legendary rank by thirty-eight marked him as a true prodigy, one of the finest across the Nine Kingdoms.

And yet Naomi felt he was unworthy of Catherine.

A man enslaved by her charm would not be able to stand as her equal, so how could he be her husband?

But Brandir did not see it that way. From the first moment he saw Catherine, he had fallen irrevocably in love. How could someone so perfect exist? Her beauty shook his very soul, leaving him sleepless night after night.

Ironically, his fervor only frightened Catherine. In the Court of the Silver Moon, other elves would have shielded her from such suitors. Here, in druid territory, she had to handle it herself.

A polite refusal had failed. She had resorted to shutting her doors.

Two days without seeing her had only intensified Brandir's devotion.

He had sworn before the Oakfather that he would never marry anyone but Catherine. No cost was too great. He would win her love or die trying.

Gifts were nothing. If she wished it, he would gladly surrender his life.

Other elder druids found his behavior inappropriate, and even borderline disgraceful. But his status was indeed comparable to Catherine's, and if his pursuit succeeded, it would benefit the Emerald Dreamwood as a whole.

Some even assisted him discreetly, gathering information about Catherine's preferences in hopes of fostering a union.

With such support, Brandir doubled his efforts. Morning, noon, and night brought new gifts. He consulted others, wrote love poems delivered by birds, and even composed ballads and sang them beneath her window.

He feared neither ridicule nor embarrassment. In his eyes, there was only Catherine.

Naomi sighed and leapt from the window, landing before him.

Brandir immediately produced two fragrant strips of dried meat and offered them to her carefully. Casting a spell to speak with animals, he began, "How is your mistress today? Will she grant me an audience?"

The spell was wasted effort. Naomi was no true leopard, after all.

She bit down on the dried meat and devoured it in moments. Warmth spread through her body. The meat had been specially prepared. Rich in natural energy, it was immensely beneficial to her. Beyond the Emerald Dreamwood, those two strips alone might well fetch over a hundred thousand gold coins. Brandir was truly sparing no expense.

After finishing, Naomi shook her head, indicating Catherine still refused to see him.

Disappointment flickered across his face, but he rallied quickly. "What kind of man does your mistress prefer? I promise I can change."

Naomi briefly imagined Ambrose's skeletal form. If this druid learned that Catherine was effectively working for a lich, and even paying him for the privilege, would he suffer a mental shock and collapse?

She was just turning to leave when she paused. An idea had struck her.

Stretching out a paw, she scratched words into the earth. "My mistress has been troubled by your pursuit. She sleeps poorly at night. Do you have a way to ensure she has a good dream? If you can help her rest well, I'll put in a good word for you."

Why a leopard was bothering to write instead of simply speaking did not concern Brandir. This was the first ray of hope he had seen in his days of pursuit.

"Wait here. I'll make preparations at once. I guarantee she will have the sweetest dream."

He ran off immediately.

Naomi watched his retreating figure with a sly smile.

Catherine might be unwilling to wheedle out secrets from him by seduction, but as her "beast companion," she had no such constraints. A pet concerned about her mistress's health was entirely reasonable, wasn't it? And if she happened to uncover druidic secrets in the process, well, what ill intent could a little leopard possibly have?

She wondered how much of her master's cunning she had managed to learn.