Ambrose chatted with Sares through the entire night. Only when the old druid was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open did Ambrose let him return to sleep. By then, dawn was already breaking.

The night of idle conversation had not only helped Ambrose avoid that mysterious dark force but also yielded a number of useful details about the dream immersion ritual.

At this point, he was almost certain that the Dreamveil Barrier and the dream immersion ritual were essentially the same thing—more precisely, two variations of the same magical system, with certain effects modified.

However, he still hadn't managed to learn the prayer required to enter the natural dreamscape. He had not dared to push too deliberately, lest he arouse Sares' suspicion.

Word arrived from the Emerald Council: an elder druid would personally come to discuss potential cooperation between the two nations. Ariel was delighted upon hearing the news. Finally, real negotiations with the druids!

Ambrose, on the other hand, sighed. "Don't get your hopes up. They clearly don't intend to negotiate seriously."

Ariel blinked. "Why would you say that? They're sending someone to talk, aren't they?"

"We represent the Ragetide Kingdom. You're a princess, the heir to the throne. The fact that they're sending only one druid to meet us, instead of inviting us to the Emerald Tower to speak before the full Council, is already a significant slight."

Ariel still lacked experience. Unlike Ambrose, who had centuries of political instinct, she couldn't read their attitude from such circumstantial details. The friction between the Ragetide Kingdom and the Emerald Dreamwood was evidently worse than Ambrose had anticipated. Despite arriving with full ceremony, they weren't even able to secure a proper diplomatic reception.

Still, Ambrose didn't particularly care. The alliance had only ever been a convenient pretext. Whether the talks succeeded or failed made little difference to him.

Ariel, however, grew anxious. She genuinely wanted the negotiations to succeed. If relations improved and cooperation began, it would greatly benefit the resource-poor Ragetide Kingdom. And after her "successful" collaboration with the Silent Sea Pirates, she had developed a taste for winning victories through words rather than blades.

"So what do we do?" she asked, eyes full of expectation. "If the druids won't cooperate, surely we won't just accept it?"

Monge had demonstrated incredible intelligence over the past few days. Surely he had a solution.

"There's no point speculating now," Ambrose said calmly. "Let's see who arrives and what sort of attitude they take. We'll respond accordingly. The worst outcome is we leave. Diplomatic cooperation is never decided in a single meeting. This visit is about signaling our intent. Next time, when they think back to this exchange, there'll be room to improve relations."

Ariel looked surprised. "So... just being allowed into the Emerald Dreamwood counts as a success?"

"More or less. At least it won't be wasted effort."

He wasn't wrong. Even merchants negotiating a major deal required multiple meetings, and being turned away at the door was common. Nations were no different. Political games could stretch on for decades.

Still, the situation turned out worse than even Ambrose expected.

When the elder druid Brandir Sanda appeared, he didn't even bother with a polite smile. Instead, he wore open disdain on his face.

The moment he laid eyes on Ambrose and Ariel, he snapped, "Your Ragetide Kingdom constantly generates storms and tsunamis, wreaking havoc on natural ecosystems. Our forests suffer because of you. And you have the nerve to seek cooperation?"

Ambrose blinked.

That tone, that attitude—this didn't sound like a negotiation at all, but more like a declaration of war.

Ariel's temper flared instantly. "Not everyone is bound by your druidic doctrine!" she shot back. "Your definition of ‘natural law' doesn't govern us!"

Wonderful. Two hotheads, nose to nose.

At this rate, they might declare war on the spot.

Something was wrong. The druids were already entangled in troubles of their own. Why provoke the Ragetide Kingdom now?

Ambrose studied the young druid carefully. He had blond hair, blue eyes, and was tall and strikingly handsome. Under forty, perhaps, and already a legendary. Unquestionably a prodigy.

Hold on, a young, rash, legendary druid?

Could this be that very same druid aggressively pursuing Catherine?

If he'd come spoiling for a fight, perhaps it was deliberate.

Ambrose hadn't guessed the full truth, but he wasn't far off. Brandir had indeed come intending to wreck the negotiations.

He had never wanted to meet the Ragetide envoys in the first place.

Just earlier, Naomi had mentioned Catherine's restless sleep. Brandir could not bear the thought of his goddess suffering. He immediately petitioned the other elder druids to allow him to craft a perfect dream for her, to let her rest peacefully.

Such a feat would require invoking their greatest secret art: the dream immersion ritual.

Elves were immune to the Dreamveil Barrier's coercive effects, but only if they resisted. Their free will shielded them from forced hypnosis or charm. If they consented, however, that was another matter entirely.

Brandir's plan was simple: obtain permission from the Council, teach Catherine the dream prayer, and allow her to enter their natural dreamscape willingly each night.

The natural dream provided the most serene and restorative environment possible, guaranteeing perfect relaxation of mind and body. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

But the other elder druids rejected his request outright.

Chasing a woman was one thing, but handing over the Emerald Dreamwood's greatest secret as a courting gift was another entirely. He hadn't even married her yet, and already he wanted to bankrupt them.

It was clear Brandir was losing himself to infatuation.

Sensing danger, the elder druids quickly pushed the Ragetide envoys onto Brandir as an assignment. They had to keep him away from Catherine before he sold off the entire forest in pursuit of love.

Brandir might be the most gifted druid in the Dreamwood, but he was still young. He couldn't defy all his elders. So he came, reluctantly, to the meeting.

A negotiation, though, was quite out of the question. He only wanted to chase them off and return to persuading the Council.

Time was short. If he failed, his goddess would suffer another sleepless night.

That thought tore at him like a blade.

Thus, he entered the meeting determined to sabotage it, hoping the envoys would leave immediately.

Ariel was already on the verge of drawing her blade.

But she remembered the Dreamveil Barrier. Fighting here would only disadvantage her. She gritted her teeth and looked to Ambrose.

Could he really salvage this situation?

Within the barrier, stripped of combat power, on druid territory—what could he do, really?

Ambrose was all but certain of Brandir's identity by then. If this was Catherine's obsessed suitor, then that weakness could be exploited.

He said mildly, "Master Sanda, how will other ladies view you if word spreads of you treating a princess so discourteously?"

Brandir stiffened. Other ladies?

If his goddess learned he had shouted at a young woman... Wouldn't she think him ungentlemanly?

Ambrose saw the shift in his expression and pressed the advantage.

"Her Highness Ariel is a princess of the Ragetide Kingdom. Is this how you treat royalty of other nations? If you refuse to apologize, I will report this incident. I assure you everyone in both our lands will know of your conduct."

Brandir paled. "No, please, don't do that. I apologize. My attitude was improper. Princess Ariel, forgive me."

His reputation meant nothing, but he could not let his goddess hear he'd been rude to a woman.

Ariel stared at Ambrose in disbelief. How had two simple sentences forced this arrogant druid to bow and apologize?

She understood every word—and yet the outcome made no sense. A chill crept into her thoughts.

She thought to herself, "Is the gap between our intelligence this wide? If he ever tried to deceive me, he'd easily make me dance in circles..."

Ambrose regarded Brandir's abrupt reversal with faint contempt. Those besotted by love were far too easy to control.

"Now," Ambrose said smoothly, "shall we sit down and discuss a potential alliance properly?"

Brandir swallowed his reluctance and agreed. He had almost ruined his reputation; he was fortunate the Ragetide envoys were willing to smooth things over.

The three of them seated themselves in a fragrant valley alive with birdsong. As a representative of the Ragetide Kingdom, Ambrose succinctly outlined their position. In essence, the Lyon Empire was a looming threat. Any nation at odds with Lyon should therefore consider mutual cooperation.

The Ragetide Kingdom would pledge not to threaten the Dreamwood's coastlines. Trade could be opened, goods exchanged, and mutual benefit achieved.

The plan was still extremely broad in scope. After all, this was just a preliminary discussion, and the three of them would hardly be able to finalize the specifics. That would require follow-up delegations, line-by-line negotiation, and careful revision.

The purpose of this meeting was simply to determine whether both sides had the intention to cooperate. If they did, talks would continue. If not, they could always revisit the matter after some time.

Brandir was already growing impatient. Even setting Catherine aside, he personally had no desire to see relations between the two nations deepen.

The core issue was one of faith.

The Lord of Storms revered conquest through violence: seizing all things and annihilating all enemies. The Oakfather, by contrast, preached balance and the natural cycle.

The two doctrines were fundamentally incompatible, and the way the two nations conducted themselves could not have been more different.

Druids considered the natural environment in every action they took. Even harvests were strictly regulated to avoid excessive exploitation of the forest.

The Ragetide Kingdom, however, seized whatever it could, whenever it could. They frequently summoned massive tidal waves to cast entire schools of fish onto the shore in one stroke for easy harvesting.

Such practices had driven several coastal species to extinction. The druids had publicly and severely condemned these acts.

The Ragetide Kingdom, of course, paid no heed. If a species went extinct, so be it—what did that have to do with them?

Ever since then, the Emerald Dreamwood no longer welcomed the Stormborn. And the Ragetide Kingdom, in turn, grew increasingly irritated by these druids who constantly lectured and interfered with their day-to-day business.

The kingdom lived by the sea. If all these impositions were implemented, how would they live? Were they supposed to starve?

Both parties believed themselves to be in the right.

This was a conflict of faith, which was far more troublesome than a mere clash of interests. Interests could be negotiated, compromised, and even turned to mutual benefit. Faith could not. Acts of blasphemy invited divine punishment, consequences far more terrifying than even the Lyon Empire marching to their gates.

Brandir spoke with solemn conviction. "The position of the Emerald Dreamwood has always been the same. If your kingdom cannot change its brutal destruction of natural balance, then cooperation between us is impossible."

Ambrose, however, didn't seem disappointed. "In that case, what about a simple military non-aggression agreement?" he asked. "Surely that level of cooperation does not violate your doctrine?"

Brandir frowned. It sounded reasonable, but he could not agree outright. With Catherine momentarily out of mind and his emotions steadied, Brandir's intelligence finally reasserted itself.

It was highly irregular for the Ragetide Kingdom to suddenly dispatch a group of envoys.

True, their enmity with the Lyon Empire might run deeper, but if Lyon intended to attack them, it would first have to march through the Emerald Dreamwood. In other words, the Ragetide Kingdom could have simply waited for Lyon and the Dreamwood to clash, then applied pressure afterward, offering incentives or threats only once the druids were weakened. Their chances of securing cooperation would have been much higher.

Yet they had done no such thing. Instead, before Lyon had even made a move, they sent high-ranking representatives bearing an appearance of sincerity.

Brandir, naturally, suspected a conspiracy. He began to wonder what trouble the Ragetide Kingdom had encountered—what crisis compelled them to seek peace so urgently. If he could identify that weakness, he might gain the upper hand at the negotiating table and extract greater concessions.

Thus, he began beating about the bush. As they were discussing serious matters, he would suddenly pivot to the Ragetide Kingdom's culture, feigning curiosity while probing for clues about recent events. Ambrose parried every move effortlessly, fabricating answers on the spot.

He didn't know much about the Ragetide Kingdom anyway, so he improvised freely. Details spilled from his mouth without hesitation, leaving Brandir increasingly bewildered. As for Ariel, she had not spoken a word since Brandir's apology. She listened with intense focus, committing every sentence to memory.

Even though Ambrose's descriptions were riddled with inconsistencies, Ariel assumed it was deliberate, that every flaw concealed deeper meaning.

Sure enough, after a long exchange, Brandir had gleaned nothing useful. Instead, a few of Ambrose's counter-questions had pried loose valuable information. The Emerald Council consisted of thirty-six members. Thirty were druids, but the remaining six seats were left for representatives of other races—goblins, centaurs, orcs, giants, and the like.

Because druids held an absolute majority, all major decisions in the Emerald Dreamwood were effectively theirs. The other races existed under druidic protection, but in some respects, they were also ruled by them.

The goblins Ambrose had encountered earlier had been unable to tolerate the increasingly strict enforcement of natural conservation laws. As a result, they had been pushed to the periphery of the Dreamwood and forced to live outside the Dreamveil Barrier.

From scattered details, Ambrose formed another hypothesis.

The druids seemed unaware of the hidden dark force he had sensed. At the very least, Brandir showed no knowledge of it, and the Emerald Dreamwood itself appeared unaffected.

Though all this intelligence was important, the most crucial matter—the dream immersion ritual—remained untouched. Brandir's lips were tightly sealed on that subject. It seemed less honorable methods would be required.

Having just finished discussing continental affairs, Ambrose abruptly changed topics. "I hear that the Elven Queen of the Court of the Silver Moon is currently a guest in the Emerald Dreamwood. Princess Ariel would like to pay her respects. Might I trouble Master Sanda to pass along the message?"

At the mention of Catherine, Brandir instantly tensed.

Had Ambrose himself requested to visit Catherine, Brandir would have refused without hesitation. He wanted nothing more than for every man in the world to keep their distance from her.

But Ariel, a princess, requesting an audience with an elven queen? That was entirely reasonable. If he prevented such a visit and Catherine found out, what would she think?

Even so, Brandir felt uneasy. There was something unsettling about this Stormborn. There was an aura about him that grated on Brandir's instincts. Could the sudden request conceal a scheme?

He was about to invent an excuse to delay the meeting when Ambrose smiled faintly. "Rest assured, Master Sanda. I harbor no improper intentions toward Queen Catherine. You need not treat me as a rival in love."

Brandir flushed bright red. "What are you talking about?! Where did you hear such nonsense?"

Ambrose widened his eyes in feigned surprise. "Are you not pursuing Queen Catherine? Have I been misled by rumors?"

Brandir ground his teeth. He could neither deny nor confirm it. He had made no effort to conceal his courtship, so it was inevitable that rumors would spread. But he had not expected even foreign envoys to be privy to that information.

Ambrose pressed on. "I've also heard that Her Majesty declined your advances, and that you haven't been able to secure an audience with her for several days. Is that correct?"

Brandir snorted. "A goddess as perfect as Catherine would never be won over so easily. This is merely a small test she has set for me."

"Mm. That line alone tells me," Ambrose said dryly, "this must be your first time pursuing a woman."

Brandir's face reddened further. "You—how would you know?!"

Though already in his thirties, Brandir had had no romantic history whatsoever. He had devoted all his energy to communion with nature and martial cultivation, hence his rapid ascent to the legendary rank.

He had once believed women would only hinder his progress.

Then he met Catherine—and instantly fell head over heels for her.

Ambrose had seen through his insecurities with a single sentence.

"Anyone could see it," Ambrose said. "I'm not much older than you, but I do have more experience in such matters. Let me guess, you confessed passionately the very first time you met her and showered her with gifts. And she's avoided you ever since?"

Brandir stared in shock. How could this man describe the situation as if he had witnessed the scene himself? Surely the rumors wouldn't have been so specific!

"How did you even guess that?!"

Ambrose chuckled. "Let me offer some sincere advice. If you truly wish to court a queen, this approach will never succeed. Continue like this, and eventually Her Majesty will lodge a formal complaint with the Emerald Dreamwood requesting that you be kept as far away from her as possible."

"That's impossible..." Brandir began, but faltered. When they first met, Catherine had smiled warmly. After his public confession, she had grown distant and cold.

Had he... been wrong?

Was there a different set of rules for courting a queen?

Seeing the doubt in his expression, Ambrose judged the moment ripe. "Complex tactics won't suit you in the short term. How about this: arrange a meeting between us and Queen Catherine. In return, I guarantee I can help you draw closer to her. At the very least, I can learn what she likes and what she dislikes."

"You?" Brandir eyed him skeptically. In his current disguise as Monge Greywater, he was hardly remarkable. Who would consider a weathered old sea dog handsome?

But then Brandir glanced at Ariel. The princess was undeniably beautiful—and from beginning to end she had sat quietly beside Ambrose like an attendant. It was hard to tell who outranked whom.

Perhaps this Stormborn truly did have some skill in dealing with women.

After all, a foreign princess requesting an audience with an elven queen was entirely appropriate. What harm could there be in arranging a meeting? If this man could genuinely uncover Catherine's preferences, that would be invaluable.

"Very well," Brandir said at last. "I will make arrangements. At the latest, you should see Her Majesty Catherine tonight. But—" He fixed Ambrose with a hard stare.

Ambrose raised a hand solemnly. "I, Monge Greywater, swear upon my life that, if I fail to fulfill my promise, I shall die without burial and without a whole corpse."

Brandir waved quickly. "There's no need for such a serious vow... Very well. I believe you."

A man who swore such a vicious oath would not dare lie—or so Brandir thought.