The high elf was in a pristine white military suit with gold embroidery, and medals lining her left breast pocket. It was likely the official uniform for the seven oracles, and the fact that she was still in it meant she was a stickler for the rules.

Her shoulder length mint hair was picked in a ponytail, leaving two tendrils in front to frame her face. Her cold, mint-green eyes were locked on Eliron, not a single flicker of emotion on her aloof face.

As expected of a pure blooded high elf, there was not a single imperfection on her perfectly chiselled features.

Not a single mole, freckle or misalignment. It was almost as though her face had been sculpted by a genius artisan then given life.

The moment Artie saw her, she shifted in her seat, her muscles taunt as she stared coldly at the woman.

Elrion could sense that Ash was also uncomfortable, but he hid his discontent well.

Although all wood elves had unpleasant experiences with the high elves, if there was anyone in Artaris who had a deeply seeded hatred for them, it would be Artie.

Eliron casually placed his hand over hers, without saying a word. Artie glanced at him, only then realising that she had been doing little to hide her animosity.

She let out a breath, her expression settling to her usual, stoic look.

"Feyre." She spoke curtly. "Third oracle and the Donia Kingdom’s secretary of war." The woman added, tilting her head slightly.

She did not bow like the others, high elven pride in its finest. But what was a high elf doing in the Donia kingdom’s arm?

There was a limit to how diverse a kingdom could be. They could have dwarves, beastfolk and even fae, but due to their exclusive nature, one of the hardest races to have a community of were the high elves.

It was possible to find half high elf—half human people, but a full blooded high elf dedicated to another country? That was extremely rare.

Eliron would have assumed she was a spy, if not that she had been mentioned in the novel to be one of the people that contributed to the war effort.

"It’s a pleasure to meet you, Feyre." Eliron responded with a polite nod. "But a high elf this far from home? Permit my curiosity."

Feyre’s expression did not shift, but Eliron saw something glint in those cold, jade eyes.

"Make no mistake, I am proud of my ancestral land. The story behind why I am here is something..." she paused as though trying to find the best words. "...best discussed over a few drinks."

Was that an attempt at a joke?

Feyre did not look like the kind of person that would take even a sip of alcohol, so Eliorn couldn’t help but wonder if it was a sly way of saying she would never tell him.

But she didn’t stop there. She tilted her head slightly, then said in a monotone, almost robotic voice. "I am curious about you as well. You were able to fight on equal footing with the saint..."

She stroked her chin while staring at him, as though running calculations in her head.

"How were you able to pull it off? According to the information I am privy to, your kind are not very adept in magic, or anything whatsoever..."

She said it with a straight face, one that was so impassive that Eliron wondered if she knew what she had just said.

"What?" Artie’s voice was low, but it carried weight nonetheless. "What did you mean by that?"

Feyre blinked. "Wood elves are recognized as one of the weakest races are they not? I was simply wondering if the was a peculiar condition that has made you all different from the rest of your kind—"

"Feyre..." Tiosa called out, trying to interject, but Feyre raised a hand to stop her, her eyes locked on Artie.

"Hmm. There is something off about that woman." Yen whispered in Eliron’s ear, staring at her skeptically.

Eliron couldn’t have agreed more. There seemed to be something weird about her insults...

Everyone else was silent.

"You really like pushing your luck, don’t you?" Artie said in an icy tone, her eyes as sharp as a blade. "It looks like high elves are the same no matter where they are bred—pompous, conceited busy bodies."

"Maybe we should drop this..." Tiosa, the seventh oracle, stood up. She seemed to be the motherly figure among them. "Feyre, your words were a little..."

"All I stated were facts." Feyre ignored her. "If you are offended by my words then that is a problem with you or your orientation."

’Hmm...’ Eliron stroked his jaw as he watched the high elf. Again, although her words were offensive, there was no animosity in her tone.

He could not even sense any hate, only a slight annoyance as she stared at Artie. He had met a high elf before, and each time, they had set a pretty good example of how high elves were.

Feyre was different, an oddity.

Artie stood up before Eliron could pull her back. She stalked toward the women, slowly, with cat-like grace.

When she got in front of her, her eyes bored into Feyre’s. "Do you want to go a few rounds? I’ll be sure to discredit your facts."

Feyre looked slightly confused. "If you wish for a duel, I will be happy to oblige. Although I cannot guarantee your safety."

Eliron was sure it was taking everything in Artie to hold herself back, she gave a tooth grin.

But before anyone else could speak, by Eliron’s side, Zora suddenly burst into laughter, causing all eyes to move to her.

She got up and wrapped an arm around Feyre’s shoulders, and for the first time, Eliron saw emotion in her cold eyes.

Feyre frowned as her head was pushed down by Zora’s powerful arms. She glanced at Zora, her eyebrows creased, and her hair tousled.

"Saint? Why are you interfering? She requested a duel..."

Zora’s laughter intensified. "Forgive her folks, Feyre isn’t exactly normal, she doesn’t fully understand everything she says, at least not the emotional part."

Feyre pulled out of her grip, pouting as she pointed an accusing finger at the saint. "I told you to stop saying that! I am perfectly normal!"

"Sure you are, baby girl." Zora patted the head of the steaming oracle. "We are all special in our own ways."

Eliron stared at them, a small smirk appearing on her face. It seemed they had not discovered what the condition was called in this world, but back on earth, there was a similar condition.

If Feyre had something like that, then it made sense that she would speak bluntly without fear for repercussions.

She was simply speaking her mind, without any sort of filters...

"Are you saying I did it again? Was I rude?" she asked Zora coldly.

"Of course you were! I had to hold myself from bursting into laughter." Zora tapped her back repeatedly.

Feyre stroked her chin, deep in thought. It seemed she was trying to figure out what part of what she said had caused offense, but Eliron was sure she would not find it.

Meanwhile, Artie returned to her seat and huffed, folding her hands across her chest.

Eliron smirked and she shot him a glare before looking away.

Feyre glanced at Zora. "If I was out of line, why did you not inform me?"

"And ruin the fun? No way. Consider it payback for you all ruining my fight with Eliron."

Feyre stared at her for sometime, it looked like she was trying to understand what the saint had said, well emotionally at least.

And then she puffed her cheeks, folding her hands across her chest. But this only made Zora laugh harder.

Feyre glanced at Tiosa who had first tried to stop her earlier then bowed. "Sorry for not listening, Tiosa."

Tiosa nervously flailed her hands in the air. "No need to apologize! Besides, you are much older than me... if anything, you should apologize to lady Artie."

Feyre turned to stare at Artie, then frowned. It seemed she did not like Artie very much.

Still she walked up to her and bowed. Not a slight tilting of her head, or a fake bow, a full bow at the waist. "Forgive me. I was out of line."

Artie’s eyes widened slightly. A high elf bowing to a wood elf, now that was something next to impossible. It was all Eliron needed to get a good grasp of her character, because a high elf would sooner bow to a pig than a wood elf.

Even Artie was taken aback for a moment. She cleared her throat, the ice in her voice melting. "Its not like it was your fault."

Feyre raised her head and offered her hand, a smile on her face. The smile was false, a practiced facade that she had probably learned to fit in. But it was sincere.

Artie took the hand.

"I look forward to working with you, Lady Artie. I’ll make sure to keep you from dangers you are too weak to handle."

Artie’s expression twitched as Yennefer’s laughter rolled out. "Sure, thanks...."

<•>

Now that they had the introductions behind them, it was time to get to the real business, the business of war.

A sound-proof field was cast over their camp, after which Feyre walked into the center.

She pulled out a little orb from her pocket and motioned at Artie. "Can you help me out with this? It works with regular mana, but it was originally intended for light magic." 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

Artie stood up and walked up to her, picking up the orb. The moment she channeled her magic into it, a holographic progression floated into the air above them, covering them like a dome.

Eliron had studied the map of the kingdom on the road, that was why he was able to identify various landmarks.

He could see the royal capital, the destroyed cities that were marked in red, and Castle Kasket, their destination.

Feyre stared up at it, and although the elf rarely displayed any emotion, her voice was grave as she spoke.

"I will now deliver a report of the war we witnessed at the frontlines... as well as information on the army of two hundred thousand undead that marches upon us...