Chapter Eleven: Why Do Elves Always Like to Bury Boxes?

"I am willing to follow the captain to the ends of the earth. I just hope he'll pay a little more attention to me..."

Half an hour later, Linley folded the slip of paper and buried the box back into the snow, then turned to the dwarf. "Why is it this thing again?"

The dwarf looked utterly frustrated. "It must be another mistake! Let's try again!"

He led Linley on another treasure hunt, promising the whole way that next time, surely, it wouldn't be another box.

But the result...

"It's still a box!" Linley was amused by the third box they'd dug up; he could already guess there would be slips of paper inside.

Sure enough, when he opened it, there were two slips.

"Oh, my beloved little sister, I want to become a holy knight and protect you forever."

The first seemed to have been written by some eccentric, and the second...

"I'm so envious of that little bear. If only the prince would notice me, just once would be enough..."

The dwarf snatched the slips. As a bachelor, he was stung by the contents. "What does this mean? Even that kind of little prince has admirers?"

Linley quickly took the slips back and tucked them into his pocket. These two might be useful later; his intuition told him so.

"Keep going." Linley urged the dwarf to continue searching; he was curious to see just how many boxes this fellow could find.

"I'm going to be transferred to work beside the little prince. This job is a nightmare! When will I ever be able to switch careers and become an artist?"

The fourth box, written by some maid wanting to change jobs—she could dream!

"The little prince is so adorable. Every time I teach him, I want to hug him, but no, no, I must be strict!"

With the fifth box, the dwarf cried out again. "Heavens, it's always the little prince! The elves have such peculiar tastes! Brother, do you think I should dye my hair? Maybe then some elf girl would fancy me!"

Linley looked him up and down. "No, you're too fat. You don't fit their aesthetic."

"Really? What a pity..."

They continued searching. The sixth treasure took quite some time to find, finally discovered atop a beam, but, predictably, it was another box.

"Perfect, flawless, impeccable—you simply cannot comprehend how the heavens designed me."

The dwarf stared wide-eyed. "Who wrote this?"

Linley tore the slip to pieces. "Come on, let's move to the next!"

"Oh... alright..." The dwarf watched in astonishment as Linley stuffed the shredded paper into his mouth and swallowed it—this brother even ate paper.

The seventh box was found beneath a tree.

"I hope someday I can retire to my own home, spend my days in peace, find a mate for my eagle-serpent, and raise some little eagle-serpents..."

A fleeting pain flashed through Linley's stomach—likely from eating too much paper.

The dwarf, now wary from finding nothing but boxes, searched more carefully, and by evening they finally found the eighth treasure.

"I'll dig this one up. It absolutely can't be another box!" he declared, only to dig up yet another box.

If there was anything different about it, it was the emblem of the Mage Association painted on the lid.

Linley ignored the now pale-faced dwarf and opened the box, deftly picking up the slip.

"I wonder if there's a spell that can turn a wig into real hair. Then I wouldn't have to fear being discovered anymore."

Linley calmly pocketed the slip, resolving to compare handwriting later—which bald fraud had deceived him all these years!

Then came the ninth box, with another slip inside.

"I'm already a king. What more could I wish for? Maybe for Linley to grow up strong and take over my duties sooner."

...Father, you wrote a slip too?

But this isn't my responsibility; you should look for the elder one.

Linley tore up the slip, then looked at the ashen-faced dwarf. "Old Bei, shall we continue?"

"I refuse to give up!" The dwarf, heavy-footed, found the tenth box.

"I wish cultivation could be a bit more miraculous, so I could turn it into an iron pillar. Then I wouldn't have to secretly make those tonics anymore..."

"Ahhhh!" The dwarf couldn't take it anymore, raging, "Why do elves love to bury boxes!"

Was there nothing else in this palace to bury but boxes? Even a sweet potato would do!

Linley glanced at the sky. Ten boxes found, the sun had set, and his stomach was grumbling.

"Forget it, that's enough for today, Old Bei." He patted the dwarf's shoulder. "Come on, I'll take you to something good to eat."

Linley turned to leave, but the dwarf didn't follow. When Linley looked back, the dwarf was digging in the snow again, clutching his pickaxe.

"What are you doing, Old Bei?"

"So many people write slips—the soil of this palace must have the power to grant wishes. I need to write one myself."

"What are you even writing!"

Linley watched as the dwarf placed another box into the ground.

Night fell, and the cold moonlight bathed the palace.

A bonfire blazed in a certain warehouse.

"Brother, this is truly delicious!"

"Isn't it? This is what I call barbecue. I added some herbs."

Two roast chickens turned over the firewood; the pair crouched beside the bonfire, feasting. The dwarf's face was smeared with grease, utterly ecstatic. "Brother, you truly are a gourmet! This is pure enjoyment!"

"The taste of this roast chicken is incredible. I've never eaten anything so good before."

Linley wiped the oil from his lips. "You're too kind."

Of course the roast chicken was delicious. Besides the simulated cumin and herbal seasoning, these chickens were magical hens he'd pilfered from the mages—their meat far superior to ordinary poultry.

"The only regret is there's no wine." The dwarf ate contentedly, though he couldn't help but sigh. "Such a fine evening, such good company—yet no wine! What a pity!"

"No matter. Next time we meet, you can treat me to a drink."

Linley didn't take it seriously.

"But who knows when that will be..." After a day together, the dwarf was reluctant to part from Linley. "I have to go back tomorrow."

"So soon?"

"There's not much to do, really." The dwarf explained, "The Elven Kingdom is getting renamed; my elder said we need to visit before the New Year, pay our respects, then head back."

"Oh."

After their meal, the dwarf patted his belly and stood.

"I must return," he said. "If I don't, my elder will thrash me with his hammer all night."

"Then I should leave as well." Linley stood up alongside him; if he stayed out any longer, Lin Wen would surely be furious.

They extinguished the bonfire, quietly opened the door, and checked for safety.

"Old Bei, I'm off now." Once sure it was safe, Linley slipped away.

"Wait, brother." The dwarf hurriedly grabbed Linley. "What herbs did you use? How can I make roast chicken taste as good as yours?"

He couldn't forget the flavor before leaving.

"That's easy." Linley shared the recipe.

"I learned it just by eating. There's no shortcut to good food. The more you eat, the more you understand each flavor, then you can gradually cook on your own."

Linley never needed a draft for his lies.

"Oh, oh, oh!" The dwarf was thoroughly convinced. "So that's how it works! Makes sense—I wonder why I never thought of it!"

"I'm off, then." Linley turned to leave.

"Until we meet again, brother! You must come visit the Dwarf Kingdom someday!"

The dwarf waved an enthusiastic farewell. "If you come, I'll prepare the finest wine for you!"

Though he still didn't know what Linley truly was, such loyalty deserved to be honored—if Linley ever visited, Greel would certainly treat him well!

"Lin... ley!"

Returning to his room, Linley heard a familiar, deep voice—Lin Wen.

His face was cold. "Where have you been all day?"

"It's alright, brother. I didn't forget your share." Linley took out a roast chicken and handed it to him. "Thanks for being my bodyguard this afternoon."

Lin Wen was stunned, then sighed softly. This younger brother always left him fuming without an outlet.

He had actually known Linley's whereabouts since noon, but seeing his brother enjoying himself with the guest, Lin Wen hadn't interrupted. Otherwise, the whole palace would have been in an uproar.

ps:

(Dwarf's slip—"Today was so embarrassing. Someday, I will dig up a real treasure in front of my brother!")