"Rumble..."
Summer rain came without warning. In the blink of an eye, it became a torrential downpour. Gloomy storm clouds devoured the moonlight and starry sky, leaving only muffled thunder rolling over the Swamp.
Inside the warm, dry treehouse, Count Bran was deftly turning the Moss Monster on the grill with its beak.
Grease dripped into the fire, making enticing sizzling sounds and releasing an alluring aroma.
Beside the firelight, the somewhat goofy-looking Little Crocodile lay pressed close to the grill, its tail unconsciously patting the ground as it let out expectant, contented purrs. Its huge amber eyes were locked onto the sizzling delicacy.
"This makes no sense!"
As Count Bran turned the roast, the count muttered unwillingly, little head tilted as black-bean-like eyes brimmed with doubt toward the elves' taste.
"Once this thing's roasted through, it's crispy outside and tender within. It's absolutely the most delicious food around. Those elves living in the trees must have their noses stuffed with pollen. They really can't tell treasure from trash."
The count pawed at the golden-brown skin of the roasted Moss Monster, wearing an expression of frustration at iron failing to become steel.
"Clack clack!"
Little Card expressed fervent agreement, drool nearly dripping from the corner of its mouth.
"So, Your Majesty, are we really going to trade those precious 'Magic Leaves' for food? Those are good things that can instantly trigger shields."
"In human towns, a Magic Scroll capable of instantly casting a shield would sell for at least twenty glittering gold coins. And we're using them to exchange for grains and mushrooms that merely fill our bellies?"
"No matter how I look at it, this deal feels like a terrible loss."
Count Bran's tone was full of heartache, as though the count could see heaps of gold coins flapping