"Has the plague on your end still not been resolved? It seems the fall of the Elven Royal Court has already become inevitable."
This was the caster's pointed question.
"There's nothing to be done. After all, this sort of magical plague that 'pops up out of nowhere' always gives researchers a headache. It's only natural that it can't be solved in such a short time."
This was Aikar's absent-minded reply.
"Have those Good alignment professionals shown no reaction? I imagine they should all be quite willing to lend a hand to the Goddess of Life and the Elven Royal Court in their predicament, shouldn't they?"
"You mean those meddlesome... oh, I mean those 'chivalrous' fellows? Quite a few of them are indeed willing to help out of kindness, but whether it is plague or death, these are internal affairs of the Elven Royal Court. By tradition, outsiders cannot be allowed to interfere. Ancient traditions should not be changed casually, and besides, without an order from Her Excellency the Goddess of Life, allowing Legends of other races into the Eternal Forest is truly unacceptable."
Clink. Clink.
Gently setting the knife and fork in his hand beside the exquisite silvery-white metal plate, Aikar broke the dead silence with the soft chime of metal touching metal. Clearly avoiding the question, he had already finished the fruit pie before him.
The seemingly casual conversation between Whisper of Destruction and Pious One had actually been an indifferent test. Punk's question to Aikar had been a veiled jab at the irritating stunt of releasing the plague and pinning the blame on him, while the Grand High Priest's feigned ignorance had tactfully informed the caster—don't expect to use these matters to threaten me. I will not admit to anything.
At the very least, it could now be