Third Avenue grew steadily noisier in the early morning, the sweet aroma from the pancake stall mingling with the briny scent carried in by the distant sea breeze.
Veylin's remark that "Sea Land's winter will be especially cold" drifted lightly between the benches, yet it made Luowu freeze, despite the appetite he had felt moments before.
The Elf slowly lowered his half-eaten pancake and looked the young lord beside him up and down, as though reassessing a stranger.
"What are you planning?" Luowu's voice turned cool. He leaned back against the bench, putting some distance between himself and Veylin.
"Lord Veylin, I may only be an adviser on assignment, but I'm reasonably familiar with the 'rhetoric' of human nobles. When you talk about the weather, it usually means someone is about to suffer."
"The war in Sea Land has reached a stalemate," Veylin stated calmly. "The Empire supplied Hector with a weapon of war called the Black Steel Construct. Those things are heavily armored and highly resistant to magic. Our warriors struggle to deal them a lethal blow."
"So?" Luowu raised an eyebrow. "You want me to dismantle them? Sorry, I'm a Druid, not a bloodthirsty Dwarf."
"No, the Alchemists Association has found their weakness." Veylin turned his head and fixed the Elf with an intense gaze. "Low temperatures. Once the temperature falls below minus forty degrees, the core material powering those lumps of iron, flame-patterned mithril, becomes brittle from the cold and turns into scrap."
He paused, then gave a meaningful smile.
"So I've devised an operation, codenamed 'Winter Veil Festival.' I'm going to hold a grand winter celebration for Marquis Hector."
Luowu stared for a moment, then gave a dry laugh.
"Minus forty degrees?" The Elf shook his head and picked up his pancake again. "Lord Veylin, I'm