With the Floating City, Patrick had no fear of the allied Orc and Troll armies, apart from those Warlocks, Red Dragons, and priests of the gods. He only needed to see how those in power on the Council would react.
If they remained as hidebound and arrogant as ever, Patrick could not be bothered with them anymore. In the years ahead, a dozen or so years might amount to a quarter of a human lifetime, but for Patrick, now wearing an Elf's skin, those few years were as brief as a month or two and would arrive in the blink of an eye.
Patrick could not be bothered to guess what the Council elders were thinking, either. War was imminent, and distracting himself with other matters would hinder future development.
After the battle report was submitted, the king directly ordered the troops to remain in place and observe the Trolls' subsequent movements. The Council, on the other hand, did little, simply approving the transfer of military supplies. Some of those supplies were transported directly into the Floating City through the Teleportation Chamber. Its reply was the same as King Anasterian's: observe the Trolls' subsequent movements before making corresponding arrangements.
This was rather unlike the great families Patrick knew. Such abnormal behavior was truly hard to understand. The Council faction had hardly interfered with the transport and allocation of supplies at all. Although every Elf was a sworn enemy of the Trolls, how could it be in keeping with those old foxes' ways if they did nothing behind the scenes?
His father-in-law, Bold Windrunner, however, said bluntly, "It's entirely possible for the Council to act this way. When it comes to dealing with Trolls, those old Councilors won't play any tricks."
Patrick was puzzled. "Why are you so certain, Father-in-law? Is