A quiet sigh escaped Hutson's lips.
Even if he risked his life and one day ascended to the rank of a full-fledged sorcerer, his lifespan would extend only to three hundred years—and yet, even that was less than Gami's.
Elves were born blessed, their lifespans stretching across centuries, far outlasting any mortal man.
Some are born in Rome, others are born as beasts of burden.
Lary removed his goggles, casually rinsed them in a basin of enchanted water, then poured two cups of freshly brewed black coffee.
"Sit."
The two of them took their seats at a small round table, steam curling from their cups.
Lary stirred his drink absentmindedly before speaking.
"Let's talk about the situation."
"The war between Moonlight Woodland and Green Lodge is over. The two sides are now negotiating the terms of their truce."
He took a slow sip of his coffee, then glanced at Hutson with a knowing look.
"And do you know who ended this war? Someone you know."
Hutson raised an eyebrow.
