"I thank thee for thy kind words. 'Tis *error* gladdening to know thou hast held me in such regard. However, I do regret that this tidings *error* hath taken thee by surprise, prompting thy personal visit unto me. I should have pondered more wisely and paid thee and the *error* Queen a visit in the Great Forest."

Burn creased his eyebrows. When Morgan spoke in the ancient elven tongue, her words dripped with honey dipped in stardust, leaving a trail of enchantment in its wake.

Rekre and Yukre smiled. "Please, Your Holiness, of course, we must visit you personally. When you sent your messages to us, we almost slipped and fell in our haste to tell the Queen excitedly."

"How fares the Queen, *error*? Doth she enjoy good *error* health and happiness? And what of the royal kin? I trust all is well within the kingdom, devoid of any *error* troubling plight," inquired Morgan.

Those who heard her speaking could almost feel the centuries-old wisdom resonating in her melodious tone, as if the very fabric of reality paused to listen in awe. But it was definitely different from the language Rekre spoke.

"Yes, she has been awaiting your visit and was heartbroken upon hearing of your disappearance. The elven community wanted to go and search for you ourselves, but some circumstances held us back," Rekre glanced at Yvain.

"Please forgive us for not lending our help when you were at peril, Holy Disciple," Rekre added to the boy, who raised his face and smiled.

"Thank you... for your... concern and kind words," Yvain said with a bit of a stutter, because he had only learned a little of the Elven tongue. Even though he could understand them, he couldn’t speak fluently yet.

"That is why we are so surprised that your husband is the... ahem," Rekre turned to Burn and cleared his throat. The man trembled and shed cold sweat, his eyes blank when he continued, "The... famous... tyrant."

Morgan smiled softly and gently dismissed it, saying, "The issues betwixt us hath been resolved. There lies *error* naught between us anon."

“Excuse me,” Burn suddenly interjected. The two elves flinched violently in fear and Morgan turned to him in concern.

“What’s wrong, Caliburn?” Morgan asked. The timing was a bit bad as Burn realized Morgan might be worried he was offended by them calling him a tyrant.

But he was curious about something else.

“I keep hearing errors when you speak. At first glance your speech pattern is different. It works fine for Sir Rekre and Yukre’s speech. And somehow it translates your words to ancient common language,” Burn said.

He added, “Also, why am I your mate or husband? We haven’t had a wedding yet…”

GASP!

Morgan gasped in complete shock, her face turning a delightful shade of crimson. She refuted, “No, there’s no word for lovers in elven language, please understand!”

Oh, so she thought of them as lovers…?

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Burn silently held his grin.

“There’s actually a word for referencing one’s lover, it’s ‘mír tresna’,” Yukre interjected, hearing the translated conversation between Burn and Morgan through the device’s speaker.

Morgan immediately turned to them, her countenance yet flushed crimson. "W-wherefore dost thou employ 'Love' in lieu of 'Lover'?!"

“Well, you love your lover, so why not?” Yukre chuckled.

Rekre snorted, “Youngsters these days like to make up words. Relationships beyond soulmates and marriages are a sin!”

Burn understood why Morgan carefully introduced him as her ‘husband’ now, even though one part of it was because there were initially no word for lovers or relationships before marriages.

Elves were strict about their relationships, so she didn’t want to complicate things by saying that Burn was the man she fucked.

“And to answer why that device might regard Her Holiness’ certain words as 'errors,' it is because she speaks in the ancient elven tongue, with an imperial accent, at that,” explained Rekre.

Morgan frowned helplessly, “Dost not tell me thou speaketh not in this manner *error* anymore?”

When hearing the elves speak, she did feel a bit weird about their speech, but she brushed it off as them using simpler terms and phrasing.

“How can thy language shift so *error* swiftly? Ye *error* are not humans who doth create new words every five years or so…”

The device couldn't catch up with her eloquent literary skills... nor could the elves... or was it the opposite?

"Egad…" Morgan cursed—

Yep, she was the one who couldn't catch up.

Burn bowed his head low, burying his laughter in his right palm, his shoulders trembling from suppressed laugh. Morgan spoke like the typical youth in common language, but perhaps it was a trick Vlad had taught her—reading people's minds to analyze their language patterns.

"Now, *error* instruct me in the ways of the new slangs and the quick shifts of language. Thou needst only take my hand," Morgan extended her hand towards them, but Burn intercepted, withdrawing it swiftly.

“Don’t… just… please don’t teach her the modern elven language,” Burn said.

“Why not? I’m keen on learning,” Morgan argued.

“No. It’s charming, so keep it that way,” Burn said as he held her hand, his eyes subtly warmed. “You sound beautiful. Stay as you are.”

At first, Rekre suspected something fishy between Morgan and Burn. He toyed with the thought that Burn might be holding Morgan or Yvain hostage or some other nefarious purpose. But to his relief, it seemed Burn genuinely cared for her.

"It’s a bit out of character to see you care so much about human affairs, Your Holiness. You tend to avoid involving yourself with them before. But you suddenly raised a disciple, and now... even getting a husband..." Rekre sighed in relief.

"I’ve ne’er not cared about human affairs. 'Tis just that my past circumstances art rather complicated. Now, I wilt not turn away from any problem involving any creature in this realm. Now, more than ever, we need to unite," Morgan referenced as she pointed at the sky.

The outsiders.

Now Burn grasped why they abhorred his appearance in days of yore. Their bond with Morgan appeared intimate, and the knowledge of how he had contributed to her disciple's demise likely cast him in a rather unfavorable light. Oh, but that might not be the sole reason.

The elves, it seemed, harbored a peculiar disdain for outsiders even more than humans. Burn's proclamation of war could be construed as him needlessly complicating matters, as one is wont to do.

Oh, and let us not forget the tantalizing whispers of sedition from Inkia and their silver-tongued political lobbyists—truly, they had the elves contemplating a feud with Burn. And then, of course, there was the paramount issue that weighed heavily on the minds of the elves...

"As you know, our second princess is stubbornly attending the Saint Lucia Academy as an honorable student. Meanwhile, our first princess is ill. This was the circumstance we mentioned earlier," Rekre said.

The man raised his face, "Our community had never faced this trouble before, ever. So I am afraid of the escalation of the situation. Your Holiness, now that you’re back, we are sure you have the solution for our predicament."