The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

"HUA!" The soldiers hoisting the shields bellowed in unison, their voices resounding through the air like a thunderous wave. As they strained to hold the massive shields aloft, the strain etched upon their faces, and the billowing cloud of dust stirred by the impact testified to the sheer weight and unwieldiness of the shields.

These were no ordinary men; they were battle-hardened warriors, honed by countless encounters alongside the formidable Guardians. Their collective experience ran deep, their instincts finely attuned.

Observing the mercenaries' nonchalant stance, the soldier couldn't help but feel a surge of displeasure, yet he refrained from taking immediate action, opting instead to let his disapproval simmer beneath the surface.

The resounding shout pierced the tranquil ambiance, capturing Desmond's attention in an instant. He reclined on the plush sofa, his body sinking into its comfort, relishing the tactile pleasure it provided—an exquisite blend of softness and warmth. Across from him, Laura sat, a gentle smile gracing her features as she positioned herself, offering her young master a supportive thigh pillow.

Though her eyes remained fixated on the quill clutched delicately in her hand, her every movement bespoke a gracefulness that seemed befitting of royalty.

"Did that feel good, young master?" Laura inquired, her hand delicately delving into Desmond's ear, eliciting a soft groan of contentment. Desmond nodded approvingly, his body gradually reclining as he continued to immerse himself in the pages of his book.

Laura's sweet smile persisted as she dutifully attended to her young master's ears, her actions executed with an elegance that belied the tempestuous turmoil within her. Behind her composed façade, her thoughts raced and her breath grew shallow, her voluptuous frame radiating an undeniable heat.

Her gaze, at times, wandered, momentarily losing focus as it inevitably gravitated downward, fixating on the alluring curve of her young master's lips. Ah, what forbidden thoughts plagued her mind! Amidst the chaos that swirled within her, her skilled hands carried out their task with unwavering precision, devoid of any tremor or overt excitement.

I must regain my composure, she inwardly chided herself, taking a steadying breath.

Calm down... Huffh...calm down...

While her hand continued its rhythmic ministrations, a small sound caught Laura's attention, prompting her to part her cherry lips. "Young master, shall I investigate the commotion outside? It sounded rather boisterous. Perhaps one of the soldiers has directed their ire at our carriage," she suggested, her voice carrying a note of concern.

Desmond, his expression unwavering, dismissed her suggestion with a curt reply. "Leave them be," he muttered, his focus swiftly returning to the captivating words on the pages before him.

Unbeknownst to those around him, Desmond silently observed the unfolding events through the intricately detailed map spread out before him. As his gaze swept over the gray dots that materialized, he discerned a sudden surge of movement as the carriages surged forward, leaving the vanguard exposed and vulnerable.

Simultaneously, a cluster of gray dots shifted and positioned themselves discreetly, forming a protective perimeter around the horse carriages, as if anticipating a potential ambush. Desmond's keen intuition led him to speculate that something awry lay ahead, prompting this strategic maneuver.

"Yes, young master," Laura responded, her voice tinged with uncertainty, her curiosity piqued by the book Desmond held. Initially, Laura had paid little attention to his choice of reading material, merely selecting a volume from their extensive library. However, when she caught sight of the ancient writings and obscure languages within its pages, her fascination ignited.

"Forgive me for my presumption, young master, but can you truly decipher ancient writings?" Laura inquired, her words slipping out inadvertently, a mix of doubt and intrigue interwoven in her tone. The furrowing of Desmond's brows betrayed his annoyance at her audacity.

In his perception, not only had Laura been behaving oddly of late, but she had also become somewhat impertinent, peppering him with intrusive questions. Yet, upon closer reflection, Desmond recognized the innate sociability of humans, the yearning for connection that couldn't be easily dismissed. Laura, naturally cheerful and outgoing, had undoubtedly been grappling with a sense of loneliness.

"Yes," Desmond curtly replied, leaving Laura astounded by his proficiency. She understood the arduous nature of mastering a foreign or ancient language, recalling that her young master had never sought the guidance of a tutor. His proficiency was entirely self-taught.

Laura marveled at his accomplishment, recognizing the inherent difficulty in the task. With the aid of a translating system that effortlessly rendered languages into his native tongue, Desmond had unlocked the door to linguistic mysteries. However, his current predicament lay in the incomplete nature of the book he held, its remaining pages charred and marred by intentional destruction.

"Hmm..." Desmond's fingers traced the edges of the scorched parchment, a deep frown etching his features. The book, a compendium detailing the various elven races and their way of life, provided a rare glimpse into a reclusive realm. Despite the elves' prolonged isolation, humans had managed to obtain fragments of their knowledge by employing elven slaves and coercing them to divulge information.

Regrettably, the elves primarily communicated in an ancient tongue.

While the humans had demanded the use of the sacred language, known as the "saint word," to extract the elves' origins, the slaves' words invariably reverted to the archaic language when discussing matters of ancestral heritage.

Legends had woven tales of the ancient language's significance, claiming it served as a conduit for communion with the deities of nature, an ethereal connection forged solely by the elves. Yet, beyond the elven race, such beliefs were widely dismissed as mere superstition and inconsequential drivel.

Humans grew increasingly frustrated with their inability to accurately transcribe the elven language, as their attempts often deviated from the true essence of the elves' words. Some individuals relinquished their pursuit, deeming it a fruitless endeavor, while others persevered, striving to unravel the mysteries of this foreign tongue, penning numerous volumes in their quest for comprehension.

Decades had passed, yet humanity had merely scratched the surface of elven knowledge. However, Desmond's unique advantage lay in the comprehensive collection of books he had amassed throughout his endeavors. While the kingdoms dismissed and discarded these texts, believing them to be filled with nonsensical jargon and misinterpretations, Desmond recognized their true value.

By diligently collating and extracting information using his system, he pieced together fragments of the elusive language that had confounded scholars for ages.

Through this painstaking process, Desmond unearthed a revelation—the elves encompassed three distinct subspecies. The first were the High Elves, regarded as the pinnacle of elven society, their noble lineage synonymous with leadership and prestige. Unfortunately, the available content merely extolled the glory of the High Elves, leaving their physical characteristics shrouded in mystery.

Next were the Wood Elves, a species that mirrored the familiar depiction of elves from Desmond's past world. Their lifespans, although not as extensive as the High Elves, aligned with those of ordinary citizens, making them the embodiment of the elven populace.

Lastly, there were the enigmatic Dark Elves, born from the intermingling and interbreeding of elves with other races. Regarded with disdain and perceived as inferior by their elven counterparts, they occupied the lowest rung in the elven hierarchy.

This constituted the sum of Desmond's findings, as the translated texts primarily delved into the elves' preferences, suitable environments for their habitation, and other ancillary details. Though the information appeared relatively inconsequential, it still held more value than the official records provided by the kingdoms.

Nonetheless, the enigma surrounding Shelty's true identity remained an ever-present headache for Desmond. By closely observing her mannerisms, behavior, and speech patterns, he discerned two plausible scenarios: she could either be a High Elf or a Wood Elf.

Contemplating the possibility of her belonging to the Dark Elf subspecies left Desmond with a disquieting unease, for it entailed a host of implications and uncertainties.