Chapter 34: Fen’s Meeting and the Yearning for the Regent

In the Sky Garden Fingal, amidst the lush greenery of the Green Courtyard’s meeting chamber, a pivotal council was unfolding. Fen, alongside the revered elder elves, deliberated the future course of the Elven Kingdom’s transformative journey.

“It’s time we face this grave issue head-on,” Fen declared, her eyes earnestly scanning the venerable elves around her. 

These elves, with centuries of life behind them, were far more ancient and steadfast than her. Their deep-rooted determination to safeguard the Elven Kingdom was unyielding, surpassing all expectations.

Each elder was a master in their fields, wielding powers that were envied and unattainable by humans and most elves alike. Yet, their profound strength also made them prone to underestimating the emerging human threat from the Roman Empire, referred to dismissively as barbarians.

Fen was conscious that these elders would likely sneer at the notion of frail humans daring an incursion into the Elven Woods. But the reality was undeniable.

The Church had commenced training militia, rallying a force primarily composed of zealously trained soldiers, gearing up for an invasion from the south.

The individual prowess of most militia and soldiers might be inconsequential, but the formidable priests and bishops were a real threat to the elves.

Moreover, the sheer magnitude of the Church’s assembled force was daunting.

With the Elven Kingdom’s regular army numbering barely 2,000, the Church had mustered a colossal force of over 200,000 soldiers. The disparity was colossal. Each elven warrior faced the daunting prospect of taking on 100 human soldiers.

The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on Fen’s mind. The elves could indeed engage fiercely with the Church within their sacred woods, perhaps even securing an advantage. 

However, a horrifying prospect loomed large. Should the humans resort to the madness of setting the entire forest ablaze, it would spell an irrecoverable catastrophe for elven kind.

Fen understood all too clearly the true nature of the humans in the Roman Empire, driven by a barbaric thirst for plunder. If they couldn’t seize what they desired, they would rather see it destroyed, a mindset of sheer ruthlessness.

This was what made them such a formidable threat.

With a deepening seriousness etched on her face, Fen addressed the gathering of aged elves, “The Church has rallied an army of approximately 200,000, poised to invade our borders and forest. Though the majority are but fragile militia, their deeds are not unknown to us. They have deceitfully lured the unsuspecting natives of the Monster Forest into human towns under the guise of invitation, only to slaughter them when they least expected it. They will lay waste to everything in their path, devouring all, whether of value or not. They will trample our meadows, fall our trees, harm our people, and they might even succeed in establishing their presence in our lands. This is a disgrace we cannot accept. Yet, at this moment, the Elven Kingdom simply lacks the strength to fend off the Church’s incursion without suffering immense losses. This, I believe, is a fact best understood by our esteemed masters of leatherworking and bowmaking.”

Fen’s words resonated with the solemnity of an operatic aria. The masters she referred to acknowledged with solemn nods, rising to reply in a chorus echoing Fen’s earnest tone.

“Indeed, as the illustrious Fen has said, our current arsenal is inadequate for the impending strife.”

The first to offer insights was the bowyer, a skilled craftsmen who fashioned the longbows preferred by elves. He was acutely aware that while these longbows were exemplary in design and function, their intricate crafting process was exceedingly time-consuming.

“Crafting a single longbow requires a century, yet the Church’s army is poised to invade within a year. Our armories hold around six thousand spare longbows, but given the likely intensity of the upcoming conflict, this stockpile falls drastically short. Furthermore, we no longer have the Bayerzost Empire fighting by our side.”

The elder leatherworker, a seasoned warrior of the last demonic surge, sighed with a tinge of helplessness. His extensive combat experience granted him a clear vision of the vulnerabilities in the elves’ perfected longbow strategy.

“Our Longbow Tactics, a culmination of years harmonizing with the Shield Wall and Javelin formations of the Bayerzost Empire, now face a dire situation. With the Bayerzost submerged underground, we’ve lost the unwavering Bayerzost front-line warriors and the cavalry guarding our flanks. If we confront the Church’s forces head-on, we’ll quickly be compelled to choose between a strategic retreat or engaging in melee combat after just ten volleys.

“Retreating implies a continuous fallback to the fringes of the Elven Forest, allowing our enemies the chance to desecrate our lands and incinerate our woods. As for close combat… I say this not to undermine our prowess, but although every elf is a swordmaster, an adept in close-quarters battle. But there’s an old human saying, ‘A chaotic assault can defeat even a master.’ Surrounded by nearly a hundred foes, not even the seasoned veterans of the demonic wars would feel confident of breaking through, let alone the new generation who now constitute over half of our forces.”

The military structure of the Elven Kingdom was divided into two distinct categories.

The first comprised veterans of the millennium demonic calamity war, referred to as the old era. In elven military parlance, they were known as ‘Old Trees,’ battle-hardened and reliable officers.

The other was the new generation, or ‘Saplings,’ the recent recruits.

These elves were born post-demon surge, untested in the crucible of war. Though well-trained, they lacked the combat experience of their older counterparts. Eager for glory and untempered by the harsh realities of battle, they were prone to impulsiveness, more easily ensnared by the lure of military honors.

The former, elite yet few, the latter, numerous but brash. Undoubtedly, they pose formidable challenges to any ordinary human soldier.

Yet, they were merely formidable.

In the throes of hand-to-hand combat, even the most adept elf could falter under sustained engagement, their blades suffering from wear, blunting, or fractures.

Prolonged combat could lead to fatigue, dulling their senses and increasing the risk of errors and resultant injuries. These injuries could further diminish an elf’s efficiency in battle, potentially leading to their death on the field.

And even without physical harm, the relentless use could render an elf’s blade bloodied and blunt, risking breakage and the grim likelihood of meeting their end in battle.

Moreover, within the Church’s army, the presence of priests poses a particularly vexing problem for the elves.

Encircled by legions of devout followers, these priests were like artillery weapons on a fortress wall, nauseatingly effective. They could relentlessly cast divine spells, both to heal their followers and to disrupt elven combat strategies, and even use their holy magic to inflict harm on every visible elf.

The magic of a single priest might seem inconsequential, akin to the bite of an ant, but the combined force of the priests among 200,000 zealots could, in certain respects, prove more daunting than facing a dragon.

In such unfavorable conditions, elven soldiers would be doomed to fall one by one in close-quarters combat.

For a race with as scarce a population as the elves, this prospect was unacceptable.

Elves had grown accustomed to the idyllic times a millennium past when their human allies forged a shielded front for their offensive maneuvers. Now, faced with the necessity of combat in such hazardous circumstances, few elves could adapt.

And that was precisely why Fen insisted they must face this stark reality.

At that moment, all the elder elves shifted their perspectives to a more pragmatic stance.

Though a few remained dismissively contemptuous of the Church’s might, at least in this setting, they were willing to level their thoughts and join the discussion on the future of the elven race.

The council was abuzz with deliberation over the best course of action.

Some proposed that saving the people even at the cost of the land was better than preserving the land at the expense of the people. 

Yet, when challenged with “Where would we survive without the resources of the Elven Forest?” they fell into silence. 

The elves’ current resource production was wholly dependent on the forest, a territory they could not afford to lose under any circumstances.

Some suggested a preemptive strike, reasoning that eliminating the enemy commander would cause the Church’s invasion to collapse. However, this idea was quickly undermined by the wry smile from a master archer, spelling its doom before it could even begin.

The Church of Light’s priests draw strength proportionally to the number of their believers, and the commander for this incursion into the Elven Forest was a bishop.

Dealing with a priest amidst a thousand followers was already a challenge, but facing a bishop at the head of 200,000 followers.

To hope for the assassination of such a commander within the midst of 200,000? 

That was even more far-fetched than expecting the elves to wipe out all 200,000 invaders.

“Yes, I can hit a human target in the head with an arrow from five kilometers away, but that requires the perfect blend of elevation, weather, open space, and crucially, magic. However, the moment I gather my magic to shoot, the bishop will become alert. He will counter my magic with his divine power, and might even engage in a deadly race, determining our fates. This isn’t about fear, it’s a harsh reality. In such a duel, my defeat is certain. The best outcome would be escaping with grievous injuries. True, my gemstone arrows can pierce through dozens of holy barriers, but surrounded by 200,000 followers, he could be shielded by nearly a hundred layers of divine protection. He is beyond my reach. To assign me the task of his assassination is less feasible than having me single out their priests one by one.”

Although elves often came across as proud, they rarely displayed arrogance. They were acutely aware of the objective disparities in strength and didn’t allow their own prowess to lead to overconfidence.

This self-awareness became evident when the archer, an authority on assassination, expressed his views. All elves came to accept a critical truth.

This was why the Elven Kingdom needed to reform.

But the details of this reform were challenging. What exact strategies to adopt, what goals to set, and who would lead these changes were crucial questions that needed answers. The elves buzzed with discussion, their collective gaze eventually settling on Fen.

Fen, prepared for this moment, smiled gently, her voice melodious as if singing, “The former Regent of the Roman Empire has now entered Fingel. If all proceeds smoothly, I plan to invite him to the Green Courtyard after a few days to discuss future matters. He is a man of capability, whose contributions to the Roman Empire are evident to all. Moreover, his envoy, Mr. Arthur, who has already become a citizen of the Elven Kingdom, is a skilled and efficient leader. Therefore, I propose appointing him as the Regent of Caparia to spearhead our reforms.”

Caparia, this name referred to the Elven Kingdom, a title previously known only to Bayerzost, their brother nation. 

When Fen mentioned this name, the elder elves instantly grasped her intent. If Fen was ready to embrace the former Regent as a brother, entrusting him with such a vital role, then they would support her decision.

Just as there were always a few dissenters in human society, there were also those who opposed within the elves.

However, their opposition lay elsewhere.

“Great Fen, you intend to enlist his services without offering any reward?” 

They opposed Fen’s seeming intention to assign a significant task to the human without offering him any benefits.

“He’s not an elf, Fen. He is a human. Elves are willing to unconditionally devote themselves to their homeland and nation, but he is not one of us.”

“Regarding the matter of compensation, I will discuss it personally with him. If necessary, even offering to co-govern with me is not off the table.”

“I don’t think that’s appropriate. Fen, he already has someone by his side,” an elderly elf shrugged, “The Purple Princess.”

To this, Fen merely smiled, assuring that she would offer a satisfactory sum as compensation. But for now, she asked if everyone had reached a consensus on this crucial matter.

The elder elves exchanged glances and then unanimously voted, “We agree. As long as he is capable, whether elf or not, we are willing to have him lead us in reform.”

“In that case, let it be so.”

Fen nodded with a smile, announcing the adjournment of the meeting.

As she watched everyone leave in an orderly fashion, she breathed a sigh of relief. Realizing that the elves had far greater unity than the Roman Empire, even someone as noble as her couldn’t help but feel joy, followed by the weight of immense responsibility.

Because the people believed in her, she had to do her utmost.

Overcoming the threat from the Church was just the beginning. More importantly, they had to endure the upcoming calamity of the magical disaster.

“In that case I must negotiate with the Purple Princess.”

In the empty meeting room of the elves, Fen murmured to herself.

The Elven Kingdom was still honoring its ancient promises, safeguarding the territories that once belonged to the Bayerzost Empire. Furthermore, within the boundaries of the Elven Kingdom, there were numerous half-elves, offspring of unions between the Bayerzost Empire and the elves.

No matter what, the elves needed that Regent. They would uphold their promises and hand over everything they had safeguarded to the Purple Princess. However, if the Purple Princess were willing to further assist by entrusting the Regent to the elves, it would be an ideal outcome.

But was it really that simple?

As Fen pondered over this.

***

In Saint Petersburg, Bishop Stephen was enjoying a joyful holiday with a handsome boy while instructing his attendants.

“Elves will never trust outsiders. Before we invade the Elven Forest, send scouts to spread defamations about the former Regent in their woods. This way, the former Regent will be trapped, eventually dying in the Monster Forest without causing us any trouble! What are you waiting for? Go now!”

Bishop Stephen was full of triumphant glee.

Looking at the roster of his 300,000-strong army, he grinned, revealing a mouthful of gold teeth. With a forceful thrust forward, he induced a blissful faint in the beautiful boy beneath him and, in turn, attained his own supreme pleasure.