Chapter 12: Elven Meddling, A Gruesome Scene Witnessed

After Priscilla hurriedly ensured Knight Robert received treatment from the best medical attention in town, she quickly led her group back toward the monastery. Her goal was to intercept Yang Hao before he could leave, using any means necessary to persuade him to stay.

By this point, the witch had a clear understanding that Yang Hao had become utterly disenchanted and was determined to leave the country. For the Roman Empire, his departure symbolized the loss of their final lifeline, seemingly drifting away to an unreachable shore. His disappointment, anger, and despair were now understandable to Priscilla.

However, it was critical for Yang Hao to remain in the Roman Empire, no matter what it took, even if it meant capturing Teresa to force him to stay. This was not only for Priscilla’s sake, to provide her an opportunity to explain her four years of isolation and to apologize, but also to save the millions who would suffer from the impending drought and the crumbling empire.

“Move quickly. We must hurry. He attacked Robert just to buy time for his escape. But Teresa would never abandon the monastery. As long as she’s there, we have a way to make him return. Hurry!”

Priscilla drove the knights to increase their pace. However, during the abrupt march, a knight tripped over his gear and tumbled down the dark mountain path. His torch rolled away and finally extinguished in the mud. When his companions tried to help him up, they realized that they had another severely injured person.

“Damn! Our equipment… Sir Robert’s plate armor should have been impenetrable to a rusty woodcutting axe. Even if breached, the chainmail beneath should have remained unscathed.”

Lying on the ground, his face ashen, the imperial knight barely managed to stand up with the help of his comrades.

“Damn it… Have the technicians responsible for our equipment stooped so low as to shave off the thickness of our armor for personal gain?” he cursed.

The experienced knights recognized after this unexpected accident that this wasn’t simply a result of their lack of training in the long years of peace. It was a more alarming reality. The royal craftsmen had begun skimming the thickness of the armor for personal profit.

Initially, the reduction in thickness might not have been substantial and could have been concealed with substandard materials. However, as the skimming became more severe, the standard-issue armor of these imperial knights had become dangerously compromised.

They might even break under the strain of a rugged mountain path during a forced march, let alone withstand the onslaught of enemy blades and spears in battle.

Imagine this scenario, the Roman Empire’s most elite knights, full of confidence in their expensive protective gear, planned to block a barbarian assault, hoping to take advantage of their superior armor to strike back. But then, their once-reliable armor was shattered by a mere ordinary mallet. Caught off guard and grievously injured, the knights were overwhelmed.

This issue transcended the Empire’s potential collapse due to drought. It was a grave matter signifying the impending downfall of the nation, where the Empire might not even be able to defend itself.

Even the barbarians they had driven away, those illiterate brutes, wouldn’t neglect their weapons’ maintenance.

How could the royal craftsmen dare to commit such an act?

Everyone exchanged worried glances. Eventually, the knight insisted that his companions proceed while he went back alone for repairs. Only then did they resume their journey toward the secluded monastery deep in the mountains.

This time, everyone refrained from moving too hastily. Uncertain who might be next with a faulty gear, and considering that the witch Priscilla was naturally slower due to her physical fragility as a mage, they proceeded with caution.

Arriving at the monastery about half an hour behind plan, they were startled to see the flag of the Elven Kingdom hoisted above. Confusion reigned. 

What exactly was going on?

Priscilla’s face drained of color. Before she could fully process the reality of the scene, arrows launched from the monastery’s rooftop forced her to retreat.

“Friends from the Roman Empire, this place has been claimed as a temporary camp by our Elven Kingdom. This is not Roman territory but no man’s land,” declared an elf, descending elegantly with a finely crafted longbow in hand. He was the epitome of an elf, strikingly handsome and tall by human standards, possessing the exceptional traits typical of his race.

“If you approach without permission, we will treat you as hostile and shoot. We advise you to leave immediately to prevent unpleasant border skirmishes between our nations.”

The elf’s tone was neutral, almost lyrical, like a verse from an opera, devoid of personal sentiment. He clearly expected Priscilla and her group to depart without delay.

Priscilla clenched her teeth, well aware that the elves would unlikely traverse the treacherous Monster Forest to reach this land, far from their borders. Yet, she could not risk igniting a war between the Roman Empire and the Elven Kingdom by intruding into the elves’ encampment. After all, elves were an exceptional race.

Elves, like humans, possessed two eyes, a nose, a mouth, and pointed ears. Yet their thoughts, morals, and worldviews were utterly alien to humans, shaped by their extraordinarily long lifespans.

Humans wouldn’t typically wage war against another family or nation merely because a child was bullied. Elves, however, would.

They would not only wage war, but they would also adhere to their ancient, stringent traditions by delivering 200 elegantly crafted declarations of war to establish clear lines of hostility before any conflict began.

Engaging in potentially nation-destroying warfare over a child was something beyond human comprehension and acceptance. Yet, for elves, it was a commonplace occurrence. Similarly, elves were particularly obstinate regarding matters on their territory.

From a human standpoint, accidentally stepping on grass while heading somewhere was normal and didn’t warrant an apology, nor would the landowner typically take offense. This understanding formed the basis of human common sense when entering another’s domain.

For elves, however, if it was their territory, even a single blade of grass symbolizes the dignity of their entire race. If travelers trampled numerous blades of grass on their way to the Elven Kingdom without feeling remorse for the forest, being expelled by the elves seemed entirely justifiable. Moreover, should outsiders engage in combat with wild beasts on elven land without permission, staining the soil with blood, it wouldn’t be surprising to be directly attacked by elves.

Elves were a race characterized by their ancient stubbornness and capricious nature. They highly value their customs and traditions. Communicating with these proud yet, in a sense, exceedingly humble beings required adherence to their stringent rules.

Otherwise, they risk eliciting the elves’ aversion or even hostility. 

Elves were as steadfast and capricious in their emotions as they were in their behavior.

An elf’s affection for someone could persist even unto death. This affection could extend from an individual to an entire family and might even be passed down through the elf’s lineage, culminating in what was known as a ‘Millennial Covenant’.

Conversely, their hatred towards someone could last for fifty to sixty human generations, potentially ending only with the elf’s demise. This inexplicable animosity towards humans was unfathomable to them.

Thus, nobody desired to provoke an elf. While everyone longed for the elves’ favor, the price of their ire was too great to bear.

In a compromise, apart from the Church and Yang Hao at that time, nearly the whole Roman Empire reached a consensus: avoid any meaningful interactions with elves.

But now, the situation demanded action, like an arrow drawn to its full extent on a bow.

Priscilla did her utmost to recall the elven etiquette she had learned in the royal court. Careful not to step on the grass that the elves considered part of their temporary encampment, she mustered her courage in the elven way. Looking directly into the elf’s eyes, she asked her question straightforwardly, in the manner of the elves rather than with human guile.

“I have no intention of infringing upon elven territory, but I seek information about the two humans who formerly lived in this abbey. Do the elves know of their whereabouts?”

“We do not.”

Before she could further describe them, the elf responded expressionlessly.

“When we arrived, this place was already empty. We do not enter human encampments that are not allied with us while humans are still there. Our presence here means that those who lived here have already left.”

Faced with this, Priscilla felt the world spinning, and before she could stop herself, she blurted out a foolish remark, “This is like sparrows taking over a dove’s nest.”

“Are you questioning our race?”

Priscilla bit her tongue sharply, urging herself to calm down.

Elves did not lie, at most, they might omit. Because of this, many kinds of questioning that might work on humans become exceedingly dangerous when combined with the volatile temperament of elves.

When elves began to question, they were effectively teetering on the brink of declaring war.

To avoid setting off this powder keg, Priscilla had no choice but to bow her head in a gesture of apology, then carefully stepped back to avoid trampling any grass, “No, I did not mean to question. We will leave now.”

“Uh…” Under the gaze of the elves, they sheepishly made their exit.

It was only after they left that the elf returned to his previous spot under the eaves, exchanging glances with his companion.

“The Regent King we were tasked to protect by Fen has safely left the borders of the Roman Empire, our efforts over the past year have not been in vain.”

One elf appeared somewhat relieved, sincerely offering prayers to the wood about to be used as kindling, and after planting seeds from the tree species found on the wood at the site, he reflected on the hardships of the past year.

“The Regent King is a capable man who has accomplished what several generations of humans have failed to achieve. I genuinely respect him. Why then have humans sent countless assassins and killers after him? Is this how humans treat a chosen one of their own kind?” another elf seemed quite puzzled

Being only a youth of just over two hundred years old, he didn’t quite grasp the nuances of the Roman Empire’s rise and the peculiar ways of outsiders.

“This isn’t just a problem with humans in general, but rather the foolishness specific to the humans within the Roman Empire. We must continue as planned. Fen’s reforms need the Regent King,” an elder elf provided a sharp clarification, directly addressing the core issue and reaffirming their mission’s purpose.

Fen required their protection of the Roman Empire’s Regent King due to a significant reform planned for their own Elven Kingdom. This reform was poised to affect the entire elven race’s future. Fen had seen the human Regent King’s capabilities and held him in high regard.

Thus, upon learning of the rumors about the Regent King’s exile, Fen immediately sent their best to protect him until his complete departure from the Roman Empire’s reach.

“But how can we be sure he’ll head toward our kingdom and not traverse the Monster Forest to the Great Khan’s steppes or to the ruins of the Bayerzost Empire?”

This question from one elf led his companions into contemplation. True, the Regent King had left the Roman Empire, but there was no certainty about him heading toward the Elven Kingdom.

As the fire crackled, the elves looked at each other. 

The one who initially spoke shook his head, “Fen is confident the Regent King will come to our kingdom because the elves are prepared to help him and bestow a level of trust he never experienced in the human empire.”

“Are all humans such fools? Even the esteemed Fen respects him, and yet they act so foolishly? Are these really the intelligent beings sharing our continent?”

“Child, please be precise and say ‘the humans of the Roman Empire are fools’. We shouldn’t tarnish the memory of the brave and loyal people of the Bayerzost Empire.”

“The Double-Headed Eagle Empire, I recall, had disappeared even before I was born. There are rumors that its survivors are still battling demon scourge underground. Speaking of which, is it true? I’ve heard that there’s a mighty human empire across the sea.”

“Uh…” 

The elves engaged in a low, buzzing conversation, discussing matters of deep importance to them, then departed the deep mountains.

***

Priscilla and her group eventually found the lone knight, or rather, what remained of him.

A mob of villagers, armed with torches and an array of weapons, were greedily scavenging something on the ground.

Slowly approaching under the veil of night, the knights realized with horror upon getting closer that the object of the villagers’ frenzy was their own slain comrade.

The villagers of the Roman Empire had brutally murdered the isolated knight. After stripping him of all his valuable possessions, they callously decapitated him, intending to present his head as that of a bandit to the local militia for a reward. A dispute over the division of their loot ensued.

Dozens of people, split into three or four groups, viciously fought over the gruesome, bloody head. Some, at the forefront, were even clad in the knight’s armor or brandishing his weapons.

The scene was akin to pigs fighting over swill, with the shocking realization by the knights that the swill was, in fact, their own fallen comrade.

The witch and the knights watched with faces frozen in horror as the people they had sworn to protect were now frenziedly fighting over the severed head of their fellow knight. Their fists clenched in anger and dismay.