Chapter 154: Help You? Then What Is the Price, My Friends?

The problem with the Elves.

It did not lie within the tree itself.

Rather, the problem was that the entire Elven race, from the top down, was suffering from a massive issue.

“Why should I help you?”

Aililan countered with a question.

Eleanorice was stunned.

From the time she was a child, no one had ever refused her.

She looked at the girl before her — that face was no less beautiful than her own, and possessed an even more noble identity and aura, causing her to daze for a moment.

She suddenly realized.

Everything she had relied on in the past was useless here.

“I… I…”

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down.

“As everyone knows, we Elves have always been peace-loving. If you can help us solve this crisis, we can form an alliance with you. How does that sound?”

“Ha.”

Aililan laughed.

The high-ranking officials of the Church surrounding them also wore meaningful smiles.

“What are you laughing at?”

Alistair took a step forward, and after performing a salute, he spoke. “If I may be so bold, I do not agree with the claim that the Elves are ‘peace-loving.'”

“In the days when you were powerful, you frequently viewed other races as inferior and carried out the slaughter of cities and the extermination of entire clans.”

“These events are recorded in the history books of every race.”

“Memories may fade.”

“Time will pass.”

“But History… History does not lie.”

Eleanorice’s face flushed red, and she felt completely at a loss. “We… we have truly changed now…”

Seeing that she was nearly at the point of collapse, Aililan waved her hand to signal Alistair to step back.

She stood up, and the Head Maid, Yarandale, brought over a basin of water for her to wash her hands.

Then, she signaled for the Princess to follow as she slowly walked forward.

The two of them gradually distanced themselves from the crowd.

After a moment of silence.

Aililan asked softly, “You say something is wrong with your Mother Tree?”

“Yes.” Eleanorice nodded hurriedly. “The number of Pureblood Elves born from the Mother Tree is decreasing. If this continues, it might even dry up completely.”

Aililan looked at her, her tone indifferent.

“Do you really think the problem is with the Mother Tree?”

“Is it not?”

Aililan gave a soft laugh and led her to a patch of wasteland.

“Then do you know why this field has been abandoned?”

Eleanorice remained silent for a long time before whispering, “I… I don’t know.”

Aililan sighed.

“You Elves are famous for your Nature Magic, yet you, a Princess, do not even understand the most basic of farming.”

“I will tell you.”

“It is a matter of soil fertility.”

“This land was poor to begin with. Planting for one year and letting it rest for one year is the most logical way.”

“If you force it to grow crops every year, it will only become increasingly barren until it completely loses its output.”

Eleanorice looked thoughtful. “Do you mean… the Mother Tree’s ‘nutrients’ are insufficient?”

Aililan froze for a second, then pressed her hand to her forehead.

“…How exactly did you become the Princess?”

“The land was just a metaphor.”

“The problem lies with the Elves themselves.”

She took a deep breath, her tone growing colder.

“In the days when you were strong, the Mother Tree could nurture hundreds of Pureblood Elves every year.”

“But did you ever give back to her?”

“Did you ever feel sorry for her?”

“No.”

“You only knew how to take continuously, forcing her to birth more and more Elves.”

“Until she was completely exhausted.”

“Until she could no longer give birth.”

“Until — she dies.”

Her gaze was calm, yet it carried a chill.

“That is why I said.”

“It is not the Mother Tree that is sick.”

“It is the greed of your people.”

“Let the Mother Tree stop giving birth.”

“Let her rest for decades, perhaps even 100 years.”

“Maybe then she can recover.”

Eleanorice’s face turned pale as she shook her head violently.

“Impossible!”

“If the Mother Tree stops nurturing, our Elven race will face a generational gap, or even extinction!”

Aililan smiled faintly.

“Wrong.”

“You will not go extinct.”

“The only ones who will truly go ‘extinct’ are you Pureblood Elves.”

“Gestation Elves are the true foundation of your race.”

“Of course.”

“You have another choice — to perish together with the Mother Tree.”

Eleanorice’s voice was bitter.

“Is this… your diagnosis?”

Aililan shrugged.

“Yes.”

“Moreover, I dare say that the upper echelons of your race have known this for a long time.”

“They simply are not willing to admit it.”

“That is why they use the royal family as sacrifices to barely maintain things.”

“If you don’t believe me, go back and ask.”

She did not say more.

To speak any further would involve the internal power structure of the Elves.

That was something that could lead a race to rebirth — or cause its total destruction.

—

Eleanorice left in a state of complete desolation.

Fina Nisi also departed with her.

Renata was quite angry. “The Grandmaster didn’t even come to see you once!”

Aililan waved her off. “Do not say that; she has her own difficulties.”

Secretly, however, she was thinking something else.

‘It would be best if we never met for the rest of our lives.’

It would save her from more trouble.

—

Several days later.

Elf King City.

Eleanorice knelt before the throne, her voice trembling.

“Mother… please tell me that isn’t true, right?”

The Elf Queen’s pupils shook violently.

After a long time, she finally spoke.

“She… she was right.”

Her voice was low and suppressed.

This was the deepest secret of the Elven race.

That Saintess — how could she know?

Was there a traitor within their ranks?

But if there wasn’t… then it was even more terrifying.

A human girl.

In the eyes of the Elves, she was barely even a child.

Yet she made the Queen feel a sense of pressure.

After a long silence.

The Elf Queen spoke slowly.

“Eleanorice.”

“I want to see her.”

“Mother?”

“I want to meet that Saintess.”

Her gaze was complex.

“Perhaps… she truly has another way.”

“Our own methods…”

“We cannot, and are not willing to continue down this path any longer.”

“As long as there is a sliver of possibility.”

“We must try.”

“Go and make the arrangements.”