To enter the Empire from the Great Forest, one must inevitably pass through Baron Heiner’s territory.
Of course, there might be unofficial routes—so-called “holes.”
The baron’s territory isn’t overwhelmingly large, nor is the entrance to the Great Forest particularly narrow.
But our esteemed forest-dwelling kin would never resort to such methods.
Naturally, they consider themselves the supreme rational beings created by the gods.
Sneaking into the human world would be a direct blow to their pride.
Even if the Empire didn’t demand it, they would proudly announce their arrival through the front gate, declaring, “I’m here.”
Perhaps this is one reason why the Empire doesn’t view us elves as enemies.
If those damned fools sneaked in through secret or abnormal routes and caused trouble, it might be different.
But they do have a conscience, don’t they? They enter through known, legitimate routes.
Thanks to that, we can accurately track how many elves have entered and returned.
But why am I bringing this up now?
I have no choice.
After stirring up the entire Great Forest, all that’s left is to wait at the entrance to the baron’s territory.
This isn’t a one-time occurrence; it could come in waves—second, third, and so on.
But if we handle the first wave well, there’s no need to worry about the rest.
“The kin from Blue Lake Village who arrived earlier all made a firm promise. They vowed not to repeat the mistakes of our ancestors and elders. At the very least, they promised not to bring shame to the friends who stand with us in this moment.”
“The friends from Dandelion Seed Village were incredibly reliable. Without even being asked, they said they would avoid unnecessary conflicts with the Empire. It seems they were shocked to learn that humans fear us elves.”
“You’re the last to arrive. The others from different villages have already passed through. But since you’re late, I expect you to properly educate the humans about what elves truly are.”
No matter how much I tell my kin, “We must get along with humans,” or “There are things to learn from the Empire,” it won’t sink in.
They might listen for a moment, or pretend to, but then they’ll just go back to their arrogant ways and cause trouble.
But what if I emphasize, “You are the face of your village”?
What if I subtly pit their pride against each other, asking, “Who can glorify the elves more?”
‘It’s obvious what will happen.’
Our kin, who see even their neighbors as rivals, won’t just let this slide.
Not out of guilt toward humans or the Empire, but out of fear of disappointing their fellow elves.
Moreover, elves aren’t numerous.
A few degrees of separation, and everyone knows everyone.
No one wants to be known as “the one who tarnished the village’s name” among acquaintances.
At first, I was worried about how to persuade these prideful kin.
If I had said things like, “Humans might surpass us,” or “There are things to learn from them,” their reaction would have been predictable.
They might have even dismissed the fact that our ancestors wielded the bows of the Mother Forest.
But when I shifted the approach, the difficulty dropped significantly.
Elves are a race that considers themselves great—and in many ways, they are.
So, if I start by saying, “We can shine even brighter,” and add, “Our village is more elven than the others,” it works.
“…Tyreal, did you learn that from your time in the human world?”
Seril, who had been watching the whole process, asked in bewilderment.
The difference between how I acted in the village and now was too stark for her to adjust.
I couldn’t say, “Actually, I’m an elf with human memories!”
So, I gave her an answer that seemed plausible from her perspective.
“Do you really think so? It’s just what I’ve seen, heard, and learned, combined with my innate talents.”
“But in the village…”
“In the village, I didn’t stand out much. But isn’t that natural? What could we do, or had to do, in the village? Magic and spirit arts. That was it, wasn’t it?”
All elves are the same, regardless of age or gender.
It’s always magic or spirit arts. Everything else is of lesser importance.
Physical labor is almost shunned, deemed unfit for elves.
Perhaps, despite each of us having different talents and abilities, we’ve been shackled by the elders’ demands.
While we claim that elves are perfect and beautiful beings, aren’t we just ornaments forcibly shaped by others?
“…”
Seril seemed deep in thought.
The worried looks she gave me whenever I acted out were gone.
Instead, she seemed to be pondering something, as if she had realized something.
“So, like Tyreal, other elves also have things they’re good at and want to do. But they can’t explore those things within the Great Forest, so you’re leading them out into the world?”
“Exactly. You’ve got it. Here, we’re not truly elves—just children with no freedom or real goals. We can’t become proper elves here.”
Seril then asked why I hadn’t brought this up to the elders earlier.
If I had made this argument, it might have helped persuade them.
Instead of being dismissed as a child’s whim, it might have been seen as foresight.
“Seril.”
Unfortunately, Seril, lacking a cunning mind, could only see things positively.
“Do you really think the elders would have accepted that? When we said, ‘We want to walk a different path from you,’ do you think they would have said, ‘You’re right! Go ahead!’?”
“That’s…”
The answer is ‘No,’ and Seril seemed to vaguely understand that.
Her trailing off without an answer was evidence enough.
Both of us, and all the young elves in our village, have lived without any real choice in our futures.
“Sometimes I think our arrogance as elves comes from living lives with no choices. We’re forced to build up these walls, and if we don’t show others that what we’ve gained is the best, our very existence feels denied.”
*
Inside the grand conference room.
Empire officials were discussing something.
“…So, the number of elves entering through Baron Heiner’s territory continues to increase.”
“Same as the report from the Foreign Ministry. Who would have thought the forest-dwelling kin would leave the Great Forest and engage with the Empire like this?”
Elven history predates not only the Empire but also its predecessor, the Kingdom.
Thus, there’s a wealth of information and historical records about them.
This means there’s no room for misunderstandings or prejudices.
With solid evidence, how could there be misunderstandings or prejudices?
That’s why this situation is so surprising and bewildering.
There’s never been such an occurrence. No record exists of anything like this.
These beings, who lived in their own superiority, who couldn’t bear not to flaunt it—why are they suddenly reaching out to the Empire with smiles instead of arrogance?
“Do you think they have some ulterior motive?”
The Intelligence Minister spoke up, and the Interior Minister shook his head after a moment’s thought.
“As you know, Minister, the elves have no need for that. If they wanted something, they could just march out of the Great Forest and into the Empire to get it.”
“Hmm.”
“And you know their nature. They’re incapable of underhanded tactics. For our Empire, that’s quite fortunate.”
As they say, the gods are fair. Every creation has its reason.
The elves were granted powerful magic and exceptional affinity with spirits.
They were given physical prowess surpassing humans and lifespans several times longer.
But they were also shackled by their own pride.
This makes it easy for the Empire to deal with them.
Unlike neighboring kingdoms or other races, they don’t scheme behind the scenes.
If they want something, they demand it outright.
While this can be arrogant and irritating, it’s quite convenient diplomatically.
“But here’s the thing. If they truly change, is that really good for our Empire?”
The ministers pondered this.
It had been weighing on their minds.
The elves’ change brings many benefits to the Empire—in the short term.
If they change willingly, the Empire can use it to its advantage in many ways.
For instance, the elves enrolling in the Academy is already proving useful.
But if this change leads the elves to develop different ideologies and thoughts…
In the long term, is this truly a good thing?
“It seems we’ll need to meet this elf, Tyreal, in person.”