IRE 48

chapter 48

“They’re coming, it seems.”

The presence of the three elders began to be felt.

The teacher smiled with a tinge of regret.

“I wished we could talk a little longer.”

“Is today the only day? We’ll talk again next time.”

“Oh my, El, you’ve even learned to say things like that now.”

The teacher looked at me with surprise.

I returned the stare because that surprised look felt stranger to me.

Why — why, exactly?

Why did they react that way to me now, when I’ve usually been so insolent?

I had thought of myself as fairly well-mannered.

While I was baffled, the elders approached.

“So you came early.”

Grandmother greeted me warmly.

“Oh, child — well, you can’t really call her a child anymore. Regardless, that hair color of yours is really quite unique the more I see it. If you used that hair for a bowstring, you’d make quite an extraordinary bow. How about it? Give me a few strands and I’ll make your bow perfect.”

At that unexpected comment I lit up.

“I would be honored. I’ll give it to you right away.”

“Ha ha ha, once the talk turns to bows your eyes change — you really are a born Sentinel.”

Elven bowstrings are made from elves’ hair or silk threads from silkworms; the quality of the string depends on whose hair or which silkworm produced the thread.

To give an extreme example: hair from a high elf or silk from a silkworm raised on the World Tree’s leaves could produce bowstrings of top quality, the kind every elf desires.

Of course, a craftsman of considerable skill is needed to handle such materials, and as far as I knew, Elder Ashira possessed that level of skill.

In short, he was offering to favor me.

My bow was already in good condition, but if his hands worked on it, I couldn’t even imagine how much better it’d become.

“We didn’t gather here for trifling talk.”

Elder Atrackal sat with a sour expression.

“Let’s get to the point quickly. Eldmir.”

“Yes.”

“Go to El Rel.”

“…Yes?”

I echoed dumbly, and he repeated, just as calm as before.

“Go to El Rel.”

“I heard you… it’s not that I didn’t….”

“Since everyone else from the other villages has already heard the same accusations from those traitors, if you step in it’ll only backfire. We’ll handle them within our village; you go to El Rel and persuade them directly.”

He was probably referring to the traces we discovered yesterday.

But normally the order would be the opposite, wouldn’t it?

It would make sense for me to go clear up misunderstandings and talk things through with them.

When I voiced that doubt honestly, he furrowed his brow.

“You’re the strongest here, aren’t you?”

I was speechless — I hadn’t expected strength to be the deciding factor he’d mention.

I was surprised to hear recognition from someone once known as the strongest Sentinel of Le Rueil, someone who had been active as a Sentinel himself, and it was unexpected that he admitted someone was stronger than him so readily.

He added,

“Those kinds of people aren’t easily persuaded by words. In my five hundred-plus years of life, I’ve learned that even those who don’t accept reason can be made to understand the logic of force.”

At a loss for words, the teacher leaned in and mouthed a whisper to me.

“That’s not very elven of him to say, is it?”

“…….”

What was I supposed to say to that?

Before I could stammer anything, Atrackal continued.

“I don’t mean to say beat them senseless indiscriminately. Since El Rel is home to high elves, if you caused a ruckus there you’d be subdued immediately. What I mean is, go through the Trials of the Forest and take them down one by one until your words are driven into their ears.”

The first and second parts didn’t really feel that different in context.

“Trust me. Elves — especially El Rel — have a surprising tendency to revere strength. Or rather, to honor it… to treat those who’ve proven themselves. If you roughly beat a few high elves there, they’ll give you corresponding respect. Then they’ll listen to what you say. Honestly, persuading El Rel would be easiest for you. It’s their way — barbaric as they are.”

‘Barbaric’ — from Elder Atrackal of all people. I wasn’t sure whether to take it as a jest or seriously; the ambiguous feeling made my head spin.

Since I still couldn’t reply, Atrackal added,

“I could go myself, but I have to take the villagers and go hit the neighboring villages.”

Hearing him, it sounded less like an elf and more like a line from a warrior race.

For some reason, his expression overlapped with the teacher’s earlier offhand suggestion of causing trouble if needed, making the whole thing feel even stranger.

“…Is that okay?”

I had to ask.

Atrackal said it would be no problem.

“Don’t worry. It’s just my experience; try it exactly as I say and they’ll probably like it. They appreciate the strong.”

His anecdotes, huh.

I let out a hollow laugh.

I’d heard he was strong, but I hadn’t imagined he could challenge and win Trials of the Forest against high elves.

‘Well, Eldrasiq is no mere name, so I suppose it makes sense…’

It made me realize anew how extraordinary Atrackal was.

Elves don’t usually slap the ‘strongest’ label on Sentinels. They show respect by giving the title of El Sentinel, not openly calling someone the strongest like Atrackal’s blunt language.

That showed how special he was.

“Oh? Have you really done that, Elder?” the teacher asked.

Elder Ashira answered.

“Yes. Back then he couldn’t control his bloodlust and behaved like a berserker. Orcs attacked and we needed help — he was annoyed at the delay and, in the rush, single-handedly attacked El Rel, knocked down high elves, grabbed Sentinels by the hair, and dragged them back.”

‘Those were good times,’ Ashira muttered.

The teacher’s eyes brightened at that story; he seemed intrigued as if hearing it for the first time.

The teacher’s fascination lent weight to Atrackal’s words.

“…All right. I understand. But what about persuading the other villages?”

“Like I said — go in a group and rough them up a little; they’ll get the message.”

“…You’re serious?”

As I asked, clearly appalled, Grandmother interjected.

“He’s saying that he alone would do it that way, and of course he’ll explain things properly so they’ll understand. According to your story, those traitors belong to Chitaen and supposedly cannot summon spirits, right? Bringing that up will be the start of convincing them.”

On the surface that sounded reasonable, but it also underestimated the traitors.

“That remark itself implies they don’t trust us. Don’t worry. We’re stronger than you think.”

Their consensus sounded nothing but a plan to push through by force.

Their unity was increasingly unsettling.

“…Very well.”

What could I say when they were so determined?

I had no choice but to trust their sincere, almost combative conviction.

“Then I’ll depart for El Rel tomorrow.”

“Good. Oh, take Iris with you. You’ll need someone to guide the way.”

“Understood.”

The discussion seemed to end there.

“Big trouble, Elders!”

A voice called from outside the hall.

It was distant, carried through by the elves’ characteristic keen hearing.

“What’s happened?”

“The Sentinels of the neighboring village… El Lien, have massed in force!”

El Lien? That name sounded familiar.

Atrackal’s expression soured.

“Those brats? How many of them?”

“Exactly twenty-seven. They sent an envoy demanding a proper inquiry into the truth of Eldmir Architea.”

“How insolent.”

Atrackal’s displeasure deepened and his scarred face twisted into a grim expression that made him look extremely fierce.

At that moment Keris gently tugged my sleeve and whispered.

“Isn’t El Lien the village we met with last time?”

At once the faces of three Sentinels I had met popped into my memory.

I especially remembered one elf — Istain.

Istain Atugate of El Lien — connected with Keris by past conflict.

“Wait a moment.”

Suddenly Atrackal’s gaze lit up like a prankster’s.

“This might get rather interesting…”

And his gaze turned toward me.

…It felt ominous.

How had things come to this?

“Once again I’ll say — the enemy we face are traitors who betrayed the forest, and they are dangerous types with the combat strength equivalent to at least three Sentinels. They sent an envoy, but we don’t know how the elves of Le Rueil will react. Prepare for the worst and remain alert.”

Traitors who betrayed the forest?

Ridiculous.

Istain sighed inwardly.

“That fellow is nothing but a filthy forest….”

He sighed before finishing his sentence and turned away with a displeased expression.

“Ikras.”

The elf whose name was cut off looked at the caller.

“What’s the matter, Istain?”

“Please reconsider, Ikras. My opinion remains unchanged. Eldmir is not a traitor to the forest, nor is he a fiend who killed his mother. I don’t know where those Chitaen fellows came from, but why should their account weigh more than mine, who has defended the forest for two centuries?”

Istain had ties to Eldmir.

He once tracked traces of beast-people for the forest’s mission and found an injured Langin, four Myoin, and two elves there.

“The Eldmir I met was not a traitor; though his ideology was hard to accept, there were things we could learn from him. I’ve said this many times.”

Indeed, from the start Istain had desperately tried to prevent the current situation by repeatedly persuading others.

It felt off from the beginning.

At some point injured elves had come from the Chitaen village claiming Eldmir was responsible for their wounds and spreading unbelievable reports of his crimes.

They said he brought orcs into the forest using beast-people, colluded with dark elves to destroy their village, and even murdered his own mother to hide his crimes — all monstrous accusations.

Istain couldn’t believe it.

El Lien had a history of joining defenses against orc attacks, so Istain was well aware of the facts.

At that time he had a short reunion with Esyria and exchanged a glance that confirmed she truly had the spirit of the forest and was a genuine Sentinel.

What’s more, after defeating the orcs she had vanished; when everyone chased after her, they found war hammers ravaging the forest and later met her son who single-handedly defeated more than half of them.

Though heavily wounded and unable to speak much, he proved himself a fine guardian, leaving a deep impression on Istain about Eldmir’s uniqueness.

The first meeting had been rough, but the impression wasn’t bad.

So the idea that Eldmir killed the very mother — Esyria — whom he had fought alongside? That was laughable.

“That claim that he brought beast-people into the forest is slander. What they encountered was mere chance; I saw it myself. That he fought war hammers while injured was not an act — it wasn’t staged or fabricated. Saying he killed his own mother? It’s more believable that war hammers love the forest.”

But all his objections were ignored; only the Chitaen elves’ testimony was accepted, creating the current state.

“This is wrong. Whatever relationship Chitaen’s elves had with the elders is none of my concern. I have my convictions to protect, and this action violates those convictions.”

Clinging to a sliver of hope, Istain continued to plead with Ikras. Persuading the El Sentinel was the best chance to change this.

Ikras was silent for a long time after hearing him.

He wasn’t unaware of Istain’s point — which was why he spoke afterward in a heavy voice.

“I know your view. But you’ve voiced your opinion as much as you have, and I have mine. The elders have discussed and made this decision countless times. For now the best we can do is trust their judgment…”

“If they truly wished to earn our trust, they shouldn’t have acted like this! They demand we follow without explanation or reasoning — why on earth should we trust them?”