Chapter 257 : Chapter 257
Chapter: Gray Elves: When It Comes to Playing the Victim, We're the Professionals
"Your Majesty the Elf King, this is the list of literary publications released this month by the Literary Press. Please take a look."
“No need, I don’t want to see it.” Upon seeing his cabinet minister place a thick stack of papers wrapped in heavy parchment on his desk, the Elf King waved his hand wearily.
“You're... certain you don’t want to read it?” The subordinate hesitated. This past week, with the gravity of the situation becoming increasingly clear, the Elf King had been reviewing every article the literary press released for the sake of maintaining stability in the Sagewood. It was a necessary, if exhausting, daily task to prevent unnecessary disturbances.
After a week of this, the Elf King had grown weary of it all. Every article was either blatantly criticizing the Moon Elves or subtly, sarcastically dragging them through the mud.
No one dared directly attack the Moon Elf King himself, of course. But innuendo? Implying things? Stirring up rumors from the shadows? That, they were more than brave enough to do.
Not that they could strictly be called “rumors”—these matters were still under investigation and had yet to be settled conclusively. But that didn’t mean people could just slap a verdict on them and pretend they were facts.
If people wanted to heap praise upon the Gold Elves—sing their virtues and nobility—that was beyond his control. But why did it always have to come at the expense of the Moon Elves? Why stomp on one to elevate the other?
Elf King Proton was 837 years old. Approaching a millennium in age, he could hardly be called young anymore. There was a saying he wasn’t sure he should say aloud.
It was true that he had abandoned the Sacred Tree and evacuated the Elderwood to avoid greater conflict, but that wasn’t done out of cowardice. He had considered the future of the Elven race. More importantly, it wasn’t a decision he had made alone. If he’d been the only one in favor of it, the Great Elf Migration wouldn’t have happened so quickly and smoothly.
That had been a collective choice—across clans, across ranks, from tribe-wide agreement down to individual consent. And now that the story needed a villain, everyone was pushing the blame onto his head. Was that really fair?
Even his eldest daughter seemed unable to understand his stance. Not only was she unhelpful, she also had a knack for making snide, irrelevant comments.
People said daughters were a father’s little cotton-padded jacket. But in Proton’s case, his jacket had holes and kept turning its elbows outward—toward outsiders.
He admitted that his decision back then was indeed flawed. But it had been a desperate situation! Hadn’t he also done it for the survival of the Elf Tribe?
Proton felt utterly exhausted.
Hmm... His younger daughter was still the better one. At least she spoke a few comforting words to him. She was just more attached to her sister than to him, that’s all.
“Big Sister, is Father really okay? He doesn’t seem to have slept much the past few days.” The young Sophia dove into Astrid’s embrace and nuzzled into her soft bosom.
“He’s fine. Don’t underestimate Father, okay? He’ll find a way.” Astrid gently ruffled Sophia’s hair, completely unbothered.
To her, even after learning of Sophia’s past life, Sophia was still her little sister—and that would never change.
Proton’s expression darkened even more upon hearing this.
If Astrid truly had no solution, then yes, it should be his responsibility as their father—and as the Moon Elf King—to carry the burden of their people.
But it was obvious that Astrid did know something. She just refused to share it.
Moreover, Astrid was on very friendly terms with Teresa. Everyone could see it. If someone told him his daughter was literally sleeping in the same bed as the Elf Empress and wearing the same pants, he’d probably believe it without a second thought.
Even now, at this stage, Astrid still refused to help—refused to say a kind word about the Moon Elves to Teresa. She maintained that aloof, unbothered demeanor, which made Proton both anxious and unable to complain.
He couldn’t quite explain it, but ever since she returned, his daughter was still the same daughter… and yet, somehow, her seniority felt different.
She now carried herself like a grandmother, calm and composed even as mountains collapsed before her. Whatever had happened during her journey, Proton had no idea. She wouldn’t tell him, and he didn’t feel right pressuring her to do so.
To prevent tensions from escalating further, Proton originally intended to consult with the Mother Goddess Literary Press, hoping they could tighten their editorial standards.
His request was simple: This is a critical time. I’m already working on a solution. Please stop publishing articles that raise everyone's blood pressure and make my job harder.
But the Mother Goddess Press stood their ground. They claimed they had no authority over what the public chose to say—and besides, if Proton wanted someone to control it, he was free to send people of his own.
Proton wasn’t stupid. He knew what it would mean for the authorities to step in directly.
In matters like this, suppression only made things worse. Official intervention would spark even greater backlash among the populace.
The current climate was like this: if I curse you and you say nothing, fine. But if I curse you and you fight back? That means I hit a nerve—and I was right.
Right now, everyone was laughing at the Moon Elves.
Unable to make a decision, Proton chose to hold off… until a few days later, things blew up.
The public had long been curious about how the Ruglian and Demon Race crisis had been resolved, and how the Sacred Tree had returned. As the leader of the Gold Elves, the honest, reliable Her Majesty Teresa decided to publicly disclose the full truth, admitting the Elven Tribe’s failings to the world.
Accountability—one of the virtues of the Elves.
The impact of this on the outside world remained to be seen. But within the Elves themselves, especially among the Moon Elves, the consequences were enormous.
Why?
Because Diderlay was a Moon Elf. And not just any Moon Elf, but a senior elder of the Moon Elves.
Once that was exposed, the Moon Elf leadership couldn’t explain their way out of it no matter how hard they tried.
They frantically attempted to sever all ties with Diderlay—but how could they possibly succeed?
A Moon Elf elder committed those crimes, and the Moon Elf King didn’t know? The rest of the Moon Elf elders also had no idea? Really?
Even if they truly didn’t know, that only proved they were incompetent and unfit to lead.
There had already been conspiracy theories floating around, claiming the Moon Elves had allowed the Demon Race in so they could monopolize power. Now, the proof was here. They had indeed let the demons in. Case closed.
Even putting aside the Demon Race, the group with the strongest reaction was the Gray Elves.
Ever since the Elf Empress released that academic paper “On the Quantitative and Qualitative Transformation of Resentment and Hope”, the Gray Elves could no longer sit still.
Already treated as outsiders for their darker skin and rural accents, the Gray Elves were infuriated by the revelation of Diderlay’s inhumane and unforgivable experiments.
Their chieftain was practically on the verge of revolt.
The cruel truth had been exposed. Now, every Gray Elf had “Moon Elf” on the tip of their tongue—and not in a good way. Any time something went wrong, they cursed the Moon Elves. The phrase was practically becoming their national swear.
“Moon Elf my damn axe, why’s it so dull?!”
“I’m so Moon-Elfed in the field again—how did weeds grow back this fast?!”
“Stop humming that tune! It sounds like a Moon Elf’s little XX!”
“Why are these human poachers as annoying as the Moon Elves?!”
Insults like these spread like wildfire among the Gray Elves.
In the past, the other Elf Tribes would’ve stepped in to mediate. This time? Not at all.
Once the Gray Elves started, every other tribe joined in, aiming their arrows at the Moon Elves—and even their King.
The Mother Goddess Press was ablaze with headlines:
Today it’s the Gray Elves. Who’s next?
Can the Elven Tribe survive another catastrophe?
Which is worse: a foolish leader or a cruel one?
Who is the true destroyer of Elven virtue?
When humans got upset, they swore and threw punches. But when Elves—especially Elven scholars—got upset, they wrote lengthy op-eds.
One eloquent article was worth ten thousand punches. Human flatterers couldn’t hold a candle to Elven academic rage.
After all, punching someone affects a few individuals. A well-written piece can stir the whole world.
After a period of relentless verbal assault, the Moon Elves remained silent, which only emboldened their critics.
But truthfully, the Moon Elves’ approach was the right one. Because no matter what they said at that point—it would be wrong. Whether clarifying or defending themselves, no one would believe them.
The Elves couldn’t return to their homes. Their resentment ran deep. What they needed now was a target for their fury—and that target was, unavoidably, the Moon Elves.
And so the Moon Elves stayed silent. If no one would believe them anyway, they figured they might as well let the people vent.
Then, after a few more days, the Gray Elves played their trump card.
Their chieftain, usually silent in the press, stepped forward to claim that those living in the border regions had suffered brutal abuse from unpurged demons—while the Moon Elves ignored their suffering.
To drive the point home, a Gray Elf elder arrived at the Elderwood with her entire family, bringing along several ragged, poorly dressed Gray Elf girls to request an audience with the Elf Empress.
The newly built Elf village’s Gold Elves couldn’t bear to see their kin suffer and allowed them through.
“Your Majesty Teresa, please, you must speak for us!”
“Take your time,” Teresa said gently, raising a teacup as she looked upon the gray-white-haired, tan-skinned older sister who was crying her heart out before her in the Sacred Tree Hall.
“Why don’t you have some tea first?”
“N-no, I’m just a humble Gray Elf chieftain. How could I sit as an equal with the direct descendant of the Mother Goddess?” she said, flustered.
“Oh come now, aren’t we all Elves? All children of the Mother Goddess? Why shouldn’t we sit as equals?”
Overwhelmed, the Gray Elf chieftain pointed to the children she had brought and began to weep again, recounting how the Moon Elves had despised them and banished them to the borders to fend off humans and demons.
Every year, some Gray Elves were kidnapped and sold into slavery. After all, everyone knew how Elven slaves were valued—durable, long-lasting, and ever-popular.
She poured her heart out, sobbing bitterly.
Teresa, too, felt heartache for the Gray Elves. They had suffered the most from Diderlay’s crimes and now endured the harshest treatment from outsiders, with no protection or security.
Real or not, the chieftain had hit Teresa’s soft spot.
As she wept, the children joined in, their cries stirring something deep in Teresa’s heart. She felt that the Elven Tribe owed the Gray Elves far too much.
“Your Majesty Teresa, you were sent by the Mother Goddess to lead us. We will obey your every command and follow you to death if necessary. All we ask is that you fulfill a small obligation to us.”
“We’ve been away from home too long. We hope, in our lifetime, to see a flourishing Elderwood again.” By now, Teresa felt it would be impolite to refuse.
“But... the Elderwood is still full of danger. Outside the area where the Gold Elves live—” Teresa voiced her concern.
“That’s fine. We believe in you, Your Highness. Even if you can’t personally protect us, at least let us stay close to the Sacred Tree. We want to help protect it too!”
The chieftain’s eyes shone with something like religious devotion.
“Very well, if you insist.”
“Y-you mean it?” She hadn’t expected Teresa to agree so quickly—according to their plan, there were supposed to be several more rounds of emotional appeals before reaching their goal. This was beyond her expectations.
“You’ve said so much. How could I refuse? Besides, isn’t the Elderwood the home of all Elves?”
Teresa raised the tea to her lips, blowing gently. She didn’t actually like tea—this was just for show.
“T-then could we perhaps move back next week? Or maybe next month...?”
“No need for that. If you wish, you can return as early as tomorrow.” Teresa’s soft smile looked to the Gray Elf chieftain like the merciful face of the Mother Goddess herself.
“I... I understand! Thank you, Your Majesty! On behalf of all Gray Elves—of all thirty-two villages—I thank you for your grace!”
“No need. We’re all one family, aren’t we?”
The very next morning, a large group of Gray Elves, laden with belongings, arrived at the Elderwood and began building homes around the Goldenwood Palace.
So close to the Sacred Tree, they felt renewed—as if the wind and dampness that had plagued them for centuries had suddenly lifted. They moved with new lightness.
Elf culture fostered a quiet, well-mannered way of life. Upon returning to the Elderwood, the Gray Elves gave thanks to the Gold Elves, then went quietly to the lands Teresa had assigned them and began to rebuild their villages.
The news of their reintegration spread quickly to the Sagewood, especially since their old settlement had been dismantled completely. It was impossible to miss.
And upon learning the "key to victory" behind the Gray Elves' success, other Elf tribes began their own performances—taking turns to tug at the Gold Elves’ heartstrings like children crying to their mother for milk.