Beyond the obvious anatomical distinctions—the elongated ears being a constant hallmark among elves—there are also variables that vary among elven families. Yet, anatomy alone doesn’t capture the full scope of their uniqueness. What truly sets elves apart from humans lies in their system interface.

Humans and elves access different system interfaces, a necessary divergence given the disparity in their life expectancies. While humans rarely live beyond a hundred years, elves, with their comparative ease in longevity, could dominate Quel'thalas unchecked if they had equal access to the human system. This difference introduces a sense of balance, ensuring fairness in how the system treats both races.

That’s not to say the elven interface is entirely alien to the human one. They share structural similarities: both have status, attributes, skills, and abilities. However, three key distinctions set the elven system apart.

The first is their class structure. Elves have core classes and subclasses, but these terms don’t hold the same meaning as they do for humans. The second difference lies in their attributes. Unlike the human attributes of Strength, Intelligence, Agility, Wisdom, Constitution, Charisma, and Faith for highbreed humans, elves possess Vitality, Resilience, Agility, Affinity, Perception, and Mysticism. These stats govern their interactions with their statuses and classes.

The third and most unique feature of the elven system is the presence of two additional sections: [Affiliation] and [Affinity]. The [Affiliation] section is simple, detailing the family an elf belongs to and the ancestral tree they wield. The [Affinity] section, however, is far more intricate. It allows elves to accrue and allocate Affinity Points into subaffinities belonging to five main affinities: Elemental, Artistic, Arcane, Nature, and Spiritual.

Each main affinity can host dozens, even hundreds, of subaffinities. For instance, Mana Control belongs to Arcane Affinity, Herbalism to Nature Affinity, and Alchemy to Artistic Affinity. Affinity Points, gained through level-ups much like attribute points, can be invested into these subaffinities. This investment increases the likelihood of unlocking skills or abilities tied to the subaffinity. For example, investing in Lightning Elemental Affinity might lead to the acquisition of a Lightning Elemental Discharge skill or the Lightning Mantle ability.

The effect of these points becomes more tangible as investment grows. At lower thresholds, such as below fifteen points, the impact is negligible. This is where elven classes and subclasses play a role, as they enhance affinity point efficacy. For example, the Swamp Witch subclass synergizes with Nature, Elemental and Spiritual Affinity, while the Sylvan Enchanter class pairs well with Arcane Affinity subaffinities. Still, these pairings only offer moderate boosts; they’re far from being overpowered cheats. Substantial benefits only emerge at higher investment levels, typically between seventy-five and ninety points. Reaching the ninety-point threshold in a single subaffinity is especially significant. If the elf possesses the required level of [Longevity] skill, it grants them the ability to ascend to monarch status—a patriarch or matriarch—and manifest a relic: an ancestral tree.

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Once rejoined by Aquaflora and the escort of Noctil elves, we were promptly led to the elven capital. To my surprise, the process was nearly immediate. I had expected rigorous questioning before being granted entry into the domain, followed by days or even weeks of negotiation to secure an audience with the patriarch. Yet, it all happened with surprising speed. While expedience was convenient, it left me uneasy. I couldn’t shake the feeling that such haste would lead to a negative outcome. Perhaps it was just my inherent pessimism speaking—or so I hoped.

As we approached the barrier of the massive tree that guarded the capital, we left Veilleuse-19 outside. While the barrier’s enchantments allowed familiars like Aquaflora’s loong or even Veilleuse-19 to pass, I had concerns about the potential chaos Veilleuse-19’s size might cause within the city. It seemed best to let it roam freely outside.

Escorted by the Noctil elves, we ventured into the heart of their capital and arrived at the patriarch’s abode. The castle was unlike anything I had ever seen. Rising above the gardens treetops, it was a sprawling testament to elegance and power, its white facade contrasting sharply with the dark wooden architecture of the surrounding city. The roofs tiered in elaborate layers, their curving edges evoking the wings of a bird about to take flight. Shadows danced across its walls, each silhouette sharp against the sky. The central tower loomed tallest, surrounded by cascading wings that gave the structure a rhythmic grace. Inside, the polished wooden floors gleamed with light streaming from high windows, and intricate painted screens adorned the walls, depicting black-haired elves slaying formidable entities.

The large room were brought to was both austere and commanding. Parallel rows of elves lined the room’s sides, their silence almost palpable. Most bore the characteristic black hair of the Noctil elves, but one corner caught my attention. There sat Lunor Elves with their striking silver hair, a stark contrast to the dark-haired majority. Aquaflora’s expression mirrored my surprise, her gaze heavy with unspoken thoughts.

At the center of the room, raised slightly on a platform, sat the patriarch’s throne. Seemingly grown from the roots of an ancient tree, its intricate backrest and armrests exuded vitality, as though the tree had willingly shaped itself into this regal form. Upon it sat an imposing figure, his dark hair framing a face of both regal and severe bearing. His piercing eyes seemed to see through all who dared meet them. He wore a robe richly embroidered with golden floral and vine motifs, gemstones glimmering faintly at his chest. The image of Cleon, the self-proclaimed One and Only Emperor, briefly flashed in my mind. Yet, unlike Cleon, this elf bore no crown—only an undeniable air of authority.

The elf leading our group came to a halt several meters from the elevated platform. With a solemn tone, he announced, “Patriarch Linh, Owner of the Obsidial Tree, Patriarch of the Umbryan Family, Monarch of the Noctil Elves, I present to you Aquaflora the Kinless, Licht of the Land of Men, and Arianna of the Land of Men.”

He then turned to us. “Pay your respects to the patriarch,” he instructed, bowing low to demonstrate.

Aquaflora and Licht immediately followed suit, their movements measured and respectful. I, however, remained standing, my gaze fixed on the patriarch. The silence stretched, the room’s tension thickening with each passing moment.

“What are you doing?” Aquaflora and the elf who had introduced us asked simultaneously, their voices tinged with confusion.

Ignoring them, I continued to stare at the patriarch. Finally, he spoke. “Is there a problem, Miss Arianna of the Land of Men?”

“There indeed is,” I answered promptly. “In the land of men where I come from, one simply does not bow to one’s equal.”

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Naturally, my claim incited an uproar among the assembled elves. Murmurs and sharp whispers echoed through the hall, most coming from the older elves in attendance. The patriarch, with a mere raise of his hand, quelled the commotion.

“So, you’re claiming to be my equal?” he asked, amusement flickering in his tone.

I didn’t answer directly, simply maintaining my gaze. His chuckle broke the silence. “I’ve heard rumors of what you did in the land of men, challenging your monarch—the only one among you humans who might be considered my equal. Bold enough to confront him, suggesting you see yourself as his equal, or perhaps even his superior. Yet as far as I can see, you bear no mark of a monarch.”

“That might be true,” I conceded, “but I do not judge equality through titles. Having appraised me, you might understand why I think that.”

The patriarch’s eyes narrowed slightly, though his smile remained. “Strength over titles, is it? And do you think I’d agree?”

“I have no doubt you would,” I said evenly. “For someone who has claimed every ancestral tree under the Spiritual Affinity in Quel’thalas, strength must mean everything to you. At least that's what I'm inclined to believe. I might be wrong though.”

After a moment of tense silence, the patriarch’s sharp gaze softened just enough to signal his decision. "I can’t say that it’s not the same," he finally said, his tone measured. "Fine. You may do as you wish. As for you two..." He motioned toward Aquaflora and Licht, indicating that they should rise. They did so, their movements cautious yet grateful.

"Now then, I hope you’ve enjoyed the sights of our capital on your way," he added, almost conversationally.

"We have," I replied smoothly, though I added with a hint of regret, "Though, regrettably, we haven’t had the chance to visit much since we just got here."

"Oh, I hope we didn’t rush you off," he said, the faintest trace of mockery laced in his words.

"Not at all," I answered, inclining my head slightly in a gesture of respect that could just barely qualify as a bow. "In fact, we are very honored to be granted such a prompt audience. The matter we’ve come to discuss is rather urgent."

"Oh?" The patriarch leaned forward, his tone turning curious. "And what might that be, I wonder?"

I didn’t respond immediately, instead glancing toward Aquaflora. With a subtle nod, I signaled that it was her time to speak. This was why she had come—to make the appeal for unity against the rogue patriarch, a matter that concerned her more directly than it did me. She hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward.

At first, her voice was tight, constrained by nerves. But as she continued, her words began to flow more freely, detailing the events that had led to our presence here. She explained the danger posed by her patriarch, the threat to Quel’thalas itself, and the need for the patriarchs and matriarchs to unite.

While her voice carried conviction, my attention wandered momentarily to the corner of the room where the Lunor Elves sat. Their silver hair marked them unmistakably as members of the Argyrian family. As Aquaflora spoke, I scrutinized their every movement, every subtle shift of expression. They didn’t seem entirely at ease, their apprehension evident in the tension of their postures. Were we in a more relaxed environment, I had no doubt they would have interrupted to interject their own perspectives.

However, the presence of the Noctil Patriarch seemed to keep them in check. Aquaflora pressed on, her words gaining momentum, though it became increasingly clear that the patriarch was already aware of the situation. His impassive expression gave little away, but his response when she finished confirmed my suspicion.

"To tell you the truth," he began, his tone carrying an air of amusement, "I have already heard about this matter—no sooner than a couple of days ago, in fact, from your well-informed fellow Argyrians over there." He gestured toward the Lunor Elves clustered in the corner of the room.

Finally, I allowed myself a full glance at them. From the moment I had noticed their presence, a theory had been forming in my mind. Based on what I knew of the latest developments within the Argyrian Family, it made sense that they would reach out to the other patriarchs for help. Still, I hadn’t expected them to act so swiftly. Months had passed since the first signs of trouble, but this move still seemed prompt.

Two concerns immediately rose in my mind. The first involved what exactly they hoped to achieve here and how it might interfere with our efforts. The second was for Goblin. If the Lunor Elves had sent envoys here, it stood to reason they might have dispatched others to the matriarch of the Aurian Family, where Goblin and Blondie went to seek help to. Aquaflora’s presence, as someone of partial Argyrian descent, had already irritated him enough. How would he react to these full-blooded Lunor Elves in the court of their matriarch?

I sighed quietly, pushing the thought aside for now. I’m worrying too much, I told myself. He’s not going to lose his temper over a couple of Argyrians.

Definitely.

Still, as soon as this meeting was over, I resolved to warn him, just in case.

"And, it's regrettable for me to say this," the patriarch began, without putting any effort to make it sound the slightest bit genuine, "but I'm going to give you the same answer I gave them a few days prior, as I assume you're here to request my help to deal with your patriarch."

"I---"

"No," I interrupted, understanding that the answer was obviously going to be a refusal. If he wouldn’t help, then I had to make my position clear before he completely dismissed us.

"No?" he questioned, raising a dark brow.

"Yes, no. We didn’t come here to ask you to deal with such a problem," I clarified, standing my ground. "We came with the offer to help deal with the Argyrian elves' rogue patriarch. Now, by the time we’re speaking, friends and allies of mine are on their way with the same request to the matriarch of the Aurian family and the patriarch of the Ferron family, to join a coalition with the common goal of annihilating the rogue patriarch."

The words out of my mouth didn’t seem to please the Argyrian guests. They barely managed to contain themselves, their tension palpable, but I couldn’t care less. Their indignation was irrelevant.

"Oh," the patriarch said, leaning back slightly in his throne. "And Miss Arianna of the Land of Men, what is it concretely that I can gain from this?"

"That," I said, musing, "can be negotiated, so I can't yet name anything. But what I can say is that you joining this coalition guarantees you the extermination of the threat that the argyrian patriarch currently represents for you."

"A threat, huh," he echoed, skepticism lacing his tone.

"Yes, a threat. As per the latest news I received about his movements, he and the stampede he’s leading are slowly making their way to this side of the continent," I stated, raising my voice slightly to ensure the other elves present—the patriarch’s "elders" as I call them—could hear me clearly.

At my words, a ripple of murmurs erupted. Glances were exchanged, tension rising in the room. But the patriarch quelled the growing noise with a mere motion of his hand. The silence that followed was heavy, but I wasted no time in using it.

"With this coalition, we guarantee you my strength, plus that of two other elven monarchs to deal with him. As it stands, he is a threat—to you, to the other elven monarchs—unless, perhaps, you, Patriarch, are confident in your ability to singlehandedly take him and his monsters down."

For a brief moment, a flicker of pride flashed in his eyes—a pride I’d seen before in the man who called himself the One and Only Emperor. It was the belief in one’s own unshakeable strength, the conviction of being an unassailable monolith. But it was only an instant before his expression returned to its usual calm, measured demeanor.

"So far," he began, "you’ve presented several arguments, and they involve me, the other patriarchs, and the matriarchs. But I’ve yet to hear anything from you that explains what you have to gain out of this. Because there has to be a reason for you to be involved in this seemingly elven problem, right?"

"What I have to gain from this?" I pondered his words for a moment, then met his gaze unwaveringly. "You’re right. I do have something to gain from this," I admitted.

"As it stands, the patriarch of the Argyrian Family is the person I hate the most, and the second person I undoubtedly wish the demise of. For the simple reason that he is directly responsible for the death of someone very dear to me—someone I had spent years rearing, decades, and even centuries ahead of him. Lost, all because of him. My motives are very simple," I continued, my voice steady but laced with an edge. "I just want justice for my little baby stolen from me and his siblings too soon."