Hyvrlat’r growled. The forest was, to him, an open book. Reading from the pages of said book, he could track the movements of the two interlopers who dared intrude upon the sacred territory of Ta’mirian.

The event had, of course, aided him and his faction immensely. He had wielded their presence like a flaming sword as the arguments heated up in the grand hall of the Sprout of the Mother Tree, where the king was forced to see the truth in the ways of Arcane Equilibrium.

Such joy was short lived, however. For it was clear that the two humans were much more of an affliction than he had thought them to be, plaguing these lands with their filthy presence. Correction: one of them was not a human. He was an abomination of affinities, wielding alien and corrupted magic, wearing the genes of the elven people like a dress he sported out of fashion and convenience.

What was more, the forest seemed to like the boy. It was also frustrated that the boy didn’t talk to it, nor did he acknowledge its presence, but it liked him nonetheless and as such withheld all information about him from Hyvrlat’r. Every time he attempted to scry for the boy, every time he asked the trees about the deviant little monster, it was like he was elf no more.

Nature refused.

Which was unbelievably blasphemous, to the point he refrained from even mentioning it to the others. It was something only him and the other trackers knew, and none of them wanted the secret to get out. For the dogma of their own people could very well turn against them should the information come out.

They would not be seen as true elves anymore, if the forest refused to open itself up to them.

Fortunately there was no such need to track the boy. There was another man who traveled with him, and this man Nature did not hate nor love. It regarded him with the utter indifference it always regarded everything, even fire and natural disaster.

It did not have qualms about telling Hyvrlat’r all he wanted to know about him. There was more. The scout who had been sent to spy on them had also returned, bringing more information and filling the gaps in the knowledge about the two interlopers.

They were utterly frustrating, like all humans. Even more so as they had taken to refusing to kill elves, and the outrage their presence had brought upon the king and the high court had been counterbalanced by this fact so much so that a new pacifist faction had had the gall to rise up and demand they be left alone.

It was in the interest of all elves, they claimed.

These humans were not worth the cost to kill them. An elven life was worth a thousand human lives, after all, and two already had been claimed trying to deal with them. The kingdom of Ta’mirian, so far from Elvenkindgom, was already struggling. The essence was thin. The efforts to regrow the forest had been going on for millennia, ever since the disaster that ended the Old Age, but the land refused to lend the elves its boons.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

The radiation, as it was called in the old tongue, still poisoned the soil.

It would be wisest to see the humans leave, undisturbed, for it was clear by now that they do not mean to disturb the elven ways. They just wish to pass. This is what the pacifists claimed.

Hyvrlat’r knew the argument was sound. He would not have made it as far high in his faction’s chain of command as he did if he was uncapable of such thinking. Elves with minds beneath him were like that, and were forever condemned to remain in the low ranks, to follow orders.

Those, like him, who gave orders had to be able to see reason and sound logic.

For, he knew, the first thing one needs to do before he can lie is understand the truth. More deeply so than even the elf who wishes to defend truth, for one cannot lie without being as intimate with truth as one can be.

That had always been Hyvrlat’r way of thinking.

The lie was a necessary lie. But it had to be embroidered deep inside a glade of truth, like green vines protecting the one single dry and brown dead branch from sight, supporting it, concealing it.

“They represent everything Arcane Equilibrium has warned us about!” Hyvrlat’r roared, trying to set the souls of the others ablaze. Like a forest fire, once the fire of anger was ignited, there would be nothing they could do to stop it.

“And yet. The party of eight that was sent explicitly to kill them returned home. Injured, but alive. How do you explain that, Hyvrlat’r?”

“Sent home?” He howled. “I took the care to talk to the elves who returned. Did you? Did you listen to the stories they told? Huh? These humans, they wield powers of gods.”

“They have been allowed to grow unchecked, and now they see us as nothing more than insects.” Hyvrlat’r said. “They do not have mercy. They were playing with the soldiers. Doing experiments on them, to refine their magics. One was even killed and resurrected many times in front of all others, and now has no memory of what happened. You know what he told me?” Hyvrlat’r spat, anger in his words. It was no longer a lie to him, for he was as angry as he looked and perhaps more. “He told me that he wishes to see the ocean and become a fisherman. A fisherman! An elf of the forest, wishing to fish in the ocean? What did they do to him?”

Hyvrlat’r shook his head. “No. They spat on our pride. They laughed at our incompetence. They used us for their gain.”

Hyvrlat’r saw that he had the interest of many, but his point had not borne its fruit yet.

“They are marching on us as we speak.” He continued, voice rising in volume. “They will set the forest ablaze if they so desire. They will kill again, like they did already. They disrespect nature, and never care about it. Even now, they are usurping the very essence that gives us life. And for what? More power.”

It was the king who finally put an end to the debate. “I hear your words, Hyvrlat’r. The argument for Arcane Equilibrium has been made. What do the Pacifists have to say?”

An elf bowed to the king. He was the same one who had questioned Hyvrlat’r before.

“There is no logical reason to send more elves to die, my king. There is no proof that the humans are even marching on us.”

Hyvrlat’r roared. “You dare call me, a Tracker, a liar?”

The elf shrank. “I would never. Please, forgive me if I—”

Hyvrlat’r did not wait. “My king. The Pacifists would rather see us all die than muster the courage to take a life. Allow me to take the Elite guard. Hit the humans hard, when they least expect it. Ten High Elves I ask, the humans will die before night falls, and not an elf will be harmed.”

“Very well.” The king said.