Southern Pride.
The Eternal Forest.
This was the country inhabited by the proudest mortal race in the face of this mystical world.
The Elves.
In the past, this very country had almost complete control on the humans and they didn't just stop there. Even amongst races such as the beast men and the dwarves, they exercised a modicum of control over them.
Despite how they were perceived nowadays, contrasting with the peace and quiet loving exterior they now adorned, elves were quite the warmongers, reveling in any and all prospects of war and spreading their influence on this world.
This persona of the elves mainly originated from the way they perceived the world, a contrast with the other races.
For elves, again going against the rudimentary perception of other races, nature was the most unkind mistress. The laws of nature were also the most unforgivable of all laws that existed.
The strong preyed on the weak. The weak existed to serve the strong. Such was the ironclad law the elves abided, nay, lived by.
Because of this exact law, that extended to a way of life of sorts, even to this day, elves still followed a tribalistic system of society.
Each species of elves had their own tribes and the queen and high priestess were more seen as a symbol of power than that of a true ruler. Only the presence of all encompassing might had the right to lord over this race which was regarded as the very personification of pride.
As if that wasn’t enough, Southern Pride was the second country, in the entirety of the world, where the crown princess wasn’t decided since birth but rather after she showed her might; showed her ability and determination to rule over the entirety of the elven race.
If she failed to do so, the princess would receive no blessing from the Goddess, shunned from her right to rule, and the birth of a new crown princess would have to wait for the next generation.
If the next generation failed, then it would be the next after it. And the cycle repeated until a queen was born.
Because of this extreme rule, adding to it the low fertility rates of the elves and their high life span, in all of their history, Southern Pride only had three queens ruling over this land, with the current one being the fourth.
Aside from this fact, the elves were a matriarchal community. The queens did not take husbands and only the strongest warrior, in all the tribes and the elven race as a whole, had the right to lay down with the queen in the hopes of giving birth to the strongest children possible, a newborn befitting enough to rule over their race with unprecedented might.
In the distant past, the first generation queen; the ancestor of the species of high elves, the sole species at the top hierarchy of the race of elves, had been the result of a union between one of Tiamat’s grandchildren and another elf.
Due to this holy union, all of the high elves had dragon blood coursing through their veins, albeit the bloodline was rather thin, thinning out further with each generation.
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The infrastructure of the houses in Southern Pride was of one that fused with the beauty and presence of nature.
Elves did not cut their forest to create houses, instead they simply put their magic to use to create special trees that were empty on the inside, spacious enough to inhabit themselves and whatever they might use to make it habitable.
The closer someone came to one of the five main settlements of the elves, the taller the trees were. It was to the extent that 10 to 20 meters tall trees were a common sight in the inner settlements, with trees that reached more than 50 meters or more also being present.
In the center of the forest, where the high elves lived, stood the tallest tree in all of existence.
One so tall that it pierced the clouds, so high that no one could perceive just where the end of it lay.
The elves called it the world tree, a tree born from one of the seeds of Yggdrasil; the divine beast of Humilitas.
The world tree also housed the sanctuary where the high priestess and the queen gathered and made important decisions after long discussions.
Currently, deep in the sanctuary, a gentle and beautiful melody flowed, echoing in the silent surroundings, reverberating throughout.
In a room adorned with simple and scarce decorations, two women with an air of absolute authority sat opposite to each other, locking their sights on one another.
The two of them were wearing long garbs, white in color and slightly transparent in its hue; the clothes left little to the imagination of the viewer.
Elves did not hide their bodies because of a sense of shame, a trait that separated them from the other races. In fact, they considered their own bodies to be the most beautiful things in existence, a thought befitting their unsurpassable pride, and had no calms in walking naked all around if they wished so.
The only reason they even bothered to wear clothes was because of the protection they brought. For this reason, most if not all elves' choice of clothes were the kind that basically hid as little as possible.
Those two elves in particular were like works of art given life. Though for drastically opposite reasons.
Sitting on one side was a pale-skinned elf. She had a slim figure, small curves adorning her lithe body, yet strangely she had no lack in feminine charms, seemingly being over abundant with said trait. Though, because of her emotionless face and the long golden hair that was so long that it reached the ground, gently hanging and swaying with the gentle breeze, some could compare her to a beautiful doll; a beautiful doll given life that is.
The above-mentioned person was none other than the current queen of Southern Pride, the Queen of the entirety of the race of elves, Satella Superbia.
Sitting opposite to her was a short-haired brown-skinned elf. Said elf was a woman adorning features that went completely opposite to Satella.
Not only was she beautiful, but she also possessed a body that could only be described as being sinful; devilish. Her satin-like robe, clinging tightly to her devilish body, was stretched so wide that it would burst any moment, not being able to hold the bombastic contents within, and show the barely hidden spring sight in its full blown glory.
Despite her scantily clad attire, far more revealing than most elves in existence, she seemed more like a tomboy than anything else, and the wide, cheeky grin plastered on her angelic face further strengthened this impression of hers.
This scantily dressed, devilishly beautiful tomboy of a beauty was the current High Priestess of the country of elves, Jasmine Humilitas.
Humming to herself as she swayed to the tune of the ever gentle melody, Jasmine took an apple and bit into it with absolute delight, relishing in its sweet, slightly sour taste.
Contrary to popular beliefs, elves were not pure vegetarians, in fact they were omnivorous like any other race. They believed that anything edible was a gift of nature and thus should be eaten. The only thing they did not eat were beings endowed with intelligence high enough that they could express themselves and function thanks to their reasonings rather than their instincts.
“You seem to be in a good mood.”
Jasmine just gave a nonchalant smile at her queen's emotionless words, “It’s just that I received a report from a member of my tribe. It seems like she is quite favored by the little prince of humanity.”
Jasmine made no effort whatsoever to hide the news. In the first place, that dark elf sadly wasn't one of her pawns, moreover she was also an orphan, not even a single soul present in the tribe that she could relate with. Hence, Jasmine had not even the slightest modicum of control over her, nor any ways to attain said control.
Still, having a dark elf become close to the son of the dragon’s princess was something that made her happy, she was content with what she had instead of frowning for what she had no control over.
Satella frowned at her words, clearly displeased at the notion of elves being slaves or maids, even more so at the notion of serving other races that were not their own.
“Heh, don’t pout. Anyway, the girl from your side, managed to land a job as his advisor, right? That’s much higher than a simple bed warmer.”
“It’s indeed so. Ismelya’s daughter is a bright girl. Even though her martial skills are lacking, I am sure she will not bring shame to her family nor sully the name of the elves.”
“This is the part where you add a but...” Jasmine cheekily pointed out.
Giving a cold stare at Jasmine, who simply giggled back, Satella sighed clearly displeased at her behavior yet giving up knowing that just who Jasmine was; a mischievous deviant, “But this is far from enough. You know the oracle. Doomsday might soon fall upon us and the key to salvation is…”
“Sol Dragona. Yeah, yeah. How could I forget? But you know, it’s just kinda pissing me off. In the end, those oracles, those visions, are nothing more than the goddesses messing with us. Altering the future to choose the most fitting one for their games.”
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Jasmine took another bite of the apple, this time not being able to relish in it as the bitter taste of being helpless to the goddesses' interventions settled in, ruining the taste.
The future could never be set in stone. Such was the destiny of mortals.
Even though by using their blessings they were able to pry in the mysteries of fate, what they saw was meagre fractions of it, that too fragments they were allowed to see by the pettiness the goddesses threw out naming them as their generosity.
Basically, they saw what goddesses wanted them to see, not what they desired to.
Everything was a self-fulfilling prophecy.
That was why mortals could never play at the same level as the gods, forever being shackled by their control and influence.
A mortal could only play this game of destiny and fate, while looking at the present and imagining few possible features, mere ripples in the flow of time.
A goddess, however, could practically look into thousands of different possibilities and advance their pawns in order to reach their objectives.
Satella simply shook her head, “Our goddesses may be whimsical, selfish, petty, lazy, and many other things. But…”
“But?” Jasmine raised an eyebrow, challenging Satella to continue and prove otherwise, to prove her wrong.
Satella opened her mouth with every intention to accept the challenge, to prove her wrong, trying to say something good, something selfless about the goddesses they worshipped, yet seconds trickled by, no words came out of her outstretched mouth; finally.. she closed her mouth, defeated.
A small blush crept up her still emotionless face, the contrast making her cuter than it should be possible. Clearing her throat, trying to suppress her blush and the sense of slight shame and defeat that came with it, she voiced out, her tone extra emotionless in a mock attempt to re-establish her authority in this discussion, “Well, there are no buts. At least, we can’t really complain, since we are the direct beneficiary of their games. So complaining would simply be hypocritical.”
Be it the rulers under the influence of sins or the saintessess under the influence of virtues, they all had their own personalities and personal beliefs.
But, If there was one thing that they all had in common, it was that though they respected the might of the goddesses they served, that was the extent of their respects.
Aside from this, most would treat them as selfish brats like Kiku from Wratharis, or outright call them bitches like Camelia of Lustburg.
Jasmine, understood very well that complaining was useless, even then the circumstances this time was just too much for her to remain mute,
“Well, and now we are about to get doomed because of the same game.”
“We do already have a solution or at least a hint of a solution.”
“A solution that seems to have been honed for years by Luxuria. Most likely, he is also a foreign soul.”
“It’s nothing more than a game within a game. The stronger the soul, the higher the chance to reach the rank of demi-god and perhaps, transcend it.”
The two of them fell silent, at that word; Transcendence. A state every mortal wished at least once in their life to achieve.
“Do you think transcendence is really possible?”
“I do not. Perhaps it’s nothing more than a pipe dream, an illusion. After all, even illustrious figures such as the Necromancer King or the Mother of thousands of monsters failed to reach transcendence. Even so...”
“The possibility of jumping out of the board and joining the rank of players is something too tempting.”
Satella acquiesced, her tone gaining the slightest trace of emotions, said emotion.. one of excitement.
“Transcendence is too far away. We are still not even demi-gods. We should focus on what is important.”
Jasmine closed her eyes, refusing to show any pity in her expression. She knew very well that such an act would only hurt the pride of her friend and tutor.
Even though the two of them were talking as equals, Jasmine knew that this was just the grace of Satella, her queen.
The title of queen was only obtained after prevailing against all. It wasn’t a right obtained from birth, but from blood, sweat and tears, of years of endless fights and showcasing of all encompassing might.
And Satella in particular was unique amongst all the queens of Southern Pride to this date.
Out of all the past queens, Satella was known as the most talented and that too by a large margin. A margin so large that many amongst the elves believed her to be the first ever mortal to knock on the door of transcendence and even go beyond it.
What’s more, Satella was a few hundred years older than Jasmine. She was even older than the witches of the four cardinal directions and had been a queen far before a time when Lustburg did not even officially exist.
How could such a woman not be able to reach the level of a demi-god, you ask. Well, the answer was equally simple and mortifying.
“All of this because of those damned witches.”
“Do not insult them. It was sheer arrogance from me to fight against both the witch of time and that of life at the same time. We fought, and I lost. What’s more, even had it been a one vs one fight, I might still have lost. Persephone's mastery over life and nature is something I could barely come close to even though I borrowed the might of the World Tree.”
Back then, under the control of Jupiter, humanity fought to break free of the elves' control.
For some reason, the witches that had always stayed aloof, far from worldly matters, intervened and helped the king.
The Satella of then was very different from the current one. A stark contrast to the calm, quiet persona she now wielded.
Her pride knew no bounds, to the point where she was called the incarnation of pride.
Her pride however, made way to become arrogance and as a result, the inevitable happened. Her faith in herself was broken. She lost terribly. Moreover, fighting against two of the four witches ultimately resulted in her getting injuries so deadly that she became forever unable to reach a higher level of being.
Waving her hand, Satella stopped Jasmine from continuing any longer, not willing to listen to the melancholies... to the mistakes of the past.
“We have no need to wake up the ghosts of the past. Let’s talk about how we will deal with the vampire. We also need to take our revenge against Dracula. Otherwise, the other country will think that elves have become soft.”
Satella’s eyes grew colder as she said so, the might of the queen of elves, of the race embodying the personification of pride sparkled in them with a deadly hue, ready to show the consequences to all those insolent enough to look down on them.
At the same time, she could not help but think of the current prince of Lustburg.
From what she had heard, it seemed that the witches had once again left their neutral position because of him, leaving their aloof lives to move for their prince.
She could not help but wonder what kind of man he was.
She hoped that she would not be disappointed once they met.
And she was sure, terribly so, that the time of their meeting was dawning ever so nearer upon them...
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