Arc-7 Ch-29
147
Chapter
Elf
2026
"Hii, hiii!?"
The teacup that was hurled toward the wall while spinning in midair scattered its contents everywhere as it smashed violently against the wall, then fell onto the carpet in the form of tiny pottery shards.
The interior furnishings were made without sparing any expense from timber that had been carefully processed by master carpenters using old trees nurtured on this very floating island.
The carpet had been woven over the course of several years by skilled weavers using only the finest selected natural materials in abundance.
Despite not caring that all of these would be scratched and soiled, the middle-aged elf kept raging on, his uncontrollable fury refusing to subside.
If only he could unleash the burning resentment he held in his stomach directly upon the fellow elves cowering right in front of him, how refreshing that would surely feel.
The sole reason he did not act on the murderous impulse that flashed through his mind was his pride: he refused to become the same as those foolish, discriminatory supremacists.
If even a sliver of his reason gave way to passion, every single one of the kin trembling before him would have ended up exactly like that teacup, reduced to worthless fragments.
That such a thing did not happen was entirely because this middle-aged elf was no ordinary man: he was an intelligent and distinguished patriot who, grieving daily for the steadily declining future of his homeland and his people, had taken up the heavy mantle of village chief.
Of course, whether the elves shivering like frightened pet dogs before their master even realized that fact was another matter entirely.
To them, the only thing that mattered in this moment was one single point: how could they possibly avoid the wrath of this authority figure who was desperately clamping down on his rage?
“…I will ask you just one more time, you lot, what exactly did you do?”
"Th-that… um…"
"I am giving you no time for excuses. Do not think your clumsy patchwork stories will fool anyone."
"…We attacked the noble who was staying at the inn."
Crash!!
This time it was the guest ashtray that sailed through the air and struck the windowpane head-on, sending a hail of transparent glass shards raining down both inside the room and out.
In truth he had wanted to hurl it straight at the skulls of these elves sitting directly on the floor.
The only reason he managed, barely, to restrain himself was the unshakable sense of duty that he could not allow the number of elves to decrease any further, no matter how idiotic these particular ones might be.
And also because every single one of the elves currently under interrogation was already wounded.
Those still capable of answering questions were only lightly injured at worst; the heavily wounded could not even be moved from their beds and were under strict watch to prevent any attempt at flight.
Fortunately there had been not a single fatality but perhaps for these elves it would have been kinder if someone had died.
The prouder and more arrogant they are, the more easily their hearts are wounded. These elves who had always looked down on humans from on high had just suffered the single most humiliating, wretched defeat imaginable at human hands. What would become of them now?
If they were doomed to suffer for decades or even centuries, then perhaps allowing them to end their own lives would actually be an act of compassion.
If the other side had acted while fully aware of that fact, then they were far too practiced and far too accustomed to breaking both body and spirit. No. Excessively so.
He wanted to believe it could not possibly go that far… but the opponent was none other than Earl Leon Fou Bartfort-sama.
Though he may fall short of Saintess Olivia or the five heroes who saved the kingdom, when it came to a purely military career, there was no question that he ranked at the absolute pinnacle within the Holfort Kingdom.
Surviving an encounter with that infamous, villainous knight was already miraculous good fortune. If only the ones who provoked him had not been these brainless fellow elves who seemed to have nothing but clay stuffed inside their skulls.
"Who ordered you fools to commit such an outrage?"
"Th-that would be…"
"Speak! If you refuse to speak, I will tear out those tongues that keep vomiting filth and burn your throats to cinders!"
"I-I’ll speak! I’ll speak! It was the group that followed the former village chief-sama!"
"…So it really was those ones after all."
He twisted his mouth in deep disgust and turned his body away as though he could no longer bear to look at something so repulsive, walking the few steps toward his chair.
Though the distance was short, the current village chief’s mind spun at furious speed. By the time he lowered himself into the seat, he had regained a mask of calm, at least on the surface.
Even so, the headache was excruciating; dizziness and chills continued to ravage his body without pause, and the nausea surging in his throat would surely keep him from tasting food properly for several days to come.
In all the centuries since he was born an elf, he had faced threats to his life on many occasions.
Yet now, less than ten years after assuming the position of village chief, the elves had been plunged into a genuine crisis of survival in such a short span.
The current village chief once more turned his gaze toward the outlaws who had so thoroughly defiled the honor of all elves.
If he offered up the heads of every single one of these fools, might he perhaps avert the fury of Earl Bartfort-sama, or rather of the upper echelons of the Holfort Kingdom itself?
He shook his head sharply at the thought. That stage had passed long ago.
To suppress the recent disturbance in the dungeon, he himself had bowed his head to every relevant party and stationed far too many personnel around the dungeon perimeter. It was a grievous blunder in hindsight.
No… it was actually fortunate that medics who found the cover-up suspicious, along with eyewitnesses, had passed information along so quickly that it reached his ears in merely half a day.
The former village chief, an outspoken elf supremacist, and the stubborn old village elders who refused all change like immovable boulders were now nothing but dead weight for the future of the elves.
If he could make it appear that he had tearfully, reluctantly offered up his fellow kin in order to protect the village and the entire race, he could at least avoid condemnation from the other elves.
And by showing that the ruler himself was taking the lead in cleaning up the mess, he might somewhat soften the bad impression left on the kingdom’s leadership.
Having somehow arrived at that conclusion, he gave an order to the elf responsible for public order who was still present in the room.
"Lock those ones in the prison cells. Even if their families or relatives come begging for their release, do not listen under any circumstances."
"Is that truly all the punishment they will receive?"
"Formal punishment will be decided and carried out once everything is settled but make absolutely certain they do not die. If it looks as though we killed them to shut their mouths, suspicion will fall on us instead."
"Understood."
"Ah, and recall all personnel currently stationed on dungeon guard duty. Assign them new tasks at once."
"Is that really alright?"
"Of course it is not alright. But priority must be given to resolving this incident. There is no meaning in preserving only the dungeon if the village falls into decline and the elf race itself is driven to extinction."
"As you command."
The security chief roughly hauled the outlaws to their feet and forced them out of the room. They still seemed to have words of excuse or defense left, desperately raising their voices but the closing door cut them off completely.
Once he was alone in the room, he finally noticed the dryness in his throat and reached for the teapot that had been placed nearby.
He glanced around for a cup, but the only thing that met his eyes was the mound of shattered fragments lying atop the sodden carpet.
Remembering the disaster these ignorant, benighted fellow elves had caused, he could not stop a disgusted click of the tongue from escaping.
The one small mercy was that the broken cup had been an ordinary, mass-produced everyday item. Had it been one of the high-class pieces reserved for guests, the anger that had only just begun to subside would surely have erupted all over again, and he would have lost himself completely.
He desperately repeated deep breaths in an attempt to calm his heart, knowing that if he let his emotions take over and acted on them, the only thing waiting would be utter ruin.
He searched through centuries of memories and recalled the determination that had led him to aspire to become village chief: it was solely about how to ensure the survival of the elves, this race on the path to extinction.
※ ※ ※ ※ ※
The elf who currently served as village chief had been born hundreds of years ago on the floating island where the elf village existed.
His parents were also a young elf couple who had been born and raised in this village and had come together there; among the residents of the village, they were not so poor as to starve, but they also lacked the wealth or education to hold any important positions, leading an average life.
Such a life changed when he approached the age at which he would be recognized as an adult, triggered by a casual invitation from a friend elf to work as an exclusive servant in the royal capital.
At that time in the Holfort Kingdom, nobles were competing to hire beautiful elves and demi-humans as exclusive servants.
For long-lived elves, it was a dream-like job that guaranteed a luxurious lifestyle and considerable wages for just a few years or decades, a short period.
Even if one were to marry and build a family in the elf village, a certain amount of savings was necessary; the village disliked excessive interaction with the kingdom, but it could not sustain itself without purchasing necessary supplies from humans.
Above all, he could not suppress his desire to leave the elf village, which lacked change, and broaden his own horizons.
He somehow managed to bow his head to his parents and persuade them, set a promised time limit, and boarded the airship heading to the royal capital along with his fellow kin.
He arrived at the royal capital after several days of travel. It proved more than sufficient. In fact it was overwhelmingly so. That was enough to reshape the entire value system of this young elf. The city felt like another world altogether.
Up until then, he had been a pure-hearted youth who believed without doubt that elves were the most superior race in the world; in a sense, he could be called an ignorant and unenlightened fellow who knew nothing of the world.
However, the mansion of the high-ranking noble who employed him was different in every way from the human merchants he had encountered visiting his homeland up to that point.
The scale of the wealth they possessed, the craftsmanship of the furnishings, the level of higher education, the trade routes with other countries.
But what overwhelmed him more than anything was the gunports installed on the military airships, and the black steel armor shaped like human figures.
"We cannot win."
What welled up was a resignation that surpassed despair.
No matter how beautiful and rich in magical power the elves might be as a race, it meant nothing in the face of the airships and armor owned by the kingdom's nobles.
What would happen if a noble of the Holfort Kingdom decided on a whim to plot the eradication of the elves?
If they blockaded the elf village's airport, sealing off any means of escape from the floating island, and fully coordinated with other nobles?
Every elf living on the floating island would be killed without a single one left.
Old people, infants, men, and women. Regardless of any of that, the elves would be completely exterminated.
There was no way a war could even occur; they had already been defeated before any fighting began.
He was made to realize that the elves had already become a race subservient to humans.
The next emotion that erupted was fury.
The target of his anger was not toward humans; rather, as he spent more time living alongside humans, he even began to hold a certain kind of respect for them.
Certainly, humans as a race were short-lived, surviving only about a century at most, and many possessed magical power that was meager compared to elves.
But it was precisely their diligence and ambition to overcome such weaknesses that had propelled them to become the rulers of the world.
Because they were short-lived, they reproduced in mere decades, achieving selective breeding and generational succession from parent to child, child to grandchild.
Because they were inferior in magical power, they deepened their knowledge, honed their technology, organized social systems, divided roles, and developed accordingly.
The elves, who understood nothing, scorned and mocked humans as equivalent to frail insects.
Yet, while the elves lived sluggish lives like unchanging wood and stone, it was the humans as a race who had busily continued to advance and develop.
Having reached this new perspective, the young elf could no longer hide his disgust toward his own kind.
The village elders, bound by traditions, unquestioningly continued lives unchanged from the past, believing they were coexisting with humans.
Such superficial peace was nothing more than a fortress built of sand that could easily crumble under the base schemes of those in power.
The elves and demi-humans who degraded themselves as exclusive servants, essentially slaves, spreading their legs while inwardly looking down on their masters.
How could they not realize that they themselves were the shameful ones defiling their own race, making it more ignorant and base than humans?
He even entertained delirious wishes like wanting to be reborn as a human.
The young elf cursed himself for being unable to think of any countermeasures in this critical situation.
"I must acquire power."
Having come to that realization, the young elf began to serve the human noble with particular enthusiasm.
Even while enduring mockery from the other exclusive servants, he avoided work that resembled being a male concubine, and by taking the initiative even in trivial chores, he demonstrated his loyalty to his master.
Eventually, due to his diligent performance, he was promoted from a time-limited exclusive servant to a formal butler; for a demi-human servant, this could be called an exceptional personnel decision.
From there, he continued to serve the same master for over a decade, and when there was a change of generations, he resigned with regret and began serving another house.
Under his new lord, he devoted himself to work and gained recognition, only to move to yet another house upon the next generational change; this pattern repeated.
Since then, the young elf spent nearly a century single-mindedly accumulating wealth and cultivating connections within the Holfort Kingdom.
By the time he finally returned to his homeland, he had reached an age where, even for a long-lived elf, he could no longer be called young.
The elf's goal was a single, modest one: he simply wanted to protect his homeland and his fellow kin.
However, it had to be said that this was an extremely difficult thing to achieve.
No matter how beautiful and rich in magical power the elves might be, they would not stand a chance against a human army.
The elf village possessed neither airships that soared through the skies and split the earth with cannons, nor armor that mowed down enemies at the pilot's will.
But such military might was ultimately just one of many forms of power existing in the world.
He had come to know that the world held various other powers as well: authority, financial power, intellect, fame, beauty, rarity, and more.
It was no coincidence that the best teachers for learning these were the humans, who were their hypothetical enemies.
It was nothing special; in this world, the ones most worthy of deep observation and imitation were none other than one's strongest adversaries.
First, the elf used the wealth he had accumulated in the royal capital and the connections he had cultivated to start a business.
He built a warehouse near the airport on his homeland's floating island, and as an intermediary connecting the village elves with human merchants, he handled the buying and selling of goods while also arranging job placements in parallel.
The elves who despised humans understood deep down that interaction was necessary to obtain supplies, even if they avoided involvement.
Therefore, it was only natural that an elf skilled in negotiations with humans would be highly valued.
In less than a decade, the elf was recognized by the elves living in the village as the key figure overseeing trade with humans.
Around this time, the conflict between the village elder, who was the oldest elf, and the village chief, who was the de facto ruler, became visibly intense.
The village elder valued the traditional way of life and customs, advocating coexistence with humans; the village chief, while claiming it was for the sake of all elves, oppressed not only humans but even his own kin.
If anyone had to be eliminated, it was the latter; to gain the power needed to protect the village and kin, the one to remove was the village chief.
Moreover, he had heard through the grapevine that the village chief and his entourage were plotting something unsavory in the ruins deep within the dungeon.
This was the moment; using the connections he had cultivated, he subtly leaked information to the nobles while maintaining an innocent facade, hoping for the village chief's downfall.
However, what arrived at the village was a group of young human males and one female; the elf inwardly bit his lip, feeling that the situation had been taken too lightly.
Had the timing been too poor after all?
The war between the Holfort Kingdom and the Fanoss Duchy had ended only a short time ago.
If he had appealed after the plot had surfaced a bit more, the kingdom's upper echelons would surely have viewed the matter more seriously.
Such regrets of the elf turned into results exceeding his expectations in less than a few days.
He learned later that the female who visited the village was the saintess who had played an active role in the war, and among the males, the prince was apparently disguised.
The kingdom's upper echelons considered the situation far more gravely than the elf had anticipated and judged that urgent action was necessary.
The saintess and her group, bearing a secret mission, captured the village chief and his entourage and imprisoned them.
He heard a bit later that Kyle, the half-elf who had become the saintess's attendant, had also put in a good word.
Even after the situation was resolved, he could not let his guard down.
After all, even though it had ended in an attempt, a conspiracy was still a conspiracy; if they offended the kingdom, the elves could be completely eradicated.
The elf maintained a particularly humble attitude while emphatically appealing the village's dire circumstances and continuing to seek protection.
In truth, he had no desire to save his fellow kin who had become exclusive servants, mingled with humans, yet betrayed their masters during the war and sold information to the enemy country,such disloyal ones.
However, the elf himself was undoubtedly a traitor who had betrayed the village chief and appealed to the kingdom.
Even so, out of pride that he had no intention of enriching himself or oppressing his kin, and out of compassion for them, he extended a hand of salvation.
What he wished for above all was the survival of the village and the safety of his kin; if that could be achieved, the elf would not begrudge his own wealth or even his life.
The formal judgment was handed down several years later, around the time when the civil unrest in the Alzer Republic and the renewed invasion by the Fanoss Duchy had concluded.
The village chief was dismissed and imprisoned, and the elves in his entourage likewise ended up serving sentences.
The unrelated elves were not held accountable, and the village elders were not dismissed either; with this resolution, all the village residents could finally feel relieved after several years.
The new issue was that the elf village had become a direct territory of the kingdom, leading to restrictions on owning airships and armor, as well as obligations for taxation.
But these were problems that could be solved.
For that purpose, the elf had observed humans up close over decades.
He had learned the wisdom of humans. He earned their trust to build connections. He maneuvered meticulously. He did all of this to climb to a position where he could manage the elf village.
It was also fortunate that he could align with the current trends as the kingdom began postwar reconstruction.
This was thanks to the repeated incidents where demi-humans, who had lost their jobs as exclusive servants prohibited by law after the previous war, turned to crime.
The compassionate saintess negotiated with the kingdom's upper echelons and worked to have the demi-humans recognized as citizens of the kingdom.
In addition, the kingdom separated the asset management division of the Adventurers' Guild and established a national financial institution, starting various loans as part of postwar recovery.
And thus, he finally succeeded in turning his homeland into a tourist destination and achieving economic independence; it was around the time when a full century had passed since he had left his homeland as an exclusive servant.
Of course, there was no way that turning the village into a tourist spot would occur without any opposition at all.
The elves already had a severe contempt for humans, and on top of that, the elders led by the village elder opposed using the dungeon as an attraction for visitors.
The elves would say, why must we, the noble elves, grovel and flatter humans?
The elders would say, we must not commit the taboo of allowing outsiders into the elves' sacred ground.
The elf gnashed his teeth at the baseness and stubbornness of his kin whom he was supposed to protect.
How long would they remain trapped in illusions, rejecting change and bound by outdated customs?
There was no such thing as elven pride; that was nothing but a delusion created by fools who continued to avert their eyes from reality to console their own hearts.
Did they feel nothing upon seeing the creativity, diligence, and reproductive power of humans?
Why could they not realize that the current situation required selling off traditions and conventions, or else the elf race would vanish from the world?
The elves had no means to protect themselves from external enemies; no matter how superior in physical abilities and magical power, repelling a human army was impossible.
What methods were available to ensure the survival of the race?
They had to showcase the rarity of elves to receive protection, while accumulating funds and knowledge to become indispensable to the Holfort Kingdom.
There was ample chance of success; after all, elves were the longest-lived creatures in the world, excluding plants.
No matter how excellent a human might be, they inevitably aged; they reached adulthood in just twenty years, began to wane in forty, and became elderly in sixty.
If they could make the absolute force of time's flow, which nothing could resist, their ally, there was still fertile ground for the elves to prosper.
For now, it was merely the time to plant seedlings; they had to endure steadfastly until the planted seedlings grew, bloomed, and bore fruit.
A disruption to that plan occurred a few years ago, triggered by the ascension of a new king in the Holfort Kingdom.
When the previous king abdicated and the new king ascended, it was customary to issue a pardon order, releasing political prisoners who showed no intent to rebel.
Even so, the reputation of the former king, Roland, as a monarch was not favorable, whether domestically or internationally.
In addition, the prince who had been the legitimate son of the king had been demoted to commoner status and was now the Duke of Fanoss, while the new king was the prince born to a concubine.
By staging a merciful new king who pardoned those who had committed crimes during the previous king's reign, the true intent was likely to proclaim the royal family's prestige and the renewal of the political system.
The problem was that among those pardoned was the elf village chief. No, the former village chief.
The kingdom's upper echelons cited the fact that the elves who had once committed crimes had obediently served their sentences for over a decade, and at the same time, they were released for the purpose of promoting interracial harmony with elves and demi-humans.
Had they truly repented?
The elf directed a gaze of suspicion toward the former village chief and his entourage.
He knew the former village chief well: a disgrace to the race whose character was thoroughly rotten, obsessed with wealth and power, hurling abuse and violence even at his own kin.
A base scoundrel who flattered humans while despising them, using the female-supremacist and male-subjugating policies enforced in the Holfort Kingdom at the time as a shield to offer his manhood to noblewomen, while oppressing lower nobles and other slaves.
Because of that, he was not trusted at all by his fellow kin, and his reputation as village chief was the worst.
If that one had possessed even a bit more decent sense of ethics and responsibility, then the elf would never have needed to become the new village chief.
A criminal who had been captured by the saintess had returned to the village that was beginning to undergo reforms and after a mere sentence of a few decades.
For the long-lived elves, ten or twenty years was hardly any time at all; they were already a race that resisted change and was filled with prejudices.
The elf's premonition came true in the worst possible way.
The elves who rejected the rapid reforms and those who would not stop their contempt for humans began flocking to the former village chief's side one after another.
The sight of his fellow kin, who even forgot the mistreatment they had received from the former village chief and started denouncing the new village chief carrying out reforms, was like that of beasts without wisdom.
He could only be dumbfounded by the fools who cursed the elf. The elf had labored tirelessly so that his kin would not starve or be sold off. Yet they called him a traitor who had forgotten elven pride.
In addition, the former village chief repeatedly spouted words that incited the village residents; as expected, being chained in prison had done nothing to correct his rotten nature.
"Now is the time to reclaim the pride of the elves."
"We have a secret plan."
"A new history begins from here."
Fellow kin dissatisfied with the current state began leaving the settlements and towns to live elsewhere, even engaging in unfamiliar construction work to build something resembling a fortress.
Even so, if they would live peacefully, there might be no need to deliberately interrogate them.
It was far better than a small race fighting among themselves and declining; rather, if they served as a refuge for those who could not adapt to the reforms, he might even feel a sense of gratitude.
He overlooked it with that line of thinking; he could not deny that there was also a sense of guilt for having framed the former village chief and seized power.
But far from showing gratitude, the former village chief intensified his opposition and began suspicious activities.
Accompanied by his entourage, he immersed himself in the ruins for days on end, and he was independently purchasing large quantities of shady items from the underworld.
Even if he tried to investigate in detail, the information blockade was thorough, and his spies could not even get close to the depths.
And finally, there were even deaths.
The victim was an adventurer who had been exploring the dungeon located in the upper levels of the ruins.
In the current situation where turning it into a tourist destination was succeeding, this was bad; he somehow disguised it as an unfortunate accident that occurred during exploration and plotted to bring it to a close.
But even without plotting, that was the same as lending a hand to the former village chief's scheme; it was nothing less than staining his hands with shady misdeeds.
Perhaps the former village chief interpreted the elf's actions as cooperation, because after a short while, another adventurer who visited the dungeon became a victim.
The elf, not wanting to damage the village's reputation, had no choice but to rush around handling the aftermath once again.
※ ※ ※ ※ ※
The current elf village chief snapped back from his reverie.
The already broken teacup had been cleared away, and the tea that had soaked the carpet had been meticulously dealt with, making it no longer noticeable.
If only he could make his own sins unnoticeable like this, how much lighter his heart would feel.
To think that this was the outcome of taking the village chief's seat to protect his homeland and kin; by now, not even words of lament would come from his mouth.
He had intended to seek paths that were not the best but better ones; he felt nostalgic for his former self who had believed that by learning from humans, elves could become better beings.
Perhaps the elf race should simply go extinct by now; in these past few years, he had even harbored such thoughts while carrying out his duties day after day.
If the elves were to perish due to their own arrogance and foolishness, then perhaps that was fine?
He shook his head upon thinking that far; that was an act unforgivable for a ruler.
He had sought power precisely because he wanted to save his kin, even if it meant being covered in humiliation; he had continued to promote reforms without being understood and searched for ways to survive because there were things he wanted to protect.
If this was the obsession of the long path he had walked, then there was nothing to do but accept it; even so, he should probably struggle on until the very last elf remained.
He earnestly wished that the saintess would once again save this land through the information he had secretly leaked.
Until then, he had to secure every possible card he could use in negotiations with the Holfort Kingdom, employing any and all methods.
In the current situation, the most powerful negotiation card was the members of the Bartfort earl family.
Even if it meant using the method of capturing the family and threatening them, he would make use of it for the survival of this village.
Even if he were to be miserably killed by the hands of the villainous knight, he would still carry it out.
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Authors Note
┻━━━━━━━━━━┻
This is a chapter focusing on the original character, the current elf village chief.
The word count ended up longer than expected, so the story about the Barfort family is carried over to the next time.
Here's a sad note: the comic adaptation of the Marie route, aka "That Otome Game is a Tough World for Us," has reached its final chapter. (Tears)
To heal this sadness, I have no choice but to write some lovey-dovey scenes between Leon and Angie! (Hey)
So, I'll delay the posting of the next chapter a bit and post an adult-oriented chapter for this work instead.
The next chapter will be a strategy meeting from Leon's perspective; please wait a little while.
Addendum: At the request of the commissioner, Hanatori-sama has drawn an illustration, and 9430-sama has posted a previously drawn illustration on pixiv.
Thank you so much.
Hanatori-sama Pixiv
9430-sama Pixiv
If you could give me your opinions and impressions, I would like to use them as encouragement for the future.
~~~End~~~