A few moments later, they found themselves standing before the four high Elves and several other elders gathered in a hall.
The hall had a circular structure, carved into the massive body of the Tree of Life. The four high Elves sat on chairs with high, ornate backs. They appeared youthful, exuding an overwhelming charisma, with piercing eyes that seemed to see everything, as if they knew the past and the future.
The other elves, seated below them, wore wooden crowns. The number of leaves on the crowns indicated their rank and status. The walls of the hall were adorned with carvings depicting a brief history of Siralda.
Behind the Elf Lord, who was one of the high Elves himself, a large green flag was raised, symbolizing the land of Siralda.
For a moment, Gerard felt lost. He was a warrior, not a diplomat. Although he had learned about negotiation and the customs of various nations in the temple, he had never needed to apply them in practice. However, when he looked at his companions, he realized that he was the only one feeling anxious. Even the minstrel showed no sign of nervousness.
Gerard took a deep breath and tried to calm himself.
The elves scrutinized him and his companions with a heavy, superior gaze. But when their eyes fell on the minstrel, one of them said,
"What are you doing here, Farhad of Pars?"
Gerard looked at the minstrel in surprise. The people of Pars were known as mercenaries wandering across Midragon. Their land, located in the southeast of Midragon, was famous for its hot and arid climate.
The Elf Lord smirked and said,
"What is one of the elves of Pars doing here? I heard that the elves of that region have become nomads, performing menial and insignificant tasks in various lands. Have you come here seeking acceptance, wandering minstrel?"
Farhad was not taken aback by this mocking reception. He bowed slightly and calmly replied,
"I thank you for your kindness, my lord. However, we nomads have forgotten what it means to settle. After the collapse of our land, we have no destiny but wandering. I have not come to Siralda to seek favor, but rather to meet a friend who has been with you for some time."
One of the elders laughed and said,
"Hahaha! Boy, you speak well. I heard that the people of Pars speak like humans from a thousand years ago. It's surprising that one of you seems to have learned to adapt to the times!"
Farhad bowed briefly and replied,
"Indeed, elder. Those who do not adapt are left behind."
This subtle response was a clever jab at the elves of Siralda.
The Elf Lord, unwilling to prolong the discussion, asked,
"Are they your companions?"
Farhad said,
"Actually, I am accompanying them. We met outside the borders of Siralda, at the crossroads of Drak'thul."
The Elf Lord stroked his chin and, with a deep gaze, pointed at Gerard,
"You, human. Did you know this man is from Pars?"
Still bewildered, Gerard denied it and repeated Farhad's words.
After hearing them, the Elf Lord said,
"So, you have come to Siralda to meet someone specific, is that right? However, I must tell you that he is currently unconscious. You may stay here for now until the situation becomes clear. Even we do not know when he will regain consciousness."
Farhad asked,
"My lord, may I know the reason for his unconsciousness?"
Talion, one of the elders who had remained silent until then, said,
"He participated in the Trial of the Scythes of Life and Death."
Farhad's eyes widened in astonishment.
"The Trial of the Scythes? Can humans even partake in this trial?"
Talion glanced at the Elf Lord, who nodded in approval, then continued,
"In truth, Harold came here to hunt some monsters. But for certain reasons, we decided to give him the opportunity to take the trial so he could venture into the depths of Asryndor and address the problem at its root."
Farhad asked anxiously,
"You didn't force him, did you?"
One of the elders slammed the table in anger and shouted,
"Silence, insolent elf! How dare you?"
The guards pointed their spears at the group, and the nameless knights drew their swords. Gerard, seeing no other option, unsheathed his sword and said nervously,
"You do realize that killing us would mean declaring war on the Empire, don't you? You'd better reconsider such rash decisions!"
The Elf Lord raised his hands, and the guards returned to their posts.
He said,
"I don't think further discussion will be productive. For now, you may leave to rest—except for you, Farhad of Pars! You will come with me."
Then, the Elf Lord rose from his seat, signaling the end of the session. Gerard and his companions were escorted to their quarters, while Farhad followed the Elf Lord.
_________________
At some distance from the Tree of Life, amidst the dense forest trees, there was a treehouse that usually hosted a few elven healers every day.
These healers visited the cabin three times a day and left shortly after. This frequent coming and going had caught the attention of younger elves. Elves between the ages of thirty and fifty often found such mysteries intriguing.
The young elves, whose adventurous spirits burned brightly, were always on the lookout for new discoveries in the forest. However, with the emergence of monsters, they were no longer allowed to stray far from the elven settlement. This restriction felt like an invisible cage to children eager for exploration.
Elves, especially during childhood, had an insatiable thirst for learning and curiosity. They were used to wandering the forest fearlessly, sometimes even reaching the borders of the Whispering Forests. But now, being unable to venture out only deepened their sense of confinement.
When one of the teenage elves noticed the healers' comings and goings, they quickly informed the others. Eager for adventure, they wasted no time in heading to the cabin.
The path to the cabin was well-guarded, but the young elves, who had plenty of experience sneaking out of their homes, used magic and the environment to evade the guards.
On the way, they encountered a group of healers who had just left the cabin. After the healers moved on, the young elves joyfully made their way inside.
The interior of the cabin was quite simple. Apart from numerous cobweb-covered glass bottles, yellowed papers, and a large table, there was little else to see.
One of the children entered an adjacent room and saw a human man lying on a bed.
Beside the bed were many weapons and belongings: a sword with the emblem of the Temple of Light, a silver sword, an axe crafted by the northern dwarfs, a magical staff, and…
But above all, their attention was drawn to a pair of large scythes connected by two chains. Unlike the other weapons, the scythes rested on a soft cushion.
One of the children exclaimed excitedly,
"I know what those are! Those are the Scythes of Life and Death!"
Another asked nervously,
"Then this human…?"
A third answered,
"Yeah, this is the one who passed the trial!"
Another child said in astonishment,
"Does that mean he's an elven warrior?"
"I don't know… But doesn't an elven warrior have to be an elf? He's human!"
Their discussions and speculations continued. They even picked up Harold's belongings, but most of them were too heavy for the children to handle properly.
Clang!
One of the elves accidentally dropped the holy sword, which had been leaning against the wall, onto the floor.
"Ahh!!!"
One of the children hissed in fear,
"Shhh! Be quiet! If he wakes up or someone catches us, do you know what'll happen to us?"
Another child nervously suggested,
"Guys, let's get out of here. If we stay any longer, we'll get into trouble."
But one of the children, mesmerized by the beauty of the Scythes of Life and Death, couldn't resist trying to touch them. His eyes saw nothing else but the scythes. Deep inside, he longed to feel their smooth surface, even for a brief moment.
"Just for a second…"
Suddenly, a strong hand pulled him back.
The frightened child felt an overwhelming, oppressive aura. A deep, gravelly voice from behind said,
"Who are you?"
The children, trembling in fear, saw the man rise from the bed.
One of them screamed in terror,
"A ghost! He's a ghost!!!"
Screaming, they bolted out through the door and windows, vanishing into the depths of the forest.
Harold glanced at the holy sword that had fallen to the ground. He picked it up and leaned it back against the wall. Then, in a weary, raspy voice, he asked,
"How long was I unconscious?"