Chapter 41: Racial Hatred and the Ranger Spirit

Back at the residence, the first thing we did was to pin down Red Flame, who had lunged straight at the Dark Elf, and take the twin blades away from his hands. The hatred between the two elven races was engraved in their very bones, and this reflex-like attack upon meeting each other was deeply rooted.

The awkwardness of the encounter didn’t end there. The standoff between the Monk, Miss Millia, and the Warlock was equally troublesome:

“Necromantic Warlock?” Millia glanced sideways at Poirot and said only those four words, but her expression told us plenty.

“Pretty little lady, but unfortunately a zealot.” That was all Poirot had to say as his only greeting to Fred’s personal physician. Then the two sat down facing each other, both competing to talk with Fred while pretending the other didn’t exist.

“Miss Millia, would you please treat this Miss Eliot’s wound?” Fred pointed to the Dark Elf and asked.

Before the pretty Monk could speak, Red Flame, who was being held back with great effort by three guards, was already protesting loudly:

“This is outrageous! You actually want to heal a Dark Elf. You need to prove to us that you’re sane, Fred.”

I shut his mouth and explained the whole story from beginning to end. Red Flame finally gave in, though he looked extremely reluctant:

“There must be a conspiracy behind this, even if I don’t know what it is. Miss Eliot? Hmph, how do you know she isn’t some… Lady…” Of course, nobody paid any attention to his rude complaints.

The pretty Monk’s resistance toward this strange foreign race was far weaker than her resistance toward those without faith, especially after she learned that this Dark Elf had saved the life of a lovely child. She used her healing spells to quickly mend the wounds on the Elf’s body, and arranged a resting room that was good for recovery and delicious food to entertain her new patient. But unfortunately, she had no good solution for the Dark Elf’s eye condition.

“That’s a hereditary reaction. Her constitution is different from that of humans. Her eyes cannot withstand ordinary light exposure. The extra light stimulation causes the epithelial tissue of the cornea and conjunctiva to peel and shed, resulting in irreversible corneal opacity…”

The Monk’s long-winded lecture made our heads spin. Even the learned Fred couldn’t digest so many strange new terms in such a short time. He interrupted Millia’s pathology lecture: “Miss Millia, could you please explain her condition more simply?”

“She’s blind.” What a short and concise answer.

“Be more tactful, you incompetent zealot. The patient is right here.” Poirot was furious at having wasted so much time with this mortal enemy of his faith.

“You might try learning to respect the facts. Of course, that’s difficult for someone who lacks faith.” Millia took a stance of counterattack. In my view, a magical battle was about to break out at any moment.

“It’s alright, Mr. Poirot. I knew it long ago.” Eliot patted Poirot’s shoulder to comfort him. “It’s just… such a pity. I’ve never seen what flowers on the surface look like. I heard they have colors and carry a pleasant fragrance. What is color, Mr. Poirot? I never saw any color underground. Why aren’t you saying anything…”

Poirot was speechless and hung his head in frustration.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Fred, I can’t help any further.” Millia bowed to Fred and immediately left, but she wasn’t fast enough. Just as she was about to step out of the hall, a single tear fell onto the carpet.

Poirot sank dejectedly into his chair, as if feeling guilty for being unable to cure Eliot’s eyesight.

“Perhaps we could go ask Red Flame. I remember a book recording that when Elves fought against Dark Elves, they would restore the captives’ eyesight and have them lead the way. He might have some method for this.” Fred spoke in a somewhat uncertain tone.

“No need to bother, Mr. Fred. Red Flame won’t…”

Before Eliot could finish, Poirot had already jumped up: “We have to at least try.”

“I’ll go with you. Fred, you look after Miss Eliot.” I followed out the door as well.

…

“Yes, I do have a way to treat it.” To our surprise, Red Flame admitted this readily. “But why should I save a Dark Elf?”

“She hasn’t done anything wrong. In fact, she even saved a child from her own people.” I argued.

“She might have gotten tired of killing and wanted to try saving someone for a change. Can you guarantee she won’t slaughter innocents again in the future?” It seemed that the Dark Elf’s behavior couldn’t dispel Red Flame’s prejudice against that race.

“Give me a reason why I must help her, or else you two can go back.”

“She saved a child’s life. Isn’t that enough?” I was somewhat annoyed by Red Flame’s heartlessness.

“I told you, this might be a trap.” Red Flame remained unmoved.

“She didn’t hurt a single person even when the crowd beat and insulted her. Have you ever seen a Dark Elf like that?”

“That’s exactly where her cunning lies. She’s alone and powerless, so she puts on a pitiful act to win sympathy from people like you.”

“How can you use such an evil mind to judge an innocent life?” I shouted in fury. This anger came from having witnessed with my own eyes how people treated Eliot, and yet she still managed to remain calm and kind. Even among the kindest surface races, I doubted how many would still treat others so kindly after enduring such humiliation and unbearable harm as that young girl had. Poirot was right—no race was born to be hated, and no race was born with the right to hate others, not even the infamous Dark Elves.

Seeing me angry, Red Flame answered in a low voice with a complicated expression: “Because she’s a Dark Elf. You don’t understand, Jeff. What Dark Elves mean to us. I really want to help her too, but I can’t. I truly can’t…”

Yes, I was angry, but I couldn’t blame this honest and upright Elven Ranger. He was conflicted himself, unable to find an excuse to help a sworn enemy, even though he knew she was a kind girl. This traditional thinking that had been instilled into his race since childhood was hard to break.

“I’ll give you a reason.” Poirot, who hadn’t spoken from the start, finally opened his mouth. “A reason why you must save her.”

“What is it?” Red Flame looked at the Necromantic Warlock, and even his own expression revealed a trace of anticipation.

“Save her, simply because she’s a beauty.”

Only a lecherous man like Poirot could come up with a reason like that. I didn’t know how to react. Red Flame’s thoughts were also thrown into a complete tangle by this nonsensical remark, and he couldn’t say a word.

“You’re a Ranger, aren’t you? A very important quality of a Ranger is to help ladies, especially pretty ones, right? Now a very pretty lady is waiting for you to lend a hand, brave and honorable Ranger. This task is yours alone. If you refuse, it will leave an indelible stain on your identity and your reputation. Think it over carefully.” Poirot spoke smoothly and eloquently, tying together two things that had absolutely nothing to do with each other, and somehow it actually sounded quite reasonable.

“But she’s… a Dark Elf…” Red Flame protested weakly, his thoughts not having fully turned the corner yet. Compared to this well-read Warlock in the art of speech, he was far outmatched.

“Who told you to consider her race?” Poirot immediately cut off Red Flame’s words and steered his thinking in another direction. “I’m talking about Ranger traditions—your identity and your race’s honor. What does your honor have to do with her being a Dark Elf? Can you say that because she’s a Dark Elf, your honor isn’t worth upholding? Think about it—if you save her, you only go against a habitual practice, but you avoid bringing shame upon yourself and every Ranger and Elf in the world. Think carefully before you answer me.”

“Jeff, I need to confirm something with you—that Dark… ah no, that woman who needs help, is she… really… a… beauty?” Red Flame had already started subconsciously avoiding the term “Dark Elf.”

“Besides Kelsey, you’ve definitely never seen a lady as pretty as her!” I knew Red Flame had already been convinced.

“Very well then, since it’s necessary, how could I not do it?” Red Flame raised his head again. Of course, I knew he hadn’t changed because of the word “beauty.” A good person wandering in confusion between two principles just needed to be given a reason—no matter how absurd that reason might be—and he would be able to make the right decision according to his own heart and purpose. What Poirot and I did was simply give him a push at the fork between compassion and coldness.

“Damn it, why does it have to be a beauty? Even if she were ugly, I could just ignore her. I’m not really saving her, you know! I’m doing this only because I have to, for the sake of my identity and honor!” As Red Flame took out the medicine kit he carried with him, he kept emphasizing over and over how he had no choice.

“Yes, yes, you’re very honorable, very dignified, and most importantly, very manly!” I held back all my laughter deep down in my belly, almost getting a cramp.

“This is the one. Apply it over the eyes, and don’t let her see any light for two days. You’d better lock that Dark Elf in the basement and give her nothing but dirty water and black bread. No—don’t even give her black bread. Let her eat rats. Anyway, those black races from underground are used to eating that kind of stuff. You’re a devil, Jeff. You and Fred both. Wherever you two are, I’m sure to have bad luck. Last time riding a mule was already unbearable, and now I’m saving a Dark Elf. When my sister finds out, she’ll definitely pull my ears off.” Red Flame complained endlessly, but he couldn’t hide the relaxed and cheerful expression on his face, as if a heavy burden had been lifted. Perhaps he had planned to help Eliot from the very beginning. I liked that thought.

Poirot and I turned to leave with the miraculous medicine, but Red Flame called us back:

“If it stings a little when applied to the eyes, that’s normal. Don’t make a fuss over it. Don’t give her any painkillers either. If she hurts to death, she deserves it.”

Of course, we all knew what this kind-hearted Ranger really meant.

…

Two days later in the evening, Miss Eliot gazed at Red Flame with her violet eyes and expressed her sincere gratitude in a uniquely Elven manner and language.

“Don’t thank me. I didn’t save you for your sake. I did it only for… well… for the honor of Rangers.” Red Flame turned down Eliot’s friendly gesture, but in all our eyes, the reason he acted that way was because he was shy and awkward, not knowing how to express himself.

We each congratulated Eliot on her recovery. During that time, Fred and I also specifically apologized to her for not stopping the crowd in time to prevent her from being hurt. This kind-hearted oddity among the Dark Elves smiled and forgave us.

“May I ask a presumptuous question, Miss Eliot? Where do you plan to go from here? Since you let the captured human child go free, I imagine you can’t go back to the underground city anymore.” Fred worried about the guest’s future.

Eliot lowered her head. She had freed little Lisa only on a momentary impulse and hadn’t seriously thought about her own way forward. In fact, as a Dark Elf, she was still just a young girl who had recently come of age.

“You can be my assistant. I need someone to help me with my magic experiments. On this surface world, with us around, no one is going to make things difficult for you.” As he spoke, Poirot took out an item and handed it to Eliot with both hands.

“This thing will let you walk freely on the surface. Sunlight will never hurt your eyes again. And one day, when you feel that your people have probably forgotten what you did, you can secretly slip back home.”

That thing seemed to be two thin pieces of purple crystal, connected together by a frame and an elastic band.

“Put it over your eyes, and the light will become dimmer. It’s most suitable for daytime use. These are things that those mad alchemy learners use in experiments to protect their eyes from splashing metal solutions and sudden strong light. They call them… Shaded Crystal Spectacles. Yes, Shaded Crystal Spectacles.”

It was a delicate pair of… Shaded Crystal Spectacles. Elegant curves ran along the frames, with a few tiny diamonds set into them, sparkling brilliantly. Eliot, wearing the spectacles, walked excitedly out of the shadows. The light purple crystals added a mysterious aura to her that was hard to put into words. Even Poirot hadn’t expected the spectacles to create such a dramatic change in her appearance, and he hastily unleashed his flirtatious skills, pulling a budding violet out of thin air from somewhere.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous. This flower will surely feel honored to blossom in your hands.”

With his words, Eliot received the first flower she had ever seen in her life. When she raised the bud to her chest, the flower bloomed instantly, presenting us with a quiet and beautiful portrait. Red Flame behaved most improperly at that moment, drooling as he slapped my shoulder and muttered without stopping: “You’re a liar, Jeff. You’re a big liar. You said she wasn’t as pretty as Kelsey—bullshit! Kelsey is nowhere near as pretty as her!”

“Of course, a true gentleman shouldn’t neglect any lady on such an occasion. Miss Millia, you put great effort into treating Miss Eliot, and I apologize for my rude attitude a few days ago. Now, please allow me to present you with the finest flower of my life.”

As he spoke, Poirot uttered a few strange notes from his mouth. As a puff of black aura surged, he pulled from his sleeve a long string of…

Human arm bones and finger bones.

This pile of small, delicate bones was cleverly stacked in his hands, gradually forming the shape of a flower bud. I had to admit that this artwork made of human bones was quite beautiful, but it constantly gave off a strange and ominous feeling.

Millia took the “bone flower” without backing down, without even furrowing her brow. Everyone present couldn’t help but admire the extraordinary courage of this beautiful young woman. She even brought the bone flower up to her nose and sniffed it. I would rather she hadn’t smelled anything at all.

When she was about to put the flower down, the “bone flower” suddenly burst apart in her hand. With cracking and snapping sounds, it rapidly transformed into the shape of a palm and clung tightly to her face.

Everyone present was startled out of their wits. I’m embarrassed to say I was the only one who screamed out loud. Worse off than me was Roll—he was so frightened he couldn’t even make a sound.

“…The connection between the second and third knuckles of the middle finger is somewhat twisted, and there are scratches on it, probably caused by a sprain and dislocation. But overall, it’s a rare, perfectly intact specimen. Thank you. I like this gift very much. I truly misjudged you a few days ago. It turns out there are a few Necromantic Warlocks with decent taste after all.” Millia didn’t even twitch an eyebrow as she calmly commented on the palm right in front of her face.

“Good heavens, Fred, what kind of woman is this? I’ve never seen a woman maintain such composure in a situation like this. Are you sure she’s a human and not some undead creature?” Poirot exclaimed, staring at his completely failed prank in disbelief. I was sure he had pulled this kind of nasty joke more than once, but encountering someone who reacted like this—especially a young and pretty lady—must have been a first for him.

“I’m just a Monk. My faith dictates that I should not only learn healing magic, but also understand ordinary medicine, so that I can help more people.” Millia explained away Poirot’s confusion, then said something that made everyone want to faint: “I’ve dissected no fewer than two hundred corpses. It’s just that poor people’s hand bones always have some problems, not like the well-kept one you gave me. The nobles never agree to let us dissect their corpses.”

“Did you say you’ve dissected…” Poirot’s jaw dropped to the ground.

“Yes, nothing special about it. Oh, as a Necromantic Warlock, you should be quite interested in this too. You’re welcome to visit my laboratory. I can give you some little gifts you might find useful in return, such as… a set of intestines from an infant who died young, or two pairs of eyeballs from conjoined twins. I think you’d be very interested in those…”

“Ugh…” I covered my mouth and ran out of the hall, vomiting heavily under a tree by the corner of the wall. The organs between my chest and lower belly contracted rapidly at an abnormal rhythm, and sour, bitter liquid gushed uncontrollably out of my mouth. I really shouldn’t have eaten so much greasy, heavy food at dinner.

“Ugh…” Another person appeared beside me. I looked closely—it was Poirot.

“Why did you come out here too? Ugh…”

“The things she said were so disgusting. Who could stand it? Ugh…”

“Aren’t you a Necromantic Warlock? Haven’t you ever dissected… Ugh…”

“Who the hell said a Necromantic Warlock has to have dissected corpses? Ugh… Don’t talk to me about such disgusting things. Ugh…”

“Then where did you get that pile of bones you always carry around with you? Ugh…”

“Some crazy old man who studied necromantic magic insisted on giving them to me. You think I actually wanted that kind of thing? I swear, I’ve never touched a human corpse. Ugh…”

“Ugh…”

…