Lanmu-li nestled near the Elven Capital, a cluster of homes clinging to old trunks like moss to stone, quiet under leaf-shadow.

Because it sat by the shaded avenue, traders once stopped there to breathe, to resupply, like migratory birds pausing beneath green eaves before flying on.

Then war broke like a storm through the boughs—few traders still dared the road, most adventurers were seized, the empire swept its borders clean of human footprints.

Aside from a few elven merchants from afar, Lanmu-li held no trace of humankind, the paths like dew-swept threads unmarked by foreign boots.

Fenglan Tavern perched on a great tree at the village’s edge, its wood-beam rooms braided by rope bridges like vines, staggered and beautiful.

Inside, business felt cold as a pond at dawn; elves favored wine like mist favors stone—lightly—so, after the purge, few came.

Sigh… Charlotte let the sound fall like a leaf, her short red hair a rare ember among elves, yet her beauty held fresh as morning skin.

She owned Fenglan Tavern, and though a hundred winters had brushed past, her face kept the gloss of a maiden, like rain on petals.

At this rate, we’ll have to sell juice instead! Her complaint fluttered like a sparrow, light but worried, over the empty counter.

On the bar, glass cups gleamed like frost, beer casks squatted like drowsy brown bears; bread-scent and malt warmth filled a room with no hands to take them.

Isn’t that nice, too? An older elf lifted his glass with lazy ease, his voice like a soft breeze drifting through reeds.

No troublemakers, no brawls at night; I’m lighter by a stone, he joked, the tavern no longer a field of flying fists.

His name was Morand, captain of Lanmu-li’s guard; his frame had softened like dough, but his eyes still cut like bright flint.

We can’t say that. Those traveling merchants weren’t all bad; locking them up without sorting truth from smoke feels cruel, Charlotte said, worry simmering.

It’s war, sure, but it’s strange… Morand set down his glass like a river stone, scratched his elven ear as if stirring thought.

I heard the queen meant to join Dragon Heaven for a joint anti-terror push… then, suddenly, she declared war like thunder without warning.

What’s Her Majesty thinking? Charlotte’s question hung like a moth in lamplight.

No clue… Morand’s shrug fell like a loosened leaf.

While they talked, two travel-worn elven girls stepped through the door, dust like pollen on their hems, eyes bright and tired.

The silver-haired one stood tall, a silver longbow in hand; her drifting hair moved like moon-thread, clean and capable, proud as a Silverwing Elf from a hidden realm.

The blue-haired one was smaller, her steps wavering like a foal’s; adorable at first glance, a water-blue sword trembling in soft hands.

Her grip said she knew little of blades; that lost look begged a gentle embrace, like a fawn seeking the shade.

They were Yedie Snow and Yue Liuyi.

Is there anything I can help you with? Charlotte’s welcome was warm as tea steam; elves loved beauty the way spring loves blossoms.

Thank you. We’re penniless and looking for work, the girls said, voices soft as rain under leaves.

They spoke Elvish, a language woven from the syllables of the World Tree; even Yue Liuyi knew a few notes like birdsong.

Penniless?! What happened? Morand’s brow knotted like twine.

We’re traveling booksellers of Snow-Moon Forest. Our caravan was robbed by unknown men… I saved nothing but my sister.

Though the Elven Empire had gone to war with the Holy Radiance Alliance, outsiders of elven blood still found the gates gentle, like shadows seeking shade.

Their worn faces showed road-dust and worry; they carried only weapons, a truth simple as bark, enough for Morand to believe.

You’re elves from outside? Then your robbers were likely humans! Their trade fails, so they claw back with robbery—damn them! His anger struck like a spark.

Mm… Morand, don’t say that without proof. You two rest here; I’ll ask the elder about work, Charlotte said, calm as a lake.

She set down two fresh apple juices, cool as morning dew, and two glutinous rice cakes, soft as clouds pressed to plate.

Thanks! Yue Liuyi’s gratitude glowed like a candle; after half a day walking, her body felt empty as a gourd, hunger and thirst gnawing.

She swallowed the rice cake whole, clumsy and eager, her haste drawing Morand’s and Charlotte’s sideways looks like sparrows peeking.

The silver-haired girl didn’t eat; she sat quiet as moonlight and slid her portion toward Yue Liuyi with a steady hand.

Eh? Sister Dixue? Liuyi blinked like a stunned finch.

I’m not hungry, Liuyi. You eat, Dixue said, calm as snow on pine.

No way! You gave me the only rice-fruit from the rice tree—letting me have it all is impossible! Liuyi’s protest burst like a red plum.

As long as I see you happy, I’m satisfied, Dixue replied, warmth like a small fire in winter.

Nope! If you don’t eat, I won’t eat! Liuyi puffed up like a kitten defending milk.

Their exchange tugged tears like mist from a valley; it wasn’t play-acting but truth plain as grain.

The Elven Forest was rich, but this wasn’t harvest season; finding a single rice tree fruit felt lucky as spotting a white stag.

Charlotte, no need to ask the elder. I’ve got a job that suits elves from outside, Morand said, a plan opening like a map.

A job? Charlotte leaned in, curiosity rustling like bamboo.

Yes. Morand stood and walked to the girls, placing a scroll on the table like a leaf-rolled message.

You came from another planet to our Elven Forest, right? Different homes, same World Tree; we help our own, like branches sharing sap.

Elves spread across many worlds, but we share one habit—living under the World Tree’s shadow; our life-force runs thick, like sap in spring.

Thanks! What’s the job? Hope flickered like lantern light in Liuyi’s eyes.

A cook’s position. With war on, we’ve captured many outsider adventurers; inside the empire, few cooks know human tastes.

You’re from outside; you should know what they like, Morand said, practical as salt.

Eh? Is that okay? My sister and I can make some human food, Liuyi offered, voice bright as a bell.

Thank you for the kindness. We can cook, but I won’t feed those who might harm my sister, Dixue said, her tone cold as steel.

Her seriousness rang like winter air; a thin thread of hate ran beneath, dark as root-sap under bark.

Relax. The ones who truly hurt elves will face punishment; you’ll cook for humans pulled in by bad luck, Morand said, steady as a stone.

Then— Gurgle… Yue Liuyi’s belly called like a pigeon, untimely and honest.

We’ll take it, Dixue said at once, her agreement falling like rain to thirsty ground.

Their timing drew laughter like wind through chimes from Charlotte and Morand.

The details are on this scroll; these magic crystals are your deposit. Eat here first; I’ll take you to the site soon, Morand said.

Elven currency gleamed like gems—magic crystals, sometimes minted into coin, clear as ice and bright as starlight.

Thanks! Liuyi’s voice fluttered like a blue butterfly.

Thank you, brother and sister… Her sweetness was soft as cotton grass, and the room warmed.

So cute… This meal’s on the house! Charlotte’s smile curved like a crescent moon.

Really? Then Fenglan Tavern will lose even more, Morand teased, humor light as smoke.

It’s not selling anyway. Same difference… Charlotte waved it off like dust from a sleeve.

Lanmu-li’s dusk folded in as the sun slid west, light thinning like tea, and night perched quietly among the leaves.