Chapter 463: The Horn That Calls for Resistance

Lothlorien.

This name was hardly conspicuous on the maps of the southern kingdoms. Its territory was modest, and its legions were nothing to boast about.

But when it came to closeness with nature, no human kingdom in the entire south could rival it.

It sat nestled among the rolling hills of the south, its realm encircling vast tracts of primeval forest, where grew the oldest oaks and white birches in the south, trees often centuries old.

Many of the kingdom's ministers and nobles carried elven blood. A large number of neutral elves had settled here long-term, serving as royal advisors and forest wardens.

Unlike the rigid bloodline hierarchy espoused by the Ancient Tree Council, the people of Lothlorien revered primal nature.

In their eyes, nature cared nothing for the superiority or inferiority of bloodlines. An oak tree was not denied sunlight and rain simply because thorns grew beside it.

Thus, toward the half-elves' campaign against the Ancient Tree Council's bloodline discrimination, the Lothlorien royal house neither openly supported nor opposed it.

Within the kingdom, however, these half-elves could at least freely obtain a decent life.

The kingdom's customs blended both human and elven traditions.

Throughout the year, the people of Lothlorien celebrated the traditional elven Autumn Brewing Festival, fermenting fruit wines, dancing, and giving thanks for the forest's bounty.

They also preserved the human Harvest Day, adorning the fields with ears of wheat and scarecrows, holding lively harvest celebrations with proper pomp.

Because of this, travelers called Lothlorien "the kingdom with the most holidays in the south."

It was precisely because of Lothlorien's special affinity with nature and half-elves that the Leaf of No Distinction had chosen it as the most important hub for the assembly's development in the south.

If today's speech went well, the Leaf of No Distinction would begin to make its name known across the south here.

Secret Spring Square, the heart of Lothlorien's royal capital.

The square took its name from the spring at the feet of the white deer statue in its center, a clear fountain that never ran dry year-round.

To accommodate the Leaf of No Distinction's speech, the people of Lothlorien had also erected a temporary wooden platform on the square.

Orion stood behind the palace window, gazing at the crowded masses in the square, drawing a deep breath in an attempt to ease the pressure in his chest.

It was hard not to be nervous.

Thanks to the recommendation of the former forest warden, now the Empire's Grand Sage Selene, the Leaf of No Distinction's lobbying in Lothlorien had proceeded very smoothly, and they had secured this speaking opportunity from the royal house.

In fact, to ensure the Leaf of No Distinction's southern journey went unimpeded, the Empire had also secretly reached a considerable number of trade orders with the Lothlorien royal house.

Orion had glanced at the cargo lists on those orders. They covered nearly every hot commodity the Empire could provide.

He had received too much help.

He knew this speech could only succeed, never fail.

But in truth, he was just a young man in his twenties.

Among humans, at this age one might have only been an apprentice for a few years, still running errands for a master, far from the point of standing on one's own.

But among half-elves, being in one's twenties was already a dangerous age.

Because of the elven curse, many in the Leaf of No Distinction did not even live past eighty.

There were no elders among their people, no experience to draw upon. All he could rely on was himself.

"Whoa-" Natalis squeezed over from the side, poking her head next to his, gazing at the bustling crowd in the square and letting out an exclamation. "So many people."

Her eyes swept across the crowd once, then turned back to look at his face. "Are you nervous?"

Orion did not deny it. "A little."

"You can try the breathing technique from meditation." Salemir's voice came from the side.

"Focus your attention on your breath, let all those stray thoughts flow away with each exhale. It works well."

Orion followed Salemir's rhythm, breathing slowly, and only opened his eyes after a long while.

"Feel much better. Thank you."

Just then, a soldier in the royal guard uniform stood by the door, giving a slight nod. "Mr. Orion, everyone is waiting for you."

"My apologies."

"Salemir, Natalis, I have to go."

Orion adjusted his collar and strode toward the door.

"Don't feel pressured." Salemir's voice came from behind. "We'll always stand behind you."

"That's right, that's right!" Natalis waved at him with boundless energy. "You've got this!"

Orion raised a hand and waved it back at them, leaving his two companions a view of his back as he walked out.

Natalis lowered her waving hand and looked at Salemir. "So what should we do now?"

Salemir withdrew his gaze from the window and surveyed the room. "Some people won't want to see half-elves raise their voices, and they won't want to see this speech end smoothly either."

"Natalis, you protect Orion. I'm going to check the area for suspicious individuals."

"Leave it to me!"

Natalis patted her chest and turned, jogging off in the direction Orion had gone.

At Secret Spring Square, the crowd had packed the square so tightly it was nearly watertight.

Nobles and commoners mingled together, everyone murmuring amongst themselves about the speech that was about to begin.

"I heard some half-elves are going to give a speech." A middle-aged man in merchant attire said in a low voice to the friend beside him.

"Half-elves?" The person beside him showed a hint of a strange expression.

Lothlorien might not discriminate against half-elves, but among half-elves... one truly hadn't heard of any remarkable figures.

Who exactly could it be, to stir the royal house into summoning the whole city for a speech?

"Shh." The merchant lowered his voice. "I heard it's related to that empire in the north."

At those words, many people around them suddenly had a moment of realization.

The Empire's claim to be the true elven orthodoxy had long since spread throughout the south.

Especially in the recently popular Slime Hero King Biography, the claim of elven orthodoxy was indeed mentioned.

However, most people only treated it as idle after-dinner chatter.

An empire founded by slimes claiming to be the true elven orthodoxy—no matter how one heard it, it sounded somewhat absurd.

Instantly, a portion of the audience's interest cooled considerably, taking it as nothing more than the Empire's image campaign.

Even some half-elves shook their heads with a slight disappointment.

At that moment, a figure followed a guard out from the palace's side door, walking along a small path up onto the temporary wooden platform in the center of the square.

Everyone's gaze converged upon him.

Orion.

Today he wore a plain, neat dark blue coat, with an oak leaf emblem pinned to his collar. His hair was the silver-gray common among half-elves, carrying a faint silvery sheen in the sunlight.

He looked even younger than most people had imagined.

A low murmur of discussion rose from below the stage.

"So young?"

"Look at him, can't be much past twenty, can he?"

But soon, some people wore expressions of understanding.

Half-elves naturally had short lifespans. Being in one's twenties meant already having walked more than half the journey of life for them.

Orion stood on the wooden platform, facing the sea of dark, dense humanity below.

He had thought his heart would be pounding as wildly as it had behind the window earlier. But when he actually stood on that wooden board, enveloped by the gazes of a thousand eyes below, his nervousness instead receded rapidly like an ebbing tide.

In its place surged an inexplicable impulse.

Standing here, facing these pairs of eyes looking at him, a powerful desire to speak suddenly welled up in his chest.

He wanted to tell these people what half-elves had truly endured.

He wanted to tell them what kind of cries would ring out from inside the houses when the Ancient Tree Council's Enforcement Team burst into half-elf villages at night.

He wanted to tell them how those words carved into the statutes—"Half-elves Not Permitted"—stripped an entire people of all their dignity and hope.

He wanted to voice every injustice.

But he held back.

Because he knew this speech was not for whining, nor for peddling misery.

His predecessors had already told their tragic stories countless times, and the people of Lothlorien had long grown tired of hearing them.

Nobles sat in their warm halls, listening to story after story of half-elf suffering. At first they were moved, they discussed and sympathized. But later, all that remained was polite nodding.

Because when suffering is heard too many times, it becomes entertainment.

He had to make everyone recognize the resolve of the Leaf of No Distinction.

To make all half-elves know that their fate could be changed.

They were not born bloodline slaves. They were living, breathing people.

They would fight back.

He had to rally the greatest possible strength.

And to achieve that, he needed to raise a voice louder and more radical than his predecessors—radical enough to shake the entire south for the sake of half-elves.

That was precisely why the Empire had chosen to support them.

The Empire had no need for moderates, and the Leaf of No Distinction had never intended to be moderate.

His gaze swept slowly across the crowd below, lingering a few extra seconds on the faces of the half-elves.

He saw curiosity and wariness on those faces, but he did not see longing.

Like lambs that had already been tamed, accustomed to lowering their heads to graze in the grass, unaware that they had horns on their heads capable of smashing through the fence.

He withdrew his gaze and glanced at the King of Lothlorien seated at the very front of the viewing gallery.

The white-haired old man nodded kindly toward him, indicating he could begin.

Orion bowed to the King, then turned back to face the crowd in the square and drew a deep breath.

"...Thank you. Thank you all for coming here today."

His voice was calmer than he had imagined it would be, so much so that he needed to pause for a moment before he could confirm it was his own voice.

"My name is Orion. I was born in a small village in the Golden Radiance Valley, a place... that most people couldn't find on a map."

He smiled, and the smile carried a hint of a young man's awkwardness. "A place so small that even the Ancient Tree Council's Enforcement Team probably couldn't be bothered to mark it on their maps."

A few light laughs came from below, and the atmosphere relaxed somewhat.

"At the same time, I come from the Leaf of No Distinction, an elven assembly." His gaze turned serious. "That's right, an elven assembly—an assembly that makes no distinction between elves and half-elves."

"As long as you dare to resist the Ancient Tree Council and are willing to condemn that erroneous bloodline hierarchy—whether you are an elf, a half-elf, or any other race—you are our companion. Our doors are open to everyone."

The whispers below grew louder. Nobles began murmuring to one another.

This point caught them quite off guard.

Past half-elf assemblies always carried intense hostility toward elves, as if every question an elf raised about half-elves was an insult, every statute a shackle.

But this young man before them spoke in a tone clearly different from those angry, pitiful voices—more rational, and far more intelligent.

He might be the first to realize that neutral elves were not the enemy—they were people who also disliked the bloodline hierarchy.

An old noble with graying sideburns whispered to his companion beside him, "Interesting. This Leaf of No Distinction actually doesn't exclude elves."

"Indeed, quite different from those half-elves of the past."

Orion paid no heed to the murmurs below. In a calm tone, he began to narrate.

"...In the Emerald Crown, half-elves cannot enter the city through the main gate. They may only pass through a specially designated small gate."

"Half-elves' children cannot attend public academies, because it is said that mixed bloodline would pollute the purity of knowledge. Yet the Ancient Tree Council has no objection to having half-elves toil in orchards and work in textile workshops, paying them only half wages."

"After half-elves die, their ashes cannot enter the communal burial grounds of the sacred forest, because that is a place where only those of noble bloodline may rest in eternal slumber."

"These statutes are inscribed on paper, stamped with the elders' seals, framed and displayed on the walls of the Council Hall for all to admire. They are called the Code, called the wisdom of the ancestors."

"But in my view, they have only one name."

"Lies."

His voice rose by a few degrees. "The Ancient Tree Council claims they protect nature, claims they are nature's spokespersons. But nature has never distinguished between noble and base."

"Sunlight does not favor one oak tree over another because it is nobler, and rain does not deliberately bypass barren land to nourish fertile fields."

"The bloodline hierarchy was a lie from the very beginning. It only serves those who weave the lies."

It was not a perfect speech. In places, it was even somewhat clumsy.

Several times he sped up as he spoke, then forced himself to slow down.

But these words came from the mouth of a young man who had lived only half the lifespan of an ordinary person, and every sentence carried a bone-piercing truth.

The murmuring in the square gradually quieted.

The nobles no longer whispered to one another. Instead, they gazed at that somewhat awkward young man on the stage, their looks gradually turning serious.

"Mr. Orion."

An elven noblewoman slowly rose to her feet.

She was a lady in a silver-green robe, with the emblem of a Lothlorien royal mage pinned to her collar.

She said in a gentle tone, "Forgive my directness, the Ancient Tree Council's statutes are indeed harsh. But those things you just described... the Emerald Crown is after all far away from us. Elves living in the south have no real sense of it."

She glanced around at the nobles present, then her gaze returned to Orion. "I only wish to ask you one question."

"Lothlorien has already done more than enough for half-elves. We risked souring our relationship with the Ancient Tree Council to provide you shelter."

"We allow half-elves to live and work in our cities, and even accept your dead to be buried in the forest, so their souls may return to nature."

"But I want to know, just how much more do you want? What more can Lothlorien do to satisfy you?"

Though the woman's words were gentle, every word struck at the heart of the matter, and at the nobles' true thoughts.

Yes. They had already given enough to half-elves. Surely they couldn't be asked for more just because they were neutral elves, could they?

When she finished speaking, the atmosphere in the square suddenly grew tense.

Everyone looked at Orion.

If he answered this question poorly—if he said "you haven't done enough" or "you've given too little"—then all his groundwork would collapse in an instant, turning into a thankless demand.

The nobles below, who had just begun to let down their guard, would fill with hostility again in the blink of an eye.

Orion simply bowed to everyone and smiled. "No, my lady. On the contrary, we are deeply grateful to Lothlorien."

His gaze was earnest, and he tried his best to make his words sound sincere. "Lothlorien extended a helping hand to half-elves at our most dangerous moment—the towns that sheltered half-elves, the workshops willing to hire them, the farming households that opened their doors at night to half-elves who had lost their way... your kindness, we will remember in our hearts forever."

"Please allow me to emphasize once more: whether it is the Leaf of No Distinction or half-elves in general, we do not harbor hatred toward elves."

"We only despise those old fossils who treat bloodline hierarchy as dogma. And such people exist among elves, just as they exist among half-elves."

Hearing this, the nobles' expressions visibly softened.

Especially the King of Lothlorien, seated at the center of the viewing gallery. He nodded slightly, as if relieved that he had permitted this speech.

Like those nobles, he helped half-elves not because he craved their repayment, but simply because he wanted to do what he believed was right.

But he equally did not wish to discover that he was sheltering a pack of jackals with ever-glowing green eyes, never knowing satisfaction.

And now it seemed, this assembly called the Leaf of No Distinction was clearly not that.

This also caused those nobles who had originally assumed this would be another speech of demands—and had prepared to let their ears drift for a moment—to set aside their aloof postures one by one, unconsciously leaning forward, their gazes fixed seriously on the young man on the stage.

They now only wanted to know what the true demands of the Leaf of No Distinction were.

Orion felt those gazes change.

He knew this was the most critical turning point of his speech.

The preceding words had won respect and goodwill for the Leaf of No Distinction. Now was the time to bare his fangs.

He raised his head, his gaze sweeping across the entire venue.

"What we want is very simple."

"What we want is not opposition between elves and half-elves. On the contrary, there may be our companions among elves, and there may be our enemies among half-elves."

"We gather by conviction, not divided by bloodline."

"The Leaf of No Distinction will not compromise with the Ancient Tree Council." His voice began to rise, like a river suppressed for too long finally bursting through the bonds of its riverbed.

"We will rally all forces that dare to resist injustice. Whether you are an elf, a half-elf, or anyone living on this land who no longer wishes to see discrimination and oppression—we need your help."

He drew a deep breath and raised his hand. "We will launch... a true resistance against the Ancient Tree Council!"

"Struggle is not for blood, nor is it vengeance. We simply wish to return elves and half-elves to that simple harmony of old, so that every being worthy of respect may live with pride."

The entire venue fell silent, then scattered applause broke out.

There was no doubt that this speech, so different from those of the past, had moved quite a few people.

They had expected this to be nothing more than propaganda for the Empire, or a half-elf plea for help.

But no one had imagined that this young man, who looked no older than twenty-something, would publicly declare war on the Ancient Tree Council in the very heart of Lothlorien's capital.

Though no one believed he could succeed, the courage was worthy of praise.