Leave a comment

It was like a fortress. Atop giant trees the size of a small hill—branches several mertes wide—the sheer scale was mind-boggling. There existed not a small settlement, but rather a splendid town.

Surrounded by lush green leaves, I couldn’t tell our altitude relative to sea level, but we were certainly at a considerable height. How we arrived at this place was a mystery, but at the end of the broad branches, a magnificent mansion with a roof adorned by beautiful leaves stood proudly.

In various parts of the branches, other buildings hung seemingly at random, connected by vine pulleys for easy movement. It resembled a city in the sky.

“Amazing. Could this be the legendary Yggdrasil?”
“No, unfortunately, all Yggdrasils in the overworld have died out. This is a Millennium Tree, their descendants,” answered Uranus, somewhat sentimentally.

“This is but a small twig compared to the Yggdrasil I once beheld… Well, I shall leave it at that. Welcome, Daughter of a Flower, allow me invite you to my private chambers.”

Uranus turned and grandly gestured for me to follow, to which I pinched my skirt and gave a formal bow in courtesy.

“Most appreciated, King of the Fairies.”

Pleased with my mannerly greeting, Uranus surveyed the surroundings with satisfaction. I then realized we were encircled by numerous elves.

While many of the glances seemed hostile;
“Is she truly a child of man?”
“I hear she’s a Healer.”
“The spirits do adore her.”
“Is that a Divine Beast?”
“I hear she’s the daughter of the elder’s friend.”
Curiosity seemed to override their animosity, and the atmosphere wasn’t as uncomfortable as I anticipated.

Incidentally, both male and female elves, with their long, flowing hair and slender builds, were beautiful, making it difficult to distinguish gender, especially among the children. (Later, I learned that due to their prolonged lifespans, elves had a very low reproductive rate, with Pryui being their youngest at 144 years old.)

Before long, the younger elves, excluding Pryui and Ashimi, departed, and we were escorted by a group of elves who appeared youthful but were likely elders. They led us down a path adorned with luminous mushrooms and flowers to a curious wooden structure—or rather, one grown from the wood—and into a spacious room.

“Please have a seat, Daughter of a Flower and her companions,” invited the elf elder. We were shown to a table made from a single plank, seemingly spanning 7 to 8 mertes. As we settled in, elven handmaidens emerged and began to place dishes on the table.

Suddenly recalling their roles, Eren and Lana hurriedly attempted to leave the table, but Uranus halted them with a glance. The elf elder then rose, holding a porcelain cup.

We followed suit, lifting our cups.

“We seldom entertain visitors. She is the daughter of a friend and the savior of one of our kin. Let us commence this occasion with a toast to honor this meeting and to invoke the World Tree’s blessings upon it.”

“To the World Tree’s blessings,” echoed the surrounding elves, each taking a sip from their cups.

We, too, partook of the red liquid, out of respect for the ceremony.

“This is…”
“It’s wine, isn’t it?”
“Yummy.”
“Hou. I intended to merely sample the alcohol, but this is indeed a divine draught. My cup shall not rest tonight.”

As for me, I had only ever had amazake or tamagoshu sake in my previous life, so my experience was limited. However, this wine had a fragrant aroma and mellow flavor unlike anything I had tasted before—it felt like my taste buds were whisked away.

“How do you like it? It’s our pride, a wine made from grapes harvested in the best vintage year, aged for 300 years with long-term preservation magic,” Uranus said, pouring us a second cup.

“Well…” I hesitated. The age of 300 years initially made me jump, but then I remembered that for elves, such a time span wasn’t particularly remarkable. Nevertheless…

“Excuse me. By chance, do you have any vintages 100 years old or younger in your cellar?”
“Indeed, we have many of lesser quality. Why do you ask?”
“I was thinking, albeit requiring some price adjustments, you could possibly fetch a remarkable price if you were to release them for sale… I apologize for the rather crude suggestion.”

Sensing the cold reaction around me, I bowed my head to Uranus.

“There’s no need to apologize. Such ideas hadn’t occurred to us, and it’s quite an interesting proposition. We always assumed the sale of alcoholic beverages was solely the province of the dwarves,” Uranus responded, with a gentle smile.

The other elves, however, seemed almost allergic at the mention of “dwarves,” muttering derogatory remarks like “Those iron-smelling beer barrels,” “drunk simpletons with more facial hair than sense,” and “they should stick to their holes and their rocks.” It appeared the elves held more animosity towards dwarves than humans. Perhaps the stories were true—elves and dwarves really did despise each other.

“Anyway, let’s set aside practical matters like that for later. For now, please enjoy the feast. It’s an elven meal, so it might not suit human tastes.”

Uranus smiled, encouraging us to partake in the array of dishes, and clapped their hands. In response, elves with instruments such as lutes and flutes began to play.

Pryui and Ashimi, who had been sitting quietly stood up, each taking up a harp or a lute, joining the ensemble. They began to play softly.

We indulged in the feast before us, entranced by the elves’ rendition of fairy songs from old tales, skillful enough to move the hearts of plants, trees, birds, and beasts.

There was no meat, but the table was laden with dishes made from ingredients like crushed lily roots, mountain yams, taro, salads with burdock, daikon radishes, and young leaves, soup seasoned with salt that included onions and chopped paprika, pies made from mashed pumpkin and wheat flour, barley doria with peas and raisins, among many others.

Bartholomew was zealously enjoying the wine, sometimes drinking straight from the bottles that were lined up. Meanwhile, Eren and Lana were fully absorbed in savoring the food.

As I ate, my mind wandered to the potential future relationship between elves and humans—specifically between this village and the Brandmüller family—and how it might unfold.

Considering the wine we discussed earlier, if there is enough to consider exporting, it could bring mutual economic benefits. However, my intuition told me that Uranus wouldn’t be particularly interested in the numbers.

Furthermore, I suspected the elves might not welcome human traders who could potentially disrupt the balance within elven society. Therefore, it was probable that the wine would be available in limited quantities, primarily targeted at a clientele of nobility and aristocracy, focusing on the ripple effects of personnel exchange rather than promoting extensive trade with humans.

Uranus chuckled with a smile that seemed to read my troubled thoughts. It appeared that my usual clever comments wouldn’t work with them. It was probably best to be direct and straightforward from now on.

With that realization, I turned my attention back to the food, though half of my thoughts were on deciphering the recipe for the dish.

Translator’s note: I don’t understand economics. Yay ChatGPT for teaching me.
Editor’s note: But you should know that ChatGPT confidently spills lies and misinformation, so your understanding of economics might not actually be accurate. Always fact-check when using ChatGPT.