A human would have considered it amazing, but to the elves, it drove them mad with frustration. With looks and mana equal for everyone, it meant that the most important defining trait for an individual was talent.
The color of a mana core had nothing to do with elemental affinity or magical skills.
To most elves, it meant that they were forced to spend hours training just to not kill their clanmates by mistake. Having no talent for magic was far from uncommon, but while a red-cored human could barely light a match, their elven equivalent had to be careful even while conjuring a breeze.
With a bright blue core and true magic, a lapse of judgment would turn it into a stray bolt of lightning or a wind blade with potentially deadly consequences. On top of that, those lacking talent were doomed to perform menial jobs their whole lives.
To work, their society needed a strict separation of the roles according to each individual's talent that no one could escape without working hard. A farmer could become a guard only after mastering magic up to tier three.
A guard could enter an elite corps only after learning tiers four and five. Anything higher also required brains and cunning which just like talent were something determined at birth.
The talented ones needed but a few years whereas it could take decades to regular people and centuries to those without a shred of skill or passion for magic. A long life also meant a different perception of time and elves had trouble focusing like humans did.
Their minds wandered often and applying to the same thing over and over was akin to torture to them. So, spending a long time just to be promoted to one caste higher was often considered pointless since every further achievement would take much longer.
The elves craved the freedom to do what they wanted and move through a world where their abilities made them special instead of being just one of the many as it happened inside the Fringe.
Aalejah noticed it and stoked the flames of their curiosity by showing them the marvels of the Griffon Kingdom like the castles, the great academies, and the Warp Gate network.
"I knew that M'Rael was full of shit!" A female farmer said. "If we move into the World Tree's Fringe, we'd just be stuck inside another cage. Kid, you have lived there before your banishment, how was it?"
"Not so different from here." Aalejah shrugged. "Regular people took care of cattle and fields, talented people worked as guards, smart people became Librarians for the Tree, and the cream of the crop aimed to be a Chronicler."
"Fuck the Yggdrasil!" The chef barged out of the kitchen waving in the air a wooden spoon that sent bits of gravy sauce flying. "I'd rather die than take all the trouble of moving to a different place just to live the same fucking life!"
He had opened a restaurant not because he liked cooking, only to escape life as a farmer since it was the only other thing he was good at.
"Yeah." A male border guard said. "Also, I don't care what the Parliament of Leaves says, I don't trust M'Rael either. His story is fishy."
"What do you mean?" Aalejah asked.
The people in the restaurant filled her in on everything the High Chancellor had glossed over during their meeting. How he had been just a border captain before being miraculously chosen by the Chronicler for no apparent reason.
How no one knew how they had met or why the Chronicler had stayed long enough to share his gifts with M'Rael but had never bothered to inform the Parliament of his decision in person.
"What the fuck is a High Chancellor, even?" Asked a waitress. "This place is staler than a swamp so we welcomed the change. Yet when we understood that he was the only one benefitting from the new title, issuing orders like he own us, we cursed that idiot Chronicler."
Le'Ahy had to clear her throat more than once to remind everyone of her role and point out that the discussion was starting to border on sedition.
"I would love to be a chef." Aalejah said to help her out. "There are so many delicious things that you can prepare. I think you are just tired of making the same things over and over. Here, try this."
At a great personal sacrifice, she took out a bowl of chocolate chips vanilla ice cream from her dimensional amulet.
She offered a spoonful to Le'Ahy first for hospitality and the cook was next.
Their stunned faces and the delighted expression with which they begged for another taste drove the spectators to ask a bit themselves. In just a few minutes, Aalejah's entire personal stock of ice cream was gone yet aside from Le'Ahy everyone had just a single teaspoon of ice cream each.
"What was that called?" The huntress asked.
"Chocolate. It is… was my favourite." Aalejah needed sheer willpower to keep her bleeding heart from pouring through her mouth.
"Can you please give me the recipe?" The chef asked. "I'll give you anything you want."
"I don't have it." She replied. "It's the work of a human chef who is very jealous of it."
Mentioning that it was Lith and that he was also a Magus would only make things look like talent was everything even on the outside. This way, instead, the ice cream just widened the elves' horizons and gave them a literal taste of freedom.
"It doesn't matter." The chef said with a laugh. "The ingredients tasted simple and now that I know it exists, I can try to replicate it. Thank you, young lady."
The elf gave Aalejah a deep bow and walked back into his kitchen with a new sense of purpose in his life.
It took Le'Ahy quite a bit of effort to get them out of the Archer Squirrel and continue the tour of Setraliie. Aalejah used that time to study the protective arrays of the city, how much it had grown compared with her outdated information, and ask questions about the ongoing discussion inside the Parliament.
"I'm part of Clan Ra'Firo and I'm not supposed to speak about those things with an outsider." Le'Ahy replied.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to put you in an awkward position." Aalejah sighed.
"On the other hand, it's also true that I wouldn't know more than anyone else if not for the favor that Lord Qisal showed me." The huntress caressed the stone at her neck, giggling like a little girl as she took the communicator amulet out of her pocket.
"I wanted to call him earlier, but I don't know what to say. Let's make a deal. I answer one of your questions for each one of mine you answer."
"Shoot." Aalejah inwardly clenched her fists in triumph.
"How old is he?"
"He turns two hundred this very winter." Aalejah multiplied Lith's age by ten to hide his identity and increase his status. Twenty years of age were like a baby for elven standards.
Also, a Dragon so young was unlikely to have a hoard worthy of its name.
Visit freewe𝑏(n)ovel.co(m) for the b𝘦st novel reading experience