Napoleon of Another World!

Chapter 27 - An Old Friend

It was no easy task being an elf in Erthea.

In a world that loved law, order and borders there was no place for a population of nomadic wanderers, constantly on the move and always ready to pitch their tents wherever there were virgin forests for hunting or rich pastures for their horses.

The vast lands they occupied – a pittance compared to the lands their ancestors traversed from one end to the other when humans still lived in thatched houses – had been the price that Saedonia and Volkova had been forced to pay to obtain their support during the Holy Wars.

Their contribution as skilled archers, cavalrymen and scouts had been decisive in stopping the seemingly unstoppable eastward advance of the Dark Lord's armies, and aware of this they had made no concessions when making their demands.

They were certainly not the endless domains of their ancestors, but at least from that moment on they had been able to return to being themselves, preserving their rites and culture.

However, even if an elf could be said to be free in those lands, just moving in any other nation was enough to be looked at with distrust once again and forced to face all sorts of prejudices, in a less contemptuous but certainly not too different way from monsters.

So they stayed on their own, hunting, cultivating and peacefully spending their long lives, far from human affairs, divided into many tribes who rarely even met each other, except during annual gatherings in sacred lands or to settle disputes before the Council of Elders.

Obviously not all clans were equals, even if the larger and more powerful ones liked to think and say the opposite.

It so happened that when it came to appointing a representative, an explorer or a spy for some dangerous assignment, some clans were more disadvantaged than others in the choice.

"Want to tell me where Natuli is?" Great Chief Sawané of the Nara tribe blurted out "I ordered to call her back from the hunt days ago."

"We sent scouts to all her usual hunting grounds, but no one could find her. So yesterday I told my best warriors to go and look for her in the Forest of Death."

"Come on, that's absurd." said another of the family chiefs. "No one would be crazy enough to venture in there alone."

"Did you forget we're talking about Natuli?"

Just at that moment a triptych of demonic rabbits, small animals capable of tearing a wolf to pieces in a few seconds, fell into the tent, raising a cloud of dust; everyone jumped up in fear, only to realize after a few moments that they were already dead, tied by their hind legs and ready for the spit.

"So? May I know what is so urgent to come and disturb me during the hunt?"

Everyone knew that Natuli was as beautiful as she was touchy, not only in her tribe, but her addressing even the most important members of her people in such a disrespectful way always drove the heads of the families into a rage as much as anyone who was forced to deal with her.

Sawané was the only one who didn't get upset, perhaps because he was the only one who had now resigned himself to accepting that hothead as she was.

"Leave us." he ordered, being immediately obeyed

"Well? I really hope it's a big deal. I had been chasing that tarkana for three days, and I almost got him."

"Even though I am your father, I would like you to remember that I'm also the chief of this tribe. I therefore expect..."

"...you expect me to address you with due respect, and blah, blah, blah. I already know this song. Come on, keep your voice out, so I can go take a bath."