Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Le’an Port (Part 2)
In the study, candles were lit, and “The Misfortunes of the Elven Queen” was laid on the polished table. Under the flickering light, the blushing elven queen on the cover appeared extremely enticing.
The old father snorted disdainfully, took a thick book from the bookshelf, and carefully placed it on the table.
The red-hatted scholar recognized it as his father’s favorite history book, chronicling the intricate details of clothing, etiquette, and other aspects of the knights of Bartok from a century ago.
“I didn’t want to take this book out, it really dirties my collection compared to this worthless little yellow book,” the old father said, flipping open “The Misfortunes of the Elven Queen,” “but in order to convince you and put an end to your arguments.”
The old father’s fingers quickly turned several pages, and he made a contemptuous noise:
“This writing, this rhetoric, tsk tsk, even a farmer would understand. It doesn’t hold a candle to those masters of rhetoric.”
The red-hatted scholar beside him dared not speak but felt that his father’s words sounded somewhat familiar, as if he too had said something like that before.
“Reading such books will spoil your taste,” the old father said, as he slowed down his page-turning.
“The earlier parts describe the customs of the high elves, understood by few; looks like it can fool quite a number of people.” After studying a few pages carefully, he showed interest, “This author has some level; surprisingly, he actually got it right.”
The red-hatted scholar gathered his courage and lied, “I said, I’m learning while having fun.”
“Don’t act tough,” the old father replied, “You’ll realize your mistake as we go further.”
The old father flipped through the book in silence for over ten minutes. He had originally stood while reading, believing it sufficient to read for a while, but eventually sat down unconsciously, continuing to turn pages.
“Father, have you become fascinated?” the red-hatted scholar asked.
“What nonsense?” the old father stood up and said, “I don’t know much about the history of high elves, but I can guarantee there are several time points that are wrong.”
Saying this, the old father took out another history book, flipping through it while admonishing:
“This book is quite harmful; there must be many historical inaccuracies in it. To deal with someone who has only half-baked historical knowledge, just check the dates of the historical events in his book—most likely they are ridiculously wrong! You come over, let’s compare.”
The red-hatted scholar stepped forward and said, “The first historical event is the fall of the Phoenix Gate, the elven queen’s court was threatened…”
The old father’s fingertip paused on a page in the flipping book and said, “Spring.”
“That matches.”
“Matching is normal,” the old father said. “The elven queen’s court held out for half a year; many thought that shortly after the fall of the Phoenix Gate, the queen’s court also fell.”
“It matches!” The red-hatted scholar’s tone was somewhat excited as he pointed to the original text in the book, “It mentions ‘half a year later,’ and then the young elven queen, along with her champion knight Terion, hid in the forest, evading capture until after the war. The book states that was actually a decoy for the elven queen; she herself got lost and was captured by the dark elves.”
“Anyone with a few wits knows that,” the old father said, “And then?”
“The elven queen… was sold to the knights of Bartok.”
“Flip directly to that page,” the old father adjusted his collection and said, “I’ll verify it section by section.”
The red-hatted scholar felt doomed; his father focusing on the details would surely uncover many mistakes. Few truly understood historical events—only affluent historians knew the fineries like clothing, food, and customs of people from the past.
He stood by, waiting like a death row inmate awaiting execution, anticipating when his father would erupt in anger.
In the study, only the rustling sound of page-turning remained. After a dozen minutes, the old father continued flipping pages, mumbling, “Strange.”
“Father.”
“Shut up, don’t disturb me,” the old father scolded, “Just plain luck.”
He sometimes flipped through the entire history book and sometimes read slowly. His expression changed from disdain to disbelief, then to indifference, and finally revealed admiration.
The red-hatted scholar didn’t disturb his father; he saw his father’s legs gradually making a tent, and couldn’t help but chuckle.
He didn’t know how long had passed.
Old father, unable to endure staying up late due to his age, yawned and said, “Damn kid, most of the historical details in this book are reliable.”
The red-hatted scholar, who had almost fallen asleep sitting in a chair, woke up to say, “I told you I was studying.”
“He writes it as if he experienced it himself,” the old father said, “The author capable of writing this book must have consulted a considerable amount of materials; I wonder which scholar has fallen to such a fate, I truly want to engage with him.”
The red-hatted scholar said, “Maybe the author is a long-lived being?”
“That’s possible, someone who has visited the high elven kingdom and our nation,” the old father said, “The details are too numerous and too real; I suspect this event is true.”
The red-hatted scholar was shocked; knowing his father specialized in history, even he said this: “Really? I thought the preface said this was secret history, boasting by the author, the white-haired one.”
“With the temperament of high elves, they will definitely try to conceal this part of history.”
As the possibility of this being true sank in, the fact that the lofty, beautiful, and elegant elven queen might have had such experiences made certain parts of him stiffen involuntarily.
Two men, their minds tainted by filth, were more willing to believe that the elven queen had such sordid experiences while unknowingly overlooking some contradictory details.
The red-hatted scholar said, “In that case, Father, give the book back to me; I’ll go back to sleep and study during the day.”
“Cough cough, no way. Tomorrow, I’m gathering with a few colleagues to research some historical materials. This book can almost be considered unofficial history; it has significant research value.”
The red-hatted scholar secretly chuckled, planning to buy another copy tomorrow.
…
…
The next day.
The red-hatted scholar, who had slept until noon, only returned in the afternoon, holding a book while walking and complaining, “Why don’t they print more copies of this book? It actually rose to eight silver coins.”
As soon as he entered the yard, he saw his old father with a serious expression, standing behind him were a few friends, all local scholars.
The old father said, “After our research, we found it has significant research value.”
His old friend with a goat beard added, “Yes, research value.”
“We old folks can’t move about quickly.”
“Right, not nimble.”
“You help us buy a copy each.”
The red-hatted scholar said, “You’re afraid of being seen buying a yellow book, aren’t you?”
“What yellow book?” The old father’s tone rose, “This is unofficial history.”
The goat-bearded old friend supplemented, “It’s the truth of history.”
The red-hatted scholar replied, “Then fine, give me one gold coin; one gold coin for a copy.”
The old father said, “One gold coin? You could pay less for a whore.”
“Hey, aren’t you trying to uncover the truth of history?”
The old father shot him a glare and said, “Here, you little brat.”
The red-hatted scholar happily took five gold coins, and ten minutes later, he returned, panting, with disheveled clothes and empty hands.
The old father asked, “Where’s the book?”
“Quick, give me more money,” the red-hatted scholar said, “The books are sold out; a bunch of childless people are reselling them, one for a gold and five silver!”
“What?!”
But in the end, for the sake of researching the “lost truth of history,” they grit their teeth and still spent money to buy five books.
…
…
In a bedroom in Le’an Port.
The elven Litis had her blush gradually fading; holding a well-bound book, she closed it and gently brushed her fingers over the cover depicting the blushing elven queen, sincerely exclaiming:
“I envy this woman so much.”
On the bed behind her lay a young man, resting wearily.
“The Misfortunes of the Elven Queen” gave him the illusion that as long as long-eared folks had contact, it would be irresistible, and he overestimated his own abilities, leading to a misfortune during their earlier clapping exercise.
Litis picked up the book and approached the man, who instinctively covered his groin.
Litis laughed, “Let’s consider this book a commemoration of our fleeting affection.”
The man quickly nodded.
“Very good, goodbye.” Litis blinked her red eyes, draped a cloak over her excessively exposed fair skin, and went outside.
The book inspired her with an idea.
Litis pondered finding a coppersmith to replicate the crown on the elven queen’s head as shown on the cover. Then she’d wear colored contacts to change her eye color. Readers of “The Misfortunes of the Elven Queen” would surely love to spend an evening with an “elven queen.”
As for why a lofty elven queen would seek out intimacy indiscriminately?
“A queen who has experienced these things would naturally have some indiscreet lewd preferences; isn’t that quite normal?” Litis muttered to herself, “Anyway, no one will believe once it spreads, but the foolish men in front of me will definitely buy it.”
She felt her idea was brilliant and immediately ran to her lover’s house, easily finding out where a jewelry master lived.
That night, she visited him, hinting that she was the elven queen, but her crown had unfortunately been misplaced. The jewelry master, to express his respect for the queen, agreed to make her a crown, and upon receiving it, Litis was very happy.
To affirm his contributions to peace between humanity and high elves, Litis spent a delightful night with the jewelry master and his sons.
…
…
“Humans are just a bunch of uncivilized monkeys. George? Ha, a few monkeys can indeed be clever, especially since he’s a half-breed; I admit he’s better than many elves.”
“But compared to humans, demon kin are just a pack of bloodthirsty beasts. Do you remember that succubus we saw that day? She had the horns of livestock and a pig-like tail, clearly not completely evolved into a human.”
“Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!”
Another voice asked, “Your Majesty, should we see a doctor?”
“It’s nothing; I just feel a bit odd. I don’t know who in the court is secretly speaking ill of me and cursing me again. Ha, just a bunch of flies,” said the elven queen. “By the way, what about that cursed king of hell, leaving that malicious curse for Frost Leaf?”
“Yesterday she took a shot, hitting the red heart a hundred meters away.”
“The mages of the White Tower still have some skill.”
“But what is stuck to the target is the bow body, not the arrow.”
“This little curse can’t be solved. Their brains are truly dumber than monkeys—Achoo!”
“Your Majesty?”
“I said it’s nothing.”
