"Cat?"
Emilia was startled. In her brief life of a little over fifty years, she had encountered only one cat that could fit such a description:
"How did you know? He keeps a cat."
The old elf nodded, her face bearing no expression Emilia could understand:
"This leaf that records knowledge will be delivered to you through Poetry Manuscript Paper shortly. Give it to whoever needs it. And stay in Moon Bay and do what you should be doing. If you need help, simply write back."
"I understand, but Granny, your question just now..."
Emilia hesitated. The old elf shook her head and softly reminded her:
"Do not tell anyone about our conversation tonight, not even him. Little Emilia, do you remember what the leaves told us?"
The pointy-eared elf girl nodded quickly. It was somewhat like a clan teaching:
"The wind brings stories of the past, and leaves write the patterns of history."
"The way we record history is unlike that of any other race. Now that the Tree Father departed long ago, the great power of the God of Time still protects us.
Therefore, fallen leaves bring news—
Beyond the mist, in our homeland, in our world, order has reached the edge of collapse.
The Ancient Gods have vanished without a trace. In the radiance of the First Epoch, the God of Time, who upheld the world, was the first to fall into slumber.
Afterward, the Firstborn of the gods, the believers of the gods, the Lucky One—
All the demigods obtained fragments of the Ancient Gods' power and became the Old Gods.
Yet some of them were led astray by that power and descended into madness... During the already-ended Fifth Epoch, the others followed the path of the Ancient Gods.
Oh, Emilia—still the ignorant child of nobility.