Distant Kin and Books

The afternoon sun was incredibly bright. Skik stood beside the group, yawned, and watched the Elves swarming towards them, unloading food from the carts. A flicker of disgust flashed in his green eyes before he turned to look at his friend Mor. ╰☆☆ Claws☆☆╮

"Mor, what do you think the King is thinking?"

"Huh?" Mor looked at the Elves in the distance, listening to the words beside him, and was somewhat confused.

"It's them. What is the King thinking?" Skik looked at the clueless fellow and gestured with his chin towards the High Elves carrying grain in the distance. Well, they should be called Blood Elves now, but in their eyes, these Elves were all Pale Ones.

"I don't know." Mor blinked.

"Didn't you say you'd seen the King? Why are you saying you don't know? I really doubt whether you've ever seen the King!" Skik grinned as he looked at Mor, who seemed clueless.

"I did see the King, really, right when he challenged Zul'jin, when he returned to Zul'Aman from Jintha'Alor. I saw him, but I don't know what the King was thinking. But I think we can't go wrong by doing what he says!" Mor looked at the disbelieving Skik and couldn't help but defend himself.

"That's true, but speaking of which, how tough was Zul'jin with those guys when he led us!" Skik couldn't refute Mor's words, but instead gestured with his chin towards the Elves carrying the load. The King of the Amani had earned the gods' approval, and everything he did was right, but some things were really hard to understand. He felt that Zul'jin was still better.

"What's the use of being tough?" Mor scoffed at Skik's words. He had once been a Warrior and had tried to stop Zul'jin Zul'ra Jin. Zul'Aman back now, Zul'ra Jin thought it was a stupid thing to do!

"Why is it useless? If we kill them, we can reclaim our forest." Skik was dissatisfied with Mor's words; the vast forest once belonged to the Amani Trolls.

"Can we kill them all? Besides, the forest is currently occupied by the Undead. And, Skik, haven't you read the book?" Mor looked at the dissatisfied Skik and couldn't help but sneer. Killing the Elves would take back the forest? Taking back the forest would make everyone's lives better?

"What book?" Skik was a shrewd and strong Forest Trolls. He had hunted and dug, but he didn't want to read. He would rather spend that time training and learning how to use weapons.

"The Medieval History mentions it there. The Quel'dorei, well, now they should be called the Sin'dorei, their ancestors were the Kaldorei Sin'dorei, and those Kaldorei were descendants of the Dark Trolls." Mor quickly explained, summarizing that they were distant relatives of the Elves, and there was absolutely no need for them to fight each other.

"What?" Skik was somewhat taken aback, feeling as if there was something wrong with his hearing. Were those Elves distant relatives of his side?

"Where are the Dark Trolls Trolls?" Skik snapped out of his daze, expressing his distrust. He'd never heard of Dark Trolls before; he'd only heard of Gurubashi Trolls, Zandalari Trolls, and Ice Trolls. Dark Trolls?

"You should read more books. Ancient history mentions that the Dark Trolls are like us. All of us Trolls ' ancestors were Zandalar. We were once one. Our ancestors and the ancestors of the Gurubashi were both commoners from the empire at that time." Mor filled in the gaps in his companion's historical knowledge.

"Because of the unequal laws enacted by the Zandalar, we left the Holy Mountain with the Gurubashi'lai and established Zul'Aman and Zul'Gurub respectively. The Dark Trolls did the same, except they were slaves of the Empire at the time, and because of their low intelligence, they trespassed into territories forbidden to the Loa."

"And then?" Skik couldn't help but ask. He remembered that he had indeed heard these things before, told by the Witch Doctor and elders. But how did the Dark Trolls become Elves? They really had no brains. They dared to enter a forbidden area set up by the gods. It must be full of danger.

"Then they became the Kaldorei, also known as the Night Elves. According to Medieval History, they came into contact with some energy, which caused them to change, growing five fingers and five toes, and becoming thinner, but also able to stand upright." Mor spread his arms, showing Skik his tall and straight body.

"So that's how it is. They were changed by magic, their bodies became thinner, it felt like they were cursed." Skik shook his head as he listened to Mor's description. Those mentally challenged beings lost their power and turned into Elves, as if they were cursed.

"A curse? You think that's a curse? They may have become thinner, but they've become smarter, learned to use a mysterious form of witchcraft, built an incredibly vast empire, and utterly defeated the Zandalar and us." Mor looked at the exclaiming man, unable to suppress a sneer, and then continued.

"And do you know something?"

"What?" Skik felt confused. Why were those guys' bodies becoming thinner, yet stronger?

"The King of the Amani also has five fingers, you must know that!" Mor showed Skik to his six fingers on both hands.

"I know it's a blessing from the gods, but the king's body hasn't shrunk; he remains strong." Skik looked at Mor's hands, then glanced at his own six fingers, and nodded repeatedly. It did seem different then; the Elves didn't seem cursed, but rather blessed, just lacking something.

"What were we talking about at the beginning?" Mor looked at Skik, blinking slightly. What were they talking about at the start? How did they veer off-topic so quickly?

"Forgot? Oh well, let's just do as the King says." Skik scratched his head, as if he had been grumbling about disliking the Sin'dorei, but now it seemed those grumblings were meaningless. It was really hard to imagine that those skinny guys were actually his distant relatives.

"..." Mor looked at the heartless guy, his eyes slightly rolled upwards, and before he could speak, he heard someone calling his name.

"Mor." Mordu, carrying his leather bag, looked at the soldiers waiting beside the convoy, searching for his nephew.

"I'm here, Uncle." Mor looked at the Trolls in the crowd who was calling his name, couldn't help but wave to him, and then beckoned Skik to go to meet him.

"Finally found you, very good. Come with me, you'll be returning to Zul'Aman soon. I need you to do something for me." Mordu led the two to a secluded spot, took something from his satchel, and handed it to them.

"Please take this to Zul'Aman for me."

"Is this a book?" Mor stared wide-eyed at what Mordu had brought. It was a book with a metal cover and a symbol on it. The symbol was a cross, but the horizontal line was enclosed by two opposing parentheses.

"You don't need to ask what this book is. All you need to do is deliver it to Zul'Aman and give it to Zul'ra Jin," Mordu said, dissuading his nephew from asking any further questions.

"What? Give it to Zul'ra Jin!" Mor's eyes widened in surprise, and Skik, standing beside him, also began to breathe heavily. This didn't mean that holding the book would allow them to see Zul'ra Jin.

"Yes, Zul'ra Jin." Mordu looked at his nephew, whose eyes were wide open, and at Skik, who was breathing heavily beside him, and smiled slightly. Mor was his sister's son, a promising young man, very intelligent and eager to learn, but he missed the Witch Doctor class because of his age. This time, when he went to see Zul'ra Jin, perhaps he could be chosen.