Glory

Cairne solemnly accepted the scroll, but he did not open it. Instead, he gently placed it before him.

"Thank you for telling us the truth. I understand how much courage such honesty must have taken."

The chieftain nodded, his expression grave. "I must also apologize for my suspicions. Please forgive me, but I had to do this."

Little Sian stared at the chieftain in surprise. Seeing his stern expression, he turned back to Hamuul, only to find that Hamuul seemed to have let out a breath of relief.

Fandral nodded in understanding. If their positions had been reversed, he would not have accepted help with unclear intentions either, especially at a time when the tribe faced a crisis of survival.

Listening to those words, Sian suddenly felt as though his head had exploded with dizziness. He hurriedly lowered his head, not daring to look at Hamuul again, yet Hamuul's honest smile filled his mind—the expression he wore whenever he praised him. It had once made the little boy so happy, but now it only stung his eyes.

His nose burned, and his heart felt as if a pot of strange soup had been overturned inside it—sadness, joy, bitterness, anger, happiness... all those feelings tangled together in a confused mess.

He swallowed hard twice, forcing all those awful feelings down. Looking at everyone in the tent, the once golden chieftain and golden Uncle Hamuul now seemed covered by a gray veil. Even the light filtering through the window was gray.

Suddenly, he had the feeling that perhaps the world was supposed to be like that all along, and all he had to do was learn to accept it.

He wanted to convince himself of that, but...

But... but he truly hated this gray world.

The chieftain's rough palm rested lightly on the scroll.

Now he was going to open it, right? Then all the laughter and cheer would return to this feast—except for one little calf no one cared about. Himself.

But Cairne did not do so.

He pressed one finger against the scroll's binding, then gently pushed it back.

Under Fandral's puzzled gaze, Cairne smiled sincerely. "Thank you for your kindness, but I am sorry—we still cannot accept it."

Cairne's words struck like thunder. Fandral's mind buzzed as he swiftly reviewed everything he had done since the banquet began, as well as the Night Elf delegation's conduct. Yet he could find no reason they might have offended the other side.

He truly did not understand why they were still unwilling to accept their apology. The compensation in that scroll was so generous—why would Cairne refuse even to look at it?

Could it be that these Tauren intended to use this as leverage, hoping to obtain even greater benefits from the Night Elves?

A malicious suspicion rose in Fandral's mind, filling him with fury.

He had cast aside all the Night Elves' pride and done everything he could to show sincerity, only to be treated like this?

Once that thought appeared, everything suddenly seemed to make sense.

Fandral recalled the poverty and hunger he had seen while passing through the village. That could not have been caused by this sudden disaster alone. The Night Elves' arrival had likely become the sole straw for drowning men, drawing this pack of starving wolves toward them!

The gazes of several Night Elves also turned hostile. Clearly, he was not the only one who had reached that conclusion.

Fandral withdrew his hand in disgust. Suddenly, even the wooden teacup that had seemed decent before now looked unpleasant to him.

Cairne laughed softly. Seeing the change in their expressions, he knew they had misunderstood.

He picked up the water jug and poured more cool spring water into Fandral's cup. "We cannot accept this gift because we do not believe the Night Elves need to make such an apology."

Fandral's eyes widened, filled with disbelief.

Cairne continued in his usual deep voice, speaking slowly. "We cannot accept your apology because you have no reason to apologize."

"You may believe that the demons slaughtering my people are inextricably linked to the elves, and thus feel guilty."

"But my father always told me that one should not judge an entire race by the goodness or evil of one person. That is not only arrogant; it also cuts off kindness and wisdom."

"So in my eyes, those who have come here are not sinners who need repentance, but many, many friends who have rushed here bearing aid."

"Just as Master Staghelm said, if we sincerely respect someone, it is surely because we have been moved by their noble qualities. You carry selfless goodwill in your hearts. I can think of nothing more worthy of admiration than such actions."

Cairne smiled and shook his head. "We will not accept this apology. Although the Tauren face difficult circumstances now, we must never claim benefits that we do not deserve. Otherwise, the children of the Earth Mother will lose all their glory."

"In the distant past, countless Tauren walked this beautiful land with their chests held high. Today, we too will continue forward with pride, multiplying and thriving beneath the Earth Mother's gaze, unafraid of hardship, diligent and brave."

Hearing the chieftain's words, the Night Elves who had harbored doubts instantly flushed red with shame. They felt deeply ashamed for baselessly speculating about such a noble man.

Fandral looked at Cairne. The great being's words rang with conviction, each syllable striking the heartstrings of the Archdruid.

He had thought he had lived for a very, very long time, that he had seen through all the facets of the world. Yet only now did he realize how foolish he had been.

He had grown accustomed to the indifference between people, to the ugliness revealed in struggles for power, to faces twisted by desire, to hypocritical words. He had believed that was reality.

But in the end, he realized that he had forgotten the finest things in human nature—the things he had possessed in his youth, yet had allowed himself to forget.

Those things had not disappeared. They still lived in this world, within this small Tauren village.

Thinking back, although they were plagued by hunger, the faces of those Tauren had shone with light.

Self-reliance. Unyielding perseverance.

Cairne pinched his long braided beard and smiled easily. He gently rubbed Little Sian's head, his eyes full of warmth.

Fandral also looked toward Little Sian. The child seemed to have weathered an inner turmoil, yet his radiance had returned.

Looking at the Tauren child of eight or nine, Fandral suddenly thought of his son, who had died young, and his granddaughter far away. Their faces had all shone with a similar light—one he had once overlooked, but could finally see clearly now.

So he asked tentatively, "Child, are you suffering?"

Hamuul frowned and looked somewhat displeased at the tactless Fandral. His favorable impression of him immediately diminished considerably.

Sian shook his head in confusion. "Suffering? Not really. Everyone lives very hard lives, but everyone is happy!"

Protecting the dreams of the next generation...

Was this the Tauren's pride and inheritance?

It truly was magnificent.

Fandral burst into laughter. "Little one, would you like to learn the ways of the Druids from me? Oh, right—I am Fandral, Fandral Staghelm. I do not know your name yet. Could you tell this old man?"

Sian's eyes darted around a few times. He secretly glanced at Cairne and Hamuul, then said anxiously, "My name is Sian, Sian Whitehorn. Respected Mr. Fandral, thank you very much for your invitation, but I would like to ask you for something else..."