Just as greed oozed from every pore of a merchant, arrogance showed in every strand of an elf's hair.
Even the elf Mercenaries who associated most closely with humans kept to themselves. While everyone else roasted meat around the bonfire, they sat in the dark treetops, enjoying the moonlight, the darkness, and the quiet.
Their people were not divided like the Dwarves, much less torn by infighting like the Orcs. They remained united around the World Tree.
Even when humanity, the darling of the new era, issued the Foreign Races Edict and the other races withdrew from human Towns, the elves refused to bow. Slaughter elves indiscriminately, and they would retaliate against human civilians.
Even their Celebrations bore their own peculiar "arrogance"—they held one only once every thousand years.
Though calling that arrogance was a bit unfair. Elves were long-lived, after all. An elf born and raised in the usual way could attend at least two such Celebrations.
As for humans... a family might have to span a dozen generations to produce someone who even knew about one. And knowing was all they could hope for, since the invitations went only to the Allen Continent's foremost powers.
As a Bard might put it, even the second rank of the Holy Hall didn't qualify for an invitation.
Standing among those guests, Annan felt like a White Dragon hatchling that had wandered into a gathering of Ancient Dragons... But then he remembered that he would soon be an ally of the Elven Royal Court, and he straightened his back.
Obiris Strait was practically an inland sea. Even reaching Wilhelm in its middle took half a month by ship.
The merchant ship carried other passengers besides Annan and his companions. So for the next few days, Annan either stayed in his First-Class Cabin