I lowered the letter. No one should notice the tremor. No, it was not time yet—not in these huts south of the city, where we had spent three months trying to adapt them. The trees were barely growing. They had hope; we no longer did. I had just received the most painful message of a lifetime. I no longer had a father. Mine was king and considered that I was the worst thing that could have happened to the elves. My comrades in arms—those who had accompanied me for centuries—were in this area as refugees, without real power, living thanks to a human, eager to be different, for a large-scale invasion or the arrival of thousands of new creatures. But it was not that. He told us we were alone, that we had been degraded from the highest orders of Silver Elves to that of the wild ones—almost at the level of the forest elves, but within our race. I must not shout! Not a tear—nothing. I had a little dignity, but that did not stop it. It was my family. I would be their king, but now they were the closest thing to my family.
I greeted everyone, wished them a happy day—protocols always. Most had not yet integrated and had remained in their torn clothes since the day we escaped. As I saw them, I thought I could not make this work. But now I was all they had left—the only thing that kept them with a breath of hope.
Companions, I told them, it was necessary to lift our faces. We fell by humans, but they were not the ones we attacked. They came from another continent, seeking our destruction. We cannot let that happen! First, they should know that I had already received a response from my father—I hoped the cries of relief would diminish. Unfortunately, he had set us a greater challenge to face our current situation—holding my letter, where he despised me, insulted me, where we were unknown and threatened with death if we did not submit to slavery as soon as they returned. The points he set out were as follows:
We lost many items in the flight, as well as friends and brothers in arms. Some would be alive; most would have died. We had to recover the bodies and give them the tomb they deserved.
We must not depend on lost items. Our garments and weapons should come from what the forges and looms of this city produced.
To that end—at this point, my lip trembled—he instructed me to donate my non- enchanted possessions to exchange for raw materials.
We could not teach any of our inventions or technologies to others, but we must establish a base in this city. So we would build an elf city here. We would trade with minimal knowledge and technology that we knew by heart, without using any scroll or manual from the isle. We had to equip ourselves as quickly as possible.
The reason we had to equip ourselves was that we had to recover everything—not only the bodies but the runes, the riches of their families, their vengeance.
If there was an invasion by my father's elves, they would attack us to test whether we were fit to be forgiven. We had to defend ourselves, kill if necessary—do not cry... not now.
We would be attacked, keep that in mind. They would do it because they wanted us to be the ones to give a future to our species. Prepare yourselves, friends. Rebuild this place in less than a month, have equipment for two, and make incursions from the third. Those who did not know how to use weapons well would be trained.
Everyone applauded. It was the most depressing thing. Within a few hours, my gems and gold turned into raw materials, into hired mages to help grow the trees that would contain our houses. The fabrics were bad but served to make the tunics, which we soaked in as many defense runes as we could. The weapons were not bad but were simple, so I began to speak with the dwarven quarter to get better productions. The raw materials they requested could be obtained. I would learn from them if necessary, so as not to have to keep buying from their species. But not out of ego—I could no longer say that. It was simpler: I had to maintain the appearance of pride to keep them from crumbling.
Of everyone, no one asked me anything. They did not want to see the letter. By the end of the first month, we were all in new homes—stone and trees together. It was not as comfortable as living in the old palaces, but we no longer deserved them. I needed my people to be humble, to be able to get their hands dirty. I had to have them ready, or we would die.
At three months, the incursions began. First, our most experienced soldiers—with them, I recovered part of the fortunes of poor families, far from the main camps, which I now saw was stupidity. While the instructors taught how to use non-magical weapons, the magical ones—they were scarce. My royal guard barely had anything worthy of the name. But the deals continued. The human—that Whitecap who saved us—had interceded in the deals so we had fair prices, to establish ourselves. He ceded these ruined zones from the cataclysm earthquakes, but they were fertile, and he knew it... Tough one, this Judeus. But not only him—the youngest were training hard. In two weeks, I could send them to the camps that had the scrolls. These would finally give us a little strategic advantage.
Since the city's fabrics were so bad, we opted for tunics made from the same materials as the mages' cloaks. We must have looked bad—all gray—since dye was a luxury that helped no one. With uncomfortable looks at a city that was not ours, with calloused hands from centuries of not using them as the focal point of our weapons or tools. I began to hear what they called us. I thought it was insulting, but we could do nothing—it was part of the deal to live here. In the end, it was my defeat, our punishment. But from here, we would emerge stronger than ever. The Silver Leaf Elves—that was what they called us in their barbaric Silvan language... or something—we would be capable of achieving vengeance and resisting annihilation at the hands of those who were once their people. I was no longer Golden Leaf, son of the king. I was brother of the fallen, king of the abandoned. I was Silver Leaf—the mark of my humiliation and the determination of a thousand lives in my charge.