The unpleasant encounter with the Elves was finally coming to an end.
Their late-night conversation was drawing to a close. Hill stepped out from the shadows and into the moonlight, tear stains still visible on her face. In truth, she had already cried once before Rorschach came to find her.
The Half-Elf stared at the young human. "I've thought it through now. Perhaps before we Elves ask for help, we should first save ourselves. At the very least, we need to root out some of our corrupt and degenerate members."
"Those Elders are all very old," Rorschach said seriously. "Don't let that make you go soft and spare them. Otherwise, neither you, the Mixed-blood Princess, nor that Saintess of Victory will have a moment's peace."
Hill finally smiled through her tears. "You make a lot of sense."
"I hope our next meeting won't be so distressing." Rorschach took out the Wooden Mask from his Storage Ring. "Since I didn't offer any help, let's forget about the gift."
