Chapter 244: Conversation and Reverie
Last winter, during a wildfire contest, a young girl from the Goat-Horn tribe unexpectedly became a dark horse, making it to the finals and winning, which surprised many.
On the charred grassland, this brown-haired girl lay on the dried grass, her body covered in blood, struggling continuously. Then, under her strong will, the scattered flames converged and erupted, ultimately swallowing her opponent.
Afterward, the Great Shaman carefully treated the severely injured girl, ensuring she recovered as much as possible before safely returning home. The messenger was also instructed to warn the surrounding large tribes not to disturb this small settlement.
At that time, the shaman didn’t think too much about doing these things; they simply wanted to take care of any promising orcs as much as possible.
No one expected that this ordinary girl would bring such unexpected joy this time.
In the warm, large tent, several shamans sat around the fire pit. After Lolan and Nia entered, they were also seated on wooden chairs by the fire pit.
“Miss Lolan, where are you from? You look like you’re human,” the old shaman stroked his beard and asked curiously.
It wasn’t strange for them to be curious. Generally, the Natural Sequence mostly came from the Verdant Empire, as they inherited the legacy of the Forest Elves, while the natural factions within the Snow Flower Seven Kingdoms were quite rare.
“I come from Clancia, near the Tisilin Mountains.” Lolan Hill didn’t hide this fact. She had introduced herself similarly to her roommate. Fortunately, apart from the Rabbit Tribe being well-known now, outsiders didn’t know that the sage also came from there.
“Tisilin Mountains?” The old shaman pondered slightly in the warm glow of the fire.
The Rabbit Tribe in the Tisilin Mountains was now very famous, known for their extraordinary fruits and grains, even envied by many tribes on the grasslands.
“Have you seen the Rabbit Tribe there?” the old shaman continued.
“Yes.” Lolan nodded. This was familiar to her; after all, many of the Rabbit Tribe’s knowledge and skills were taught by her, and she had toured various cities before school.
The old shaman then asked, “Can you tell us what their life is like now?”
This… Hearing this, Lolan felt a bit troubled. Should she speak the truth? The Rabbit Tribe lived much better than you, and I taught them. It felt a bit like bragging.
If she didn’t speak the truth, she would have to lie, which was unnecessary, and she didn’t like lying anyway.
She decided to be tactful. “The Rabbit Tribe is now cultivating fields in the mountains, learning writing and knowledge, and can be seen in many cities of Clancia.”
“Wouldn’t they be discriminated against and bullied by humans?” asked a Wolf-Eared Shaman sitting nearby, somewhat anxiously.
It seemed these orcs’ information was outdated. Lolan thought, but it made sense given the changes were only a year old, and Gufia Grassland lacked channels for external communication.
“No, they’re working hard now.” Thinking of those diligent rabbits, Lolan nodded with relief. They were all good kids she had taught.
“In the mountains, how effective is their field cultivation? I know the Tisilin Mountains are a branch of the Sighing Mountains, and there are plenty of Demonic Beasts,” the old shaman said after a moment of silence, his feelings somewhat complex. It was like a distant poor relative suddenly becoming prosperous, even though he knew it had little to do with him.
“The Demonic Beasts in the Tisilin Mountains get along well with them.”
Of course, they eat well every day, so how could they not? Lolan recalled the scene she saw before leaving, where several Sequence 3 Westlan Golden Tigers lay on the ground, their bellies round like balls, basking in the sun. So, the green-haired girl nodded seriously, thinking she should find some work for these big cats, who just ate and slept all day.
“Oh.”
After hearing the description from this green-haired girl, for some reason, the shamans present felt a twinge of jealousy. It seemed like things weren’t going well here, while the Rabbit Tribe thrived in Clancia, and the Winged Tribes were almost like owners in the Falcon Kingdom, free from various grievances.
The fire burned quietly, and the dry autumn wood emitted a faint blue smoke that drifted out through the circular hole at the top of the tent.
“Miss Lolan, what are your thoughts or impressions after coming to our grassland?” the old shaman asked, looking at Lolan, a student of Emanas. Actually, he was curious about how the outside world viewed these orcs, or what the views were on this girl who described the forest paradise.
Were the traditions that had been repeated for thousands of years really off track? Were there other paths?
“This…” As an outsider, the girl didn’t want to directly criticize others.
“I believe that instead of everyone fighting over the few fruits,” she paused slightly, then continued, “it would be better to work together to grow larger fruits, so more people can enjoy them.”
“Miss Lolan’s idea is good, but unfortunately, the grassland soil is barren, producing only a few fruits,” sighed the Bull-Headed Shaman next to her, shaking his head. His tribe had considered farming, but the results were dismal.
“Miss Lolan must come from a wealthy family,” the Wolf-Eared Shaman sneered. Students of Emanas were rare but not uncommon. This Songstress was probably from a wealthy background, and her views were like saying ‘why don’t you eat meat if you can’t afford it.’ If they had abundant food, would they be struggling so much, constantly fighting internally?
The other shamans didn’t speak, but their thoughts were likely similar. You haven’t experienced our hardships, so how can you understand our difficulties? Indeed, a songstress could only provide a beautiful dream, not solve practical problems.
“My family background is average,” she said honestly.
“While I haven’t experienced days of hunger, I’ve heard a lot.”
The bitter experiences of famine were unforgettable to the older generation, often used for instruction. As a result, she was never allowed to leave food unfinished when eating as a child in her previous life; otherwise, she would be scolded.
“I’m not unaware of the difficulties everyone faces,” the green-haired girl said slowly, then raised her head.
“If I could offer solutions to your problems…”
The crimson flames crackled, and the warm light reflected in the girl’s eyes, her gaze intense. That gentleness and confidence made everyone present recall the cheers from not long ago, calling her the ancient legend in the ancient tale of “Poetry of Fire.”
Eranie, born from the flames, a girl healed by song.
(End of Chapter)
