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Olivia spotted the familiar white-haired figure from afar and waved energetically.
When Perletti finally jogged over, Olivia couldn’t help puffing her cheeks slightly in complaint.
“How did changing clothes take this long? I thought you’d changed your mind.”
Curiously, she looked over the simple yet elegant white robe Perletti was wearing. She didn’t recall ever seeing her wear it before.
What surprised her even more was that the little tail who was usually glued to Perletti’s side was nowhere to be seen.
That wasn’t normal.
From Olivia’s understanding of Feiye, that child practically wanted to turn herself into an accessory hanging from Perletti’s body. Unless something major had happened, she would never willingly leave Perletti’s side.
“And… where’s Feiye? I thought she’d definitely insist on coming with you.”
Olivia asked as casually as possible.
“Ah… well…”
Perletti’s eyes drifted away for a brief moment before she hurriedly continued.
“She had a few things to deal with back at the Tower, so I left her in the room. Besides, I figured you probably wouldn’t want such a rare festival outing to have a little grumpy kid tagging along and making the atmosphere tense, right? Every time you two meet, it feels like the air’s about to explode.”
She tried to brush it off with a light tone.
“But…”
Olivia’s emerald eyes narrowed slightly as her probing gaze settled on Perletti’s face.
“How exactly did you convince her?”
No one understood Feiye’s stubbornness and nearly obsessive possessiveness in that regard better than Olivia.
In her previous life, Qingcheng had merely entered the World Tree alone while Olivia was asleep, and Feiye had nearly torn apart half of the Elven Forest in response. If Qingcheng hadn’t appeared in time, the consequences would have been unimaginable.
Although…
In the end, the Elven Forest had still been destroyed by Qingcheng’s hand.
Her mood sank slightly.
That kind of ending…
It really was better not to happen again.
“Well, honestly, it wasn’t as hard as you think.”
Perletti waved vaguely, speaking faster in obvious refusal to continue the topic.
“We just made a few little agreements or something. Nothing important! Come on, come on, let’s get moving already before we waste too much time!”
Without giving Olivia a chance to continue questioning, she pushed her forward by the shoulders and half-forced her onto the forest path, neatly cutting off the subject.
Even though she had walked this road many times already, every single trip still made Perletti lament internally:
Why did the Tower have to be built at the most remote edge of the Elven Forest?!
For most witches who possessed flight or teleportation abilities, this distance was no more than the blink of an eye.
But for a flying novice like her, the journey from the Tower to Holy Gloria was still a long and exhausting expedition.
Wouldn’t it be nice if those two places were closer together…
She couldn’t help fantasizing.
Then she thought again—
Shorter distances often meant closer relationships.
If that day truly came, perhaps the subtle barrier between elves and witches might finally disappear completely.
“By the way,” Perletti shook off her resentment toward the distance and regained her enthusiasm, “what are elven festivals like? Are they very different from human celebrations?”
“Mmm… fundamentally, probably not that different.”
Olivia thought for a moment before answering.
“They’re both meant to commemorate something with special significance. Today is our elves’ ‘Birth Festival,’ established to celebrate the birth of an elven royal.”
“Whoa.”
Perletti clicked her tongue.
“Your standards for creating holidays are surprisingly… approachable. You establish an entire festival just because a royal was born?”
In Perletti’s human understanding, she had never heard of a nationwide holiday being created simply for someone’s birth.
At most, only figures whose influence spanned the continent—like Pope Kaelmoz—might receive a memorial day after death.
As for ordinary royal family members?
Who knew whether a newborn would grow into a once-in-a-millennium political genius or a complete fool who ruined everything?
That uncertainty made a birth festival sound especially unbelievable.
…Then again, considering the elven royal family had produced fewer than five monarchs over several thousand years, creating a festival to celebrate one actually seemed fairly reasonable.
“Speaking of which,” Perletti asked curiously, “which Elven King was this Birth Festival established for? Someone honored like that must’ve been an incredible ruler.”
“It was… for the Fourth Elven King.”
Olivia’s voice suddenly lowered, and her gaze drifted away slightly.
“The Fourth?”
Perletti blinked as she recalled what she knew.
“At the palace, I only met His Majesty Pimu, the Second Elven King. The Fourth… should be the current Elven King, right? But I feel like I’ve never actually heard you or anyone else talk about them in detail.”
“Well, actually…”
Olivia suddenly became visibly awkward and hesitant, unconsciously twisting the edge of her clothing between her fingers.
Seeing her reaction, a realization flashed through Perletti’s mind.
A mixture of shock and disbelief slowly spread across her face.
No way…
Surely not…
Wasn’t Olivia only a little over five hundred years old? Though ancient by human standards, for elves, several hundred years might not even count as particularly young.
Besides, she was currently only a princess. She hadn’t officially ascended the throne yet, nor had she seemingly accomplished anything world-changing enough to deserve an eternal festival in her honor.
“You can’t possibly mean…”
Perletti asked cautiously, though with increasing certainty,
“…that this festival is actually for you?”
“…Mm.”
Olivia nodded softly. A faint blush appeared at the tips of her ears.
“Actually, I’m… well, the future Fourth Elven King. Of course, the palace’s main affairs are still handled by the Ancestor right now. I’ll probably need another two hundred years or so of study and experience first.”
“But the timeline doesn’t match!”
Perletti looked even more confused.
“The death of the Third Elven King and your age don’t line up at all!”
She remembered clearly:
The Third Elven King had died more than eight hundred years ago during the era known as the Moon of Greed. He had attempted to trade with the God of Decay in order to resurrect his wife, failed, and both of them ultimately perished together.
But Olivia was only five hundred years old.
There was a gap of three whole centuries!
“It’s not like that. I…”
Olivia paused, seemingly searching for the proper words.
“I don’t have parents in the conventional sense. Back then, the elven royal family was nearly wiped out during the Marsha incident. The only direct descendant with divine blood remaining was the Ancestor alone.”
“You could say the bloodline was on the verge of extinction.”
“The Ancestor… in order to continue the royal bloodline, used a newly sprouted branch from the World Tree together with natural magic and ancient rituals to nurture a brand-new life.”
“According to the Ancestor, that’s basically how it happened.”
“And so, from that day onward, the elves designated the birth of that new life as the ‘Birth Festival.’”
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