An elf met a knight.
One with green eyes, from New Castle; one with purple hair, from the Temple.
The elf also met a witch.
White-haired and red-eyed, from the forest.
The elf then came upon a castle.
Unchanged for years, now facing a crisis.
As a master farmer, Ilfu never imagined anyone would intrude on her life.
The wheat sprouted green leaves and survived the dry early spring. After that fresh rain, the quiet hours spent farming in the forest began to change too. Spending every day in the forest, tilling in spring, planting in summer, harvesting in autumn, and storing away in winter, would make you go moldy like flour.
So the elf girl put down her hoe, picked up her shortbow, and followed the intruders, gradually uncovering... the truth of the World.
And the final elegy of those ordinary, short-lived humans.
And the final stories of the long wheel ruts left behind by this old world.
It was still so hard to preserve every story, relying on her own strength alone.
Could she really just do nothing?
That was always her answer whenever someone asked.
The elf, dedicated to recording every story, set out on a journey in this unjust and absurd age.
