The Elf Race has always been noble and proud, but in this day and age, if they didn't learn to adapt to the times, they would have vanished from this world long ago.
Since the Twin Holy Trees withered, the Elf Race has fallen into decline and endured immense suffering. The greatest of these pains was the loss of the trees themselves. To their ancestors, it meant they must have committed some grave error for the mother tree to abandon them.
They have lived in shame and self-reproach ever since. The appearance of the Laurel Tree now was tantamount to their race being recognized once more.
If the Lord knew what these Elves were thinking, he'd surely scoff.
Leaving it to a tree to judge the right and wrong of one's actions was, in itself, the greatest mistake of all.
"You can't handle this Magical Beast, but you don't want to publicize this secret, so you came to find me?"
