Chapter 454: The Art of Appreciating Artisanal Bread

Amidst my wild delusions, Aishael came up and kissed me on the hand. To be exact, she was lapping up the bits of the bread still left on my right hand. Because of their proximity to my fingers, she ended up kissing my finger inadvertently… it was kinda cold and nice… but it wasn’t because I liked little girls! The girls I like just happen to be little!

So she wasn’t trying to seduce me…

Now that the breadcrumbs were gone, she released my hand and went back to her position.

Just like that, the scene descended into awkward silence once more. In just the span of ten minutes, this awkwardness had happened multiple times. Just based on that fact alone, I had to hand it to this little ice princess, her ability to end conversations was something else.

“You mustn’t waste food.” She looked me right in the eyes with utmost seriousness, to the point where I couldn’t help but feel a little ashamed… I actually got lectured by an elementary school kid. I mean, she’s not wrong. It’s still food, even if it’s hard as a rock. But I still stand by what I said before, that bread isn’t meant for eating!

In a lot of ways, you could judge a person by the way he or she treated food. At least… that was what everyone else said -I can’t attest to its accuracy. Either way, the way she treated food so dearly was very telling.

First off, such an obsession with not wasting food had to be learned, or had to be caused by severe shortage. Based on how naturally she lapped up a rock masquerading as a bread, she must have had this stuff for a long time now. Given how little resources were actually allocated to these Half-Elves, it would be safe to say that she wouldn’t have had too many of these to eat as well. In light of that, it was only natural for her to value such a piece of edible weaponry so highly.

Unlike the worryless world I had left behind on Earth, food wasn’t something you could just pick up from a supermarket. Even more so for these Half-Elves. The Dark Elves despised them with a passion and even confined them to the same area they kept slaves. Their rations were not only little but of a low quality. In such conditions, feeling full was basically impossible. Was it any wonder that she would lick up those breadcrumbs? Of course, it could all just be an act… either way, she was trying to use her actions to tell me that the Half-Elves had it really bad.

Now if it was the old me back on Earth, I wouldn’t have understood the logic behind this mistreatment at all. Yes, a Half-Elf was definitely a dilution of their bloodlines… but who cares? As long as they are pretty, it’s all fine in my books, am I right? Yet having experienced a life in this fantasy world myself, I was beginning to understand why they would show such aversion to their bloodlines thinning.

A normal Dark Elf had the normal lifespan of at least five hundred years. A human, on the other hand, was merely a hundred or so if he wasn’t powerful. Objectively speaking, their genes were inferior to Dark Elves.

The four hundred year gap also meant that any form of romance was an uphill battle. If one could not even accompany you to the end of your days, what right did that person have to claim your heart at all? Barring some special circumstances, the idea of marrying such a race was just absurd, like marrying a dog! Their offspring would be objectively inferior and so would their future offspring. All inferior products of a failed coupling.

This was why the Half-Elf population was strictly monitored and even kept with the slaves. The more extreme Dark Elves would even come to Slave Chasm to find Half-Elves to kill. They would first apply for a duel with the Half-Elf of their choice then duke it out in the colosseum.

During such matches, ties were forbidden. You either killed your opponent or you died. A tie meant death for both sides. And yes… there were those who saw killing Half-Elves as a sport.

Under such circumstances, their living conditions could be said to be worse than slaves.

“Elder Lanbael.”

“Yes, your holiness.” She replied with utmost deference. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if she suddenly dropped to her knees right now and started licking my boots.

“You’re the one in charge of this place, correct?”

She sneaked a glance at my suspiciously calm face and hesitated for a second before answering, “yes, this place is managed by me.”

“Well. These… things are inedible. I want them changed for something fresher.” I tossed the rock-like bread towards Lanbael who was at a loss as she caught it. Then, under her confused eyes, I smiled thinly and said, “since we shouldn’t waste food at all, how about you finish it.”

“I…” She gripped down hard on the black bread to no avail. Her face, on the other hand, was decidedly twisted.

“I guess all that talk of holiness was just an act then.” As I said that, I turned towards Paliseth and gave her a deprecating smile.

“Elder Lanbael!”

The moment Lanbale saw that stern glare from Paliseth, she knew there was no escaping now. She either ate the bread… or she died. Should she go out with a bang or accept the bread?

Naturally, that wasn’t even a choice at all. She stuffed that bread into her mouth along with her shame and began chewing… and failed.

The art of eating such a… delicacy was clearly lost on her, seeing as this was the first time she had even touched the darn thing. For someone in such a lofty position as hers, eating the same food as a slave was just unthinkable. The mere act of doing so brought a tear to her eyes. Just from that alone, one could tell how much of a mental collapse she was going through now.

However, that only made me want to rub more salt in her wounds. “Don’t you like it?”

“I do…”

That’s right… absolutely delicious…

Now that the bread had found its proper home, I turned to look at Aishael. “Are you happy now?”

“Why did you help me?” Aishael asked with that same icy look on her face.

“I had a feeling that there was some enmity between the two of you. And I feel somewhat responsible for what happened to Aisha.”

“Mother… her fate was inevitable.” Just like before, her face was the picture of coolness, like her mother’s death was just another page in the book of her life. However, I knew her heart was wrenching from the pain right now.

To be perfectly honest, Aisha did not have to die at all. If I was only a little more decisive, I could have stopped the fight before that fateful stab to the throat happened. Yet who would have expected Aisha to choose death like that… all just to avoid being humiliated.

Just based on this short interaction with the Half-Elves, I was able to glean a fair amount of information. First, the Half-Elves were no better than slaves in the eyes of the Dark Elves. Aishael held a lofty position amongst these Elves. Next, Lanbael’s relationship with these Half-Elves couldn’t be any worse. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if this animosity boiled over soon.

If I had to hazard a guess as to why these Half-Elves treated Aishael so specially, it would be because she was the granddaughter of the Matriarch. Even if Paliseth herself did not know of this granddaughter, the same couldn’t be said of the others in the clan. She could be the key to changing their treatment as long as they played their cards right.

Because of her position as their de-facto leader, Aishael would naturally look out for the interests of the Half-Elves. That immediately put her at odds with Lanbael who placed a heavy emphasis on blood purity. Normally, Lanbael could have just done away with such opposition, but given that this was the Matriarch’s granddaughter she was dealing with, even she had to think twice before acting.

The fact of the matter was that the blood of Paliseth flowed in Aishael. While Paliseth herself might have killed her own children on a whim, that didn’t mean Lanbael enjoyed that privilege as well. And even if Paliseth did not know of Aishael before, who was to say Paliseth wouldn’t just suddenly remember that she had a granddaughter? Like what was happening today…