Elves in popular parlance usually referred to the high elves of the Court of the Silver Moon, along with the scattered wood elves across the land. The drow were a branch of the elven race in essence, but also mortal enemies of all other elves.
A female drow's coming-of-age ritual traditionally involved traveling to the surface, abducting an elf, and bringing them back to the Umbral Depths as a blood sacrifice to the Spider Queen.
Those who could offer an elf as sacrifice would usually receive the Spider Queen's blessing.
But over time, elves had become harder and harder to capture. The drow adapted, turning their sacrifices inward. Male drow were frequently offered up instead. Naturally, such sacrifices rarely earned divine favor; at best, they merely prevented the Spider Queen from delivering punishment.
Over the years, the drow had slaughtered countless elves. The blood feud between them had grown so deep it was beyond reconciliation.
Yet ironically, the Spider Queen herself had once been a member of the elven pantheon, and one of extremely high status at that.
Her former husband was none other than the elven god-king, Choralan Laristan.
Choralan was said to be the most perfect elf. Any mortal who beheld his true form would fall helplessly in love with him. His beauty transcended gender and race, and his charm far surpassed even Catherine's.
He was also a formidable warrior, a master of magic, a philosopher, an artist, a musician... In short, nearly every virtue and talent of the elven race could be traced back to him.
There was even an unverified claim that Choralan might be the most powerful god after Aion. Of course, many mages disagreed, insisting that the Goddess of Magic held that title.
Regardless, the claim alone spoke volumes about his power. Combined with the sheer number of elven deities, Choralan stood among the highest in both influence and strength within the divine hierarchy.
So when Ambrose first read that the Spider Queen had once been married to the elven god-king, he simply couldn't understand it.
How could she have decided to divorce a husband like that? Just how high were her standards?
Later, he learned the truth: the Spider Queen had turned against her husband in an attempt to seize his divine authority.
The title of "wife of the god-king" had never been enough for her. She wanted more. So she gathered a host of evil gods and launched a rebellion.
The divine war that followed was long and turbulent, but in the end, it concluded with her defeat.
As punishment, the god-king transformed her into her current half-spider form. The drow, once elves themselves, fell alongside her, becoming the subterranean race they were today: cruel, male-oppressing, and steeped in darkness.
Because of the Spider Queen's hatred for the god-king, the drow and surface elves became sworn enemies.
Trisna was a legendary drow. That meant she must have sacrificed countless elves to earn the Spider Queen's favor. As a result, she had gained immense power and even the blessings of four goddesses.
Surely she owed a mountain of blood debt. If her corpse were delivered to the Court of the Silver Moon, it might fetch a considerable bounty.
If he couldn't turn it into undead, then he'd have to make use of it somehow. He couldn't afford to take a loss.
Ambrose wrote a letter to Catherine and sent it out via Sweetdew City.
Artifacts like the Necromantic Codex, which allowed instant communication across any distance, were exceedingly rare. Even the elves might not possess such long-range communication tools. For international correspondence, ordinary mail was still the norm.
Fortunately, teleportation arrays existed. The letter would likely arrive within a day.
The only downside was the cost. This expedited delivery alone cost Ambrose over a thousand gold coins.
Getting the letter to the Court of the Silver Moon didn't take long, but the elven kingdom had long since adopted an isolationist policy. All incoming correspondence had to undergo strict inspection.
By the time Catherine finally received the letter, several days had passed.
At first, she was delighted that the lich had finally remembered her after so long. But when she opened the letter, her mood soured instantly. Ambrose got straight to the point, without a single polite greeting.
He informed her that he had killed a drow priestess and asked whether the Court of the Silver Moon was interested in settling accounts for the drow's blood debts, subtly bringing up the matter of a bounty in the process.
At the end, he mentioned Arthur Lyon, asking when the elven king would come to "verify his identity."
There was not a single word of greeting from start to finish.
Catherine was so annoyed she nearly exploded. That lich really didn't care about her at all.
Still, her anger faded quickly, because what Ambrose had written about were all serious matters.
The drow were a stain the elves could never forget, and the source of their deepest suffering. A legendary drow like Trisna would undoubtedly be on the Court's most-wanted list.
Ambrose had done them a great favor. The Court of the Silver Moon now owed him a debt.
Without delay, Catherine took the letter to the elven king—strictly speaking, the twice-former elven king.
After the last batch of elves afflicted by mana addiction had been sealed away, Catherine publicly confessed her crimes to the elven people and formally explained the reason behind her abdication.
It had been her arrogance and folly that brought the elves to the brink of extinction, and caused them grievous losses in the process.
Thus, she had stepped down and was now submitting herself to the judgment of all elves.
The verdict came swiftly: she was forgiven.
It wasn't that the elves were soft-hearted. Rather, who could bring themselves to punish someone with Catherine's face?
Besides, she had sincerely admitted her mistakes.
In the end, the twice-former elven king, Hildas Terra, had to issue the judgment in his own name. Catherine would be stripped of all honors and privileges and reduced to a common citizen.
This was already the harshest punishment possible. Anything more severe might have provoked unrest among the elves.
Even so, many felt the punishment was too harsh. Catherine's intentions had been good. She had only wanted to strengthen the elven race by selflessly sharing her power. No one could have foreseen the side effects.
The new elven king, Alderien Terra, was among those who shared these beliefs. After ascending the throne, he even attempted to overturn the punishment.
For that, he received a thorough beating from his grandfather, Hildas himself.
Elven kingship was not hereditary. Typically, candidates were chosen from among legendary figures within the kingdom, and all elves would vote to decide the next ruler.
When Catherine ran, she was elected unanimously. Her rivals even campaigned on her behalf.
Alderien Terra had been one of those rivals. Upon learning she would run, he immediately toured the kingdom giving speeches with titles like, "Why Catherine Should Be Our Next Queen."
Among all elves, the new king might well be Catherine's most fervent admirer.
When Catherine abdicated, Alderien entered the race himself, determined to inherit the throne from her. In the end, he won by a landslide.
His victory wasn't just due to his grandfather's legacy, but also his own ability.
He had reached the legendary realm at a young age. During Catherine's reign, he had served as her right hand, and was effectively the kingdom's chief administrator. Under his management, even the notoriously low elven birth rate had noticeably increased, an achievement worthy of the historical record.
His ascension was widely supported. Even though his own grandfather, Hildas Terra, voted against him, Hildas had no choice but to accept the result.
Who would have thought that the moment Alderien took the throne, he would try to overturn Hildas' own decision? Furious, the white-haired elder cast aside all political decorum, dragged his grandson home, and beat him soundly.
Despite being a legendary ranger, poor Alderien didn't even dare dodge. He endured the beating until his face was bruised and swollen.
In the end, the elder used his authority to suppress the absurd decree. Still, he couldn't stop Alderien from constantly sending Catherine gifts and treating her as if she were still the queen.
Fortunately, Catherine knew she was at fault and refused them all. She lived quietly in a secluded cottage outside the capital—but not among commoners, of course. Allowing her into an ordinary district would have caused chaos.
Thus, it remained easy for her to enter the capital when needed.
When summoned, Catherine was admitted to the palace and met the new king.
Alderien looked no older than seventeen or eighteen: handsome, with the refined elegance typical of elves.
Beside him stood two elderly figures with white hair. One was naturally his grandfather, the twice-former king.
The other wore a white-and-gold robe adorned with roses and scales. From those emblems, Catherine immediately recognized him as the High Inquisitor of the Lyon Empire, James Watson.