Star Rail: Starting with a Lyre, Living off Busking [146]
The Forestfolk, known for their extraordinarily long lifespans, were notorious for hosting lengthy discussions. When the elders of the village gathered in a circle under the soft glow of the nocturnal luminescent bugs, they deliberated on the village's future—and the enigmatic Princess who had appeared out of nowhere.
"The mythical beast Mokra Mbembe's rampage was halted by Her Highness, but is capturing and taming it truly the best course of action?"
"The goblin presence in nearby areas seems to be growing. The rangers have reported multiple skirmishes."
"They've learned to craft boats and are now attacking merchants and adventurers from upstream."
"These goblins are becoming audacious, assaulting mortals is one thing, but riding atop mythical beasts? What emboldens them so?"
Opinions clashed, arguments and counterarguments piling up endlessly, yet no definitive conclusions emerged.
To avoid misunderstanding, let it be said: the Forestfolk are not simple-minded. On the contrary, they are remarkably intelligent. Across the Four Realms, their talents and wisdom are unmatched.
Were it not for the constraints of their forest, the Forestfolk could very well have built the largest and longest-lasting nation in existence.
This intellect, however, made them meticulous. They preferred to voice every potential opinion and possibility before settling on a course of action.
They understood the dangers of tunnel vision—when everyone marches in unison toward a single goal, other lurking issues often go unnoticed.
Unless—
A single individual could rise to make a decisive choice and skillfully guide everyone toward its fulfillment.
In the past, such a role belonged solely to the Elf Queen. Now, the Elf Princess might share that burden.
Regrettably, the miraculous power the Princess displayed during the day seemed to have drained her greatly, leaving her absent from the meeting.
As for the Trailblazers, they considered it futile to follow the Forestfolk's labyrinthine logic. Mortals, incapable of planning even a decade ahead, could hardly keep pace with beings who envisioned centuries and millennia.
And so, the meeting continued unabated, while others enjoyed the comfort of the evening breeze.
The elf archer sat, gazing at Mokra Mbembe, the mythical beast now calmly chewing its food in stark contrast to its earlier ferocity. A soft sigh escaped her lips, her mind still preoccupied with her lackluster performance earlier.
Opportunities to prove herself in the Princess's presence were rare, and now it seemed she was destined to remain overshadowed by a "younger sister" several centuries her junior.
This stifling feeling made it difficult to fully appreciate the tranquility of the night breeze.
"...You."
A gentle voice, as harmonious as a musical instrument, came from behind her without disturbing a single branch or leaf.
Though no reprimand came, the elf archer stiffened and turned to look.
"Wha—what?! Sister?!"
"Climbing to places like this again. No manners," the Forest Princess said softly, her composure unshaken. As always, she reprimanded her younger sister.
"Oh, and yet here you are too, Sister."
The elf archer leaned back, catlike, peering up at her sister with narrowed eyes. Her inverted view revealed the Princess clad in a silken silver gown, her pristine feet unsoiled by even a speck of dust.
"Should you be here, though? Shouldn't you be at the meeting?"
"I left it to the elders."
Though unaware of her sister's hidden thoughts, the Forest Princess bore a wistful expression. Sneaking away from the meeting was evident enough, but it wasn't what troubled her.
As the daughter of the previous chief, the betrothed of the current leader, and a princess of her people, she was expected to participate in the discussions. Yet, by Forestfolk standards, her age was insufficient.
Seniority among the Forestfolk was unyielding; even a near-millennial youth had no say among the ancient elders.
So, instead of remaining in a place where she had no voice, the Princess came seeking her younger sister.
"Why aren't you with Her Highness?"
"At night, Her Highness prefers the company of her guards," the elf archer said dejectedly. "Someone like me forcing her way in would just be an annoyance."
"...You're surprisingly self-aware in this regard."
The Forest Princess refrained from offering comfort. She knew the Princess would not remain in the forest forever; this was not her home.
It was only natural for her sister to feel "left behind" when faced with someone destined to leave.
Changing the topic, the Princess asked again, "Has Her Highness decided when she will depart?"
"Of course. Even at her age, protecting her future subjects is second nature to Her Highness..."
The elf archer's voice brimmed with admiration as she rose from the branch and turned to face her sister.
"Which is why I want to accompany her."
"Chasing the moon will be arduous."
The Forest Princess shook her head gently.
"Like the twinkle of stars, the journey may seem endless, with each night returning to where it began."
The elf archer reached for the stars, as if trying to grasp something intangible, her hand extending toward the night sky.
The Forest Princess, amused by her sister's childish gesture, mimicked her, drawing a giggle.
"I understand, Sister," the archer said.
With delicate fingers, she traced a circle in the air, as if sketching the moon from her memories.
"And that's why I think this way," she continued, her voice like a poetic melody.
"Even if this journey is but a fleeting moment for Her Highness—fifty, sixty, seventy years—it doesn't matter if she never notices me…"
Under the moonlight, the elf archer smiled, her youthful innocence shining through.
"I hope that someday, bound to her throne, she'll remember me. And if I can bring her even a sliver of joy, then it will all be worth it."
Such thoughts, like dreams within bubbles, are the privilege of the near-immortal Forestfolk.
Chasing after another inevitably leads to a point where the journey ends.
Yet, for the elf archer, it was worth reaching out for, even if it burned her hands.
---
That night, Mimiya dreamed of parting ways with Her Highness.
Undoubtedly, it was a painful dream.
Her heart knew this adventure was never meant to last forever, but the reality still demanded acceptance and a reason she could live with.
Perhaps the other Forestfolk believed the Princess's destiny lay upon her rightful throne. But Mimiya, knowing who the Princess had been, couldn't help but fear she might vanish without a trace come morning.
And so, she whispered to herself in the dream, "Maybe it's time to go home."
---
Elsewhere, the Trailblazers were far less sentimental. For them, their interstellar journeys meant that the train would always have another destination.
Gathered in a circle, they shared a modest meal of fried potatoes.
With limited meat and much of their produce devoured by the mythical beast, their provisions were humble. Though its droppings would make excellent fertilizer, the harvest was far off.
"Tomorrow, we need to explore upstream," Dan Heng said, popping a crisp piece of potato into his mouth. Its simple, salty flavor was a quiet comfort.
"But how should we prepare for the next battle?"
March 7th joined in, picking up a piece of fried potato.
Despite already feeling full from dinner, indulging in snacks late at night was bound to add a "weight penalty" for the next day.
But really, what kind of girl doesn't love a tasty treat?
"Neither the land route nor the water route seems ideal," she said.
Unlike her two companions who were busy eating, Stelle's attention was elsewhere—on a certain young Princess sitting in front of her.
Yes, the Princess, with her tiny mouth open and waiting for Stelle to feed her a fried potato, seemed to be in an excellent mood. The act, lacking any semblance of dignity, didn't bother her in the slightest.
Her Highness always seemed to reveal her "true nature" in small, subtle ways like this.
It was hard to say if this made her more or less endearing, but criticizing her for something so trivial felt unfair.
"Mmm~"
Napping the potato in one bite, Nahida closed her eyes with satisfaction, purring softly like a small animal.
Compared to discussing matters that spanned decades or centuries with elders much older than herself, enjoying a late-night snack with her companions was undeniably more pleasant.
If only there were a few bottles of good wine to go with this…
The thought made a rosy hue bloom across her delicate cheeks.
"If the goblins' main base is hidden within the jungle, then we should rule out any plans aside from using the waterways," Dan Heng suggested.
Though he wanted to remind Nahida to be mindful of her expressions, there was no one else around but their companions. Doing so now would only betray her trust.
"Huh? Why's that?"
March 7th, cheeks puffed like a squirrel's, asked her question through mouthfuls of potato in a distinctly unladylike manner.
"The heat of the jungle would be unbearable for some of us, even if it doesn't pose a problem for the rest," Dan Heng explained, placing his chopsticks down. "Besides, there are poisonous insects and wild beasts to contend with. Even with Nahida's wind blessing, advancing through the jungle would still be slower than attacking via the river."
The Forestfolk's tableware included utensils resembling chopsticks—a feature that spoke of resourcefulness and adaptation to their environment.
"Since the terrain favors our enemy, charging blindly through the jungle would be foolish. It's better to exploit a weakness they might overlook."
"But the problem is, we don't have a raft or a reliable boat. Even if we had one, without something to shield us from arrows, we'd just be sitting ducks," March 7th pointed out.
For once, her thinking was spot-on. Although she could shield the group using her abilities, goblins often exceeded expectations in the worst ways imaginable.
Getting pelted with things like excrement wasn't just possible—it was practically guaranteed.
"I can handle that."
Nahida intercepted a potato Stelle was holding just out of her reach, snatching it like a tactician ready to present a flawless plan.
"I'll create wind barriers to deflect projectiles with ease."
"And as for a mount…"
Stelle, unfazed by Nahida's antics, calmly wiped her fingers where the Princess's lips had brushed against them. Her gaze drifted toward the massive beast, now full and resting peacefully nearby.
"We already have one waiting for us, don't we?"
"Ohh! 'Turning their own tools against them'—so that's what it means!"
March 7th's eyes sparkled with a cleverness rarely seen.
"..."
Dan Heng remained silent, drawing a curious look from March 7th. "Why are you looking at me like that? Did I say something wrong?"
"No, I'm just surprised you actually took my advice to read more books," he replied.
Predictably, the comment made March 7th bristle like an offended cat. She looked ready to claw at Dan Heng's stoic face.
"What the heck?! You're complimenting me, but why does it feel so infuriating?!"
"Anyway, since we've settled on a plan, let's give it our all tomorrow!"
With that, Stelle decisively scooped Nahida up in her arms and carried her toward her room.
The act prompted a belated outcry from the petite Princess.
"—Hey! You're incorrigible, you know that?!"
"Keep your voice down. The villagers are already asleep."
"...Sorry!"
"Ugh, if only we had some wine…"
And so, the lively night passed.
---
The Next Day
Under the astonished gazes of the Forestfolk, Nahida fitted Mokra Mbembe with a saddle woven from tree branches.
Once the mount was ready, the companions climbed aboard, prepared for the adventure ahead.
---
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