Inside the camp, glowing red charcoal in a brazier warmed a tent. This special, nearly smokeless charcoal was rare and used mostly by the nobility.
"We Zor Elves only have slightly darker skin, that's all. Why must we be synonymous with evil?" one of the Zor Priests, her hands and feet bound, said with a sense of grievance under the warm yellow firelight. "You surface dwellers view the Elves from the Dark Nether Realm with far too much prejudice and discrimination."
"And yet, you Zor Priests seem pretty spineless to me," Fulina sneered.
She had not an ounce of goodwill for these masterminds who had instigated the attack on the Wind Speech Tribe. She estimated that she would lose several thousand soldiers, if not more, in this war.
Ash, on the other hand, was a surprise. The Lord hadn't expected the beautiful woman to be filled with such resentment, yet still sit to one side without uttering a single word. True to her word, she was only here to observe.
