There are no secret ingredients. You are merely fooled by yourself on the profound self-improvement bullshit, a victim of a scam. But if you choose to go along with it, then you’re part of the problem. When you advertise a product, but you’re missing the core part, it’s called fraud.

Welcome to the Elven capital, Dowland. I do sincerely apologise for our inability to propagate crystals and tree-singing into their everyday life, but it simply wasn’t practical enough. This was a world, the fantasy’s a subcategory within it.

Hence, we decided an Asian style would be fairly close. Natural wood and bamboo, stone walls and lots of civil wars. They were devout vegetarians when they’re not eating meat, which was like, 90% of their day? I’d say that’s pretty close.

I’d show you around the entire place, but we don’t have the time.

Still, feast your eyes on this outer court of a castle! The city’s a glorified motte and bailey, just on a much larger scale. A wooden castle overlooked the entire area at the highest position, surrounded by a few keeps and towers.

We just entered the bailey area, though it’s known as the High Grounds here. Situated far away from the peasants and the farmlands, this was where the true magic happens. Hollow wooden poles stood like streetlights along the road, each embedded with mana crystals to create light. The paved roads were slightly convex so that rainwater flowed to the drains at the side. As expected of the capital, the area’s kept clean and ordered. Flags were erected en mass, each proudly presenting a red circle cushioned by five golden stars, with a closed fist on the left and an open palm on the right.

Hundreds of multi-coloured stalls, predominantly red, displayed their myriad of goods and faces. Food stalls fanned the aroma of their dishes, attracting many to the allure of spices and marinated meat. Material stalls boasted their gems and valuables, convincing their customers that their destiny was within these sparkling stones waiting for them to buy. Those who couldn’t afford the steep prices of the capital, peddled what they can by hassling the passers-by.

Or perhaps they were there to sell services unsuitable with a stall in place.

Guards donned in standardised tunics embroidered with their national symbol – a king cobra. They patrolled the area at regular intervals each of them had a willow leaf sabre on their waists, though it’s a different question entirely if they knew how to use them.

The true guards of the market disguised themselves as shoppers and sellers. They’re the ones trained and prepared for a situation, especially now.

They were busy catering to the needs of the angry mob that gathered at the central plaza around a makeshift podium, where a man conducted the orchestra of emotions with his arms and voice, lecturing the crowds of their imaginary losses and promises of revenge.

The news was that the JanZe arranged a meeting with the Emperor of the Elves, Dai Adwraek, but never turned up. As you could guess, the populace was angered by the gesture. Many gathered to witness the visit and voice their agendas, mostly against the JanZe, so having their tantrums ignored like this fueled their rage even further.

We approached the wooden castle in casual clothing, but the fact that two humans with childlike appearances were walking down the street drew attention around us anyway. Thankfully, relationships between races hadn’t deteriorated enough for any troubles to occur, and we weren’t hindered from our walk. Everyone’s attention, including ours, was focused on the speaker standing on a podium. His body swayed as he spoke, giving physical power to his words. At times, the crowd suddenly chanted in a frenzied, messy unison:

“Our Freedom, Our Lives!”

The uproar was thunderous, gaining momentum from every participant until it reverberated throughout the market. People stomped and cheered en masse, scaring the birds and critters into hiding. The orator, a common elf like his audience, received their enthusiasm at full force. He was their mirror, with the same crazed, passionate eyes and bold body language. He reflected the anger back at them, fueling their fury whilst subtly guiding its direction to the JanZe.

“You have owners! You, who slave your lives away day after day just so your owners can feed their fat fucking kids. You are all owned by them! There are only two kinds of people in our society, those bastards at the top who gave us a leash disguised as jobs, and us hardworking citizens of Dowland forced to yield to their demands! They are leeches and parasites, feeding and festering on our mana, our food, and OUR future!

"’What about the poor’, you ask? They’re there to serve as a warning, to scare us shitless, and to keep us working. Why do you think they’re poor? Because they’ve been fucked over by the JanZe since long ago! They are fearmongers! They’re here to advertise their services with their smart-ass words and fancy equipment, all of which was stolen from us! They took the shit your parents and your grandparents made, and they’re flaunting it on you!”

The speaker gave voice to the anger within the mob’s hearts. They interjected the speech with fervourous screams of ‘our freedom, our lives, fists punching in the air as if their enemies were there.

“We. Are. Elves! We are born with boundless talents, blessed by the divine with long lives and liberty! This is one of the lies the JanZe embedded into your brains – We. Are. Not. Equal!”

More shouts and praises were added to the mix, slowly but surely convincing me to slam my head through the ground and escape to the other side of the planet.

“Equality is the most sinful lie ever forced upon us! How could we ever be equal, compared to those monkeys, beasts, and what-have-you myths and monsters? We don’t look like them, we don’t act like them, we don’t think like them! We don’t deserve to be treated the same as them!

“This is the secret folks. They made us equal, by lowering us to their level. They acted like a lid, clamping us down until we’re all melting in this boiling pot, blending us until we’re mixed as one. They’re suppressing our race…”

The man with anger issues wasn’t jerking himself on the same road that led to the castle, so we soon walked out of his bullshit-spray-zone. I could’ve kept listening with my Power, but I wouldn’t be able to hold myself back from arguing with that retard like some internet troll.

“That guy’s saying some fucked up shit.”

“Is he though?”

“What the fuck, are you agreeing with him?”

“The most troubling thing about extremism, when done well, is the just-right amount of facts, twisted in perspectives and mixed with an accurate ratio of bullshit, that makes it hard to deny without a full understanding of context. When you get angry people shouting, context isn’t exactly the top priority in their heads.”

“I’m sick of me going ‘what!?’ every five seconds so just tel-“

“Then argue against those points. The JanZe are suppressing the races, forcing them to be equal when they aren’t. We’re forcibly taking their resources so that they can’t progress. What we’re doing has the same functional principles as protection racketeering. Argue against that.”

“Well, those parts are true. I guess they’re also justified to feel that way.”

“Then what? Why don’t you take your time now, and start thinking for yourself for once? I hate explaining everything since it just pisses me off further.”

The capital was big. Like, BIIIIIIIG big. That wasn’t the only crowd gathered, nor was the market the only thing here. I gotta say, I was pretty tempted to walk towards the castle in a straight line, houses and people be damned. It ended up taking us almost two hours to get there.

Around midway, some guards finally decided to deal with the two humans walking down the street. They weren’t convinced when I explained our purpose here as representatives of the JanZe.

They did, however, break several bones on their way down when I released my mana. It was out of self-defence! They grabbed onto my shoulder without my consent – they didn’t even buy me a cup of coffee first.

Needless to say, our journey was smooth afterwards. The people didn’t stop us, they simply gathered along the side of the road and glared like frightened felines. I did notice a few waving a knife about, but they didn’t have the galls to throw it at us.

The guards couldn’t stop us. We walked straight through the entrance and further until they had no choice but to… ‘welcome’ us into the castle. Maids tended to the wounded knights whilst the butlers desperately tried persuading us to wait.

More knights and warriors gathered around us as we advanced. One can identify their roles by the symbols on their armband – the elven flag and an animal below. Their ranks were decided by the length of the armband, an idea I’m almost certain they stole from us.

I announced earlier that we were representatives of the entire JanZe organisation, and those low-ranked soldiers weren’t eloquent enough to speak of their doubts. Forget harming us, the decision to hinder us could increase the high tension between the elves and us.

Simply put – they weren’t paid nearly enough to shoulder responsibilities like that. They’d rather wait and see, act like they’re doing their job, but in reality throwing the bomb at someone else.

It’s not like the leaders are inside the castle all day long. If they’re capable of handling the consequences, then they’d be given a lot of duties to complete. These elves seriously hoped we’d sit quietly and waited however long it’d take for a messenger to summon them here.

Admittedly, just between you and me, the meeting was supposed to have taken place three days ago, but I was a little preoccupied at the time. Now, we’re here unannounced, it’s not surprising they’re so unprepared.

I was here when this palace was built. I still had a vague memory of where the throne room was, so I headed towards it.

“Guards, stop those intruders!”

As if they were waiting for someone to bite the bullet, the guards immediately formed a flesh wall blocking the path. Some took on shields, some unsheathed their weapons, others withdrew miscellaneous trinkets out of their tunics.

Ranged fighters retreated behind the front line and prepared their stances and spells.

And even further behind them, was a single elf in silken robes the colour of a phoenix’s fire. Her left hand held a folding fan made of black feathers, whilst her right hand held the thread of opportunity. If she was successful in injecting herself between the Emperor and then JanZe, would that be just marvellous?

“Are you the Emperor?”

“I am the daughter of Lor-“

“Not the emperor then. Piss off.”

“What!? How dare yo-“

“You, someone who isn’t even a lord but just some shitty daughter, is now daring me? How far do you intend to insult the JanZe? I will take your actions – all of you blocking our way, as an act of aggression.”

And that was how we entered the throne room awkwardly, surrounded by guards and noble onlookers. We stood in the middle until the Emperor finally entered, accompanied by even more guards.

Walking alongside him against all traditions and etiquette was a female elf. Whilst everyone else bowed in the presence of the Emperor, she remained upright, suggesting her status to be at the very least equal to the one who ruled above all elves.

Lai Sistrata.

The woman who succeeded with her body and will alone.

A hundred and fifty years ago, the Fourth Great Elven Civil War finally concluded into a result that surprised everyone. Four different factions battled bitterly for five decades, trying to rule all of the Elven Kingdom, but a third party – or does this count as the fifth? – ended up the victor.

Well, not exactly a party, but a single woman.

Not by strength. Though she was strong, it was nowhere near enough to the point of uniting an entire race.

But by her intellect, her wisdom… and her manipulation of everyone’s weaknesses.

The Warlord Sistrata, the true ruler of Dowland and all Elves, and an absolutely annoying bitch.