Chapter 55: The Legend of the Silver Moon Elves

True magic is a miracle, something that defies common sense…

Wade pondered these words, thinking about himself. He had fallen asleep in the cave on the wasteland, yet now he sat opposite Old York – wasn’t this a miracle? 

He had clearly died, yet as an undead, he retained consciousness and memories – wasn’t this a miracle?

What he was experiencing could truly be called miraculous.

The Crimson Academy, the Crimson Scholars…

What exactly had happened to him during those missing ten years?

Or perhaps, even earlier, he had come into contact with something mysterious without realizing it?

He silently noted this secretive magical school. Whether true or not, it seemed somewhat connected to that twenty-sided die.

If he could find other items related to those mysterious scholars in the future, he might attempt further investigation and contact.

Old York appeared to have only read some legendary tales – beyond vague descriptions, the gnome knew nothing more.

Wade stopped pressing and instead asked the gnome to examine the patterns of the flying bird and floral wreath.

This time, Old York didn’t ponder long. After two or three glances, he said: “These look like patterns the long-eared elves would use, but simpler than any elven designs I’ve seen. Perhaps from an older elven culture.”

“Where did you see these two patterns?”

“On a robe,” Wade wrote. “A white robe, with the flying bird and wreath embroidered on the chest.”

“Could you sketch the robe’s style for me?” Old York asked.

Wade nodded and took another piece of draft paper.

The robe was easier to draw, being a very plain garment with minimal decoration.

Besides the clothing, Wade also roughly sketched the seed pouch at the skeleton’s waist, and what the broken magic wand might have originally looked like, including that emerald-green magic ring.

However, without pigments available, Wade only outlined their basic shapes.

“Staff, ring, seed pouch, robe embroidered with flying bird and wreath…” Old York wrote down the key features, his stubby fingers lightly tapping the stone table.

“A footless bird… wreath…” Old York murmured, “These should be priestly symbols. Among elves, clergy conducting rituals must wear simple, unadorned garments.”

“White represents complete devotion, while the gold-embroidered bird and wreath symbolize respect and etiquette toward their served deity.”

“The staff and ring indicate status – this was at least a high-ranking elven priest of the fifth circle or above.”

“But the seed pouch… what could that mean?” Old York frowned again. “You’re clearly a sword-wielding warrior, yet you keep asking me these strange questions. Are you aspiring to become an archaeologist?”

The gnome seemed somewhat troubled – aside from the sword, all of Wade’s questions were quite challenging.

If the gnome charged fees, he’d surely be demanding extra payment by now.

Wade thought that although the gnome claimed it was free, he shouldn’t actually take it for granted.

He took out his silver coin pouch and pushed it toward the gnome.

Money wasn’t that important to him. If these coins could buy answers, they’d be well spent.

“What’s this supposed to mean!” The gnome’s mouth turned downward in displeasure. “I said free appraisal means free appraisal! Take your money back!”

Wade kept pushing the money forward – guards always acted this way: first refusal, second polite decline, then on the third time they’d pocket the coins saying “this matter isn’t impossible to arrange.”

But the gnome seemed truly honorable. Seeing Wade stubbornly insisting, he actually flushed red in the neck, widened his eyes, and forcefully pushed the pouch back.

“Take it back! I said free appraisal!” Old York said.

Wade finally realized his action had insulted the gnome’s noble character.

He retrieved the money and wrote “Sorry” on paper.

“I don’t need your apology,” Old York said. “You’re my benefactor – I should be repaying you.”

“Let’s continue the appraisal. About that seed pouch – do you know anything else? What plant’s seeds were inside?”

“Probably a type of moss emitting white fluorescence. That moss radiates magic – it’s a supernatural plant.”

Bypassing the earlier incident, they continued discussing.

Wade remembered the boots on the skeleton and nearly forgot about them. He quickly sketched the plant-material boots and showed them to the gnome.

Old York fell into deep thought, then went to the bookshelf and pulled out a thick volume.

“Ancient Mythologies” was the title written on the cover.

“The legendary Silver Moon Elves served the sacred dragon born under moonlight – the radiant dragon that glides through night clouds, beautiful as a fairy, its scales emitting dreamlike radiance. All spells become ordinary before the Fairy Dragon; all evil cannot hide from its presence.”

“When the Fairy Dragon slept, the Silver Moon Elves would sing for it, watering the glowing groves of the sanctuary with pure water.”

“About the Fairy Dragon and Silver Moon Elves – those are ancient, forgotten myths,” the gnome said. “No one knows if they truly existed. Did you see these patterns in some fairy tale collection? Or did you actually encounter such robes and ornaments somewhere?”

“Not that I want to discourage you, but I think even if you saw similar items, they were probably just performance costumes left behind by some migrated or vanished elven tribe.”

“In some traditional elven communities, they wear handmade robes to reenact the legend of Silver Moon Elves and the Fairy Dragon under full moons, dancing together. Fluorescent moss emitting magic is actually quite common – I know of at least eleven varieties, like Frost Crystal Glowmoss and Phantom Glowmoss, all matching your description. They’re unlikely connected to mythical glowing groves.”

“I suggest you don’t get your hopes up too high. That robe and staff were probably just props for performances.”

“Come to think of it, the robe was somewhat worn and crude. Actually, I just saw it in some forest,” Wade wrote, following the gnome’s lead.

“Then it’s even less likely to be Silver Moon Elf relics,” the gnome said. “A noble Silver Moon priest wouldn’t abandon his garments outdoors. If you’d found them in some underground tomb or labyrinth, I might consider it possible. But in a forest? Definitely just performance costumes.”

“Thank you for your explanation. I understand,” Wade wrote.

“Any other questions?” The gnome nodded.

“One last question – how does one use a magical accessory?” Wade wrote.

“Normally only mages can use magical accessories. Activating the spell circuits requires at least minimal magic manipulation ability,” the gnome said. “But there are rare accessories usable by ordinary people – extremely expensive items, typically triggered by set commands or taps.”

The gnome gave several detailed examples. Most magical accessories were consumable, like simplified magic scrolls – fifty uses would make it premium quality. Rings that automatically recharge and periodically release magic were heirloom-level treasures rarely seen on markets.