Lord of Entertainment C9 Where's the claps?

Singing and playing simultaneously was proving more challenging than I'd anticipated. I felt my performance becoming a bit clumsy, but fortunately, the novelty of the electric guitar seemed to capture the crowd's attention, overshadowing my slight stumbles.

To hide my missteps, I began to bob my head up and down like a rock star, even placing my foot on the speaker as I sang:

"They say the oaks are just too lofty,
And they grab up all the light."

As I played on, I could see the crowd gradually picking up on the metaphor in my lyrics. Some faces began to show discomfort, realizing the song might be directed at them.

"But the oaks can't help their feelings,
If they like the way they're made,
And they wonder why the maples,
Can't be happy in their shade."

I saw some people's expressions turn from fascination to unease. Inwardly, I sneered, but outwardly, I maintained my performance, launching into the next verse:

"There is trouble in the forest,
And the creatures all have fled,
As the maples scream 'Oppression!'
And the oaks just shake their heads."

The reaction in the crowd was becoming more pronounced. While some, particularly younger audience members, seemed to be enjoying the performance, many of the older listeners were frowning, clearly disapproving of the message behind the catchy melody.

Undeterred, I continued:

"So the maples formed a union,
And demanded equal rights.
'The oaks are just too greedy,
We will make them give us fight!'"

As I approached the final lines, I could feel the tension in the air. The elven protesters had drawn closer, their eyes shining with a mix of surprise and hope.

"Now there's no more oak oppression,
For they passed a noble law.
And the trees are all kept equal
By hatchet, axe, and saw."

As the last notes faded away, a heavy silence fell over the square. The crowd's reaction was a mix of conflicting emotions – awe at the new sound, discomfort at the challenging lyrics, and uncertainty about how to respond.

I stood there, guitar in hand, heart pounding, taking deep breaths after such an intense performance. As I was expecting - perhaps naively - an applause, a sandwich came flying at my face instead.

It hit my cheek with a soft thud, and I instinctively groaned at the unexpected attack.

"What was that all about?" The culprit, a middle-aged man with a red face, stepped forward. "I really liked your invention, but I didn't think you were in cahoots with those greenies." He pointed accusingly at the elven protesters nearby.

I glanced at the elves, who seemed to enjoyed my performance, their faces lit up with smiles. The contrast between their reaction and the humans' was stark and unsettling.

An old man shook his head disapprovingly. "Young man, your guitar is very good. I liked the sound, but I didn't expect you were sent by the Elven Government to spread propaganda..."

"I'm not sent by anyone here," I explained, trying to keep my voice calm. "I'm just an aspiring artist."

"We're not that dumb, young man," another man in the crowd retorted.

Feeling a bit of panic rising, I tried to appeal to their sense of kinship. "Look, I'm a human, aren't I? Don't you guys trust your own race?" The irony of my words wasn't lost on me, given my true identity.

The old man sighed, "Yeah. Having a traitor is nothing new, young man." He tossed a coin that clattered to the ground at my feet. "I hope you know what you're doing, young man." With that, he turned and left.

I watched in dismay as most of the crowd dispersed, their faces a mix of disappointment and anger.

Some tossed coins my way, a grudging acknowledgment of my musical skill. Others, less kindly, threw coffee cups or other small objects, their aim thankfully poor.

As the square emptied, I stood there, my electric guitar hanging limply at my side. This was not how I had envisioned my debut in Saint Angeles. I had wanted to make an impression, but not like this.

The elven protesters were still nearby, their expressions a mix of gratitude and concern. I caught the eye of their beautiful leader, who seemed to be considering whether to approach me.

I bent down to pick up the scattered coins, my mind raced.

I had aligned myself with a controversial cause on my very first day in the city. But perhaps, I realized, this wasn't entirely a bad thing. After all, wasn't my goal to shake things up?

As I collected the scattered coins at my feet, I noticed a shadow fall over me. I didn't need to look up to know who it was. Then, to my surprise, a five-dollar bill fluttered down in front of me.

I raised my head to see the beautiful elven leader smiling down at me. "Thank you for that performance, gentleman," she said, her voice as melodious as I had imagined.

Her beauty was mesmerizing up close, but I reminded myself not to be naive. I picked up the bill, stood up straight, and responded with confidence, "Thanks, I'm glad you liked my performance."

The leader's smile widened. "Most of us enjoyed it," she said, gesturing to her friends nearby.

An elf with vibrant red hair stepped forward, his eyes shining with excitement. "I really liked it. Your singing style sounds fresh, and especially how you played that guitar in your hand. It's not just any guitar, is it?"

"I hope you continue making such songs," added an elf with flowing blond hair, her expression earnest.

A blue-haired elf nodded enthusiastically. "I agree, the song is really good!"

Their positive reactions were a balm to my bruised ego after the human crowd's hostility. I felt a surge of warmth towards these elves who appreciated not just the novelty of my instrument, but the message of my song as well.

I smiled at them, feeling glad they enjoyed my performance. Then I heard the leader introducing herself, "By the way, my name is Firfel. Nice to meet you." She extended her hand to me.

I smiled and replied, "My name is Arthur. The pleasure is mine." I accepted her handshake, noting the softness of her skin and the surprising strength in her grip.

After the greeting, Firfel said to me, "I really hope you're not intimidated to make such a song again because of the people's response. You're doing great."

I nodded, feeling a surge of confidence. "I know. They probably didn't like it because it was the truth."

Firfel and her friends laughed appreciatively. "You got it right," Firfel said. "People hate the truth nowadays."

The red-haired elf, her eyes sparkling with mischief, chimed in, "Can't believe that the humans will be so butthurt hearing such a song, it's funny. Humans are really an inferior race!"

As soon as the words left her mouth, I saw a friend at her side nudge her sharply. The red-haired elf looked confused for a moment before her friend gestured towards me. Suddenly, realization dawned on her face.

"Ah!" She exclaimed, her cheeks flushing a deeper red than her hair. "Yes, yes." She pointed at me, stumbling over her words. "You're excluded from the humans I mentioned! You are very unique! Believe it!"

I couldn't help but laugh at her panicked expression. "It's fine," I assured her. "Don't worry about it."

After that moment of tension passed, the elves began to introduce themselves one by one. The red-haired elf, still slightly flushed from embarrassment, introduced herself as Meara.

The blue-haired elf, with a friendly smile, was Nimreth. The blonde who had praised my song earlier was Keara.

The introductions continued, each name as melodious and unique as the elves themselves. There were six elves with black hair: Nasha and her sister Nalia, Nimriel (who I learned was Nimreth's sister), Andrean, Galadhel, and Talindra.

A quiet elf with striking violet eyes introduced herself as Nuesti.

Finally, a silver-haired elf who bore a striking resemblance to Firfel stepped forward. "I'm Eirfel," she said with a warm smile, "Firfel's sister."

As I committed their names to memory, I couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder. Here I was, a demon prince in disguise, being welcomed into a group of elven environmental activists.

The diversity within their group was fascinating - different hair colors, personalities, and even family connections.

It was a big difference to the often homogeneous demon society I had grown up in.

Firfel, seeming to sense my slight overwhelm at meeting so many new people at once, placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry if you can't remember all our names right away, Arthur. You'll have plenty of time to get to know everyone at the Moonleaf Café."