This is Sfär. Here, the Germanic nations are a superpower.
Welcome to the Chateau Buksbaum, here in the center of a vast forest. This is the heart of an elven kingdom.
Outside the castle walls, the native elves either live in trees or caves. The Chateau Buksbaum is a bit cave-like, in its own honor.
Out here, the goshawk and the red kite fly. They keep a vigilant watch, over the forest, and hence the kingdom... They also message the royals, when a matter's made ripples.
Out there, the elven guilds forge copper into bronze, and bronze into pipe. Via it, they distill liquor. There's nothing like elven vodka...if the moonshiners among them don't get caught.
Out here, the beech trees grow tall, like redwoods. Beechnuts fall, here and there, attracting golden, raven, and flying squirrels. The sun filters through them, in every season, casting auroras of gorgeous white and yellow light, here and there. In many spots, the ground remains weed-free.
And for that reason, there are many stone altars built out here, for the purpose of Walpurgis Night. Ah, don't you DARE get the elves started on Walpurgis Night...
At these altars, there are stone arches. Atop them, sculptures of goshawks and red kites perch, and "guard" the altars. A bit excessive, perhaps; out here, goshawks are messenger birds...even if they are raptors.
In the Chateau Buksbaum, royalty rises. It shines like a beacon across the kingdom, whenever it can.
For that, there are actual beacons where some of the battlements would be on a human castle. Some of their light is sun-generated. The lower-built ones, alas, still rely on wood and oil for their light.
This is a royal chamber, in a high tower. In here, red and green dominate the tapestries, rugs, and bedding.
Atop the bedding, supported by a beech bedstead, the body of a gorgeous elven princess serenely slumbers. She doesn't wear much to bed.
Her feet are bare, and spotless. Her thighs are bare, purely clear, and couldn't be more clean-shaven. They're not as thick as they come, but they're perfectly so. She may be female, but her elven feet are still just as good for ascending beech trees, or ascending cave walls.
Her back is bare, and vast. Her spine runs like a canyon, from her neck to where her ass begins. Her back's still got a few spider bites on it... But then, spelunking and tree-climbing both have their...cheap disadvantages.
The spiders in this kingdom are bigger than bears. But that comes later...
She rolls over. Atop her chest, there are twins. They're great, and ripe. Her nipples are like gorgeous contractible spikes, at their respective peaks...
Her upper arms, and shoulders, are just as ripe. They're purely clear, just as most of her body is.
Once over on her back, she yawns...via plump elven lips. She inadvertently covers her mouth with her gorgeous hand, as she does. Even without polish or jewelry, her hand is a sight for sore eyes...
Her elven ears are supernaturally pointed, and beech leaf-shaped. They're pierced at both ends...which is expected, for an elven royal...or hell, even a human royal.
From above an upper beacon, the sun's rays come tumbling down. They hit the beacon just right, sending a ray of light right through the main window of Princess Arya's chambers.
At last, she wakes. Or rather, she's woken. She's still not used to it. But then, she'll never be used to being a political figure among elves.
She swings her outer arm around like a lasso, and summons a towel. Like a spirit, her towel levitates across the chambers, sides dancing with grace as it goes along.
It wraps around her arm. Arya stands, stretches, yawns again, and teleports away.
Not too far away, there's a thermal lake. There are many such lakes in this forest.
Here, the local elves enjoy hot baths. The steam rises from the water, as they wade naked in it. Some lie atop the surface, on their backs, as they float.
Below the surface, sulfur, radium, and minerals well up from vents in the bottom. Some of these vents are tube-shaped. Some are stacked high, near the bottom, like some of the world's most elaborate steam chimneys.
Down here, giant tube worms dwell. Most are twice as tall as full-grown elf men. That's no minor honor. Most elven men are two meters tall...or more.
Thankfully, the tubeworms are sessile. They couldn't visit the surface if they wanted to...if they ever start.
Naturally, though, Arya teleports into view near the shore. She's now ankle-deep in the surrounding steamy lake water.
With a spell, she sends her towel levitating away. Clad in an azure bikini, she ties her long flowing blonde hair back, while descending into the depths. One by one, her valuables vanish beneath the surface. Her hair buns somehow stay intact, as she submerges.
Once down there, she takes off, like a mermaid. She closes her eyes, smiles, spreads her arms, and moves her legs, propelling herself forward.
For this, her feet and hands become webbed. Gills sprout, from either side of her neck. Her feet lend her better propulsion, as do her hands.
Below, actual mermaids watch, as she swims past them. They scoff, and return to their embroidery.
The mermen ogle her, of course. The mermaids wish they wouldn't. But they need not worry; Arya's royalty. They never approach her...as much as they often want to.
That, and a lot of mermaid royals pay good money to make sure their children never mate with elven ones. This is mutual, because the same thing often applies to elven royals, regarding their own children ever mating with merfry.
Needless to say, Arya has, and still does, find a lot of local mermen attractive. Alas, she must honor her fellow co-royals. Besides, she's in no hurry to mate or marry...in spite of how often many of her co-royals push her to do so. She loves her freedom, and it's already hard having a lot of that as a royal. It'll only become a bigger bitch if she gets married.
The elven princess might not know it yet, but her luck in love is about to change...both for the better, and for the worse.
Atop a rock ashore, a basilisk lizard sits, perched. He anticipates the right moment to show off his own ability to run across water...