Chapter 235

Chapter 235

Rickart's party stayed for a few days in the city filled with light. Just as Malcolm had hoped, there was an exchange between the Westerners and the Easterners, and the one most excited by it was Bori.

Bori took pride in having elevated swordsmanship and mana to the level of an academic discipline, but the Easterners had already been doing so for over a hundred years.

Knowledge accumulated over such a long time constituted a world of its own; it was a doctrine and a belief.

"Mana is invisible to the eye, yet it touches everything. Our spirits, our minds, our bodies, and even the blades of our swords. It sometimes becomes fire, sometimes water, sometimes wind, and sometimes a heavy boulder. However, the method of its manifestation differs from that of a mage. For instance, a mage's approach is akin to reconstructing mana, whereas for a swordsman, it is closer to an instantaneous reaction. That is why an understanding of imagery must come first. What is fire? Am I a fiery person? One must feel the wind, the fallen leaves, and the seasons—like a calm lake, or sometimes like a passing thought. The specific methodology comes after that."

Czeslaw spoke. Since Bori had read a significant number of codexes and studied in advance over the past few days, he understood the man’s seemingly vague words well.

The exchange between the Westerners and the Easterners, or rather the exchange of knowledge, proceeded in the form of a discussion. They asked about things they didn't know, answered questions, and debated whenever their thoughts diverged.

"Are there mages as well?" Roy asked while Bori was busy taking down Czeslaw's words.

"I have heard that the residents of the Needle Spire study magic. They rarely interact with the outside world, so even we do not know much about them. However, compared to the Mage of the Wastelands, they seem to be closer to researching magic rather than directly wielding it."

"You know of the Mage of the Wastelands?" Rickart asked.

He himself knew a fair amount about the Mage of the Wastelands—Hashim, who had served as a guide when they passed through the Lunadan region and was both a friend and a teacher.

Rickart did not know where Hashim was or what he was doing. He simply hoped that wherever he was, he was living well, regardless of whether he had recovered his lost memories or not. Still, I wonder if he remembers me.

"The Mage of the Wastelands seemed to know about the ancient ruins even before the Sanctuary. According to records, it appears a Mage of the Wastelands existed even during the era of the Ancient Empire. I have not seen him personally. Regarding magic, I have only heard bits and pieces myself."

The 'Sanctuary' referred to the war that had taken place in the Eastern Expeditionary Land about a hundred years ago. It was a holy war for the Easterners because, starting from that point, Caldebert had worked on restoring and discovering ancient knowledge, integrating it, and establishing norms for living.

In any case, the topic of conversation focused on swordsmanship and mana. The Easterners were curious about how Westerners learned the sword, as well as Rickart’s personal thoughts on swordsmanship and mana.

Since Czeslaw was staring intently at him, Rickart figured it was his turn given the discussion format.

As Rickart began to speak, Keres, who was beside Czeslaw, took shorthand notes.

"To continue from last time, I have never formally learned mana. I don't know if it was a coincidence or not, but one day, I suddenly became able to use it. Therefore, I can tell you what I feel, but I don't know how to systematically organize it or how one should go about learning it. Mana moves around inside me like the wind, and then at some point, it becomes fire or fills my entire body. I don't operate it centered around my heart like Bori does. I don't know if 'operate' is the right word, but it seems to arise naturally when my mind is moved. To use an analogy, it's like old dust rising white..."

As always, Rickart simply explained what he felt exactly as it was.

Until then, he hadn't spoken much about it because there was no one who could understand, but Czeslaw listened with a serious expression, nodding his head in concentration.

He occasionally asked questions, and since one can immediately tell a person's level by the questions they ask, Rickart realized that this old man was at a considerable level.

Perhaps slightly higher than Bori, he thought. It was certain when he recalled how the man had moved like the wind during their discussion of swords the other day.

Keres, who had almost died at Rickart’s hands, busily dipped his pen in ink and moved it across the paper. The scratching sound provided a background to Rickart’s words, while Malcolm and his companions listened quietly from a short distance away.

"Hmm... According to your words, it feels as though I am too obsessed with mana. Perhaps the reason I have ultimately failed to reach the Realm of the Sun is because of that obsession. Can I discard the mana I have spent my entire life accumulating and training? I lack confidence before that proposition."

"From what I've seen, the asceticism here seems too severe. Do not deify the sword too much. Is it not also called a lethal weapon? No matter how much one pretends to be noble, a hideous thing is a hideous thing. It’s an old friend of mine, but it’s not exactly handsome."

"I envy that indifferent mindset—light yet not light."

"There's no need to be envious. Having such a mindset or reaching a higher realm of the sword doesn't change much. Now, let me ask something. Where is the Holy King’s tomb? I’d like to visit it once."

"The Holy King’s mausoleum is in Tel Urano. However, there are no remains there."

"How did he die? Were the remains not found?"

Rickart recalled the story of the nameless loyalist he had seen in the Count of Caldebern's territory. He was under no obligation to fulfill the man’s request to recover his lord’s remains, but he felt something like a debt of the heart.

It was thanks to that man's pure loyalty and efforts that the family had survived and flourished, and that Rickart himself had been born.

"No. The Holy King simply disappeared; no one witnessed his death. Just like the Steel Reaper."

"...What?"

"He bestowed everything, left everything behind, and kept nothing for himself. That is why he is a divine being and the one and only King."

Rickart was dumbfounded. He, Bori, Roy, and Maters had each come to the Eastern Frontier for different purposes, and his was strictly to trace Caldebert’s whereabouts and confirm his legacy.

He had confirmed the legacy to some extent after coming to Solarium, but the man’s whereabouts were literally a mystery. Since a hundred years had passed, he must have died, but it seemed it would be difficult to fulfill the nameless loyalist’s wish.

"If you are truly curious, go find a clan called 'Shadow of the God.' They have been tracing the Holy King’s footsteps for a hundred years, so wouldn't they have some information? However, you must take what they say with a grain of salt. Unlike us, they are far more blind in their devotion to the Holy King. They often combine several clues to create nonsensical myths or legends. I believe that actually brings dishonor to the Holy King, but even I must watch my words in front of them."

"Where are they?"

At Rickart’s question, Czeslaw turned his head to look at Malcolm. Malcolm then answered.

"They are people who maintain native bloodlines, and since they are a clan rather than a family, their place of residence is not fixed. They consider themselves pure Imperials and view people like us as half-breeds. They are incredibly proud people, so there is nothing good to be gained by getting deeply involved. If you insist on finding them, I will help, but I do not want to get involved myself."

Malcolm spoke as if he were repulsed or utterly fed up. It was always best to avoid people who were blindly devoted to something.

"Is their level of swordsmanship as high as yours?" Roy asked.

"Well... rather than their swordsmanship being high, they are, as I said, blind. Being blind means they will use any means necessary to achieve their goals. To be precise, it's not a matter of whether their level is high or low, but rather that they are powerful, ruthless, and persistent."

Roy listened with an expression that said 'I see,' then turned to Rickart and asked, "Are you going to go look for them?"

"This might be a good place for us to part ways. From here on, it's very much my personal business."

"Well, I don't know if the Eastern Frontier we knew is Tel Urano or the new settlement built by the Imperials, but according to my father's will, I think I should stop by there once. For now, let's go together."

"I also want to go as far as the settlement," Maters added.

"What about Bori?" Rickart asked, turning to him.

Bori was preoccupied with organizing his shorthand notes.

"I... well, I want to visit other cities too, but I think I should finish my work here first."

"Staying here is fine, but going back the way we came might be dangerous. Even if the Spider Queen is gone, the number of man-eating spiders hasn't decreased. It might actually be more dangerous than before."

"Then shall we meet again at the settlement? The way back should be toward Rotweil, past the Giant’s Gateway."

"Yeah, let's do that."

Rickart settled it that way. First, they would part with Bori, and then he would head toward Tel Urano with Roy and Maters. And with Malcolm’s help, he intended to meet the clan known as the Shadow of the King.

The next day, Rickart made use of Czeslaw’s favor to resupply and prepare for his departure. The food consisted mainly of sweet potatoes and potatoes, and the meat was salted, smoked, and dried ham.

After washing his body and laundering his clothes until they were bone-dry, he felt refreshed. Moreover, the sunlight shining into Solarium felt as though it were restoring his vitality.

"Among the Westerners, how many people are there at your level, Master Ricky?" Czeslaw asked before they left the city.

Roy, wearing a smile, answered in his stead.

"There is exactly one, for certain."

"Hmm? Ah, that might be so. No, it probably is. Then, what about those at Master Bori’s level?"

"I think there might be about four or five."

"I heard the Westerners have a large population, so is that all?"

Czeslaw asked as if he couldn't quite understand, and this time Rickart answered.

"What is truly terrifying about humans is not the realm of swordsmanship, but the power of the collective. No matter how much you cut people down all day, could you kill even a hundred? However, with a single command from a general, thousands or tens of thousands can die overnight. That is how it is."

"But such power can also destroy itself. Ultimately, one must become strong themselves."

"It is a difference in perspective, Patriarch."

"In any case, it was a fresh and pleasant encounter, Master Ricky. I hope to see you often."

"If we’re alive, we might see each other coming and going. I’ll be off. Thank you for the hospitality and kindness."

Czeslaw nodded with his eyes slightly closed. Somewhat regretfully, though not bitingly so, Bori hadn't even come out to see them off.

Rickart also gave a slight bow to Czeslaw, then, with a sword at his waist and a cloak wrapped around him, he followed Malcolm and his companions along with Roy and Maters.

As they left the city, the ivory hue the city held gradually receded, and as they entered the forest, its characteristic unpleasant, deep shadows fell over them.

Leaving Solarium and re-entering the forest meant a place where sunlight didn't reach well—a dangerous place.

Though Malcolm said he knew a path, one could encounter monsters anywhere and at any time once outside the city. Orcs and goblins were common, but the deeper one went into the forest, the more dangerous the monsters became.

Trolls, lindwurms, undead, and such. And going even deeper, one might encounter nightmares that should only exist in hell, or things no one had ever encountered before.

Even the area newly pioneered by Caldebert after discovering the ancient ruins was significant.

"First, we will go to the 'Grave of Dragons.' We aren't deviating to another path; we simply have to pass through there. Whether by good luck or bad, we might encounter the Shadow of the King there."

"Is that also a ruin of the Ancient Empire?"

"Well, it's a kind of quarry. It's said that the people of the Ancient Empire mined the hardened hearts left behind by dead dragons there. Now, no dragon hearts remain, only bones. Still, whether it's a talisman or not, monsters cannot approach."

"Dragons... do they really exist?" Roy asked.

"I haven't seen a living one either."

Malcolm spoke of something hard to believe as if it were an everyday occurrence.

Rickart’s party and Malcolm’s group spent two days in the forest. Then, on the third day after leaving Solarium, they arrived at the Grave of Dragons.

It was a quarry of immense size, and bones that could only be seen as belonging to dragons were scattered everywhere. The small ones were as big as houses, and the large ones were almost as big as mountains.

Skulls lying with their mouths agape, ribcages rising like giant colonnades, and tailbones like castle walls. They lay there like part of the terrain, with some buried in the rocks.

Even more surprising was the people living there, who didn't even glance at them as if they weren't anything special. Furthermore, the dragon bones were used by children as a fun playground.

"My God, You created the world in six days, and here I witness that wondrous history."

Maters had prayed to God when they arrived at Solarium, and he did so here as well. And just like then, it was worth praying now. Even Rickart and Roy were shocked to the point of being speechless.

"Unlike Solarium, the public order here isn't very good. There are many vagrants. Let's go," Malcolm said.

He walked down a long, artificially made descent from ancient times.

Rickart followed him, imagining the roar of those creatures when they were alive. They would have likely made the world tremble.

He also recalled the stories of ancient heroes who were said to have killed dragons. It hit him personally just how impossibly brave those people had been.

On the other hand, he wondered what on earth had happened to cause the Ancient Empire to fall and why these things had been forgotten all this time.

The majesty of the dragons remained grand even if only bones were left in death. Like the legacy of an Empire that, although ruined, still held its influence.