Chapter 175
Chapter 175
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 175
Chapter Title: The Chatterbox
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It wasn't hard to guess what Valken was implying.
The Giant King was well aware of the library's existence and was searching for an inheritor to claim it.
Arsen didn't bother hiding his startled reaction for long. He let it show plainly on his face.
Come to think of it, not being surprised by such news would look more suspicious.
Anun and Bazkal weren't the types to control their expressions anyway, so they naturally looked shocked without trying.
Satisfied with everyone's wide-eyed astonishment, Valken grinned.
Arsen quickly fired off a question at him.
“You treat mages like ordinary people? So you're looking for someone with exceptional endurance?”
“No, no. I'm looking for someone who doesn't need to endure anything at all. Someone who can't even distinguish between a mage and a regular person.”
“Hard to picture. Does someone like that even exist?”
As Arsen played it cool with a straight face, Bazkal and Anun shot him incredulous looks from the side.
“Well, I'd never heard of it until this latest order. The kingdom sent out proclamations everywhere, promising massive rewards for anyone who finds one. Who knows what that damn kingdom is so worked up about.”
Arsen slipped in a subtle probe while listening to Valken's grumbling.
“You talk like you're not really part of the kingdom.”
“Well, I've never really felt like I belonged to it. I don't know about other places, but here? The kingdom's overseers show up maybe once every few years, if that. How am I supposed to feel any loyalty?”
Arsen nodded without replying, newly appreciating the reality: as long as the toxic mists kept everyone isolated, the idea of a true nation would never take root in this world.
Even the residents of Crata stronghold, where he'd come from, barely felt any connection to the Belluan estate.
Without any sense of nationhood or propaganda to back it up, claiming loyalty to some distant place they'd never see just didn't resonate.
And when that "distant place" ballooned into something far bigger than an estate or stronghold—a whole country encompassing multiple estates—feeling any attachment would be the weird part.
“What's the reward?”
“They're offering a princess. Becoming the king's son-in-law sounds tempting, but hey, they actually have to deliver first.”
“True. Even if they promise the world for plucking a star from the sky, you gotta catch the star first.”
“Exactly!”
Valken laughed heartily, as if it were the funniest joke he'd heard.
Playing along, Arsen carefully coaxed more out of him, digging into the kingdom's internal affairs.
Valken spilled everything without hesitation—political situations, army composition, organizational structure, the works.
The surprising part? The Giant King wasn't persecuting mages as much as one might think.
Back when he was just an estate lord, he'd been aggressive enough to attack passing mage groups on suspicion alone. But since ascending to the throne, he'd pushed surprisingly pro-mage policies.
Mages born in estates or strongholds were sent to the capital to be raised, and in exchange, their families—and even the estates or strongholds that produced them—received hefty rewards. Infant killings of mage babies had dropped sharply as a result.
The capital's mages were nominally the king's slaves, but their status wasn't low; they got treatment on par with decent knights.
The mage army under the king's direct command had a fearsome reputation, like demons straight out of hell.
Listening to Valken's vivid descriptions, Arsen thought of his homeland.
Rulers who favored mages, and underlings bound by old prejudices who despised them—it was a mirror image.
“But from the way you're asking, sounds like you haven't been to the capital?”
“I came straight south, drawn by the sea.”
“Impatient one! Definitely stop by on your way back. I've never been, but they say there's tons to see.”
Arsen's knowledge of the south came mostly from Kren, so his stories were spotty and unpolished at best. Luckily, Valken didn't seem to mind.
As a border stronghold lord himself, he wasn't exactly up-to-date on kingdom news either, so he just nodded along.
They talked more after that, but useful info was scarce. Valken preferred chattering about his own trivial life over Arsen's preferred topics.
After a while, Valken fanned himself and said,
“Getting hot now. Better head out. Staying in the water too long is bad for your health.”
“Agreed.”
“The servants probably prepared food. Hard to get good eats on the road. Enjoy it, friend.”
* * *
The meal was lavish.
The spicy spices, like those from India or China, were a bit overwhelming, but it showed how much care had gone into the food.
Anun picked at it, clearly not a fan of the spices. Arsen wasn't used to it either but ate steadily, trying to push through.
Valken noticed anyway and looked a touch disappointed.
“Not to your taste, friends?”
“We've been traveling a while, but the spices are still tough to handle. Sorry we can't fully appreciate your hospitality.”
Arsen bowed his head politely in apology. Valken waved it off.
“No... Travelers from afar, can't be helped. My bad for not considering it. Can't exactly whip up your homeland cuisine, though. Good thing that one's enjoying it.”
Fortunately, Bazkal stepped up here.
With his bottomless appetite for anything, he devoured the food with gusto, spices be damned. Valken watched approvingly.
Seizing the softened mood, Arsen wiped his mouth and gently probed.
“But isn't this a bit much for a stronghold to prepare? Makes me feel bad we can't enjoy it properly.”
“This is nothing! Our stronghold gets extra grain shipments from the estate. All thanks to the sea jade stones being so valuable.”
He explained that sea jade stones, the stronghold's specialty, were among the tributes sent directly to the Giant King.
As the name suggested, they were stones harvested from the seaside. Grind them to powder, light it, and it produced a mystical silver smoke. Inhaling it via a pipe was said to promote longevity and health.
Arsen privately thought he sounded like a snake oil salesman but kept a straight face and nodded along.
“Must be effective, then.”
“Of course. They say anyone who lords over this place lives to a hundred if they don't die in an accident!”
Valken chuckled, adding that he used it often himself. Even better if you started young.
Arsen briefly considered poisoning the Giant King's tribute but dismissed it. No telling when it'd be fetched or used, and it'd just create pointless victims.
Still, he'd gleaned one useful tidbit.
‘The Giant King probably isn't as physically decrepit as his age suggests.’
After the meal, Arsen opted to share a room with Bazkal and Anun.
Valken offered private rooms, but Arsen politely declined. No matter the luxury, sleeping apart was too vulnerable.
Sober and naked in the bath, he could fend off armed soldiers and escape. Asleep? Even a child could be a threat.
Lying in bed, Bazkal chuckled cheerfully.
“That Valken guy's nice.”
“For now.”
Noticing Arsen's grim expression, Bazkal asked curiously,
“Why the long face, bro? Mad we left the lady in the wasteland and pigged out without her...?”
“Cut the nonsense. You're giving me a headache.”
“Got it.”
Bazkal replied obediently, then started chatting with Anun about the food.
Arsen tuned it out, lost in thought.
One nagging hypothesis tormented him: assuming the Giant King knew about the library and caller, the mountain might be under ironclad guard.
‘Trouble.’
He hadn't ruled it out, but confirmation made it a headache.
If their force couldn't break through and activate the library, they'd face the whole kingdom next.
‘No, not all doom and gloom.’
Valken had shared some positives too.
The kingdom was far less unified than expected—more like a classic feudal state.
It encompassed thirteen estates, many ruled by descendants of noble bloodlines who could use miracles.
They respected Giant King Nardok as the strongest lord but didn't obey him outright.
In short, he couldn't freely command all thirteen estates' forces.
This was info Kren wouldn't have had; the guy was a born warrior, not a politician.
So Lattis's worry—over a hundred knights swarming if discovered—was overblown.
Assume the Giant King commanded knights from two or three estates, plus dozens of mages.
Still formidable, but not hopeless.
Of course, that was just immediate forces. Give him time to summon vassal lords, and it'd change.
Even five knights per estate would add over fifty.
Throw in soldiers, and Lattis's nightmare becomes real.
‘Worth the visit, at least. Got solid local geography, a feel for our moves...’
With the vague threat now concrete, it was time for plans. Arsen closed his eyes to organize his thoughts.
Anun took first watch, then Bazkal, then Arsen.
‘Sleepy.’
Freshly bathed and well-fed, consciousness slipped away the moment his eyes shut.
As it faded, Bazkal's snoring rumbled in.
* * *
The next day, Arsen left the stronghold under Valken's escort.
They headed straight back to where the rest of the group lay in ambush around the stronghold.
Eloise rushed out first to greet him.
“No injuries?”
“Of course not. If I'd gotten hurt, that stronghold would be rubble.”
“Braggart.”
She teased with a beaming smile.
Arsen stared blankly at her face for a moment.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Soon after, Arsen called a meeting.
He relayed what they'd seen and heard at the stronghold, then planned ahead based on it.
“So... the Giant King might have guards on the caller already.”
“Yes. No way it's unguarded. Who'd leave the world's greatest treasure unopened in their territory?”
Arsen softened the blow for the grim-faced Lattis.
“And it's not all bad news.”
“Why not?”
“Because searching for an inheritor means they've left it intact to use. Worst case for us is if they smashed it. All our efforts wasted.”
The Star Clan elders grimaced at the mere thought.
For lives devoted to this alone, it was a nightmare. A broken caller rendered a million inheritors useless.
“We'll use the geography from the stronghold lord to break through. Tough to sneak this many, but...”
Small mercy: the target mountain wasn't far.
That's why they'd picked this exit.
“Let's move. We'll take time to avoid attention, but a few weeks to the caller mountain.”