Northern Barrier (2)
A scholar is one who surveys the entire continent from a cramped desk. Due to their peculiar temperament, they are called dreamers, paranoids, or philosophers.
From their seats, they calculate the outer world and predict vast flows with their own theories.
However, words built solely on contemplation and equations, without direct experience, are often dismissed as unbelievable. They are branded as detached from reality, grandiose nonsense.
Even if they happen to be close to the truth by chance, they are not widely heeded across the Empire.
They suffer from the famous attack: "Inferring the future from numbers and sentences is akin to heresy."
"The evidence is insufficient for full trust. Professor Deculein is, of course, a renowned figure in the magical world. But this research concerns matters beyond magic, and even the Floating Island turns a blind eye to proving its premises."
Thus, such controversy unfolding in the imperial audience chamber was no coincidence.
Deculein, who as a "scholar" rather than a mere mage, invented his own concept and devised formulas to predict the scale of the monster wave.
"Of course, we would have heeded a moderate warning. However, Professor Deculein's prediction is far too pessimistic and provocative. Fifteen times the wave from 19 years ago?"
The monster wave from 19 years prior was a cataclysm recorded in textbooks.
Many still bore the scars of that day, and numerous northern villages had faded into history's shadows, unable to recover from astronomical losses in lives and property.
"In simple terms, it's no different from an apocalyptic delusion. Without the name 'Deculein,' no one would listen. This sacred chamber would not be swayed by such absurd claims."
This was Prime Minister Romelock's statement.
The other ministers' reactions varied, but most refrained from hasty interjections.
Deculein's warning of "at least fifteen times the scale of 19 years ago" was hard to swallow, yet the prestige of House Yukline gave them pause.
Emperor Sophien from the head seat inquired.
"Does the Prime Minister claim disbelief?"
"Yes."
"Is there none to refute Romelock's words?"
No one spoke. Instead, the faction standing behind Romelock shouted loudly.
"We deem Prime Minister Romelock's words correct, Your Majesty!"
The remaining ministers shrank back.
Sophien was incredulous.
"...Your vessels are not merely small—they are nonexistent. Enough! We shall heed the experts."
The palace had summoned a scholar from the Imperial University to verify Deculein's theory.
"I am Professor Luten of mathematics at the Imperial University. To behold Your Majesty is an infinite hon—"
"Explain to these fools. We require it not."
Sophien had already fully grasped the concept of "collision value." In her view, Deculein's theory was flawless.
Yet as a prediction, it was natural that the ministers struggled to believe.
"Yes. Professor Deculein's 'collision value' involves exceedingly complex calculations. I have prepared a prior outline of the process..."
Luten began his explanation, with a blackboard ready to aid comprehension.
"As you see, this collision value is a remarkably ingenious concept. It is presumed Professor Deculein devised it to calibrate uncertainties in monster waves. Notably, it mathematically excludes the element of 'luck'."
The ministers could not follow the ensuing words. They merely cleared their throats—ahem, hmm—and watched.
"State the conclusion only."
Unable to endure, Romelock spoke. Luten nodded.
"Ah, yes. First, our academic circles are positively reviewing Professor Deculein's concept. Of course, other variables must be considered—"
"Hah. Then, a wave exceeding the great one from 19 years ago by over tenfold is coming?"
"Well... I cannot say for certain. One must visit the North to compare soil and atmosphere directly—"
"If the surveyed samples are flawed, no theory, however sound, can yield correct results."
Romelock drew his own conclusion.
"Deculein simply collected faulty samples. Moreover, per the established 'Ruhman' theory, it predicts only twice last year's scale, does it not?"
"Yes. According to Ruhman theory, this winter's monster wave risk is estimated at 1.87 times last year's."
Ruhman, deceased 33 years ago, was the scholar who first devised a model to predict monster waves.
Romelock bowed to Sophien once more.
"Your Majesty. Ruhman's theory has held true for 17 years. Let what is right remain so. There is no need to squander national resources on a mage—who is no scholar—Deculein's whims."
"We beseech your understanding, Your Majesty—!"
Sophien watched them silently. She swept her gaze over their repulsive faces and spoke.
"If Deculein proves correct, can you bear the responsibility?"
"...Your Majesty. This is not a personal matter—"
"Deculein vowed to take responsibility. He has staked himself on my choice."
"..."
They prattled irresponsibly from loose lips, yet shunned accountability.
If they must babble, at least owning it would show some conscience.
"We shall bolster national defense. As part thereof, from this day, the palace monopolizes capital military supplies. Deculein's report shall be distributed to frontier domains, with orders to prepare."
"...Ah."
Romelock clamped his mouth shut. Yet Sophien's decisions had never once been reversed.
In truth, it was rather what he desired.
If Deculein erred—as he would—this incident could crush House Yukline's momentum, balancing the scales nicely.
"This audience concludes. Prepare for winter as you see fit."
"Yes, Your Majesty. We are eternally grateful..."
Ignoring their resounding cries, Sophien rose, while Romelock and the ministers slunk off to conspire.
"That scoundrel Deculein finally quits his villainy, only to peddle strange cult nonsense."
"All the better. He's destroying his own reputation."
"Fifteen times 19 years ago? Hasn't he watched too many plays? I hear he's sponsoring theater lately."
Romelock stroked his goatee with worldly disdain.
"Hmph. As if that wretch knows art. House Yukline—hunters and butchers, hands stained with blood, lowborn rabble."
"Hahaha! Precisely!"
Deculein, the prime contributor granting Emperor Sophien vast power these days.
"Demon hunter? No different from a wild boar slayer."
"Exactly. A lineage of boar hunters from time immemorial—fit only for mockery. Yet only Yukline gets prestige for it."
"Hahahaha! Truly, Prime Minister Romelock's wit is unparalleled!"
The clerical fury toward Yukline was razor-sharp, their backbiting enduring till nightfall.
"No one seems to believe it!"
Back at the tower, I submitted the theory to Adrienne as well.
A solid achievement from my northern trip, yet its shocking content drew skeptical reactions.
"Is that so."
"Yes."
The chairwoman grimaced while reading the report.
"I'm studying the collision value Professor Deculein submitted, at least! But!"
She pointed to a paragraph.
As expected, the conclusion: "15 times 19 years ago."
"Isn't this too much?! Professor Deculein was around 19 years ago too!"
I wasn't. There was a teenage Deculein then.
"Presumably."
"What? Anyway! I can't believe it~!"
"Believe it. Your aid will be essential this winter."
Adrienne's destruction magic could single-handedly seal an entire sector.
No metaphor or exaggeration—literally alone.
"Hmm~ Well! I'm always welcome to unleash my magic fully! Relieves stress too! But the frontiers don't seem pleased!"
Adrienne handed over an official document.
From the three northern frontier lords: Phairden, Duhman, Delrec.
"If you don't retract this theory, they'll have to pour insane funds into defenses! Massive spending on preparations, only for a lackluster wave? Fatal losses for the domains!"
"I know. But I will not retract."
"Whoa! Stubborn as ever!"
Adrienne's eyes widened. She smirked, then slammed both hands on the desk.
"Then we have no choice but to support the North! Since Professor Deculein belongs to our tower!"
"Do so."
"Here! Deployment list!"
Adrienne proffered a document. Bold fonts marked difficulties with stars ★.
"You made this yourself."
"Yes! With firepower requests incoming soon, I prepared it! More stars mean tougher deployments!"
I instinctively eyed the top.
—You might die the moment you arrive! Extreme caution advised!—
"..."
Recor Dak. A certain name surfaced at the mention.
"Recor Dak will be hard to hold."
The frontmost line, Recor Dak, would be a death trap. Even Julie couldn't endure alone.
"Then Professor Deculein should go help!"
"..."
"Oh! Knight Julie's there too!"
Julie was at Recor Dak. A complication.
I sought distance from Julie, yet the impending northern storm was a disaster beyond her solo endurance.
"For old times' sake, at least!"
Adrienne cried. I shook my head.
"See? Professor Deculein doesn't want to go!"
"It's not unwillingness."
"Hmph! What then!"
"Force my hand, Chairwoman."
"...Pardon?!"
Startled, Adrienne blinked her huge eyes like a rabbit.
"As one aspiring to chairmanship, I shall step forward for any cause—provided it harms not my dignity."
Grasping my intent, Adrienne's mouth formed a perfect O.
"...Moreover. Professor Deculein vowed responsibility for his research. Frontline deployment is fitting."
"Quite so."
"Great! Then I'll assign Professor Deculein to Recor Dak!"
"Very well."
"Of course! Final trial of the chair test! In two months, Deculein and Ihelm to Recor Dak! With Knight Julie!"
"No choice, then."
I nodded impassively. Adrienne smirked slyly, waggling her brows.
"Then, I take my leave."
"Yes! Farewell!"
...Yeriel had massively fortified defenses in Hadekan frontier—Rohalak adjacent to the untamed lands.
She repaired walls, built watchtowers, fortresses, gates; reinforced troops; initiated combat training for domain mages.
The result of fully trusting Deculein's words.
"Ugh, so annoying. Why spout that crazy nonsense to the capital?"
Truth be told, she didn't believe it. It was too implausible.
A monster wave fifteen times that of 19 years ago? Insane prediction.
What difference from continental doom? She wanted to scream.
But...
"If even the house disbelieves, our prestige tanks. No choice—! So frustrating!"
Yeriel pounded the car seat, doubting fiercely. Impossible not to.
Just the spent reserves: 300 million elne. Costs would snowball through winter.
Money from Marik tunnels vanishing.
"Miss. We've arrived."
"..."
Yeriel peered out. Rohalak camp-cum-barrier under repair.
The butler asked.
"Proceed with troop deployments as planned?"
Rohalak would house prisoners and thousands of domain troops. Plan: inmates and soldiers block the wave together.
Integration uncertain, but Deculein's recommendation.
"Yes. Proceed."
Right or wrong, unknown.
Yet Hadekan overflowed with funds. Even if Marik gains vanished, break-even.
Taxes would claim half regardless; better squander on defenses.
"If this prediction fails, we're screwed, right?"
"...Yes."
"Domains that trusted us and spent big might demand compensation."
"Morally possible, but no legal obligation."
"I know."
Yeriel replied curtly. Suddenly, dizziness surged; she swayed.
"Damn. Hoping this winter's the worst? What a mess..."
Still, he must have confidence. Certainty it was right.
"You can retract even now, miss. Not too late."
The butler said. Yeriel glanced in the mirror, shook her head.
"No. I believe him. Or rather, I must."
She murmured like a sigh.
My fate, so strange. Yukline without being Yukline.
Yet acknowledged as brother by him.
"NaOnAnMit."
"Pardon?"
"Abbreviation. Trendy among youth."
"..."
"My brother's it. I trust bro."
"...Ahem."
The butler coughed silently.
Yet Yeriel clearly saw the smile twitching at his lips.
...
"Haa... As expected."
Julie requested aid from Phairden castle. Specifically, via Zeit.
Yet the reply was curt.
Irresponsible. Cruel. Or disbelief in Deculein's report.
Either way.
Julie had no intent to abandon this front.
"Knight...?"
Raylee called worriedly. Julie turned with a stern face.
"...Cross the stream, and there's a small village. Thirty households. Four or five children, six elders."
Recor Dak's extremes housed many leaning on it. Its purpose: "symbiosis."
Path to atonement for doomed prisoners. Spend lives meaningfully.
"Beyond the forest, another village. Fifty households. Adults out boar hunting, met tigers. Left: children, women, elders."
Julie recalled the residents. They reaffirmed her knightly duty.
"If Recor Dak falls, they can't flee. Nowhere to go."
Northern villagers clung here as home, hearth. Flight meant attrition everywhere.
"...Yes. I know."
Raylee sighed.
"No choice. Pray Deculein's report errs, or fight to the death."
Julie eyed Raylee. Raylee smiled faintly.
Thus sharing bonds and banners—
Knock knock—
A knock resounded.
Julie said.
"Enter."
—Yes, knight.
The door opened to Recor Dak's officer, holding a sealed envelope.
Classified seal.
"For you, knight. Likely reinforcement notice."
Julie nodded, tore it open.
─Deculein Command Squad.
─Ihelm Command Squad.
─The above two volunteered for Recor Dak as part of chairmanship exam.
Mage firepower support. Her eyes widened at the phrase. Mages rare, precious in the North.
However.
The name "Deculein" atop the list.
Those stark letters.
Coldly pierced her heart.