Chapter 194
Chapter 194
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 194
Chapter Title: Chapter 11. The Mage of Mages (14)
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****
“Looks like you’ve all grasped what I told you, judging by those grim faces.”
The matriarch, who had descended following the Professor, looked at the group sighing heavily as if they were teenage boys being dragged to a battlefield and spoke with delight.
“Indeed, among mages, those who wield wind are the most famous for their lighthearted demeanor. They’re impulsive, unpredictable, and always seeking to escape the norms of the mundane world.”
“....Have you met them before?”
“There are plenty of wind mages in the Empire, so if you try your best to avoid them, you’ll rarely cross paths.”
“....What were they like?”
“It’s hard to pin down common traits, saying ‘they’re like this.’ Even among the five I met most recently, two were wandering naked, one was causing a fuss about proposing to a baroness who was already married with grown children, another was bathing in scalding hot water right in the middle of a tavern while drinking beer, and the last was chasing butterflies across the plains. They each pursue freedom in their own way, so it’s tough to categorize them as ‘this type of person.’”
“....Damn it. I was hoping the rumors were exaggerated.”
“Heh heh heh. When it comes to outlandish tales about wind mages, you can believe they’re all true. Even Felix Drixiel, the sole 8th-circle archmage among wind mages in history—only four such archmages have ever existed—went to a dragon and spouted something like, ‘I heard dragon tail meat is so delicious, so I came looking for some.’”
“....An 8th-circle mage did that?”
“Yes. Right in front of Nahyeonryong Atlahheba, without a hint of hesitation.”
Crazy bastard.
“So how did he die? An 8th-circle should be no pushover. If those two clashed, it’d be like a natural disaster, right?”
“Surprisingly, nothing happened. Atlahheba traded the tip of its tail, and Felix gave his left arm and right eye in exchange. They both ate their shares right there and parted ways amicably. I can’t confirm the rumor’s truth, but Felix returned as a happy cripple with an ecstatic expression, and Atlahheba’s tail tip is indeed unusually blunt and short, so it’s probably not a lie. Mages who reach that level infuse power into their words, making it hard for them to lie easily.”
“Wow. Crazy bastard.”
I should swing by the Imperial library sometime and dig into the biographies of archmages. They’d be more entertaining than any bestseller.
The problem is, we have to play along with the antics of these lunatics who seem straight out of those stories.
“Yggdrasil.”
“Yes, Matriarch.”
“Go with them. They’ll need your help.”
At the matriarch’s command, Idrasil approached the group without hesitation.
“Please take care of us.”
“Uh.... Matriarch? Why her?”
I’d suspected from the moment we entered the village that if anyone joined us as a companion, it’d be this one. She’d been sticking close to our group at the entrance, preparing this and that.
But didn’t she say she doesn’t even know where the forest elves live? So why attach someone to us?
“Hm? Why?”
“Well, you said we should go find the mages ourselves and figure out the elf settlement. Of course, adding a skilled spiritist would be great for us, but.... you know how the human world is.”
Sure, another spiritist would be a boon for us. Spiritists are useful in ways different from mages, an elf spiritist could turn a cold, uncomfortable campsite into a resort, and they’re excellent one-deals anywhere.
But if asked if we absolutely need an elf right now, I’d say ‘maybe?’ Above all, this Idrasil looks too much like the matriarch. Those pumpkin-colored eyes reminiscent of a wild animal, the facial structure and features exuding the matriarch’s vibe here and there.
Sure, they call each other ‘Matriarch’ and ‘Idrasil’ formally, but you know how it is. Like telling a corporate heir, ‘Call me Chairman at the office.’ If this Idrasil is really the matriarch’s daughter, she’s more likely a protectee than a companion. Can’t even fend for myself, let alone protect someone else.
We’ll have to leave finding the elf forest path to those damn windbags anyway. And on the way, there’ll be no shortage of beggar-like incidents. If we take the matriarch’s daughter and she gets killed or kidnapped somewhere....
‘The matriarch’s honest punch would turn my guts into a separated family.’
Hm. Still iffy. She’d be plenty useful as a support fighter, but if that’s all, there’s no real reason to bring her along.
As I subtly expressed my refusal, the matriarch nodded as if she knew all along.
“Yes. I know. What most humans are like. How they look at our kind. The Empire bans slave trading by law, but it’s a dead letter. A non-human without a slave tag wandering around is reason enough for a party to get attacked. I fully understand your concerns. But regrettably, her joining isn’t optional—it’s mandatory. Not for us, but for you.”
“Mandatory.... you say?”
“Yes. You seem to be misunderstanding something. Do you think you can just wander into the elf forest on your own, strike up a conversation with them, and win their cooperation? The true branches of the World Tree—not half-breeds like us—harbor a deep wariness toward humans.”
“Well, like we did here, we approach unarmed and slowly, present the High Priest’s handwritten letter, and remind them of the issue’s gravity....”
“I guarantee you, the moment they catch your human scent, you won’t even have time to pull out that letter before you’re turned into a pincushion. Remember this: just as we can’t forget our affection for humans, the elves there can’t forget their hatred. Elves don’t change easily. Even if one seeks to right past wrongs, the past doesn’t vanish. In our eyes, the Foals of Light are nothing but madmen who slaughtered and oppressed our kin without reason. You lack the power to make them overlook that wound.”
I shut my mouth at the matriarch’s serious tone. Thinking of what the Loharam Church has done.... humans truly have nothing to say before elves, even with a hundred mouths.
“So you’re attaching Idrasil for that? With her along, at least they’ll hear us out?”
“Hm? Wrong. Even with her, nothing changes dramatically. Your group still becomes corpses under a hail of arrows filling the forest, and Idrasil gets executed as a traitor for guiding humans.”
What then? It’s not even Elf Village High Pass, so what’s this mandatory reason?
As I stared in confusion, the matriarch pointed at me with a wrinkled finger.
“It’s because of you, Hero.”
“....Me?”
No, why me again? What did I do wrong this time?
“Yes. Let me ask you once. Do you know what day elves hold most sacred in the year?”
“Uh.... no?”
“The type of sap elves prefer most and its uses?”
“That too, uh....”
“Why elves consider sharing their song more shameful than baring their body? How dearly they cherish the World Tree? What makes them weep, what makes them laugh, how they live? Do you know?”
“No.... I don’t.”
Only then did I realize what the matriarch meant.
“No way. Is this about that ‘qualification’ you’ve been asking since day one?”
“Yes. Frankly, you.... weren’t bad. Better than expected. You have a strong will to carry on without yielding to external pressure, and ample strength to navigate this harsh world. However, you’re still unqualified. Someone who knows nothing about them brokering harmony between two races with grudges deep enough to fill a valley over decades? Absurd. It’d be more plausible to say fruit grows on a sprout.”
The matriarch scolded me in a serious, stern tone.
“Learn alongside her. She’s a pure elf, only seventy years old, never ventured into the world. Through Idrasil, you’ll come to know elves, and through you all, she’ll learn about humans. As always, one action outweighs a hundred words. If even you two come to understand each other, that in itself paves the way for racial harmony. If you truly come to understand our kind,.... perhaps your sincerity can pierce their thick grudge and touch their hearts.”
“....Thank you.”
Instead of questioning further, the Professor bowed deeply to the matriarch in gratitude. We hadn’t achieved as much as hoped, but coming here was the right call.
Thinking about it, isn’t it incredibly arrogant from an elf’s perspective? Like Nazis suddenly visiting a Jewish autonomous zone: ‘Hey? We think we went too far before. Let’s make up and be friends again. As a reconciliation gift, stand at our front lines. Oh, and is it true you Jews worship demons? That’s a problem.’ That level of ignorance. The side that tormented them thoroughly, asking for peace without knowing a thing about them.
We can’t erase the past, but understanding the other side is the bare minimum qualification, the matriarch is saying.
“Idrasil, you too. As I always say, people can’t love what they don’t know. If you truly want to fill your life with happiness, see more, feel more. Despite our innate gifts, we hide away largely due to our closed nature. I hope this journey teaches you much.”
“Understood, Matriarch.”
“....Tsk. Idrasil.”
“Yes, Matriarch.”
“Idrasil?”
“....Yes.”
“I-dra-sil?”
“....Yes, Mother....”
“Good. If you’re unlucky, this might be the last time we meet, so at least bid farewell to your mother.”
The matriarch embraced the stiff Idrasil gently with arms of wood and leather. Idrasil’s perpetually rigid face softened now as she closed her eyes quietly and placed a hand on her mother’s shoulder.
“Come back safe, my branch. May your closed eyes always brim with dreams.”
“....Yes. May our subdued longing speak of each other once more.”
She’d lived centuries, endured wounds and wrinkles deep as her experiences, yet a mother was a mother.
Elves don’t beat around the bush, but when baring true feelings, they shy away and speak in circles, they say.
Idrasil’s farewell wished for reunion after years, to share stories again.
The matriarch’s.... meant live and return. The dead can’t dream with closed eyes. In those brief words, daughter promised return, mother said just stay alive, wherever you are.
“Elf farewells reveal their essence well. They seem the most honest yet terribly shy race. Just look at that mother-daughter pair—how different they are.”
“Well, I don’t see much difference.”
The elf-style parting, foreheads touching as words were exchanged.
This must be the ‘learning’ the matriarch said I lack.
****
After the brief farewell ceremony, the matriarch reverted to her macho grandma self, said ‘We’ve done what’s needed, so I’ll be off to my own affairs,’ and vanished.
Those who must go, go; those who must stay, stay.
As we did final gear checks, Ottoman suddenly voiced a realization.
“Wait. But.... does ‘going to find them’ even make sense? Wind mages, of all people. Don’t they wander endlessly like feathers in an autumn breeze?”
Crack—
“Hm.... You’re right. Pathfinder, any way to contact those scatterbrains?”
“There is.”
Clunk!
Idrasil spoke while loading her gear onto the cart amid the bustling group preparing to move.
“To be precise, not a way to contact them, but I know a place they’re sure to be.”
“A place they’re sure to be.... Like a wind mage tourist spot? Storm Hill or something?”
“Yes. You knew.”
“....Huh?”
What? I just said it as a joke. It’s real? Storm Hill? Emily Brontë?
“Do Heathcliff and Catherine show up too?”
“Hm. You’re confusing it with somewhere else. Storm Hill is an Imperial landmark, famous as a place where wind lingers.”
“W-wait. Imperial landmark. Landmark....”
I urgently cut off Idrasil and pulled up Dana’s community data again.
‘Weird. When I checked the Imperial landmarks list earlier, there was no Storm Hill.’
Flipping through, I checked the ‘danger zones’ section on a hunch.
[Empire / Danger Zone / Storm Hill]
“Ah. Here it is. It really exists. Storm Hill.”
“I’ve never spoken a falsehood. If you go there, you’ll meet wind mages.”
“Yeah.... probably.”
The Professor skimmed past Idrasil’s flat voice to the Storm Hill data.
[Empire / Danger Zone / Storm Hill]
=========
Danger Level: ★★★★ (Makes you suicidal regardless of player ability.)
Features: The only structure in all of 3 Worlds where wind mages can ‘reside’ permanently. At least 40 wind mages live there constantly. The hometown of wind mages worldwide. The sole place where they regain peace.
=========
Wind mages. Forty wind mages.
‘Ah. I miss Mom.’
Just the opening line made me want to hurl the data away. One is bad enough; a swarm of them?
“Sodom and Gomorrah of the mortal world....”
Imagining the pandemonium of those crazies infesting the place, the Professor slung the cart over his waist.
What can you do? If you don’t want to live here forever, you go.
****
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