Chapter 12: The Wisdom Pavilion
The Wisdom Pavilion housed every precious book imaginable in Solemnute—a colossal structure that rivaled even the imperial library in scale. At its grand entrance stood statues of the goddess of wisdom and stars, Setra, holding a massive tome emblazoned with a star on its cover. This was a mark of respect for the Setra Church, whose scholars wandered the world each year, gathering knowledge and turning it into books preserved within these walls. Sometimes ancient texts, other times fragments of forgotten history. In appreciation of their efforts, the imperial family had erected these statues at the heart of Solemnute Adem.
Ludenberg Lavante stared silently at Setra's statue before stepping inside. The endless rows of books made his head spin, but he didn't waste time gawking. He sought out a librarian instead—they'd surely distribute the textbooks. It didn't take long to spot one sorting a towering stack of volumes.
The librarian glanced up. "Here for the first-year theology textbook?"
"Yes."
"Over there, then. Theology section. Grab Principles of Theology yourself."
The title alone suggested a tangle of complexity. Ludenberg headed in the direction indicated, scanning the piles until he found it. The sheer thickness made it look like a weapon—fitting, since theology students lugging this around would find it a workout in itself.
He tucked the book under his arm and, since he was already here, browsed for anything worth reading. He pulled volumes at random, flipping through pages. Then he sensed footsteps approaching.
Shimmering water-blue hair. Pristine white priestess robes on a stunning woman. Sione Solenute.
"Long time no see. Or not— we just met in class. So diligent, coming for books already."
"Crown Princess."
"Come now, I told you—here, I'm just a professor."
"Understood, Professor. What brings you here...?"
"What else? To learn knowledge I've missed. You're here for books, right?"
"Yes."
"School treating you well?"
She asked the usual professor-to-student questions. Ludenberg felt off-balance. He couldn't fathom why she'd approach him so casually—Sione had always been one for sly pranks, not friendly chit-chat.
"...Yes."
He lied. A white lie, harmless enough. School life wasn't all bad, after all.
"You're lying. But if it were fine, you wouldn't have hidden yourself away for five years."
She saw right through it.
"...Did you read my mind?"
His tone sharpened with irritation. He knew Solem's Eye better than most. She'd teased him and Ashytara as kids during training, peeking into young Ludenberg's thoughts for laughs. It had left a bitter taste—nobody liked their inner world exposed.
"No need. Even with Solem's Eye, I don't read minds constantly—it drains too much divine power. As a kid, I was immature, teasing you two despite the fatigue. But after my coming-of-age, I stopped prying into others' hearts."
"I see."
His words dripped with displeasure. Sione, of course, noticed and apologized.
"Sorry if I upset you. Anyway, you've seen Ashytara? Same White Pavilion dorm."
"...Yes."
"From your reaction, not the warmest reunion after five years."
Her smile faded, replaced by an icy expression as she fixed him with a stare.
"..."
Ludenberg met her gaze with silence—a clear back off. She sighed, reading the signal, and dropped one last line.
"I won't say much else, but know this: Ashytara waited for you every single day those five years."
With that, she turned and walked away. Her words hit Ludenberg like a gut punch, stirring turmoil. Ashytara's hurt eyes, her sarcastic thanks for wasting five years staring at him in vain. Guilt and weakness he'd suppressed surged back. He shoved them down, grinding out to her retreating form:
"...You read it."
That final remark couldn't have come without peeking into his heart. Now it clicked why she'd approached. Sione played the doting big sister, but she cherished her siblings most. Likely about Ashytara—he'd caught her subtle glances in class. She'd noticed Ashytara's low mood, grilled him for the reason, and when he stonewalled, delved in.
Ludenberg's mood plummeted. Being laid bare under her gaze felt vile.
Monstrous aberrations charged. Razor claws slashed toward him, only to meet his father's blade and crumble.
Eight years old—far too young for such carnage. Yet Ludenberg kept his eyes open. Trembling in terror, he watched knights and soldiers shield him, butchering the erosion beasts.
Fetid blood sprayed close, reeking. A soldier's fresh gore painted the fortress in iron tang. He couldn't look away from the dead man's vacant eyes.
At first, he didn't understand why he had to stand there—a mere child. But atop that besieged fortress, he had to witness it: knights and soldiers fighting to the death to defend this land. Pitiful, unyielding resolve.
He watched for three grueling days. In that time, age melted away—he grasped his duty. Someday, when grown, he'd fight alongside them. Guard the East.
From even younger, he'd heard the mantra: protect the East. It shaped him. For his loving parents, he tackled every task, from trivial to grueling. But he'd questioned the why, following orders blindly.
Here, now, it crystallized. This was why. For this, he'd honed himself under his father's demands.
Just eight, but watching their desperate struggle taught him death's face. Victory brought no joy—only grief for the lost.
In the wails, Ludenberg found his path.
Afternoon theory class loomed, but with time to spare, the thirty-odd White Pavilion students—minus Ashytara and Ludenberg—chatted in clusters, lively and carefree. Every word grated on him, unfairly so.
Thankfully, as irritation peaked, the professor entered, silencing them.
Today's lecture: Erosion Studies. Basics on erosion zones, history, beast traits.
Professor Calvin Giod took the podium, sharp eyes glinting as he pulled papers and distributed mysterious scraps to the students.
They examined them—baffling exam questions on erosion beasts.
With distribution done, he spoke.
"Welcome. I'm Calvin Giod, your Erosion Studies professor. You all got the papers?"
"Yes!"
"Good. Just a quick test on what you know. To gauge your level before teaching."
"Huh?"
"Can't teach without knowing where you stand. Begin."
The Innocence-rank students panicked at the sudden quiz but scrambled to fill answers. Ludenberg stared at his sheet, then blazed through it faster than anyone—detailing erosion beasts' nature, harm to humans, origins, traits. His page brimmed dense.
Beyond the questions, he added extras. Thoroughness suited him. Details only a veteran fighter would know.
He finished neatly, propped his chin, and that inescapable memory resurfaced—the one that reshaped his worldview nine years back.
"You there."
Lost in reverie, Ludenberg snapped back as Calvin pointed him out. Innocence students, sweating over blanks, turned.
"Me?"