Familiar, Yet Unfamiliar (2)
The memories that lingered felt as though they could fill hours, yet only a few had truly passed. After the lead soprano, Gillia, left for her schedule and everyone had practiced a few more times, they gathered in small groups and made their way out of the cathedral.
“I need to head back for student council work. What are you going to do now?”
“It’s a little early, but… I think I’ll go home. I have plans this evening and need some time to prepare.”
“Don’t be too hard on Celine. She’s complicated… I hope you can understand her.”
Shasha squeezed Marei’s small shoulders several times before leaving the cathedral first. After helping the remaining people clean up and saying goodbye to everyone, Marei finally found himself alone inside the cathedral.
He pictured Shasha singing once more, then rose with a strange sense of regret and headed toward the school gate. There was a peculiar charm to hymns. The sense of unity that came when people sang in harmony, the strangely warm feeling that lingered throughout the body—it felt as though something was being carefully filled into an empty space. Even Marei, who was still somewhat clumsy at memorizing songs, found the melodies they had sung together refusing to fade from his memory, spilling out in soft hums as he walked.
As he crossed the square he passed every day, an unfamiliar old man came into view by the fountain. More precisely, Marei felt the old man’s gaze fixed on him and turned his head. They were too far apart to clearly make out each other’s faces. It was as if someone had grabbed his ankle—Marei’s body refused to move. He swallowed dryly and pressed his lips together, meeting the old man’s eyes.
Was it burning? It looked as though it were aflame. Different from the fire he had seen in Shasha. Fragile, as if it might extinguish at any moment, yet still casting a bright light around it. No, it wasn’t a flame. If he had to find the right word, it was more like a lighthouse. A bright beacon illuminating the harbor—yes, nothing suited it better. A mass of light shining steadily from atop a pillar that looked ready to collapse at any second.
“Sir, is something the matter…?”
“I’ve lost my way, but it’s difficult to ask people for directions.”
The old man stood straight-backed, his well-tailored suit revealing a sturdy frame. His snow-white hair and the wrinkles around his eyes spoke of years gone by, yet he radiated an overwhelming vitality that felt at odds with his age. He was searching for a café that could be found with only a short walk from the square, as if he truly had lost his way.
“I can take you there.”
“What a kind child.”
At the old man’s slightly softened tone, Marei answered with a small smile and moved to his side to offer support.
“I’m not so frail that I need to lean on someone.”
“Ah, I’m sorry.”
“Apologies should not be given lightly. Not if you’ve done nothing wrong.”
He was strict. Though they had only just met, the old man carried a peculiar severity. His gaze was strong, yet it held neither hostility nor warmth. Marei felt as though he were being evaluated and found his body stiffening without realizing it.
“This is the place you were looking for, sir.”
“It’s changed quite a bit since the last time I came. The scenery, the people.”
The old man removed his fedora and placed it on the table. Marei found it strangely difficult to look away. He had never seen this man before. There was none of the inexplicable illusion or longing he felt with Ran. Yet for some reason, the old man felt familiar. It was as though they had met somewhere, though no memory remained.
“Have you been here before?”
“Back then, this was the capital of the Kingdom of Valter, not the Valter Governor-General’s territory.”
“Were you a soldier?”
The old man gave a slight nod.
“I still have quite some time before my appointment. Would you mind keeping an old man company?”
From the way he ordered an abundance of snacks and drinks from the approaching waiter, it was clear he had already assumed Marei would stay. Normally, Marei would have felt uncomfortable accepting food from a stranger, but something about the oddly familiar old man made him decide to enjoy the moment.
He had many questions about the military, but Labella never looked pleased whenever the topic came up. Of course, Labella’s heart would race at the thought of an adult Marei in uniform, yet given Loren’s personality, she would never allow any interference in Marei’s assignments. It was almost comical how she tried to steer him away from any interest in soldiers out of fear he might be sent far away.
Once he learned the old man had been in the military, Marei’s answers grew oddly formal.
“Are you a student at Valter School?”
“Yes. I’m doing my best, though I’m still lacking.”
“Those who strive deserve praise simply for trying.”
Marei hadn’t answered to curry favor, yet the old man seemed pleased, offering a small smile and a nod.
“I’m curious what young people are learning these days. Would you mind if I asked a few questions?”
“Ah, yes. We don’t have a fixed curriculum. Like the Imperial University, we choose our own lectures. The popular ones are usually magic studies or administration-related, from what I know.”
“What about swordsmanship?”
“It’s fairly popular among the male students, but unlike the administration classes that fill up quickly, there are usually open seats.”
The old man fiddled with his cane, falling silent for a moment as if deep in thought.
“I bought this because it reminded me of my granddaughter. Go ahead and eat. My sense of sweetness has dulled with age.”
“Thank you….”
Compared to when he lived near the barrier, his allowance had increased considerably, but it was still far from luxurious. Thanks to Labella and the twin elf teachers who provided everything he needed for classes and daily life, he had never felt short on money. To be precise, he could afford a slice of cake at a café about twice a week. That was why the old man’s kindness felt burdensome, yet refusing it proved difficult.
“You eat well. Waiter, bring two more of everything this child has eaten.”
“Th-that’s really not necessary…”
“It’s fine. It’s been a long time since I’ve spoken with a young person. I’m enjoying myself.”
Contrary to his first impression, the old man’s eyes seemed to soften little by little. In moments like this, there was only one thing Marei could say.
“…Thank you.”
“Good. Let’s continue our conversation. Setting swordsmanship aside, are many students aiming for the military academy?”
“I’ve heard there are quite a few. One of my relatives is preparing as well…”
“That’s fortunate. What about you? Have you given it any thought?”
“I’ve only thought about it so far. It may look impressive from the outside, but there are surely worries behind it that can’t even be spoken aloud.”
“Young people these days are quite mature.”
The old man let out a low chuckle.
“Are you interested in the military?”
“I wouldn’t say I’m interested, but I do pay attention to it.”
“There’s been a lot of news about the north being restless lately. Have you thought about that?”
The north. The Northern Front. Unlike the beastkin and dwarves who had formed alliances with humans, it was the place where humans and orcs fought for survival against each other. A land of madness where both sides spoke of extinction without hesitation and slaughter occurred daily.
“…You mean the orcs?”
“Yes.”
It no longer mattered who had started the senseless killing. The orcs who crossed the barrier slaughtered people indiscriminately by any means necessary. Humans, in turn, pushed soldiers beyond the barrier to massacre the orcs without mercy. The emotional rift between the two races had grown too deep to ever speak of peace again. The empire continued to grow stronger by the day, while the orcs barely clung to life in the frozen wastelands where crops could not grow, building their own settlements in regions forbidden to humans.
“I believe defense is the best approach.”
“The empire is strong. Magic has spread to the point where it’s part of everyday life, and talented officers increase every year. Do you still think that way even though orcs wielding cold weapons are no longer a major threat?”
Marei had been about to answer immediately when he sensed something strange. Despite the passionate tone of the old man’s words, his brown eyes remained calm. It felt like a test. So Marei gathered everything he knew, organized it in order, and began to speak slowly. Strangely, it felt as though he already knew the answer.
“No matter how much the orcs multiply, there is a limit to what can grow in the frozen lands. If the empire cannot tolerate the existence of an enemy and must deal with an unstable foe, then periodic orc subjugation campaigns would be necessary to break their momentum. But with good relations with the beastkin and dwarves in the south, and the elves as steadfast allies, I don’t believe we need to overextend ourselves.”
“Wouldn’t this be the perfect time to uproot the orcs while our rear is secure?”
“The empire is growing, and magic and science are advancing at an astonishing rate. Of course, eliminating the orc threat now might seem important. But in the future, we could defeat them with far fewer sacrifices and greater stability. Is there really a need to spill the empire’s blood across the frozen lands…? Of course, I’ve heard the orcs cause trouble and inflict damage. If that’s the case, then increasing the defensive forces and the number of rangers would be the right move.”
“Wouldn’t it be best, both in terms of cost and long-term strategy, to eliminate the threat of the frozen lands first?”
“Even if it costs more, even if it takes more time, that’s fine. Money can be earned again, and lost time can be recovered through effort. But the dead do not return.”
It was something Julia often said. The dead do not return. Marei thought of his late mother and repeated the words to himself.
“Looking at the empire, which has grown bloated beyond control in an instant due to the Emperor’s expansionist and appeasement policies, I find it precarious. Seeing Valter or the capital might make one sing of the empire’s eternity, but in reality, the ghosts of the past and monsters still run rampant in the provinces. Heretics are also active.”
Though ordinary citizens had no access to such information, Marei recalled the groups of heretics causing frequent trouble in remote regions—something Erden had mentioned to boast of his own excellence. He also thought of the monster incidents that appeared regularly in the newspapers and the stories of rebellions in other provinces that Labella occasionally shared.
“Then when do you think would be the optimal time?”
“There may be an optimal time for war, but this isn’t war. If you’re asking about the conditions for trampling the frozen lands… it would have to be when the absurd notion that imperial administrators die and receive vacation disappears. More specifically, when imperial administrative power reaches every single village without delay. In Valter, thanks to Governor-General Pawen’s active spending and the elves’ voluntary cooperation in projecting administrative power—going so far as to become bureaucrats themselves—the situation is good, but I’ve heard other places are not so fortunate. What was called conquest was actually swallowing lands beyond the empire’s capacity, leaving them to nobles without proper oversight. Of course, there are contracts for ten to twenty years, but those people will squeeze the land dry in the remaining time. Or they’ll harbor other intentions… The empire is likely to face problems from within.”
“Wouldn’t that take far too long? It seems we’d need enough time for everyone to forget about the orcs while only thinking of advancing north. How long can we focus solely on internal affairs? Wouldn’t this be the time to quickly settle the north and incorporate the remaining soldiers into local security forces?”
Marei knew full well that what he was saying was idealistic. It was nothing more than an ideal. But the empire possessed more than enough capability to realize such ideals.
“It’s the correct view in theory, but people don’t trust soldiers very much. It’s a story that would shock military officials if they heard it, but the concept of a standing army hasn’t been fully established for long. Many still worry about plunder when they hear soldiers are coming… Compared to mercenaries who are only called upon when needed and have no real intention of fighting properly, the standing army is excellent. Because they’re bound to the military institution, the possibility of plunder is extremely low and they’re under control. However, not many people understand that. Even if children taught by teachers dispatched despite insufficient administrative capacity—those who prioritize the future over the present—might be bound by the concept of being students, those who have experienced conquest wars don’t see much difference between soldiers and mercenaries.”
“And I don’t believe there’s a need to advance into the north. I may be speaking rashly because I haven’t personally felt the threat of the orcs, but we’re already conducting periodic subjugation campaigns and sufficiently controlling them through constant pressure with combat units. There are people who often mention the fortress being taken last time… but I believe it was such an absurd mistake that the military would pray never to repeat it. Moreover, while relations are good, the issues with the southern races haven’t been completely resolved either, and a northern conquest could be perceived as a threat by the Sigma Empire in the west.”
“Do you know the number of soldiers on the Northern Front? Do you know their capabilities in detail? If they were sent south or west, those threats would amount to nothing.”
“What the empire needs is time. We’re doing well and striving to do even better. We’re struggling desperately, fighting with everything we have. There are regions growing so large they can barely be called cities. I don’t think every city will become like that, but time is on our side, and we’re actively using that time.”
The old man said nothing. He simply held his cooling coffee and looked at Marei. Marei, too, belatedly realized what he had been saying. But the words he had just spoken were not knowledge he possessed. They couldn’t be explained as sequential reasoning—the foundation was too weak, the knowledge too lacking. Then why was he speaking so confidently about things he didn’t even know he knew? As if they were right. As if they were the correct answer.