Whispers of La Ieyanrei
—I’ve managed to uncover a bit about La Ieyanrei.
After descending the mountain, I gave Rowell and Master Medrup a brief report on everything that had happened and promptly closed my eyes. Yet the time I’d actually spent asleep couldn’t have been more than three or four hours, and in that short span they’d already found something.
—La Ieyanrei. Its etymology and linguistic meaning remain unclear, but several ancient legends describe a kingdom that suddenly rose from the sea one day. I found records that mention it.
“It rose from the sea?”
—So the legends claim. According to them, a single ship caught in a typhoon drifted until it ran aground on an unfamiliar black land. There lived inhabitants resembling fish, octopuses, and squids, and they called their home La Ieyanrei.
“Is that all the records say?”
—Several variant traditions are recorded alongside it. Even these accounts are quite old, and within them they note that they are preserving legends already nearly forgotten at the time of writing. Given their age, we cannot vouch for their authenticity or accuracy, but every version consistently portrays La Ieyanrei as an ominous and dangerous place.
Considering Nenesobi’s grotesque appearance, the legends were likely accurate. Of course, one shouldn’t judge solely by looks, but her attitude and personality had been anything but friendly from the start.
“Is there nothing in the records about Isog Negtaru or the seal?”
—Unfortunately, nothing at all. I’ve been checking the chronicles and research notes of famous mages just in case, and I even asked Aphros, but nothing useful has turned up. In that sense, I’d like to go there myself and examine the fragment directly, but I don’t want to sow unnecessary anxiety across the Parerin Archipelago.
With Master Medrup’s current abilities, he could teleport or open a portal to the Parerin Archipelago even without an established teleportation circle, despite all the defensive barriers and spells meant to prevent such travel. But doing so would instantly alert the entire archipelago and cause an uproar, which was why he refrained.
“I’ll contact you the moment we leave the archipelago.”
—Good. By the way, Anak, night mountaineering doesn’t seem like you. Wouldn’t you agree?
I tried not to stiffen at Master Medrup’s question, but the very act of being conscious of it had already created an opening.
—Besides, knowing your personality, you wouldn’t have gone near the temple without some purpose.
Unable to deny or confirm, I simply stayed silent. Excuses, feigned nonchalance, changing the subject, or keeping a blank face—none of it would work.
I knew all too well how much one could deduce once suspicion had been aroused, even without the Yellow Sage Medrup himself.
So what I needed to do wasn’t offer clumsy excuses or clever tricks, but simply wait. After a brief silence, Master Medrup chuckled and asked,
—Were you perhaps planning to cause some mischief?
That was exactly the moment I had been waiting for. I lowered my head slightly and immediately agreed.
“I’m ashamed to admit it.”
Even for Master Medrup, perfect deduction was difficult with limited information. Moreover, the fact that he knew me so well had played a part.
—You’re usually level-headed, yet sometimes you can be so reckless. Well, you weren’t planning to fly noisily over the temple at night like last time, were you?
A sheepish smile naturally rose to my face at his question.
After the Great War, when we visited various countries, several nobles at a banquet had subtly mocked Orcan’s origins. Though they spoke loudly enough to be overheard, it was still framed as private conversation among themselves. The level of provocation was too ambiguous to respond to directly, so we had all simply glared at them or lightly reprimanded their behavior.
That night, however, thousands of birds appeared from somewhere and spent the entire night circling noisily over the nobles’ mansions, dropping plenty of droppings.
—Of course, given your relationship with your senior, you wouldn’t have acted so rashly this time. Still, if you got that close at night, you wouldn’t have simply come back down.
“Still, it was fortunate I sensed that presence because of it.”
—Indeed. There’s no need to say more on that matter.
Seeing the smile on Master Medrup’s face finally put my mind at ease. Even so, with just this much, he wouldn’t have noticed Rofena’s existence. But if he had continued digging, he would surely have found something suspicious about me.
After paying my respects to Master Medrup, I severed the connection with the crystal ball. I considered mentioning the girl’s prophecy as well, but decided against it for now. The prophecy was far too vague and would only cause unnecessary worry. Besides, the solution was simple.
Just stay close to Rowell. What danger could there be then? I had already made a promise, so I would have to remain here until tomorrow, but the morning after next I could board the ship Neikalsin had prepared and head to the central island to rejoin Rowell.
Of course, if the red skull and green bubbles were simply heading straight for me as tangible enemies, I could have prepared perfectly on some uninhabited island and dealt with them alone.
“If they’re enemies with physical forms, that is.”
But if they weren’t tangible objects or foes and were instead symbolic representations of danger or crisis, then the safest option was still to join Rowell.
“…Still, it would be best to stay cautious until then.”
Layering multiple barrier artifacts would be too much considering the banquet tomorrow, but I would need to wear the artifacts I had.
* * *
—By the way, Master, which island exactly are you planning to go to?
Above the vast ocean, Selkel, who had been flying at full speed for several days, cautiously asked the woman riding on his back.
The Swamp Witch Mering. One of the four remaining great witches, and one who had mastered the secret art of youth.
Her appearance remained poised at the exquisite midpoint between maturity and innocence no matter how much time passed. Her lustrous, smooth skin and beautiful hair sparkled beneath the sunlight along with the waves below.
Yet despite that beautiful exterior, and despite having served her for hundreds of years, Selkel still feared her. He was also uncomfortable around her.
It was a strange thing, considering the nature of his existence. As a created being, he possessed an implanted pseudo-will and even a low-level soul, though his emotions and sensibilities were faint and his purpose was defined by obedience to his master. For such a being to feel fear, and even discomfort toward his master…
In truth, the things she had shown over the past several hundred years were that horrific and ruthless.
Inhuman biological experiments and cruel rituals involving live sacrifices were everyday occurrences. Once, she had even driven an entire nation into war for her own ends.
She would seduce naive nobles, royalty, and their children, make them fall for her, then urge them to abandon everything. Or she would force them into patricidal and bloody choices, only to cruelly cast them aside once they had nothing left but her.
Three hundred years ago, a prince fell in love with her, abandoned his right to the throne and his titles, and married her. The very next day, she left behind only a single note filled with mockery and ridicule before vanishing before his eyes. The prince, driven mad, wandered in search of her and met a miserable end.
Two hundred years ago, she entered a harmonious noble household as a maid and seduced the father and two sons simultaneously. In the end, the second son stabbed the eldest son and the father to death before setting the mansion ablaze. Even after being imprisoned and sentenced to death, the second son sought only her love, but she summoned the executioner and the prison warden before his eyes and spent the night entangled with them while mocking him.
The second son bit off his own tongue and smashed his head against the wall before dawn the next morning.
She had also cursed young soldiers and upright officials who resisted her seduction, blinding them and crippling their legs.
Yet even though these were utterly repulsive and horrific acts that would make any ordinary person sick to speak of, they alone would not have stirred any particular emotion in Selkel.
With his faint emotions and sensibilities, understanding the world only through his pseudo-will, no matter how cruel or terrible her deeds, they remained within his range of comprehension.
It was not strange for a cat to toy with a mouse until it died. To him, his master was the cat, and everyone else was the mouse.
Though he understood the concept of good and evil, it was nothing more than knowledge. Furthermore, whatever his master did according to her own desires was not for him to judge.
What made him feel that something was wrong was the first time he witnessed her throwing the baby she had given birth to into a cauldron.
At first, he could not clearly understand the emotion he felt.
His master needed children gifted with magical talent for her purposes, and she had deliberately conceived and given birth for that reason alone. He already knew this fact, so disposing of a child who lacked talent seemed only natural given her past behavior.
But when he saw the baby being thrown into the cauldron, Selkel felt an overwhelming sense of discomfort and the conviction that something had gone terribly wrong. Perhaps his pseudo-will had, over a long period, come to perceive the child she bore as somewhat identical to his master. Or perhaps the low-level soul he possessed had finally matured one step further over the long years.
Whichever it was, no one could know anymore. In any case, Selkel never told his master about the emotion he felt. Such things were not particularly important to her, and more than anything, Selkel himself found the unfamiliar feeling strange and difficult to understand.
And that situation continued to repeat. Whenever she felt interested, she would conceive, and any children who lacked sufficient talent—or whose talent failed to satisfy her—she would throw into cauldrons or swamps, using them as sacrifices or experimental materials.
One, two. When the number exceeded five, he clearly realized that he no longer wished to witness such scenes. But what could change? No matter how much he wished it, no matter how carefully he tried to dissuade her, Mering never stopped. Once every few decades, she would attempt it again, and the results were largely the same.
Of course, among the children she bore, there were occasionally those gifted enough to meet her expectations. Even those children, however, could not endure “that ritual” on the day they turned thirteen.