Chapter 75
Chapter 75
Translator: XZY
Chapter 75: Person (3)
***
Siern was in a corner of the central spire of the Rochest mansion, hugging her knees with her head buried.
In the gap while Siern was away, the sheets on the soft bed had been changed to clean ones. Even in such a terrifying situation, the servants of the Rochest family were, until the very end, fulfilling their duties.
While feeling that uprightness, Siern remained motionless with her head buried.
When she stayed silent like this, only the sound of the window glass rattling from the blizzard outside echoed in Siern’s room.
That desolate sight was quite different from a place like the Duplein mansion, which was in the middle of a rich meadow. This girl had always grown up in this kind of dreary atmosphere.
And so, the girl recalled the earliest memory she could remember.
At an age before she had even learned the alphabet, the girl had caught and killed an entire pack of wolves in the middle of the northern snowfield.
At a preschool age, she had reached a level where she could kill fierce beasts with only her immature mana sense.
And so, on the snowfield covered in blood, when she suddenly came to her senses, the whole world was filled with only the smell of blood.
A cold-blooded body that did not even feel the cold. And so, as she was quietly looking at a wolf that was yelping, its life barely hanging on, her father, Melverot, had run out and snatched her wrist.
And so, the girl was led by Melverot’s strength and walked back across the snowfield. She just kept walking straight in the direction of the Rochest mansion.
Jeobeok, jeobeok—
Melverot’s back, as the girl looked up at him, was firm. His expression could not be seen.
The back of that father, who was just moving forward while pulling her along, was the very first image Siern remembered.
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“You make a truly bold demand. You should know better than anyone that a title in this era is not something that can be so easily given and taken.”
“Yes. There is no one who does not know that.”
“Do you not know well how many long years it took for your master, Drest, to receive a single, empty barony without even a territory?”
“That is correct. But Master Drest’s situation was very different.”
Derek continued to speak without changing his expression at all. It was as if all emotions like tension and anxiety had been passed on to Aiseline, who was behind him.
In reality, Aiseline was making quite a bewildered expression, as if she had not expected at all that Derek would bring up such a thing.
“Master Drest was not on good terms with the nobles from the start. However, I maintain relationships with several renowned families, and my magical skills are not too bad.”
“It seems you do not know well how closed-off the high nobles of the imperial capital are.”
“I know all too well. Therefore, I am making a request to you, Lord Melverot.”
There would be no one who denied that this was the era of the nobles.
And magic was nothing less than the symbol of that privilege. Managing good bloodlines, maintaining vested interests, and kicking away the ladders of those who were not worthy was their survival strategy.
To grab them by the ankles, one needed a suitable backer.
If he could add Melverot to the mix, beyond the dimension of Duplein, Beltus, and Belmeade, Derek’s conferment of a title would not be such an unrealistic story.
Even if it was a trivial title, even if it was the lowest of the lowest ranks, it did not matter.
If he could just invade their world, rising up within that world was all up to Derek’s own skill.
Melverot, who had noticed Derek’s scheme at once, let out a hollow laugh.
The size of one’s ambition was proportional to their skill, but if it was excessively large, it was bound to invite disaster.
It was something that, had the high nobles of the imperial capital heard it, it would not be strange for them to roar that it was an insulting remark.
However, Melverot just gave a cold gaze with his chin propped on his hand.
“I cannot promise a title. Before my will, giving a meaningful title to a commoner from the slums is an act that would get me on the bad side of those old men in the imperial capital. The Emperor, His Majesty, is not even worth mentioning.”
Melverot’s military power was at a level that would be recorded in history, but there was no way that everything in the world could be solved by beating it with a fist.
Especially, in the world of noble culture where justification and rules were strongly established, it would be even more so.
However, Melverot did not maintain a completely negative stance.
“But, it is possible to support you.”
“...”
“Your political judgment and magical skills are far better than the riff-raff who only have good bloodlines. Right. If there is justification, it would absolutely not be an impossible thing to hold a position. So, let’s promise just this much.”
Melverot said in a declarative tone.
“If your title conferment proposal is to be seriously discussed, I will write a letter of support with the utmost courtesy. A letter personally written by Melverot of the north would be a sufficiently powerful weapon.”
“...”
“Do you want to give the arrogant high nobles of the imperial capital a taste of their own medicine? Or do you want to become a person who commands the era?”
“I have no such thoughts.”
Those who had spent a long time in the slums, while pretending not to, often had a buildup of hostility towards the nobles.
It was a natural principle to blame the country and the era when one was plagued by poverty.
However, Derek had no such personal thoughts whatsoever.
“I simply want to become a mage of a higher level. A title is also just necessary for that reason.”
He was a man who was strangely consistent.
Melverot was a person who had lived for many years as a monarch. He had also developed an eye for evaluating talent.
To undertake a great work, one must be knowledgeable about the political situation and the era, but excessive dilettantes were often distracted by such things and failed to be faithful to their own duties.
A swordsman must master the art of the sword, a mage must raise their magical level, a chancellor must be knowledgeable about currency, and a servant must be knowledgeable about managing a mansion.
The political situation and the era, ambition and aspiration, an open perspective, social skills, the study of kingship, a backer... such miscellaneous things often followed naturally once one had acquired the essential qualities.
A talent who would truly become great was not introduced with many words.
Derek.
He was a mage.
“I see... I understand why you came to negotiate.”
“Thank you for your positive review. Then I will go and do my work.”
“Is that all you have to ask?”
Melverot called out to Derek, who was about to turn and leave after giving his greetings.
As Derek quietly looked at him, Melverot, in the same posture with his chin propped on his hand, smiled again.
“You don’t ask what is truly important. Are you not curious why I have a demonic beast in the inner chambers of my mansion?”
“I do not bother to ask about things that are not necessary to handle my work. However, if you, Lord Melverot, judge that it would be good for me to know, I will not refuse to listen.”
“Well. That may be so for you, but it seems that is not the case for the noble young lady of the Duplein family.”
Aiseline was glancing around.
In truth, it was Derek who was strange for not expressing any questions; if placed in this situation, anyone would be curious about Melverot’s intentions.
As Derek remained silent for a moment, Melverot let out a hollow laugh and said.
“It’s a fact that’s not new now, but Siern is not a daughter with whom my blood is mixed. She is a legacy that my old friend left behind and departed.”
Aiseline already seemed surprised, swallowing a dry gulp of saliva, but Derek had expected it to some extent.
It was because he could tell just by exchanging a bout with her that her way of handling magic was excessively different from Melverot’s.
“Though many years have already passed since the blood-scented war ended, it is still as vivid as if it were yesterday. I fought the final battle with that damn great demon, ‘Noir,’ who killed my old friend Kalimpod, on the great snowfield of Rosenhaven.”
“...”
“The magic that crazy great demon wielded was far beyond the human domain. As you can tell by looking at the scars of that time that still remain on the great snowfield of Rosenhaven, it poured out countless magics of such an enormous scale that the map had to be redrawn.”
Aiseline’s expression was slowly hardening. It seemed she had no idea at all what Melverot’s next words would be.
“Yes, a domain not permitted to humans... the level of ‘7-Star’ that was written in the records of the great mage Adelbert... if that truly exists, it was to the point where I thought, this is exactly what it would look like.”
Melverot quietly stood up from his seat.
The ‘Dawn War,’ recorded in the continent’s history books as the most terrible demon war.
These were words told directly by the historical figure, Melverot, who had decorated its end.
“I will tell you one shocking fact. It is a fact that even the high nobles of the imperial capital, or even the Emperor Gutrel, do not know.”
What was the reason for telling him this?
It was to make it certain that they were now in the same boat and could not even escape.
“I could not kill Noir.”
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The great demon Noir was a monster that was parasitic to humans.
As a spiritual body the size of a fist, it directly seeped into a person’s soul, awakening the instincts of a demon, and sometimes granted magical qualities that were far beyond human abilities.
When that essential power fully bloomed, it truly began to use magics that extended to a level beyond human, and in the very end, it would transform into a demon of such a magnificent scale that its form could be confirmed even from the end of the horizon.
When Melverot had dealt the final blow to Noir... that monster had turned into a spiritual body and possessed Peria, the wife of the deceased Kalimpod.
Peria, who was a renowned priest, had participated in the subjugation force to contribute to the revenge for her husband, Kalimpod.
Jeobeok, jeobeok—
Aiseline and Derek, who had come out of the office, walked down the corridor as they were.
As they walked down the circular staircase of the spire, crossed the cold garden, and returned to the annex, no conversation was exchanged between the two of them.
Both of them were ruminating on the words Melverot had said.
— ‘Peria, who was already pregnant with a child at the time, said to please wait until she gave birth to Kalimpod’s daughter. As a high priest, she was able to somehow endure Noir’s energy.’
— ‘So... that person gave birth to Lady Siern?’
— ‘Yes... and, she entrusted Siern to me, and left with the words that she was sorry. When I heard news of her later... the feeling was not very pleasant.’
Melverot did not bother to explain the end of the priest named Peria.
What kind of end she, Lady Siern’s mother, had met, in truth, could be guessed to some extent without him bothering to explain. She would have wanted to put an end to what had happened to her own body.
In the end, all that was left was Siern.
A daughter with whom no blood was shared, and with whom he had no connection.
In truth, for someone of Melverot’s status, taking responsibility for one child with no connection was not a big deal.
He had immense wealth and glory, status, and power.
Even if he could not give love, he could provide an environment that no one would envy.
However, Siern was not an ordinary girl.
Before she even learned the alphabet, she had torn apart a pack of wolves. By the time she came of age, she had started killing servants, and before she had even had her coming-of-age ceremony, she had started using 3-Star magic.
Melverot must have had an intuition.
The homicidal impulse and sense for slaughter engraved in her blood were not the feelings of a person.
It was surely inherited from the mythical great demon of that ‘Dawn War,’ Noir, who had killed an incalculable number of humans.
—If he had realized that fact, he should have killed her on the spot.
He should have cut down the small girl, who was standing blankly among the mangled wolf corpses in the middle of the snowfield, with a single stroke.
— ‘Why am I protecting Siern, you ask?’
However, Melverot had not done so. His choice was completely different.
On the contrary, he had tried to make her blend into human society by attaching various teachers to her.
He was the hero of the era who had saved the north. He was also the person who had seen Noir’s great massacre from the closest distance.
Why had a person with such a history not made a sublime decision?
Was it because his heart had weakened, as she was the daughter of his old friend, Kalimpod?
Was it to pay his respects to the deceased priest, Peria?
Was it because he thought, from a purely humanitarian perspective, that it was not right to kill an innocent life?
It was none of them. Not a single one of them was close to the correct answer.
—There were no normal people among the 6-Star mages.
It was none other than Melverot himself who had said that.
— ‘Was it not clearly written in Adelbert’s records? That the level a human can reach has its limits.’
— ‘If that is so, if one wishes to reach the domain of 7-Star... what must be the first thing one gives up?’
A mage was someone who reached out to head towards an even higher level.
No matter what magnificent wall they hit, the symbol of them was a research mind close to madness that would try to climb that wall.
— ‘Humanity.’
He was seeing a glimpse of the fragment of 7-Star magic in Siern.
Hwiiing—
Before entering the annex, Derek and Aiseline looked up at the central spire in the distance.
That spire, which could be seen clearly from anywhere in the Rochest mansion, was standing firm in the blizzard today as well.
Inside it, Lady Siern, with her graceful hair let down and dressed in a dress, would be quietly looking up at the blizzard outside that window.
“Derek-ssi.”
Finally, Aiseline spoke.
In the biting cold, Aiseline, after contemplating what to say, finally managed to continue.
“I... my thoughts are too complicated.”
“Please do not think too hard. Nothing has changed about what we must do right now. However...”
Derek narrowed his brow as he looked up at the spire.
“That war hero... it seems he is still hiding something.”
“....Pardon?”
Aiseline asked with a bewildered expression.
“E-even after laying everything out like this... he’s still hiding something?”
“He is a person who has lived for many years as a monarch at that level. We must not underestimate him.”
Derek never let his guard down.
Melverot was making an expression as if he had laid everything out frankly, but he was still hiding something. Derek’s intuition seemed to be saying so.
“For now, it’s cold, so let’s go inside.”
No matter what the circumstances were, now that he had been promised a suitable reward, what he had to do had not changed.
Derek was a magic master.
The job of a master was to teach a disciple.
That essence, not a single part of it, had changed.