Chapter 147: Treasure Hunt (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 147: Treasure Hunt (1)
“Ooh! This is undoubtedly a treasure of the kingdom!”
Inside the tribal chief’s tent in Lake Fortress.
Darka made a fuss the moment I handed her the tiara from the Snow Elves. She held it high in the air and shouted.
“Who had this?”
“The Snow Elves.”
“The Snow Elves! Fairies whose very existence is shrouded in mystery! The people of old believed they only existed in fairy tales, but they were real after all! Those creatures are living history. They must know the kingdom’s secrets that have yet to be revealed!”
Darka placed the tiara next to Zeke’s ring.
“Well done. Very well done! We are one step closer to fulfilling our long-held wish!”
“Haha, I plan to find the next item soon as well.”
“Yes. I will be waiting eagerly for your return.”
With a smile stretching from ear to ear, Darka was ecstatic. Every time Karami brought an item, she became a completely different person—so much so that the tribe members might have thought her dementia was cured.
Of course, it was only a temporary change. She would revert to her old self with time.
Darka let out a dry cough.
“Cough, cough… My throat hurts from all the shouting. I’m tired, so I’m going to lie down for a bit. You all can stay for a while and then see yourselves out.”
“Darka… sleeping again…?”
“Are you one to talk, Lady Azyeth?”
Karami looked at Azyeth with cold eyes.
Azyeth was a sleepyhead who could out-sleep anyone. She could fall asleep with her eyes closed even while riding on a rough sled. Waking her up in the morning was an ordeal in itself.
For someone like her to ask if Darka was sleeping again was simply absurd.
“You’ll understand when you’re my age, child.”
“…?”
Azyeth tilted her head.
She didn’t understand what Darka meant.
*
Evening fell on Lake Fortress.
For people living a tribal life, communal meals were the norm. They threw all sorts of ingredients into a giant cauldron to make a stew that never seemed to run out.
The eternal stew, capable of warming a chilled body, was like a close friend to the northerners. They gathered in small groups, each receiving a portion of stew in their own bowl.
Perka, the dwarves, and the northerners all gathered around the bonfire, chattering away, but Azyeth was not among them. The moment she approached a fire, a chill would emanate from her and extinguish the flames.
And so, in a corner of the village untouched by the firelight…
Azyeth was sitting on a long, laid-down log.
In her hand was a cold stew.
Denied even a sliver of warmth, Azyeth couldn’t eat hot food. To fill her stomach, she had to eat her meals cold.
It would have been an ordeal for any ordinary person, but not for Azyeth.
She felt no complaints, no dissatisfaction.
Just as someone who has never eaten an apple cannot describe its taste, Azyeth had never felt warmth. And since she had never felt it, she had no reason to be dissatisfied.
For Azyeth, this was just her natural state of being.
“How is it? Does it taste alright?”
Karami, having gotten his own serving, sat on the log across from her.
“……”
“Isn’t it strange? How they can just throw anything in and it still tastes like this.”
“Yes…”
Karami was a peculiar person.
Countless people had approached Azyeth. Her appearance was just that striking, attracting people regardless of gender or race.
But none of them ever stayed.
As much as Azyeth’s beauty drew people in, her chill pushed them away. Even those who had approached her with friendly smiles would eventually grow weary and distance themselves.
A few, like Perka, managed to close the distance, but an invisible line always existed between them and Azyeth.
A line that the influence of her cold could not reach.
An absolute zero that permitted no one to enter.
They maintained their distance from beyond that boundary. But Karami, unlike the others, kept pushing himself into Azyeth’s space.
One step further from the line where everyone else stopped.
He would enter her domain and assert his presence.
Even now, the surface of Karami’s coat was freezing over with a crackle, and his legs trembled from the cold, but he showed no sign of it, offering only his usual smile.
Azyeth tilted her head.
Only Karami entered the space no one else would approach. He left ripples in her mind that wouldn’t fade.
“Rami… why are you here…?”
A question suddenly arose.
She felt an urge to have it answered.
“You’re here too, aren’t you, Lady Azyeth?”
“I… have to be here.”
Azyeth was aware of it herself—the fact that her unique constitution didn’t fit in with the lives of others.
“That’s why I’m here. Because you are here, Lady Azyeth.”
“…?”
“A master must always be by their slave’s side, you see. You have to watch them, in case they cause trouble.”
“Ah… ha…?”
I see.
A master is always by your side.
Being a slave must be a good thing.
But people said Karami was a bad person.
‘Is being bad… a good thing?’
What was what?
It was all so complicated.
She hated complicated things.
Azyeth shook off the distracting thoughts.
“I’ll be heading out to find the next treasure soon. A giant snake has it, and magic doesn’t work on it, so I’ll have to kill it with a sword.”
“Treasure…”
Whether it was the ring or the tiara, Azyeth felt a strange sensation whenever she saw the treasures.
A sense of familiarity.
A faint nostalgia.
And a heavy feeling in her chest.
A sensation whose cause was unknown even to her.
Maybe Karami knows?
Azyeth asked.
In response to her question, Karami smiled and nodded.
“Sometimes, an object that is worthless to one person can be a precious item full of memories for another. Perhaps those treasures mean something to you, Lady Azyeth?”
“A precious item…”
Is that it?
Is that why they feel familiar?
But she still had no memories.
“You might remember something if you talk with the chief. You should go see her tomorrow.”
“Okay…”
Azyeth took a spoonful of stew.
She felt no warmth.
*
The next day, Azyeth went to find Darka.
For once, she was alone. She had asked Karami if he was coming with her, but he said he had something to do and told her to go by herself. She thought nothing of it.
As Azyeth approached the chief’s tent, the guards on duty briefly backed away.
Crack-.
When Azyeth reached the tent, the torch set up outside froze over. Once she was out of range, they would light it again.
This response had become a daily routine.
“Darka.”
“Huh? Cough, cough… Who’s there?”
Darka, who had been lying down and coughing, laboriously pushed herself up.
She squinted her dim eyes, staring intently at Azyeth. Only after a moment did she manage to recall who Azyeth was.
“Oh, it’s the child! Where have you been? You should come visit your grandma more often.”
“I came… yesterday, too.”
“Eh? You did? My mind has been so forgetful lately. Don’t just stand there, come and sit here.”
Darka patted the spot next to her.
Azyeth sat down primly beside Darka, her legs neatly together. Thanks to the lazurite, the distance between them was about an arm’s length. Since it hadn’t been specially processed, that was its limit.
“What brings you here? Want grandma to tell you an old story?”
Azyeth shook her head.
“Today… something else… I came because I’m curious about the treasure.”
“So you want to hear the old story about the treasure!”
“Uhm…? Uhm… yes. I think so.”
“Alright! Then I’ll tell you about them one by one.”
Darka pulled the tiara out from under the carpet.
All sorts of things came out from under there, making Azyeth wonder, ‘Is that a magic carpet?’
“Now, what is this tiara, you ask! This is what the king prepared as a gift to celebrate the princess’s birthday.”
“The king…?”
“Yes. The king of the Ice Kingdom was an exceptionally warm person. Though the day he could place the tiara on the princess’s head never came.”
“Because of… the dragon?”
“Because of a very wicked dragon.”
This time, too, Azyeth felt no particular emotion. Or so she should have.
Without realizing it, Azyeth furrowed her brow.
It felt as if a stone was resting on her chest.
It was hard to breathe.
She felt a desperate need to know why she was feeling this way, but…
Crack-.
The dragon’s curse would not allow it.
The curse that bound Azyeth activated.
Invisible thorny vines stretched out, crushing the budding emotion.
The faint stirrings that tried to cross the threshold of her soul ultimately left no trace.
The forbidden feeling flickered at her fingertips before vanishing.
The door to her emotions closed, and only a cold, clear silence enveloped her.
Azyeth simply blinked her eyes slowly, her face serene. As if nothing had happened, her eyes once again held only the chill of a harsh winter.
“Achoo! It suddenly got chilly. I wonder if winter is coming. Are you alright, child?”
“Yes…”
“With the weather being such a bitch, I wonder when that rascal Pascal will return. Tsk, tsk.”
“Pascal… you miss him…?”
“It’s a strange thing. The boy used to make me sigh just by looking at him, but lately, I keep seeing him in my mind’s eye…”
A hint of nostalgia flickered in Darka’s eyes.
Azyeth watched her for a long while.
*
“I want to… bring Pascal back.”
Those were Azyeth’s words when she returned from her meeting with Darka.
“Darka… misses Pascal.”
“That’s true.”
The loss of Pascal was the cause of Darka’s current state, and even after her dementia set in, she desperately wished to be reunited with him.
The problem was that Pascal was already dead.
Of course, there was an item related to Pascal. Besides, I needed to get it for her complete liberation anyway.
It was just that…
“Is it… not okay…?”
I hadn’t expected Azyeth to be the one to ask for it first.
“Why wouldn’t it be? Let’s go find Pascal.”
Azyeth nodded.
She let out a very faint breath.
It was tinged with a slight sense of relief.
*
“Bored. Bored. Bored!”
The demonic elder of the Magic Tower.
Zakaril Vermor rolled on the floor as if throwing a tantrum.
Mirabelle had often played with him after she became the Magic Tower Master, but since she left for Vestia, his days had been tedious.
If he had known, he would have followed her.
They had selfishly left with only the witches.
“Isn’t there anything to do~”
Zakaril flapped his wings, looking for something to do. Daruenor had a difficult personality, so he didn’t want to play with him. He was just contemplating whether he should play with Edmund instead.
Flutter~
“Hm?”
A single letter flew in through the window of the towering Magic Tower. Like a bird following its master, the letter circled in front of Zakaril. The mana imbued in it was Morgana’s.
Fwoosh.
The letter burst into flames, its contents rising as black smoke.
—It’s the mana of the one who is master to our Tower Master. Might be in the North?
That was all.
A letter without even a stated purpose.
“The Tower Master’s master! What kind of person are they? Are they strong? Are they fun?”
But the contents were more than enough to pique the interest of the mischievous Zakaril. This was Morgana’s intention, as she knew Zakaril’s personality inside and out.
Zakaril flapped his small wings and exited the Magic Tower. The mana was too faint, making it difficult to follow the trail.
So, just as the letter said…
Zakaril flitted off toward the North.
And if, by some chance, they fail to entertain me…
Well, I’ll just have to kill them.