The Dragon That Drinks Uranium (2)
The Dragon That Drinks Uranium (2)
The Teller-Ulam design.
It was the simplest model for constructing a hydrogen bomb.
A design that used an atomic bomb as a trigger to induce a hydrogen fusion reaction and generate an explosion. It was the standard and most straightforward method.
The hydrogen bomb I had originally intended to build was one that utilized a laser-plasma method. That was something modern scientific technology alone could never hope to achieve, so I had planned to develop it with the help of Flare magic. That was why I had brought the tokamak along.
"Huh? What is it, though?"
I couldn't tell Rote about this. Explaining it would be difficult. Teaching the concepts of nuclear physics in detail to Rote, who would latch on until she fully understood, was practically impossible given the time constraints.
"I'll tell you later."
Still, I would have to explain it someday. The carriage, which had been running smoothly, came to a halt just then.
Nothing was wrong with the carriage itself. Frey and I stuck our heads out the window to see what was happening.
The road was cut off. From here on, it was on foot.
"Heave-ho."
We packed our things and got off the carriage. My legs wobbled, maybe because it was the first time in a while I had set foot on the ground.
We walked toward the Saliere mansion. Rote's family home was not far from here.
Within a few minutes, we reached the front gate. A middle-aged couple in formal attire, accompanied by a dozen or so servants, walked toward us.
A middle-aged man and woman with red hair and red eyes. It wasn't hard to deduce who they were.
"Mom! Dad!"
"Rote, Lorwell! You're safe!"
Forgetting even to take her luggage, Rote ran straight toward Count and Countess Saliere.
"Are you feeling all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine."
"I'm sorry I couldn't come to get you in time!"
The sight of the Count and Countess Saliere worrying about their daughter was completely different from the noble families I had seen in mass media. It felt like an ordinary, close-knit household.
"Wow, I'm jealous."
The words slipped out of someone's mouth. Frey glanced at my direction.
Soon after, Count Saliere offered his greetings to me as well.
"You must be that child of the Gold-Eye Tribe. Thank you so much for helping our Rote."
It was the Imperial Etiquette gesture. Originally a hand motion a subordinate performs before a superior. I was taken aback by the Count's suddenly deferential manner.
"Oh, no... you don't have to do that..."
"It's fine. My dad greets everyone this way."
"Ah...."
A sound of admiration escaped my lips.
I wanted to be a daughter in this family too.
**
Count Saliere gave Frey and me a warm welcome.
The first thing we did after entering the mansion was eat. Even before we had a chance to unpack, a feast fit to bow the table legs was laid out before us.
"I suppose we should be generous with the spending at least for today."
Count Saliere seemed to be a frugal person normally. That made sense, as even for a count, he kept not a single piece of art in the house. He also employed only the bare minimum of necessary servants.
"I'll be taking my leave now."
Frey departed immediately after the meal. The Imperial Etiquette she performed as she left was something I still couldn't forget.
Was that really the Frey I knew?
[At that moment, she was just like a princess from some country.]
I had assumed she was just a smart tomboy because she always lounged about dozing even in front of the professors.
So it was a persona all along?
Watching Frey cross the drawbridge, we waved our hands. Below the drawbridge, a stream that looked to be several hundred meters wide flowed in swift currents.
"Why is she going over there?"
Beyond the west lay the land of the beastfolk: the savages.
While many beastfolk tribes led nomadic lives like the Gold-Eye Tribe, they were not as mild-mannered as those who would just gather wild greens.
Wild greens?
"Ugh."
The mention of wild greens brought back the memory of mixing peppermint leaves into chocolate once.
"The beastfolk living in the west are infamous for being ferocious. I don't know if Frey will be all right going there."
"She's someone who knows Instant Transmutation. Whatever happens, she'll manage on her own."
"Even so, the danger beyond there hasn't changed. Especially the fox beastfolk tribe, the damage they inflict on our territory has been severe every year."
"Fox beastfolk?"
I already knew about this from Vermel, but I asked once more, pretending ignorance, to cross-reference the information.
"To put it simply, they're fox beastfolk. They have fox ears and tails. They specialize in hit-and-run tactics, so even when they plunder nearby villages, they're hard to catch."
"Wow."
"You must be especially careful during times like now."
"Why now?"
"The rainy season will be here soon. The beastfolk might be physically strong, but their nomadic lifestyle makes them vulnerable to natural disasters. This river will overflow before long. The fox tribe might come to raid our territory then."
Flood damage, flood damage, huh.
This side of the river was certainly reinforced with high walkways and well-built levees. On the other hand, the opposite bank beyond the drawbridge was nature itself. If a river this size overflowed, the west side would be devastated.
We returned to the mansion. After I had unpacked, I headed to the veranda of the annex building and looked out at the full view of the river.
A giant river flanked by Pitchblende Mountain. It was like looking at the Yangtze. The color of the river water, however, was not yet murky.
Seeing the crystal-clear water made me want to go fishing.
"Anyway, about what you said."
"Yeah."
"Tell me about that Teller thing or whatever now."
This was bad. It seemed what I had been jotting down in the hardcover book earlier had caught her eye.
"You're making something like Flare again, right?"
"Oh, um... no?"
It sounded like an excuse, but it wasn't wrong.
It was ambiguous to call the Teller-Ulam design a Magic Art. It was rather a design theory of nuclear physics that could have been described even in the world I had lived in.
There was no reason to teach it to Rote, and I didn't have the time anyway. I gazed at Pitchblende Mountain from the veranda as I prepared my plans for tomorrow.
[If it isn't related to magic, don't bother writing it or talking about it.]
That was the hardcover book's attitude as well.
For some reason, the hardcover book seemed to dislike it when I tried to teach physics theories to Rote. When explaining mana-particle theory, I had considered bringing up protons or electrons, but this book kept interfering every time.
— Try practicing so that you can explain Magic theory solely through the Magic Arts. That is the path for you.
I had no choice but to follow its words, obnoxious as it was. There had never been a time when its tips were unhelpful. At least, if I wanted to return to Earth, I had to listen to it.
Jingle. When I snapped out of it, a silver coin had been placed in my hand again.
"You know I can't stand it when I'm curious."
There it was. Her habit of trying to buy knowledge with money.
Rote was a genius, so of course she would pick up whatever she learned quickly.
If I taught her, she might certainly be a great help in designing the hydrogen bomb.
But I shook my head and returned the silver coin. Rote's expression turned glum.
The reason I couldn't propose researching the hydrogen bomb's design method to anyone, including Rote.
Because there wasn't enough time to teach the prerequisite theories?
Because the hardcover book simply told me not to?
Those were merely superficial excuses. The real reason lay elsewhere.
"Because I think it would be dangerous in many ways if I told you."
Because this was a forbidden technology.
History repeats itself. Humanity repeats itself. Even if the humans of Earth and the humans of the Arens Continent were different beings, they possess similar intelligence and temperaments.
Humans, elves, beastfolk. Every race except the Gold-Eye Tribe knew how to handle magic. The Magic Arts were manifested with the help of spirits. When a Spirit King bestowed a blessing, one could gain and wield a single attribute.
Conversely, if the spirits did not wish it, a person's Magic Arts could be severed. This was possible because spirits were the agents and extensions of the Goddess who created this world.
Because the Magic Arts existed, the people of this world lived content with their station. Because they revered the Goddess as an absolute being, they could be even a little humble in wielding their power.
I must not teach them scientific technology superior to the Magic Arts. I must not show this destructive power even to someone with a kind heart like Rote. I couldn't stand to see this world repeat the same history as Earth if the knowledge ever reached the wrong ears.
Yes, Rote.
Even if I walked the path of Teller,
I hoped you would remain as Oppenheimer.
**
After her conversation with Aether, Rote's face crumpled for the first time.
'What's with her? Before, she would kindly explain everything when I asked!'
So why was she acting like this now?
"Could it actually be dangerous?"
If by any chance it was a magic that could harm her, Aether might try not to teach it. Rote decided to think that way. Believing that seemed the only way to feel relieved.
Still, she felt complicated. Slumping her shoulders, Rote opened the study door and entered. Count Saliere happened to be finishing up his work.
"Is that my daughter?"
Her father, Count Cromwell Saliere.
Cromwell was a man pushed out of the central political scene. He had ended up banished to his current territory after remonstrating with the emperor, who kept producing nothing but bizarre policies.
He spoke without hesitation even to the emperor when things were wrong. Rote genuinely respected her father for that.
In any case, Count Saliere was always busy with work.
"What business did you have to call me at a time like this?"
They began with small talk.
"Did you learn a lot at the academy?"
"...Yes. I made many friends and conducted valuable research."
"I'm glad to hear that. How is your health?"
"I'm fine now. You don't need to worry."
Count Saliere nodded. With a pleased smile, he continued the chain of words.
"Good. It's about time I told you as well."
This was the main topic.
Rote's shoulders tensed.
"The reason I called you at such a time is none other than this. As you have come of age and are adjusting to school life, there is a matter of great importance I must tell you."
"Father?"
The air felt strange. Her father's gentle expression had hardened rigidly.
It didn't seem to be because something bad had happened. Rather, it was the look of someone who had made up their mind.
"Rote, I will say this only once, so listen carefully."
Her father began to speak.
"There is a Magic Art that our family has also been researching in secret."